I Think I'm Getting Played

I've recently befriended a young girl at the club named Mandy. Mandy moved here from Seattle and started about a month ago. Mandy had already been dancing for 2 years. It's been slow. She's striking, beautiful and not that quick to pick up on subtle hints. My friend Sapphire has hated Mandy since she started but I think it's a jealousy issue. I've looked for guile in Mandy and I just don't see it. Mandy is a good dancer and has been working for 2 years now. Honestly, I think she's just dumb and I hate this big sis responsibility kick I'm on right now but boy did she luck out. 

Mandy has taken customers from the tip rail after being told not to, she has stepped on Sapphire's toes poaching Sapphire's customers more than a couple times and I really don't think it's intentional. I think that she's just not that smart. After warning Mandy to be careful about stealing guys from other people's tip rail I was dancing on the main stage with a full tip rail and heard someone go pssssst! I turned and saw that Mandy, who was dancing on the smaller stage near my tip rail was trying to poach a customer. I mentioned it to her once I got off stage and her eyes welled up with tears. I tried to ignore the tears and walked away and still felt bad. 10 minutes later she was downstairs throwing up in the bathroom. Mandy had drank way too much. 

I've had her sit with my regulars with me and they quickly became hers (or more appropriately 'ours') before the Johns got so fed up with her 21 year old naivety and her inability to handle her booze. Then they ask for more private time with me. Ruby minus Mandy. Am I a sucker for beautiful doll like girls or what?

Rinse and Repeat

It's like 4:30 in the morning and I wolk up sweating for no reason. It's probably because I've been drinking copious amounts of alcohol these last two days and now my body is trying to release the toxins. One can only hope. I worked out before work today (technically it was yesterday) and had to take it easy on the pole. I told myself I would only drink four glasses of champagne but that went out the window after the fourth and I had about five or six more. 

To work as a stripper you have to be either emotionally fucked up enough to crave abuse or have an ego made of titanium steel. Let me premise this next rant with the fact that I'm fucking hot. I have this job for a reason that has nothing to do with being surgically enhanced with jumbo double d jugs. I look good naked. I work out hard. I'm 5'8, toned and sculpted at 120 pounds and I have a pretty face. I've been told I look like Giselle Bundchen. So, with that said I've had guys go out of their way to take me down a notch while dancing for them. A guy paying me a compliment about my hair will in the same breath say to me, "You'd have the perfect body if you just lost a little more weight around the middle." The man who so eagerly handed out this advise is a trader who obviously stays sedentary for days on end given the fact that he's one bag of Cheetos away from obese. Thanks! You should be my personal trainer.

My favorite from today was "You're a sleeper." When I asked what a sleeper was he said that he didn't notice me at all and is surprised that I'm so good looking because from far away you'd never know. Is that why he called me over and asked me to sit down?

"You're actually really beautiful." 

"Thank you."

"This outfit is kind of frumpy on you." I'm wearing a black bra and panties made of french lace. I stare blankly at him.

"It's just that you're not at all my type. I never call girls like you over."

"Would you like a dance?"

"I'm feeling generous today. I'll let you give me a dance. I never get dances from girls like you."

Immediately after stepping off stage I was motioned over by a man in a suit in his mid-forties. Not a bad looking guy but not a good looking one either. 

"Did you just start dancing?"

"Did you see me climb the pole and hang upside down?"

"Is that hard?"

"Some might say it is."

"You look familiar. I used to get dances from you a year ago. You've gained weight."

"That's not possible. I've only been here six months. Would you like a dance?"

"No offense. You're pretty and all but I'm waiting for a stone cold fox."

Must not have seen anybody he liked because he didn't get any dances. Even my friend Elise didn't have any luck with him and after her boob job dropped (I'm told you have to wait for implants to settle in) she now models for playboy's lingerie catalogue. 

Some men come in here to escape into a fantasy world and some to share their hatred of the real world. They get off on fucking with dancers and feeling out their insecurities. Some girls, mostly really young ones, can't help but let it get to them. They go blonder, five pounds lighter and add to more sessions to their work out routine. Wash, rinse, repeat. I feel sorry for them. They usually end up overly surgically enhanced, in debt because of the surgery and bitter.

Where Has Your Mouth Been?

I have to reinstate my old rule. No more hard liquor. I wolk up this morning barely able to remember what happened yesterday. I was missing $600 and started flipping out. My roommate/landlord gently reminded me that I paid him rent in cash yesterday. I hate this feeling. I am now officially on a champagne diet. No more hard booze. 

I drink when I'm upset and my Grama passed on Halloween. She was like a second mom to me. I grew up with her a big part of my life. I ended up doing nothing this weekend because of it and today I'm going to the mortuary to give moral support to my mom as she signs the papers. As a result of all this emotional stuff my stupid mind has to process I have to drink to work and drink I do. I was in a champagne room with a friend of the day shift manager and he actually kissed me on the mouth. It was all I could do to keep from dry heaving right in front of him. I actually gagged, I'm not kidding. I never let guys even close to being able to do that. Men are more likely to get away with grabbing my breasts than kissing me. Kissing customers is disgusting. One of my friends got fired for making out with a customer and even thinking about it now makes me want to puke. No, he was not hot.

I think my manager broke up with his girlfriend Leslie. I haven't seen Leslie in the club in a long time and the girl that just got put on two week probation for fighting is Leslie's friend. Leslie rarely had to dance on stage and could come into work whenever she felt like it with out having to pay a fee. Every customer she had was a champagne room and she rarely gave floor dances.  She seems to be a taboo subject these days. I'm pretty sure she broke up with him.

I See You Damn It!

Why do guys think it's cool to come into a strip club, sit at the middle table closest to the tip rail, and pretend that they could care less about whats happening on stage? I hate hate hate that. I work during the day and at lunch hour like clockwork a group of suits will sit around a table and pretend to be really engrossed in some kind of discussion they're supposedly having with each other while they click away at their crackberrys. They don't tip and they think they're sneaky with their secret ninja glances but I see you damn it! It sucks. Everyone is so cheap now a days!

Topless women in plastic shoes have to make a living too. Unless my manager is on the floor I will not take my top off until some one tips me. Sorry but nothings free. Unless of course you're the aforementioned men in the group that are incessantly scrolling emails with their crackberrys. They wait until a guy with some class actually tips me and try to look and me when my back is turned. The back wall is mirrored morons. I can see you doing it. I work at the nicest club in San Francisco and still the guys can be so cheap. I'm sorry the economy is bad. I'm sorry you just got laid off from Goldman Sachs and now only have that measly 10million to help you figure out what your next step is gonna be. I know you wanted at least 20million by the time you hit 35. Really, seriously? I hate you people!

On a more dramatic note there was another fist fight in the dressing room this week. One older dancer (in terms of her longevity at the club, not her age) and a newer dancer were hanging out the previous weekend at a night club and the newer dancer tried to get in the other's boyfriend's pants by selling her up the river when she went to the bathroom. I could see the tension between them build through out the day until one of them took a cheap shot in the dressing room hitting the other one square in the jaw. The older girl is now on a two week probation. Go figure. I like the older girl better than the newer one. I hope she comes back.