Exotic Dancer, aka Lap Dance Specialist

I started out working in a gentlemans club as the beer tub girl. Basically, I sat there, looked pretty, and popped beer caps for customers walking in the front door.

I worked for about 2 months observing the workings of a strip joint: how the girls approached the men… the hustle they would use to take their money… the way they danced on stage. I was approached many times by the managers and asked if I wanted to make amazing money. Theyd always said: “You’re a pretty girl… Do you realize how much money you could make?” I never imagined I could do it because I’ve always been super shy. So, I finally gave in after nights of watching the girls in the back count their hundreds. I was scheduled to start training (yes, this club actually trains on how to dance, talk to customers, give private dances, etc.) on a Friday night. Of course Friday night came and I chickened out and didn’t show up. So, not only did I lose my dancing job, I lost my old beer tub job.

I worked a few other random jobs and tried to go back to college. I eventually got an apartment with my boyfriend at the time. 6 months later the bastard kicked me out and I moved in with my friend. She was working a full time job and dancing part time. She told me how easy it was and told me to give it another shot. So, I went back to the club I worked at before and they gave me another chance. (I found out later you can return as many times as you want…damn the back-balance.)

I was scheduled to start on a Wednesday night. I drove to the club (heart pounding) and when I got there, I sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes contemplating whether or not I could really do it. I finally went in and went through the 2 hour training. I learned what to say to customers, how to hustle, and how to give private dances. The trainer even showed me a few tricks on the pole. After I picked out a name (Yvette was the only good one left), they sent me to the dressing room to get changed and glammed up.

For those of you who feel that high school was traumatizing as a girl, you have no idea until you work at a strip club. Talk about catty, mean, competitive bitches.

So, about an hour later, it was go time. The DJ put me on rotation and I started roaming the club checking out potential victims. Suprisingly, working as a dancer wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. Guys come for one thing. T & A. The hard part is weeding out the big spenders. Usually the guys who want to spend big approach you or have a floor runner (ugly women who set up dances) bring you to them. Avoid the young guys…they usually only bring enough money for beer.

Needless to say, I walked out of the club after 4 hours of working with $600 cash money. I couldn’t help but smile.

Trust me, the club makes a lot more than the girls. Even if you don’t make a lot, they make you pay a house fee. The fee for my club was $200. Even if you make $50, you have to pay something and they put the rest in this thing called a back balance, which is an account you owe the club. You get charged for EVERYTHING…being late, calling off, rescheduling, missing a stage set, quitting (like I mentioned before). If you have a back balance, they take extra money from you on top of your house until its at a 0 balance. You also have to pay tip out before your shift. This money goes to bartenders and the DJ and busboys.

The benefits of being a dancer are you can choose your own schedule, make awesome money (if you try), get a great workout, and go out to breakfast with other strippers at 5AM and talk about all the creepy jerks you encountered that night. Oh, and you get a discount at Lovers Lane (they sell great dancer clothes and shoes). Just tell them you work at a club and you get a discount card… even if you don’t dance (just make sure you give a legit club name… cuz they ask).

So, back to my story… I worked at the club for a few months and got an opportunity to work at a club in the Carribbean owned by the same rich bastard. He flew me and a few fellow lap dance specialists out to this beautiful island where we stayed in a million dollar house with an indescribable view. We worked at the club, made money, and had a kick ass vacation (2 weeks turned into 4 months). I just couldn’t leave.

While I was working at the club, a local came in and we started talking. He never even bought a dance. Cheap bastard. That bastard is now my fiance. We live in the states now and he’s taking care of me while I’m in college. (When I graduate, I’ll get him back though.) I’m totally head over heels in love with him, so for those of you claiming gold digger, you can forget it. I love that boy with all my heart. He’s also only a few years older than me. So don’t picture a creepy old man either. He was actually born and raised on the island and moved to the states to start a business. He was home visiting his fam. Lucky for me, right?

To sum it up, I no longer dance (he put a squash on that immediately), I’m going to dental hygiene school, I live with my baby luv, and I just got the cutest pom pom puppy. My life is pretty much amazing and its all thanks to my dancing days.

Now I know it’s inevitable that there will be some haters posting comments. Let me start by saying: I don’t give a hoot what you think. I don’t care if you think I sold my soul, degraded my self, am a slut, etc. I never sucked weiner, gave up my vajayjay, or any other favors working as a dancer. I’m not saying all clubs ban these acts, because I know of a few where they definetly do have sex in the champagne room. But not mine. It was super clean.

I’m not a dumb airhead. I actually was in AP classes from 5th grade to HS. My dad never abused or molested me. And I wasn’t struggling to feed myself. I simply danced because it was fun… the money was great… I was able to be a lazy ass… I could buy whatever I wanted… and most importantly… it was my decision. I don’t regret a thing.