And thus ends my first full weekend as an employed young lady since the fall of 2011. Hubby had Presley at home, and I worked Thursday, Friday, Saturday at the club. Apparantly it was a slow week, but I still made over $1,800. Not too shabby considering my last job was a serving gig where I would be lucky to make $400 in wages and tips over a weekend. If being naked a small portion of the time, and assessed on my looks and conversational abilities instead of my drink carrying/ order remembering skills means I make $1,400 more for WAY less effort, I'll take it.
There's some stuff I want to get down here. I suppose I should do it chronologically.
Thursday morning I caught the bus into the city. It only took an hour and a half. I slept most of the way, so it felt like 5 minutes. I think I'll be using the bus more often. It only costs $31, which is not much more than fuel for our gas guzzling turbo machine.
The house was pretty quiet this week. We had our regular "house mom", the stereotypical 40-something stripper who is still pretty and slim, but has a tired voice and jaded eyes. The two other quality private rooms were occupied by Germans "twins" and a girl from London, England. That put me in the basement dorm bunkbeds, next to the washer and dryer. Again. I don't mind though, since I'm still really new and untested. Its part of my long-term goal to get the Londonite's room. Right next to the main bathroom, with a private balcony and a big chunky timber bed that just whispers "lay here and sleep all day, darling" its the best one for a solo girl, I think.
The club was pretty dead again this Thursday. The only reason I made any money at all was because the self-declared "awesome", "special" "all-round great guy" multi-millionaire (the last bit is the only part I believe) bought 3/4 of an hour with me. After kicking a ridiculous amount to the club, I still made $360 off of that. I''ll tell you what, you can put on as much makeup as you like, and wear the sexiest stuff, but nothing gives the same confidence as having already made lots of money early on. It keeps the desperate out of your voice. After that, a couple of lucky one-offs and a duo dance with the Brit, plus my stage tips brought my total up to well over $600. I tipped the MC $20 (unnecessary, but I find it helpful to have the dj as a friend), paid my $120 in rent, and still left with the most money of all the girls there. After only making $150 last week, it was a nice feeling to start off successful.
I spent nearly all of my Thursday night earnings on underwear and jewelery the next day. But hey, quality knickers are an investment in this business, and the confidence they give you can't be measured in dollars. I spent Friday night in a Playboy set with thigh high fishnets, and made $800 even though we closed early due to NO customers after 3 a.m. Is this because of quality underwear? I think at least partially.
Friday was an interesting night, actually. I met, charmed, and danced for some memorable people. I had my first couple in together for a set, which costs WAAAY more than a single, and is WAAAY less work. These two were, anyway. The guy didn't want any attention; he wanted to watch me seduce his wife. I find these married ladies to be much more gentle than men, and she was very appreciative as well, so this was simply a pleasure dance for me. Every once in awhile, they would stop watching me, and just kiss for a few seconds. Dirty, slobbery, with tongue and noises. It was pretty intense. I didn't really care though, because it gave me a chance to rest for a moment. 5 songs later, they were on their merry way, promising to come back in a month or so to see me again. Walking as slowly as possible, across to the side exit, and back out onto the floor, I wondered whether they would go straight home for sex now, or off to another bar or strip club first. Either way, I'm pretty sure I was in bed with those two in their fantasy land later on. Reminded me of Hubs and myself, only older.
I also met and landed my first quadrant. I'm not sure if thats the official stripper lingo for a pack of four men, but that's what I call the group if I manage to dance for all of them over the course of the night. They were four work mates. I'm amazed at how four such different personalities get along well enough to call each other "mates", but maybe....work commonalities? beer? There was the gentle, reluctant divorcee who was bought a lap dance by someone else and refused to watch me dance at all in the private room. Instead, he insisted on my sitting across from him and discussing frankly and professionally, my business goals and life plan. I found myself telling him about Presley. He told me about work/family balances, mistakes he made, and reminded me that no matter what, the little Prez bundle is Numero Uno. He ended up extending his time voluntarily, and we talked some more. The man who bought him these dances? A married stubbie-shaped dude with a two-year old son, who regularly emotionally cheats on his wife via the internet, and is desperate to sleep with a man, although he keeps it secret. Its a mad world. The other two were younger, dirtier (or maybe just drunker, since I didn't get around to them until almost midnight) and much more like our average customer. I don't even remember a single thing I talked about with either of those two. 75% of it was probably bullshit.
Super-awesome-multi-millionarie dude came back again. I weighed the pros and cons of dancing for him again, and decided that my quadrant had given me enough moolah that I wouldn't have to be near his stinky cigarette breath on this particular evening. I went on stage twice, and enjoyed my first "full-house" where all the seats around the stage were full of rowdy, appreciative tippers and I don't know what I enjoyed more: the money, or the cheering and the name chanting. Its nice to be good at the dancing part. I was glad I came in early and practiced a couple of new moves with Veronica, and doubly glad I'd changed my music. I just can't be sexy to the house dance stuff, ay. Its rock or R&B for me, baby.
I called every single one of the customers baby or darling or sweetheart, or something like that. Its just way easier than remembering names, and it comes across nice and friendly. I fluttered my eyelashes until I gave myself muscle spasms. I laughed at things that I did NOT think were clever or funny in the least, and I practiced letting the sour smell of liquor breath wash over me without dropping my smile. That last one is pretty difficult, not gonna lie. I was too focussed on hustling to notice the other girls discussing how dead it was, and I was shocked when they turned the lights on at 3:30 instead of 5. It was half a pleasant surprise though, because I had been aware that I was losing energy and bounce by then, and trying to decide if a red bull was a good idea. I made $740, and smiled all the way home.
Saturday was pedicure day. Gawd, that process is enshrined in my top-10 experiences post-baby. Nothing is more indulgent than wandering the harbour-front streets aimlessly window shopping until you find a suitable day spa, and splurging on a little self-spoilage. I left an hour later with fire engine red toe nails and happy little feets. You can't do that sort of thing with bubs in tow.
I knew that Saturday night was supposed to be much busier, so I spent the rest of Saturday relaxing, dozing, stretching, bathing, applying makeup, and generally revelling in my sweet sweet free time.
Saturday night is a post in its own right, and the baby is awake and trying to grab the keys, which makes typing difficult. I'll finish off recording this weekend once the house is asleep tonight.
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