Running From Grace

A gentleman’s club is a playground for the eyes. From the beautiful dancers to a rowdy group of drunk guys having a push up competition, there is always something to look at. Alot of girls I know hate going on stage because it is too intimidating for them. Too many eyes. I fucking love it. Anytime I am up there and I see a man staring at me, I always send a smile in his direction. He almost always returns the gaze. When it is dead in the club, alot of the dancers find themselves bored and they sit in the seats in the back of the room. Their eyes begin to take in all of their surroundings. Is that girl in the VIP room again? Will that guy get another dance from me? What did she just say to him? Because there is pressure to make money (see post entitled “tip out”) girls tend to let their sense of sight get the best of them. For example, at the club I work at now, there is one dancer, Violet, who believes she should be the only one doing dances. A hustler extraordinaire, she approaches guys within seconds of them entering the club and soon has them following her into the private dance area. She is very good at her job. Last night, I nailed an hour long VIP dance with a CEO early on and by the time I returned to the floor, Violet had just gotten to work. She made sure to congratulate me and she then asked all sorts of details about the dance. Did he pay with cash? Is he from around here? Did he tip? She was using me to size up his worth in order to get him the second time around. So not only is she good at her job, but she is greedy as well. Also, her eyes were on me the entire time. If she had gotten in a little bit earlier, it could’ve been her going back with him instead of me. I’m sure this fact ate her up inside. This kind of jealous behavior can be seen across the board when it comes to dancers. Sometimes they do what Violet did and give a half-hearted “congratulations” before sizing up the man and determining if he is worth pursuing in the future. I would almost rather have this than the opposite, which would be the envious dancer scrutinizing your every move and trying to make you look as bad as possible. This can be done by her spreading rumors, writing nasty comments online, telling the boss lies about you, etc.. It is a more cowardly way to handle the green-eyed monster. I often times feel a touch of jealously when I see another girl doing well, but I would never act on it in a negative way. Instead, I keep my eyes on the men and pretend the other girls are part of the background. I can only hope they treat me with the same respect. Of course this behavior has been learned over the years. For a large portion of my dancing career, I was so adamant about being #1 that it made me unnecessarily angry when some other dancer did better than me. I’ve gotten my wandering eyes in control. It is just so easy to be selfish when you work in an environment where you control how much money you make. The other girls feel it and I do too. I guess it is just the nature of the job and it seems so much worse in the slow season (January and Feburary). So in saying all of this, I look forward to having better nights. I look forward to warmer weather and more peaceful co-workers. I look forward.

Last night, no more than 20 customers came in the club from 7:00 pm to 3:00 am. I talked to a guy from Poland, and then there were some flooring specialists from a neighboring state, and following them was a group of Indian guys who were only interested in sex. It was rough out there. I spent a considerable amount of time staring at the barren floor and wondering, “Where the hell is everyone?” A few people assured me that the summer time is so much better and I guess I just have to wait it out. In the mean time, it is like fighting to keep your head above water. The club takes a considerable amount of your money before you even get out on the floor and that alone is enough motivation to get you working. But what if there are no customers to work? It can be a very frustrating ordeal. Like I said before, I have worked at five clubs in the past and the amount they take varies greatly. Here are some examples.

Club #1
Location: middle of no where
Time: night shift
Amenities: none
Dance prices: $30 for a single song, $60 for a set of three
Tip out: They take $10 off the single dance, $20 off the set of three, and 10% of your total earnings.

Club #2
Location: city
Time: night shift
Amenties: house mom, bouncers, DJ, cook, massage therapist
Dance prices: $30 for a single dance, $200 for 15 minute VIP, $350 for 30 minute VIP, and $600 for full hour VIP
Tip out: They take $5 off the single dance, $80 off the 15 minute VIP, $100 off the 30 minute VIP, and $200 off the hour. House starts at $40.00 if you arrive at 7:00 and goes up by ten dollars every hour after. House mom and DJ is $40. They take 15% of your total earnings.

Club #3
Location: suburbs, near airport
Time: day shift
Amenities: DJ, cook
Dance prices: $25 for a single song, $140 for a half hour champagne room
Tip out: They take $5 off the single dance and $40 off of the champagne room. House starts at $15 if you arrive by noon. It goes up by $10 every hour after. DJ is $10.

So basically if you have more money potential, they take more. Also, having a DJ, house mom, and a floor staff ups your tip out because they make the experience more comfortable for the customers and the employees. I think, as a dancer, it is important to take care of these people. For example, if the DJ goes out of his way to find a song you like, throw him an extra tip. If a waitress lets you know that a customer is interested in a VIP and you score the dance, give her a little something. I have always been a believer in karma and I think that if you are good to people, people will be good to you. Right now, karma owes me some peace of mind and I am debating hiring a hitman to get it to pay up. I just need some customers first…

Once upon a time, I had this regular named Georgio. He was a heavy set man, 100% Italian, very sweet and romantic, and he always stopped into the club once a week to see me. This was usually on a Tuesday. We would play Erotic Photo Hunt on the “video crack machine”, then he would give me a shoulder massage, and then we would go shoot a game of pool. After the game, he would take me in the back room for three dances and promptly leave afterward, but never forgetting to give me a huge hug and say “Ciao Bella.” Any interruption in this process really annoyed him so I had to make sure I scheduled a good-sized block of time for him.

At the same time Georgio was in my life, there was Paul. Paul was the best regular I have ever had in my life. He tipped me hundreds on stage, brought me roses almost every time he was in the club, and he would buy dance after dance after dance with me. He stayed there most of the night when he did show and anytime I had a free minute, I always made sure to spend time with him. He loved to cuddle and hold hands, so I made sure he had this experience in addition to my undivided attention. He was one of my most important customers.

Bill was in the picture too. He was a truck driver and he only came in once a month, maybe one every couple of months just to see me. Due to his ever changing schedule, it was hard to find a night for him to come in, but when we did figure it out, Bill wouldn’t think twice to the thought of buying 10-15 dances with me. He and I would sit back there and not only did I dance for him, but we had the best conversations as well. We talked about life and how stupid it was and we just laughed about everything. Not only did he fill my pockets, but he was great company as well.

Pop quiz, hot shot. There’s three men in a strip club. Once the dancer enters the floor, their attention is on her. If she ignores any of them, she runs this risk of losing money. What does she do? What does she do?

1. If I make eye contact with any of them upon entered the floor, I wave in their direction and smile.

2. Depending on the seating arrangement, the first person I would talk to is Paul. He is the one that will most likely stick around all night and he is also the one with gifts. I receive the flowers, then explain to him that I have a couple other guys to talk to and that I can’t wait to spend the “real fun” with him later on. He agrees to being patient.

3. The next person I talk to is Bill. Because he is only in the club once a month, it is crucial that I spend time with him. I welcome him, ask him how work is, and tell him over and over how much I’ve missed his company. I then explain to him that there is one dance I have to take care of before spending time with him and I won’t be more than 10 minutes. This is a teeny, tiny lie.

4. I then arrive to Georgio. He is the one that leaves the earliest and he is important to me because he helps me make my weekday goal, particularly on Tuesdays. He may not spend the most but his repeat schedule is something I can depend on. Plus he gives a great massage. As we play our video games and pool, I try and move things along as briskly as possible. I try and put alot of emphasis on how excited I am to dance for him that particular evening to get him to take me back there sooner than usual. Alot of times it works.

5. Of course three dances and playing a couple games is longer than ten minutes, which is how long Bill thought I would be gone. After my time with Georgio is up, I approach him and tell him how sorry I am. I tell him that the “customer” (Using the first names of other men suggests I am close with other men. You want the guy you are spending time with to feel like the only one you care about) kept me busy for longer than I thought he would. Bill is cool with this so after a brief chat, we head to the lap dance room.

6. Paul’s estimated wait time is about two hours. The only reason he goes last is because his time schedule is most flexible. Plus I am confident he would sit there for six hours if he knew he eventually got to spend time with me. The only thing I would be missing out on is stage time, where Paul tips me $100 dollar bills. That can be easily made up though.

7. Bill leaves. I approach Paul and tell him how appreciative I am that he waited for so long. Because I’ve spent the majority of my time in the back room, I am put on stage almost immediately. This is when I get my tips. After that, Paul and I head to the lap dance room for a little one-on-one time. We stay as long as his wallet permits.

Juggling regulars can be a tough thing to do, but it is not impossible. The key is to acknowledge the men that are specifically there to see you and let them know that you have not forgotten about them. Also keep in mind when these men prefer to arrive and leave and from how far they are coming from. Your understanding of their situation furthers your appeal which makes them more likely to stop in and see you when they can. Play it cool and always stay one step ahead.

After careful consideration, I have decided that I will enter the crazy cat lady phase a little early. I absolutely hate people. They are selfish, cold-hearted, jealous, and completely untrustworthy, not to mention egotistical and fragile. Of course I have been in every single one of these categories as well with the exception of untrustworthy. I can definitely keep a secret. But really, how are humans capable of all of this? Are our sophisticated brains holding us back from really living life? Or do we need this sophistication to propel mankind into some kind of super era? If you ask me, I say animals have the right idea. In my years as an exotic dancer, I have heard the same story over and over again. I hate men, but I have a dog that I would marry if I legally could. I hate men, but I have five cats that mean the world to me. I hate men. I hate men. I hate men. Alot of this stems from bad experiences in childhood and alot of girls find comfort in the innocence of animals. Cats and dogs are incapable of judging people. When a dancer sits with a customer or takes the stage, she is being physically sized up and often times she will never live up to the insane expectations of people without a ton of plastic surgery. Bravery can only take you so high. It’s confidence that is the key to staying above it all and that can be completely exhausting. When in the company of a pet, there is no need to suck your stomach in to make your boobs look bigger. Animals don’t care if you have a little lisp or if you have an odd looking belly button. Having that “break” from the pressures of society is revitalizing and relaxing, which is why I feel alot of women in the stripping/adult film industry become actively involved in PETA and vegetarianism. They simply get to the point where I am and that is the realization that there are no good people out there. It is truly a sad world. I haven’t touched red meat or chicken for three years now and I am very proud of myself for sticking with it. My reasons… the book “Skinny Bitch” completely horrified me, the documentary “Food, Inc.” made me physically sick, and I don’t like the taste of meat. When someone asks me why I choose this lifestyle, I want to sum all of that up in one sentence. (“Because I hate you”.) Instead, I try and explain my reasons and just get met by blank stares or nervous fidgeting. As far as PETA goes, they have been under fire for years for using provocative images to advertise their cause. I think this is pure genius. It gets people talking and nothing spreads information faster than a bunch of people that think they should feel offended. Below are some ads on google image search that I think are interesting and if this bothers you, I don’t give a fuck.

Sophie Monk for PETA

Alicia Silverstone for PETA

Joanna Krupa for PETA

Annalise for PETA

Corey and Susie Feldman for PETA

I am not one of those crazies that will preach my ways to meat loving friends or throw a cup of blood on an old lady wearing a dead fox around her neck. I will, however, expect people to think outside the box and understand that there are individuals out there that prefer to live against what society says. Alas, we are back to square one. Everything I need to know about life I can learn from watching my cat. Eat when you’re hungry. Sleep when you’re sleepy. And when you see someone you love hurting, wait until they are done trashing the apartment before making an attempt to cuddle.

A couple of nights ago, I attended my first sex toy party ever. Often times, when people hear this, they think one word… orgy. As much as I would love to say I participated in an all-female-sex-a-thon, I did not. We sat around in a circle and watched the hostess demonstrate all of the products. There were pheromone enhanced bath bubbles, vanilla flavored lube, edible body shimmer, and just about every kind of vibrator known to (wo)man. Ever heard of the “Silky Stud”? How about the “Aquasaki”? Not only did I get my hands on all these things, but I also got a crash course in erotic massage and some wild sex positions. Oh, and I can’t forget to mention I won a prize for drawing the best looking penis with my eyes closed. Now there is something I can put on a resume someday. Basically sex toy parties are just silly fun for girls who are a little more on the adventurous side, which happens to be the only side I have. When the hostess brought The Rabbit out, I couldn’t help but grin. Next came The Mini Tongue, another stress reliever of mine. Half of the vibrator line-up was under my bed in a big tupperware bin and I felt like some kind of sex-crazed loner. Who needs a guy when you can just fire up the Hitachi Magic Wand? (I short circuited half of my apartment with this one a couple of months ago) Of course nothing compares to real sex… real GOOD sex. But because there are about a million things that can go wrong when fucking someone, I think it is important to have a “sure thing” sitting around just in case. I only ended up spending about $75.00 at the sex toy party and not a single thing I bought required batteries or penetration. Instead, I opted for products I thought were very unique.

Both lotions taste like candy and make my skin extremely soft. I tested out the pheromone cologne last night at work (That’s right… I am back on the pole!) and I didn’t notice too much of a difference. I put spots of it on my chest, wrists, and neck and although it made me smell lovely, it didn’t seem to have an effect on any man. That’s OK. I still love the scent and I am going to use it all the time. I understand alot of this stuff is just a total gimmick and there is some asshole out there making alot of money on the fact that women will buy anything to enhance certain aspects of their life. This is also OK. Why? Because everything about life is a gimmick. People tell you they are genuine and trustworthy but they just end up being a faded spot of perfume on your skin with a promise to do so much more than smell good. In saying this, I will take the chance with the sex appeal enhancement simply because I have nothing to lose. I will also take the chance in saying I am not the only girl out there that will admit she has a bin of sex toys under her bed. Pleasure should never be shameful.

I began working as a stripper a while ago.

The reason I got into dancing was to piss off an ex-boyfriend of mine, who I call G. He was possessive and he filled my head with nonsense about my body. I wanted to do the worst possible thing to him without cheating on him, so I started stripping. I had no idea I was going to fall in love with it the way I did.

My first close call with my family finding out about my job was Nina. She was a psycho dancer I used to work with who started dating my brother. It was a very tense time for me but eventually they broke up and things returned to normal. It was a feeling of vulnerability that I never wanted to experience again.

The number one love of my life is my cat. She is perfect in every way and her unconditional love makes me feel completely content in times of sorrow. I also have two very close girlfriends and a couple of brothers who I would take a bullet for. These five “people” are all I need in this corrupt, untrustworthy world and every one else is merely a suspect. Pardon my paranoia. I just returned from a trip to hell and I haven’t unpacked my baggage yet.

I love to travel. In the first week of March, I am going to Key West for the first time. I think this trip will really help me unwind and see the world as a beautiful place again.

Jenna Jameson and Diablo Cody are my heroes.

I am very sexual. I like to wear sexy clothes. I like to look at erotic photography. I love the fact that I get paid to make fantasies come true. Often times I feel very alone when it comes to this, but I am realizing more and more that women are very nervous about letting go of their inhibitions. Don’t be scared.

There was a point in my life when I was a blonde. There was also a point in my life where I was betrayed by someone I trusted. In my time of panic, I went to my salon and colored my entire head black. I stared in the mirror quite a while after I did it, unsure who was staring back at me and whether or not I liked it. The whole point was to blend in with the world and not stand out in any way. Turns out, it looks great on me. Shit.

I have a masters degree in a subject I hate.

Just in case you are wondering where my previous posts are from Running From Grace, I did not delete them. They are safely saved on my computer and it turns out they come to be approximately 260 pages double spaced in Microsoft Word. Because I can not let them go to waste, I got in contact with a literary agent in NYC. He absolutely loved my writing and is going to work with me on getting it published. I sign the contract tomorrow. This is a truly wonderful thing for me and if I were to look at the whole thing in an optimistic way, I would have to say that this e-mail that was sent to my parents was a blessing in disguise. I probably would not have pursued the task of finding an agent if it didn’t happen. Come to find out, I am not an optimistic person. You’re still a piece of shit, anonymous e-mail writer. While you are sticking your nose in other people’s lives, I am writing novels and living my life exactly the way I want. Go me.

This all may be a little repetitive for those who have kept up with my blog since the beginning. I just needed to write a little background info to help new readers. I am truly thankful for those of you who stuck with me and were unbelievably patient throughout the whole ordeal. You know who you are. How about an autographed book when it comes out?

Hi.

Back in September of 2009, I started a blog. It was just a fun idea at first but then I slowly and steadily realized it kept me sane. Through the happy times and the sad, I was able to be open and honest for the first time and it felt good. Good in a way that some people only feel when they are drunk or stoned. Good like you are about to have amazing sex with a person you love. Just fucking good. I do feel blessed to be able to reach this incredible high by merely putting words together and I am confident that my friends and family understand this. What they don’t get about me is the fact that I live a double life. I am a smart, shy, modest person but there is a side of me that is extremely… extreme. The only way I can satisfy this is by dancing for strangers and getting paid for it. Yes, I am an exotic dancer. No, I do not have sex with strangers nor do I shoot drugs into my arm. I am not in an abusive relationship. It is just something that makes me feel like I am flying and I don’t think that is so bad. This is the part where some people disagree.

Just recently, I learned that an e-mail was sent to both of my parent’s personal e-mail addresses which contained my site address. And by recently, I mean a couple of weeks ago. The person who wrote this said that my life was spiraling out of control and that I was headed down the wrong path. They also mentioned I was experimenting with drugs and that he/she was deeply concerned about me. If you recall anything about my previous posts, you would understand that what I was writing was not for the eyes of my parents. Atleast not yet. I was planning on publishing my work and approaching them with a book, which I consider tangible evidence that I am not heading down the wrong path. That I have been in control the whole time and I have something to show for it. When does life ever go according to plan? Some person out there felt the need to take this matter into their own hands, something I consider selfish and vindictive. They obviously wanted to see me fall. Yes, asshole, I did fall and I felt terrible for days. You won round one. What is particularly maddening about the situation is the fact that this person is still a mystery. My parents refuse to send me the e-mail because they made a “promise” to the person that they wouldn’t. What a complete pussy. So in an effort to shield myself from the pain of betrayal, I abandoned Running From Grace and started a new blog. A blog that hardly anyone knew about in which I wrote three posts. I talked about who I suspected of such treachery and the “drugs” the person may have been referring to. I basically just vented. It took me two weeks to realize that I was being a complete pussy and with that realization came the rebirth of Running From Grace. In conclusion, here is my formal FUCK YOU to the person that went behind my back. Here is my formal welcoming to the site for both my Mom and Dad. And here is round two.