Selling Sexuality: Diary of a Young Erotic.

temporarily.

after racking up over a hundred dollars in back-pay house fees with no sign of better income on the horizon, i have temporarily quit dancing.

should i start to miss it, i’ll audition at another club.

i do intend to continue work in the sex industry. a comeback to fetish and pinup photography in the works? you bet your ass.

but what i don’t love

is making eight dollars in stage tips, not selling any dances, owing the club 20 dollars in house fees, and still needing money for a cab home.

what i don’t love

is the motherfuckers who look incredulous when you tell them the price of a couch dance as if they believe they and their 20 bucks is too damn good for a pretty girl to dance in their lap topless.

what i don’t love

is perverted, irritable, rude managers who think their jobs are somehow difficult in comparison to mine.

what i don’t love

is guys who bring enough for the cover charge, and nothing else.

and then still have the nerve to sit at the tip bar.

fuck you.

i can’t express through words alone, just how much my job can really suck.

i’m sure that most of you don’t think about these things, or don’t realize. so i’m about to open your eyes.

most strippers do not get hourly pay. every penny we earn comes out of your pocket. and you’re an ass if you don’t agree that we work hard for it. poledancing is not easy- those tricks that may or may not impress you take hours of practice and bruising, and girls who have danced for several years will tell you that dancing takes a hell of a toll on your body. those heels? they may make your ass look great but eight hours in those bad boys will leave your feet crying. believe me, to spend all day freezing your ass off in barely any clothing and six inch stilletos, only to walk out at the end of the night having not made any money(or worse, owing the club money) is one of the most discouraging feelings in the world.

we do not get a percentage of the admission you pay. so when you go to a club, have the fucking courtesy to bring more than five or ten dollars. most club fees are around ten bucks, but every penny goes to the club and its managers. coming in there and expecting to see something because you paid the fee is just rude. multiple naked girls are worth a lot more than your measly ten bucks. and we work at the club because we have bills to pay, not because we enjoy getting nude for strangers. we’ll gladly fall all over you and cater to your fantasies, but you better put a little greenery on that scenery.

you’re going to a strip club. not a whore house. sure, there are plenty of “clubs” out there that allow under-the-table services, but most of those are simple whore houses in disguise. if the club you’re going to has good lights and organized stage calls, you’re probably not in one of those establishments. therefor, have a little class, get your hands off my ass, and learn that a topless dance is not an invitation to put your tongue anywhere near me.

we are dancers, not your next girlfriend. just because we get naked for a living does not mean we want to give you our phone number, or take you to a hotel, or out to dinner, or anything else. just because someone works at a restaurant doesn’t mean they want to cook you dinner. and if the girl you’re talking to is up for something extra, it’s either because you’re spending a lot of money on her and she’s trying to get you as a regular, or because you’re about to buy a cheap whore and whatever comes with her. you get what you pay for.

you get what you pay for. if you buy a topless dance from me, no i’m not going to show you anything else unless i get a big fat tip. you wanna see some pink, gimme some green. always.

we are human girls with emotions and needs, we have bills to pay and dreams and families. so next time you decide to tell a girl you don’t think a nude lapdance is worth thirty bucks, think again. you’re telling someone that their most vulnerable state, while often literally busting their ass trying to look sexy for you, is not worth a measly thirty bucks. a mcdonalds employee makes that in a day barely putting up with customers, and you don’t think my naked ass is worth that after putting up with your overweight, pimply self? then you can fuck off.

strippers are quite often intelligent, hardworking, ambitious women with children to support or college tuition to pay or just dreams they can’t achieve without good, steady money. we’re not stupid, or slutty, or lazy- we need money to pay our bills and put food in our bellies just like you. treat us with respect- you obviously need us as much as we need you.

thank you for reading.

so here’s a consolidation of everything that’s happened.

i fucked up. a lot. maybe it wasn’t healthy that i made so much my first week of working, because i got too used to the money and blew a LOT of it on drugs. mainly oxycontin. and almost got addicted. because of it, i got really sick and had to take off work for a few days and ended up 40 bucks short for rent. luckily people owe me money so i’m getting it paid.

one of the managers, joe, now refuses to put me on his shift because he asked if i didn’t like how he runs things and i told him i didn’t prefer it. apparently he didn’t like that answer.

the past week has sucked, and i’m almost broke.

i’m hoping it will get better, and i’m trying not to fuck up as bad.

wish me luck.

only two customers came in, each tipped me a dollar.

i actually spent money being at work today.

i hope tomorrow is better.

almost no customers, until 1 am. then my regular came in, and bought a 60 dollar drink and a 150$ v.i.p.

still hungover, i came in to work at noon. there were a few guys that came in but i walked out with about 30 bucks in tips. i was vexed to say the least.

after my shift, my friend and i took a cab back to my house where we took a short nap and then got ready for a rave downtown. i was very excited.

i took an ecstasy tablet and bought another one not long after. i spent the latter half of the evening in the arms of a polite young man i probably would not have given a second glance had i not been intoxicated. i agreed to let him take me out, but i’m not so sure about it all.

i ended up going in to work because of the rush of farmers, though i only walked out with about 100 bucks regardless. my friend and i took a cab home together and started getting ready for my party. i bought ecstasy tablets from a guy she invited over, along with two pain pills- one popped and one railed. atop the alcohol we were drinking, i was quite on top of the world by the time my guests arrived, and we made a whole lot of wonderful mess.

i didn’t pass out until 4 am.

i slept. all day.

i came in to work my makeup shift for what i missed yesterday. it was the start of the rush known as the National Farm Machinery Convention- one of the biggest weeks of the year for strip clubs. tons of farmers, young and old, poured in after the convention started to get stale. unfortunately, they were also all too sober and all too frugal.

having only made about 60 dollars plus tips, i checked out at the end of my normal shift in order to do some shopping for my valentine’s party.

i took a cab home afterwards, and spent a few hours on the computer until i was invited over to my favorite bar for the wednesday dance event.

i’m leaving soon~