Running From Grace

This weekend proved to be very interesting. Not only did I make great money but I also witnessed two things I have never seen in a strip club before…

A gay couple. I was making my rounds through the room when I saw two men sitting together in the far right corner. As I made my way towards them, I watched one of them put his arm around the other. The other grasped the hand of the one, and the two of them sat there in a rather loving embrace just watching the stage show. Imagine the sound of screeching brakes when I noticed this. What the hell? These guys either lost a bet or they truly have balls of steel.

A new fetish. After chatting with a middle aged man for a little while, I asked him if he would like to do a dance with me. He agreed, then added in a rather discreet manner that he had a “thing” for armpits. Come again? Apparently the smoothness of that area of a woman’s body really turns him on and he was wondering if I would play along with it. I’ve done the foot fetish, the bondage fetish, and the slip fetish, but never an armpit fetish. Maybe I slept through that lesson in stripper school. We eventually made our way the private dance area and that is when he told me there was no need for me to remove my clothes. All he wanted me to do was raise my arms near his face and touch that area while slowly dancing to the music. OK then. I did as he asked and prayed no one happened to be glancing into my dance room at that time. Can you picture how odd that would’ve looked? A dancer fully clothed sticking her armpits in some dude’s face!? They’d probably still call me a whore.

xoxo

ROUND 1

While I was on stage at the beginning of my shift, I got tipped by a couple of young guys who thought it would be cool to crumple the dollar bills into balls and throw them at me. Despite how utterly annoying this behavior is, I put up with it because the two of them got VIP dances earlier in the night and I thought maybe I could get a piece of that. After my show, I approached one of them, gently put my hands on his shoulder, and asked if I could sit with him. He looked at me with total disgust and said “not really”, making sure to roll his eyes and then continue his conversation with his friend.

ROUND 2

By now, it’s about one in the morning and it seems every girl is having a great night but me. I thought I could change my luck by sitting with a guy that was all by himself and completely intoxicated. We chatted for a little bit, did two single dances, and when we returned to his table, I began to tell him all about the VIP dance. He immediately asked if we would be “touching privates” back there and when I told him no, he completely shut down. Thinking this guy wanted nothing more to do with me, I told him I was going to mingle around for a little bit and that I would be back to hang out with him later. He agreed. A little while later, I noticed him tipping a girl on stage so I decided to say hi again and see if he changed his mind about the dance. When he sat down, I approached his chair and as I was about to sit on his lap, he told me not to. When I turned towards him, he said, “I am hanging out with Angelina when she comes off stage. You snooze you lose!” then raised his hand for a high five. The two of them spent an hour in the VIP.

ROUND 3

2:30 in the morning. I am walking past a group of guys who were on their way out and one of them thought it would be hilarious to pull the string on my bikini top. When he did, the whole thing fell down and I immediately covered myself with my arms. Then, I proceeded to rip into him like I have never ripped into a customer before. I told him what he did was not funny and to never do it again along with mentioning the word “asshole” a couple times. In his drunken state, he just laughed at me and continued out the door.

College, for me, was the best time of my life. I had genuine friends I could trust and there was always something fun going on. Like hide and seek. The north side of the campus was surrounded by a heavily wooded area and a group of us would get dressed all in black and disappear within the depths of the trees. Of course the alcohol factor made it hard to be truly stealthy, but for some reason, I was good at being quiet. I slipped in and out of the shadows, my presence completely undetected until I made a run for “home” and got chased down by one of my tall, agile male friends. Never in my life would I have thought my hide and seek skills would come in handy someday. And then there was last night. I was at work and come to think of it, I was wearing black. A black, strapless evening gown with some silver sparkles here and there. Not exactly an outfit for hiding, but somehow it did the trick. The club was completely dead in the first few hours of opening and I found myself sitting along the back bar watching one of the big screens and completely zoning out. This is my usual activity when there are no customers because I can’t stand the dressing room and I don’t really need to go out and smoke. Unfortunately, there is only so much ESPN I can take. I began to feel incredibly antsy so I decided to go to my locker and see if I had any new text messages. Up the stairs and into the dressing room I went, and just as I was about to open my phone, I heard one of the girls say my name. I stopped doing what I was doing and listened. The mindless chatter of everyone else seemed to drown out her voice but there was no doubt I was the topic of conversation at that moment in time. I then heard, clear as day, “Oh shit! You don’t think she is in here, do you?” My curiosity was instantly peaked. What were they saying about me? I headed back down to the main floor, thinking of the girl who’s voice brought my name to life. Her name was Stacy. Stacy could be described as loud, obnoxious, and very immature, yet I never really had a problem with her. She had just started dancing in December of 2009 and I watched her transform from a rather fast paced, choppy dancer to something much more graceful and in control. I told her this when she asked me whether or not her stage show had improved. The two of us talked about customers and different things we did outside the club and any time I knew there was a customer with money, I always pointed her in his direction. Knowing all of this, I wanted to assume she said something nice about me but after all the negative experiences I have had with girls in the past, I remained skeptical. They just had to be talking shit. I approached one of the girls who had been in the dressing room at the same time my name was said and she filled me in on what happened. Stacy and the group of dancers she was sitting with heard over the house mom’s walkie talkie that two customers had come in and Stacy announced to everyone not to bother going down there because Phoenix would be all over them and no one would have a chance at making money. In all actuality, I have heard much worse said about me so I wasn’t too upset by the actual statement. But why was it coming from a girl who just started working in a strip club and someone who I have gone out of my way to help? This completely blew my mind. At the other clubs I have danced at, I have tried the same “team player” tactic, letting other dancers know where the money is and asking them if they want to team up on a couple of customers. If they come to me for help with pole tricks or stage shows, I drop whatever I am doing to demonstrate what works for me and give them tips on how to be successful. Apparently this is not a good idea. Strip clubs are full of simple, shallow people who are unable to discuss nothing but other people and I am realizing just how out of place I really am. Because of this, I often wish I didn’t like exotic dance so much. I have made great money and I have been able to do things I wouldn’t normally be able to do with a regular job, but it has seriously left a gaping wound on my soul. I feel I have been exposed to the true scum of the earth and the ugliness I have seen is forever etched in my memory. People are truly sad. They are so consumed with their own pathetic lives that they see someone doing well and they instinctively make every attempt to ruin them. Even though I honestly feel this way, I am not going to alter my lifestyle in ANY way to please ANY one. I am good at getting dances. I have a great stage show. I love the way I look. And I refuse to talk badly about people because quite frankly, I have better things to do. Like finally landing a publisher for my book….

Every once in a while, I get to this point. Usually it involves Everclear, my car, and some long expressways. Other times, I end up taking a really long walk through the city. Never do I ever call someone. Basically, I fall victim to my thoughts and nothing feels better than getting lost in my own head. Also, I crave the sensation of being physically close to someone. Completely contradictory, I know. But when I get to this point, I either want no one or someone in my bed. What the hell is that all about? Because today was a long drive day, I analyzed some of my recent actions and I actually thought there is a good chance I am a sex addict. The term initially made me laugh out loud when certain celebrities, like David Duchovny and Tiger Woods, made it famous. Of course you are going to get alot of ass if you are loaded with money and are atleast somewhat attractive. The problem is, these men got married long before they were actually ready to settle down and their sexual urges got the best of them. I don’t see addiction here. Only guys that got cornered by a) pressures of society b) pressure from family c) pressures from the wife. In saying all of this, does sex addiction actually exist? And if so, where do I fit in? First of all, I love working as a stripper. I enjoy being watched on stage and I like the sexual intimacy created in a lap dance (if it is done right). Second of all, I can tell immediately when a guy (a normal guy, not a customer) is into me and I take full advantage of this. By saying this, I don’t mean I am a gold digging bitch. I just mean I play mind games, try and get in his head and fuck with his thoughts to the point where I am in control. I guess this connects to how I handle myself in the strip club and it ultimately protects me from getting hurt. Nothing is more intriguing to me than a guy that plays the games right back. But that is besides the point. Basically I am in control which means that I make the first move when it comes to sexual intimacy. And trust me, I always make the first move. I am not impulsive nor do I have one night stands, but I do love the thrill of that first encounter where everything is new and incredibly hot. And just like that, I’m bored. When stuff like that happens, I totally see how working as a dancer has affected my personal life. It’s like “OK, I got the dance. Move on to the next guy.” I abhor this part of me that has developed over the years. So, like the pathetic celebrities, I am desperate to put a name on my strange syndrome. Turns out, I am normal. I don’t compulsively masturbate. I actually know the people I sleep with and I think cybersex is completely pointless. Porn bores me. People who suffer from sex addiction are obsessed to the point where it ruins their lives, but I merely use sex as a means to explore people. When you are naked with another person, not only do you see every inch of their skin but you also get a glimpse into their soul. Atleast that is how I see it. This is the reason I can not have one night stands. I need to know the person pretty well so I have an idea of what I am looking for and as soon as I find it, I see a depth that is so beautiful. So unique and mysterious. All I want to do is dive in and that is exactly what I do. Some people call this slutty. Others think it is necessary. I say I am addicted to life and nothing is going to keep me from getting my fix.

Sometimes, when I go out of town for an extended period of time, I lose touch with myself. For example, one of my best friends asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding so I was recently on the east coast celebrating with her and her family. This particular friend is the exact opposite of me in every way so how we are so close I do not know. All I do know is that I love her dearly and I want nothing but happiness for her. And by happiness, I mean hot, wild wedding night sex. About a month ago, I went on the Fredericks of Hollywood website and bought her a little something that looked like this…

Fredericks of Hollywood Erika Hanky Hem Babydoll $22.00

I had to keep in mind that her style is very different from my style. She has a curvy figure and is very modest, so I thought something looser with a halter tie would really flatter her and make her feel sexy. The other bridesmaids were planning on getting her lingerie as well so I was really excited to see what everyone would come up with. Fast forward to the night before the wedding. The maid of honor got her a couple of regular bras, five pairs of multi-colored normal panties, and a floor length silk nightgown with matching robe. The other bridesmaid got her a matching tank top and boy short set along with another silky floor length night gown. And then there was me, the degenerate bridesmaid. As soon as she pulled my gift out of the bag, she looked shocked and the other girls started laughing and rooting her on. Of course she broke out into smiles eventually, but I couldn’t help but feel totally awkward. Are the other girls totally old fashioned or have I completely lost touch with what normal society considers sexy? In my personal opinion, the gift I got her was incredibly tame. But then again, I have no problem wearing something like this in front of a room full of strangers…

Leather Bra and G-String by Snaz75.com $37.99

So it became obvious I was the wild one without even trying to be. That works. In all actuality, I have been labeled much worse things. A lot of people think I am really stuck up when they first meet me. Others think I sleep around or that I am very shy. Then, there are the people at the wedding that think I am a professional dancer. It all started with a really hot, Latin song that the DJ decided to play. As soon as I heard the beat, I kicked off my shoes and ditched the other bridesmaids to go dance. There I was, in the middle of a sea of couples, giving in to the music and allowing it to move my body in any way it wanted. And believe it or not, my job at the strip club did not give me this confidence. I have always loved the feeling of dancing alone. As soon as the song ended, I returned to the table and more than one person asked me where I had learned to move like that. Have you taken lessons? How long have you been practicing? Can you teach me? I feel that what I tap into when I move my body is something more than just dancing. I feel a very intense connection to music and I don’t think that I could teach it even if I tried. You either have it or you don’t. Sometimes, when I am bored at work, I will watch the girls on stage and I can instantly pick up on who “feels” it and who doesn’t. It’s very obvious when you know what you are looking for. Controlled movements. Eye contact. Brief moments where the hands run across the body. And all of it perfectly on beat with the song playing. I often wonder if customers can pick up on this as well.

To top it all off, I crashed at one of the bridesmaid’s houses after the ceremony and they decided to put me in Stacy’s bed room. Stacy was her younger sister and just happened to be stunning in a way I rarely see. Her Spanish heritage gave her a beautiful olive complexion and she had big, full lips that would put Angelina Jolie to shame. In my opinion, I thought she would make a great stripper. As soon as I walked into Stacy’s room, however, my attitude completely changed. Bibles. Crucifixes. Fluffy stuffed animals. Pink. The abrupt thought of my entire body bursting into flames sent a chill down my spine. What the hell was all this? As I laid in her bed, surrounded by innocence and purity, I began to wonder what led me astray. Growing up, I always went to church every Sunday and even took religious education classes. How come I didn’t turn out like Stacy? How come I feel the need to do what I do? I guess the answer is I never believed in the first place. If my memory serves me right, when you receive your first communion and you get confirmed, you take an oath of some sort that says you believe in God and everything He represents. I said exactly what everyone wanted me to say, yet deep down I wasn’t buying it. I suppose if you have my attitude about religion, then dancing naked for strangers is not something that needs to be forgiven. It’s not something that is considered sinful or shameful. It is just fun, sexy, and very lucrative.  Believe it or not, I slept very well in that sweet, loving bedroom but I was happy to get out of there the next day. I yearned to be in my own apartment, to be surrounded by the color black and sexy photographs I have collected from the internet and magazines over the years. I was dying to step over platform shoes strewn about on the floor and to lay down on my leopard print comforter. Needless to say, it’s good to be home.

Gemini was one of the top dancers at the club. She had a tight body, long, voluminous hair, and a set of enhanced breasts that practically broke the necks of every man in a fifty foot radius of her. Not only was she easy on the eyes, but she also put on one hell of a stage show. This girl could climb faster than a God damn Navy Seal and as soon as she reached the top of the pole, she floated down to the ground with such grace and precision that you couldn’t help but wonder if she was really human. I have chatted with Gemini here and there and she was nothing but sweet to me, always smiling and cracking jokes. An all round fantastic dancer. One night, I was relaxing with a customer after an extended amount of time in the VIP room when it was her turn on stage. He and I watched as she moved, so fluid and exotic. Sensual and hypnotizing. She was truly a sight to behold but it wouldn‘t be too long before gravity had its revenge. About half way through her second song, Gemini stumbled on her seven inch heels and lost her footing. She crashed to her knees, quickly recovering with some floor work, eventually turning to the crowd and giving a rather guilty smile. She had lived through every dancer’s worst nightmare and handled it in the most perfect way possible. Turn the tumble into some kind of floor move and acknowledge the blooper with a good attitude. I mentioned this to the customer I was sitting with and he had no idea what I was talking about. Apparently she had hidden the mistake so well he hadn’t even noticed.

As an exotic dancer, you put yourself out there more than most people. Not only are you naked in front of a room full of strangers, but you are constantly exposed to scrutiny, judgment, and the chance of making an ass out of yourself on stage. I always preach about keeping your mind above all the lesser, mis-informed, self righteous dick heads out there, but what do you do when something completely humiliating happens? Something that doesn’t involve mental strength? The following situations may or may not have happened to me in my dancing career and not only are they meant to be learned from, but you should also understand that dancers are human. No matter how beautiful we are, no matter how well we dance, no matter how many times you swear you see wings coming out of our shoulders blades, we are not perfect. Real close, but not perfect.

What to do if…

you botch a pole trick.

Answer: Similar to a stumble, turn it into something completely different and send a look into the crowd that says, “I fucked up but I am still hot.” This should only be done under extreme circumstances, like if you completely fell off or hit your head on the floor. If you get “stuck” and end up awkwardly releasing from a trick, just keep moving like it didn’t happen. Guys do not notice stuff like that.

you get your period on stage.

Answer: Yeah yeah real gross, right? The truth is, girls dance during that annoying week all the time. All you have to do is take a tampon, cut the string, and you are good to go. Unfortunately, there is always the chance of bleeding through, which can be completely mortifying. If you are dancing while on your period, always wear a dark colored thong and clothing to match. In the event that you feel it happening and are not able to leave the stage, keep your legs closed and just do simple movements. Don’t do any extreme dollar tricks.

you get stuck trying to take off a piece of clothing.

Answer: Laugh it off. If you notice anyone is looking directly at you, send them a smile and an exasperated look, as if taking off clothes is the hardest thing in the world. If someone is near the stage, ask them to help you (if club rules permit). Any guy in their right mind would love to untangle the knot in your bikini top so he can see you topless. Eventually you will be able to get through it but it might take a little longer than expected. People will wait.

some loser attempts to ruin your life by sticking his/her nose where it doesn’t belong.

Answer: Keep writing.

Trent Reznor

There are times when I feel incredibly alone. Like there is not a soul on this earth that could possibly understand the thoughts in my head. Like I am screaming at the top of my lungs and there isn’t a single person that can hear me. Like I am drowning in frigid, unmerciful waters without any hope of someone throwing me a life saver. And although all of this is a good reason for me to hole up in my apartment and wish for death, it is essentially what makes me alive. What makes me human. We all have our battles and the lifestyles we choose determine just how great our personal war with the world will be. Some people are satisfied with their role as the innocent civilian, while others want nothing but the front lines and an AK-47. Can you guess where I would be? I am hoping to see you there too. I also wouldn’t mind going to battle with some of the most daring people the world ever saw. The real fighters. The ones who defied society and basically gave the finger to every social rule there ever was. Mae West. Martin Luther King Jr.. Harvey Milk. And then there is Trent Reznor, lead singer of Nine Inch Nails and someone who I believe singlehandedly changed industrial rock music forever. He has been around for the past 20 years and in those 2 decades, he has come out with numerous number one songs that have put his personal thoughts out there for everyone to see.  Pair this raw passion with strong beats and captivating lyrics and you have the recipe for pure musical genius. In his own way, Trent is a stripper. Just like me. And it is quite obvious that his defiance not only made him a millionaire but it also made him an icon. He isn’t afraid to break the rules and let people see him for who he is. If that isn’t inspirational, I don’t know what is.

I am a relatively new NIN fan. The first song I ever heard was “Closer” and I was immediately intrigued by the boldness of the lyrics. Although edited, I knew what he was getting at and I really liked it. When I first started dancing, I always asked the DJ to play it for me but it was constantly “reserved” for some other girl that had been there longer. It wasn’t until my fourth club that I was able to put Trent’s words into motion and it truly felt amazing. You let me violate you. My body became an extension of his storm, bending and twisting with the winds. You let me desecrate you. My heart echoed the rhythmic thunder of his voice, his words. His insides. You let me penetrate you. Flashes of pinks and reds lit up my eyes, my skin, any darkness that dwelled in my soul. And yes Trent, you can complicate me any day. Not only did “Closer” tap into the hidden sex kitten inside of me, but other songs really spoke to me as well. The following are some of my favorite lyrics from my favorite NIN songs.

“You can have my isolation.
You can have the hate that it brings.
You can have my absence of faith.
You can have my everything.”
- Closer

“Devils speak of the ways in which she’ll manifest.
Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress.
Need to contaminate to alleviate this loneliness.
I now know the depths I reach are limitless.”
- Reptile

“so impressed with all you do
tried so hard to be like you
flew too high and burnt the wing
lost my faith in everything

lick around divine debris
taste the wealth of hate in me
shedding skin succumb defeat
this machine is obsolete

made the choice to go away
drink the fountain of decay
tear a hole exquisite red
fuck the rest and stab it dead

broken bruised forgotten sore
too fucked up to care anymore
poisoned to my rotten core
too fucked up to care anymore”
- Somewhat Damaged

“In my nothing, you meant everything to me.”
- And All That Could’ve Been

“My moral standing is lying down”.
- The Only Time

Etc.

This post is dedicated to Chicago Joe

If there are any other NIN fans out there, feel free to add a lyric!

I love the club I work at. The male employees don’t attempt to get in my pants. The stage is huge and is equipped with a really nice light show. I am making more money there than I ever did in my entire life. And the dancers actually do their job and mind their business. I don’t think I could ask for anything more. Speaking of the dancers, about 95% of them are absolutely gorgeous and what I have noticed about the girls that work in city clubs is that they are very trendy. Some of the outfits and accessories they wear on stage are things I have never seen before or things I would’ve thought looked tacky underneath the rotating lights. Here are some examples.

Flower headband at www.shopmasons.com

Rhinestone jewelry at www.ureternity.com

Not an outfit or an accesory, but girls in city clubs have the best work I have ever seen. www.allwomenstalk.com

Sequins gowns at www.snaz75.com $157.99

Hair extensions at www.easygrooming.com

I’m not big with keeping up with the trends. If you haven’t noticed from my last post, I could care less what is considered “in”. But for alot of girls, having the most sparkles and the biggest boobs are top priority on their to do list. I like to wear things that are cute and sexy, but also functional. And by functional I mean can be removed easily. I do own a few flower head bands but I like to do fast spins on the pole. This could easily send my cute hair piece into the lap of some drunk idiot in the crowd so I’d rather save them for shopping trips or a lunch date with a friend. I have not tapped into the rhinestone jewelry craze but I love the way it looks on stage. Same with the sequined gowns. My club does not have black lights so the sparkles, as opposed to the glowing garters, thongs, arm bands, etc. , stand out more than anything. And because you are technically in competition with every girl there, having the edge is very important. Hair extensions are definitely my thing. I swear by the Euronext brand that is sold at Sally’s Beauty Supply. They are real human hair, easy to style, and you are able to unclip them at the end of the night as opposed to spending hundreds to have them glued directly into your hair (see picture above). And as far as boob jobs go, that is the one plastic surgery I would never get. Atleast not at this point in my life. Although silicone looks good from afar, alot of them feel hard and they lack that subtle movement that makes breasts sexy in the first place. I am not against anyone who has had the surgery done but I think it is important to find a top of the line surgeon who can make them look as realistic as possible. The city girls have access to these kinds of guys and they certainly have the money to spend on it. If not, their boyfriends or regulars certainly do. If anyone has seen other trends at their neighborhood club, please feel free to comment. I would love to hear how other girls rock out.

Everyone wants to be the cool kid on the block. At a young age, people begin to discern what is “in” and what is “out” and by the time you reach adulthood, you are so jaded by popular culture that you practically become a robot. Like this music. Drink that drink. Wear that color. And we follow blindly, completely comfortable in a world where we are told what lifestyle is ideal and how to interact with the people around us. I remember in high school, I was always infatuated with the beautiful, popular girls. I found myself observing their antics, wondering what made them special and what made me rather ordinary. I concluded it was the sports. It seemed these goddesses were always on some kind of team and I was the girl that played in the band and wrote books. Basically I was never destined to be cool. At age 15, this is devastating. At 26, I find myself wondering why I ever gave a shit about those pretty girls. According to facebook, most of them are married and popping out kids, living ordinary lives with their ordinary husbands. They are following the path that is intended for the typical person in their mid twenties and this is considered “cool”. I beg to differ. The need to be with the in crowd is not only widespread throughout society, but it happens at a much smaller level as well. Like in strip clubs. In order to be the cool dancer, you have to possess certain traits that make you fun to be around yet non-threatening. Finding this tender balance between the two can be difficult, but not impossible. I’ve seen it done many times.

The cool dancer…

drinks. She usually starts the night off with shots of Goldschlager and can be seen wandering around with beer bottles and mixed drinks for the remainder of her shift. She never becomes a sloppy drunk, but does have a tendency to either get really friendly or really angry when she’s had a few too many.

smokes. The smoking area is where most of the socialization happens between dancers, aside from the dressing room. The cool dancer is out there once an hour bitching about customers and life in general with whoever will listen.

does pole tricks. She most likely has been dancing for years so pole work is a skill she has sufficiently honed. From one legged holds to mind blowing spins, she has the ability to turn every head when she begins to climb.

has some kind of typical stripper issue. Single mom. Abusive boyfriend. Drug addiction. Promiscuity. But never all at the same time.

makes good money. But not great money. The cool dancer relates to all the girls because she does do dances, but she also tends to socialize and sit with a customer longer than needed. Because of this, she is not a direct threat to anyone’s money.

has bitched out atleast one other dancer. She almost always butts head with another girl for some reason and this usually leads to a verbal (sometimes physical) fight. This is usually done in front of other dancers so that the cool dancer can establish her role as the bad ass. As soon as this intimidation is set in, respect is earned and no one dares to piss her off again.

So I was uncool in high school and I have managed to keep it going into my exotic dancing career. I don’t drink at work. Cigarettes gross me out. I don’t do complex pole tricks. I have no typical stripper issues. I make great money. And I would never get in anyone’s face unless certain extreme circumstances were met. Also, I play video games, I actually like Britney Spears, and crossword puzzles rock my world. Although none of these things are considered cool, my opinion of what is cool is being true to yourself. So what if I can’t do an upside down split on the pole? So what if I can kick everyone’s ass in Mario Kart? I am happy to be me and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I have gotten a few comments/e-mails about my lap dance post from back in October. I decided to combine the sales pitch and the actual art of the dance into one super post so anyone who is curious can get the full story in one place. Enjoy!

1. I scan the room for potential money. The man I usually go for is sitting alone and looks between the ages of 30 and 60. He is usually dressed casually, sometimes dressy, and he has been at the club for more than ten minutes.

2. I walk over to him and as soon as he notices I am approaching him, I smile, lean in towards him drawing attention to my cleavage, and ask if I can sit with him. They almost always say yes. I sit on his lap and throw my arm around his neck.

3.  The conversation. As I talk with him, I have eye contact more often than not. One of my strongest features is my eyes so I make sure he gets a good look at them. I gently rub his shoulder or neck. I toss my hair once or twice so he gets a hint of my perfume scent. At the end of my spiel, I ask him for the dance and he usually says yes. Below are the conversation topics I use with every single customer.

Hi. Can I sit with you?
Sure.

What’s your name?
Bob. What’s yours?
Jenna.

Nice to meet you, Bob. What brings you in tonight?
1. Boredom… Well you sure came to the right place if you want excitement!
2. I want to see pretty girls… You came to the right place!
3. I want to drink… I guess the pretty girls are just a bonus then!
4. I’m here with a friend… Well your friend has good taste in clubs.

The conversation might start flowing from this question, but just in case it doesn’t…

Have you ever been here before?
1. Yes… Welcome back! You can’t get enough of us, can you?
2. No… Oh nice! What do you think so far?

Where are you from?
He will usually answer from a place near the club and will almost always ask you the same question. Lie if you want but remember, if he is a repeat customer, you have to keep up with the lie and not change your story. I suggest starting out with a fake place of residence that you know atleast a little bit about and using it with every single man.

What do you do for a living?
His answer will give you an idea if he will buy a dance or not. Unemployed is usually a red flag but sometimes they will buy dances so don’t give up on him. The ones who I have had most trouble with is the men that are actually in the strip club business. They know the game and they like to play it back because they think it makes them smart. Too bad I am smarter. Teachers, construction workers, lawyers, and mechanics are my favs.

By now, the conversation has taken off in some way. By asking the questions above, you can atleast find one thing you have in common with him and go off on a tangent. If he is a teacher, tell him about a past teacher you had. If he is from somewhere far away, tell him about a recent trip you made. This entire conversation CAN NOT last longer than five minutes. Don’t forget… time is money! If you play your cards right and talk about the right things, he will enjoy your company and want to spend more time with you. The lap dance pitch I always use goes like this…

How long are you staying tonight? (Make sure you ask him this with your mouth near his ear. The hot breath next to this area will send a shiver down his spine)
I will be here until close… Well how would you like to start your night off with a dance from me?
I am leaving after this beer… Before you leave, would you like a dance with me?
I’m not sure… Would you be interested in having a private dance with me tonight?

I use the time aspect to ease into the kill. This way, it doesn’t sound blunt, like you are a machine with your main function being to get his money. Technically this is true minus the machine part. Be outgoing, upbeat, and make him your main focus. Do not, under any circumstance, complain about how broke you are or how much your life sucks. Leave the bitching to his wife. I’m sure she is amazing at it.

No, I don’t want a dance… OK no problem, if you change your mind let me know.
Well… I’m not sure… Trust me, you will have alot of fun. I am worth every penny.
Sure… OK, great! Come with me!

So he is now in my claws. I rise from his lap and extend my hand towards him. He takes it and we walk hand in hand to the lap dance room, which is usually a dimly lit area cut off from the rest of the club that is equipped with couches and mirrors. I ask him to have a seat and if we have to wait for the next song, I usually sit on his lap and rub his shoulders. If the next song is starting, I proceed with the dance. Try not to start more than 30 seconds into the song. He is a paying customer and he wants is a full song length with your fabulous self. I always start facing him and slowly grind on his crotch while pulling his face into my chest. I absolutely hate it when guys take this opportunity to shake their head like a hyena ripping apart a gazelle carcas in between my boobs. It is not amusing. Another thing I do while I am facing him is rub my fingers through his hair and stare deeply into his eyes. I can not stress how important eye contact is. It truly makes the experience intimate and personal, a sensation that alot of guys miss in their personal lives. But don’t hold a death stare with him. When you are doing something sexy, like running your fingers across your bare chest… that is when you give him a glance. And a brief, closed-lip smile. Make him feel like the rest of the club doesn’t exist and you are doing this because you genuinely want to. (Believe it or not there are actually some customers that I truly enjoy dancing for. It doesn’t happen too often though.) Eventually I turn around and gently rest my back against his front and move my hips rhythmically to the music. Because my face is right next to his, I close my eyes and moan softly, once again creating a more personal environment for him. One thing I am guilty of doing in this position is scanning the room for my next dance. At the club I work at now, the lap dance area is in the corner of the room encased with fake trees, which can be seen through if you really wanted to. I sometimes zone out checking out the floor and forget what I am doing. It is really bad and I am trying to break this habit. I’m a hustler, what can I say. So after I finish with the part of the dance facing away from him, I get down on my knees in front of him and gently rub my chest on his crotch. This may not be allowed in some clubs, but at mine it’s all good. As I do this, I grab his shirt and gently pull myself up towards his neck and let out a warm breath, then sink back down letting my chest rub against him and maintaining my sexy stare. At this point, the song is usually over and no matter what, I always ask, “Would you like round 2?” or “Want to make it 2?” About half the time, the guy will take another one. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen girls just get right up from a guy’s lap and not even ask. This makes her look like she is in a hurry and isn’t interested in him at all. Very bad for business!

So there you have it. Jenna’s lap dance. Notice that not anywhere in his post did I mention giving a guy a hand job, sucking his dick, fucking him, etc. That’s because I AM NOT DIRTY. I am good at this, and often times when you are good at something, people try to bring you down. For all the bitches that have left mean notes on my locker and spread rumors about me being easy, fuck you. Your life is a waste of flesh and air and you will never kick ass like I do.