I'll give you the bad news first. Yesterday, my club got raided. The good news? I wasn't there. My friend from work emailed me to let me know. I don't know what exactly happened, other than ten cops showing up, and the club now being closed 'indefinitely.' No girls were arrested... Knowing my club, the violation could range from the open and unabashed cigarette smoking to the open and unabashed soliciting (blow jobs and sex are available from many girls for the right price). Then again, knowing how law enforcement deals with strip clubs, there might not have been any real violation, but rather an underwhelmed group of cops dealing with a slow Thursday afternoon.
Anyway, I was less than pleased to discover I would not be able to go to work today. Not only that, but my heels and outfits are all stowed in my locker at the club, so I can't even hit the road and find another place to work, even though there are a half dozen new clubs I'm eager to try. It's kind of like the opposite of all dressed up and nowhere to ho.* From my brief research, it is likely that my club will be up and running in a few days, but the idea of being "out of work" is really unsettling.
Even more unsettling is the realization that these raids happen - frequently - and if I choose to continue dancing, I may not be as lucky to go unscathed. I happen to not offer "extras" in VIP unlike 80% of the girls at my club, but this fact rarely matters when the long arm of the law swoops in... In fact, usually raids end in indiscriminate arrests regardless of what "laws" the girl is breaking.
Speaking of laws, is there a guidebook out there in terms of what constitutes legality in the sex industry? I've talked to dancers who have been arrested for giving a lapdance and being within a half-foot of the customer. I'm sorry, but I've had lap dances where I've had a half-foot in the guy's mouth! Clearly, this is a violation. Apparently when guys tuck stage tips between your breasts, this counts as a form of sex work as well. At the end of the day, it's up to the cops, the connections club ownership has with the police, and dumb luck. If a cop wants to arrest me for prostitution, he pretty much can. I've heard of girls being taken in for patting another dancer on the butt!
Knowing this fucked up aspect of our so-called justice system was actually a big part of why I went into dancing in the first place ... but thinking about how close I am to a criminal charge actually scares the shit out of me. Apparently, it's easy to shake such a charge if you hire the right lawyer, but am I looking to spend all my hard-earned cash on a sex crimes attorney just to clear my name? The recommendation is generally to accept the charge, pay the fine, and have a misdemeanor on my record.
Right now I'm fighting the urge to spend a couple hundred bucks on new shoes and an outfit so that I can start working again today; I think I should let dust settle, let the weekend pass, and see what the deal is for my current club in a couple days...
*Thanks, $pread Magazine!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Cowboy and Indian
This is another, let's let the transcript speak for itself type post. Friday afternoon, a new guy strolls in the club and flashes me a smile. I approach him.
"Well hello there, young lady. Do have a seat."
"Thank you! You're a new face - nice to meet you."
"Well you are a VERY well spoken young lady. I'm guessing you're hyper-intelligent."
"That's my story and I'm sticking to it."
"What are you drinkin?"
"Water, neat."
"Ha, ha. Water neat. Well if I don't have you drinking whiskey by 5:30 then I'll be damned. So tell me, what is an intelligent, well-spoken young woman like you doing working here? I mean, I don't mean this with any level of disrespect toward these girls, but most of them have an abusive boyfriend, who resembles quite closely their abusive fathers, and side jobs selling dope. But you know, you look like an Asian woman, probably someone from a tradition where family is very very important. And you're hyper-intelligent, which is sexy as hell. You could look like Rosie O'Donnell and I'd be coming back from Amarillo Texas just to see you. But you know what the great part is? You're as sexy as you are hyper-intelligent. It's those eyes. You speak with those eyes. I can tell you started off trying to dumb yourself down for me. You must dumb yourself down for a lot of guys in here, which is a damn shame, because it's how hyper-intelligent you are that is a big part of your beauty. That, and your wild hair. Woo! (girl steps down from stage for a tip) Well, hello young lady. Here's a little something for you; I'll tell you, there's nothing a cowboy like me loves more than a beautiful black woman. Take care now. Anyway, see, you're nothing like her. You are hyper-intelligent. But that can be a curse too, because no guy is good enough for you. Let me guess... You hate relationships, because the boys get too clingy and get in the way of your ambitions. And you do have ambitions, let me tell you. You probably appreciate older guys, in their 50s like myself, because we know to give you space, and we know how to make love to you. Do you, let me just ask you this, do you know where your G spot is? Oh, my god, I love how honest you are with me. You know, the biggest medical myth is that every woman's G spot is in a different location. But actually, and I know you appreciate the scientific method, reliable studies have proven that there is actually more variation in size and location of the clitoris and not the G spot. You see, the G spot corresponds to the prostate on the male, it's differentiated earlier in embryonic development. But it's in the same space. Now, let me just take a moment to tell you how breathtaking you are. I'm only in town from Texas now and then, but you call me, on a moment's notice, we could be eating seafood in Barcelona, admiring Gaudi. And the good thing about Barcelona is that there are plenty of men my age with women your age; we'd fit right in. Now, I wouldn't say I have a foot fetish, but there is nothing more erotic than a beautiful, hyper-intelligent woman showing me her feet in stockings, and letting me suck on her toes. Have you ever taken Viagra? Next time I come, I'll bring you some. Don't tell anyone; that sort of thing can get me fired. But it doesn't make you hornier, it just makes your genitals more sensitive; the blood rushes there. Now there is nothing a man loves more than the scent of a woman's genitals. I mean, it's just the source of all pheromones. Men, on the other hand, we need to wear musk and cologne to attract women. Oh, see that girl? I'm embarrassed to tell you this, but she's given me oral and manual stimulation in the lapdance room. I mean, I'm sure she does what she needs to. But I can tell by looking at you that you don't break any rules here, or anywhere. No, you're not looking for a pimp or a sugar daddy. I mean, I won't insult you by paying you a fee for our trips to Spain, but believe me, I will treat you right. We can get a suite, stay there. I will shower you with affection. And if you don't want intercourse, that is fine. I am an old man. I've had enough intercourse in my life. I want you. I want intimacy. If I have to hold you and caress you for three nights straight, and then fly straight back to Texas, I'd be fine with that. Yes I would."
This conversation lasted as long as his supply of $20 bills did - a LONG time.
"Well hello there, young lady. Do have a seat."
"Thank you! You're a new face - nice to meet you."
"Well you are a VERY well spoken young lady. I'm guessing you're hyper-intelligent."
"That's my story and I'm sticking to it."
"What are you drinkin?"
"Water, neat."
"Ha, ha. Water neat. Well if I don't have you drinking whiskey by 5:30 then I'll be damned. So tell me, what is an intelligent, well-spoken young woman like you doing working here? I mean, I don't mean this with any level of disrespect toward these girls, but most of them have an abusive boyfriend, who resembles quite closely their abusive fathers, and side jobs selling dope. But you know, you look like an Asian woman, probably someone from a tradition where family is very very important. And you're hyper-intelligent, which is sexy as hell. You could look like Rosie O'Donnell and I'd be coming back from Amarillo Texas just to see you. But you know what the great part is? You're as sexy as you are hyper-intelligent. It's those eyes. You speak with those eyes. I can tell you started off trying to dumb yourself down for me. You must dumb yourself down for a lot of guys in here, which is a damn shame, because it's how hyper-intelligent you are that is a big part of your beauty. That, and your wild hair. Woo! (girl steps down from stage for a tip) Well, hello young lady. Here's a little something for you; I'll tell you, there's nothing a cowboy like me loves more than a beautiful black woman. Take care now. Anyway, see, you're nothing like her. You are hyper-intelligent. But that can be a curse too, because no guy is good enough for you. Let me guess... You hate relationships, because the boys get too clingy and get in the way of your ambitions. And you do have ambitions, let me tell you. You probably appreciate older guys, in their 50s like myself, because we know to give you space, and we know how to make love to you. Do you, let me just ask you this, do you know where your G spot is? Oh, my god, I love how honest you are with me.
This conversation lasted as long as his supply of $20 bills did - a LONG time.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
(The) Skids These Days...
July has sucked so far. It's been slow, agonizing, frustrating, and uneventful. Money trickles in, but nothing compared to my lucrative spring months. Not only is money slow, other shit is going down that is crazy-making.
1) A bouncer was hired at the club a few months ago. A retired cop (not my favorite category of people... but better, I suppose, than a working one!) was put in charge of collecting money for champagne rooms, house fees for lap dances, etc. He is one greedy motherfucker. He has charged my customers double the rate for champagne rooms, pocketing the extra cash (not only ripping off my customers, but eating away at the tip that would be, ordinarily, mine). He never watches the lapdance area, making it easy for guys to be grabby assholes, and then has the nerve to ask dancers for tips! I had a pretty good day a few weeks ago (before recession hit) and he was complaining to another dancer (a friend of mine who loyally reported back to me) that he was really upset with me, that I should share my earnings with him, blah blah. I did slip him a couple papers, begrudgingly; it was a wise move. Asshole is now the club manager. And to think I was going to go to management with my complaints about him!
2) I have realized that I am not a good stripper on days when the club is slow. I get cranky, I don't have patience to talk to customers, and all I can think about is making the money I need to make. Friday, I even wrote a note to a deaf customer that read "stop staring at my feet and give me $10." This is not an approach I normally use! When money is a-flowing, I have no problems stroking a guy's arm, chilling with him while he orders yet another cheap ass beer, etc. Desperation breeds desperation, I suppose.
3) Michael Jackson died. I get it. Talented, legendary figure is gone. But, does this really mean we expect dancers to moonwalk across the stage in stilettos during a stage set? I'm not quite sure what to do on those multiple occasions the DJ spins Billie Jean, Don't Stop Till You Get Enough, or a remixed Smooth Criminal while I'm trying to seduce the portly old guy on the corner of the bar. Crotch grab? It's "bad." "Remember the time" they used to play good ole Sean Paul, Pitbull, and classic rock at strip clubs?
4) I keep running into these conservative, or mainstream liberal, type nationalist guys at work. Maybe they are running on July 4th patriot juice, but I can't keep still and focus on money when these guys go on about America being the greatest nation, how fucked up the Arab world is, how hard work = success. Perhaps it's only in the midst of those conversations I actually find myself wishing an MJ tune would come on... beat it!
1) A bouncer was hired at the club a few months ago. A retired cop (not my favorite category of people... but better, I suppose, than a working one!) was put in charge of collecting money for champagne rooms, house fees for lap dances, etc. He is one greedy motherfucker. He has charged my customers double the rate for champagne rooms, pocketing the extra cash (not only ripping off my customers, but eating away at the tip that would be, ordinarily, mine). He never watches the lapdance area, making it easy for guys to be grabby assholes, and then has the nerve to ask dancers for tips! I had a pretty good day a few weeks ago (before recession hit) and he was complaining to another dancer (a friend of mine who loyally reported back to me) that he was really upset with me, that I should share my earnings with him, blah blah. I did slip him a couple papers, begrudgingly; it was a wise move. Asshole is now the club manager. And to think I was going to go to management with my complaints about him!
2) I have realized that I am not a good stripper on days when the club is slow. I get cranky, I don't have patience to talk to customers, and all I can think about is making the money I need to make. Friday, I even wrote a note to a deaf customer that read "stop staring at my feet and give me $10." This is not an approach I normally use! When money is a-flowing, I have no problems stroking a guy's arm, chilling with him while he orders yet another cheap ass beer, etc. Desperation breeds desperation, I suppose.
3) Michael Jackson died. I get it. Talented, legendary figure is gone. But, does this really mean we expect dancers to moonwalk across the stage in stilettos during a stage set? I'm not quite sure what to do on those multiple occasions the DJ spins Billie Jean, Don't Stop Till You Get Enough, or a remixed Smooth Criminal while I'm trying to seduce the portly old guy on the corner of the bar. Crotch grab? It's "bad." "Remember the time" they used to play good ole Sean Paul, Pitbull, and classic rock at strip clubs?
4) I keep running into these conservative, or mainstream liberal, type nationalist guys at work. Maybe they are running on July 4th patriot juice, but I can't keep still and focus on money when these guys go on about America being the greatest nation, how fucked up the Arab world is, how hard work = success. Perhaps it's only in the midst of those conversations I actually find myself wishing an MJ tune would come on... beat it!
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