I think about becoming a prostitute often. Probably more often than most. It seems like such a small step away from what I'm already doing. What exactly am I selling now? A sexual experience? A unrequited hard-on? A waste of money... When I think about it logically, it makes sense. I could make in one hour what I make in a night, or more. And it's all about the money, right?

I just can't do it. Not yet. I'm not good enough at sex. Clients would complain, I wouldn't have regulars, I'd be the laughing stock of the whore neighborhood. We'll see how I feel in a few months.

On another note, work was not the money saturated wonderland I was hoping it to be on Thanksgiving. I mean, you'd think Thanksgiving would be great. Few girls, lots of lonely or annoyed-by-the-family men...money all over the place. Nope. There weren't many girls, maybe 20 by the end of the night. There weren't many customers either. Mostly couples, who while generous, aren't really great for VIPs. Needless to say, I did manage to break the $500 mark without VIPs so I wasn't too bummed.

I'm getting better about money. There was a point a few months ago where I'd cop an attitude if I made less than $500. Walked out with $400 in a bad mood. I guess I've mysteriously gained some perspective because I'm feeling a lot more thankful for the money I do make these days, even if it's only $400. Maybe it's the Thanksgiving spirit in me.

Tori

At the end of my second shift at the club I was summoned by a young black man for a dance. He wanted a dance with me and another barely legal stripper, Tori. He liked 'young perky tits'. Tori informed me that this was her first night. It being a slow night and me being an idiot I made a comment about the night being abnormally slow. I suppose I said it to comfort her. She looked so young and I didn't want her to be depressed over the lack of money I assumed she had made.

Turns out she had years on me concerning the sex industry. Over the next couple of weeks we talked. I think we were the youngest girls there, and that helped us instantly bond. We couldn't have been more different. She was a former prostitute, high school dropout trying to escape her abusive pimp and make her own money. I was a Georgia Tech student first time stripper.

She wasn't all that bright from what I could tell, but she had a past. She was so blase about the things she had done. One night she had asked me if I would 'fuck for money'-I told her that I would consider it, but it would depend on the money. She told me it was easy. "Usually the johns are really small so you just lay there and moan, (accompanied by sex noises) and you can't even feel it. They usually finish in like, five minutes." Here was this girl, younger than myself, talking about fucking strangers for money like most people would talk about the weather.

After work sometimes I'd drive her to various hotels. Hotels that would be accommodating the fake moans and small dicks. Usually we'd eat at Waffle House beforehand, and talk about silly shit. She was a funny kid.

Sometimes I'd feel bad for her, she was very pretty, gorgeous even. She was tall and thin and I used to wonder if she could have been a model. Not that the life of a model is any better , just more glamorous on the surface.

I quit without telling her, and I haven't seen or talked to her since. I still think about her a lot, and I wonder why Tori, a relatively small part of my life, made such an impact on me.

No new couch for me.

So, I got my first sugar daddy offer. Well, less of a sugar daddy offer and more of a "have sex with me once a week and I'll pay you well for it" offer. The guy was pretty obnoxious in VIP, so he's not really the ideal person for this sort of thing. Matter of fact, I felt like I was at the gynecologist the entire time. I guess I'd prefer that to feeling like I'm at the petting zoo dressed in grass flavored newspaper.

Lickers are the worst. Not only for me, but for themselves. They have no idea where I've been. And do they really think it's enjoyable for me? They must, because they act so surprised and offended when I tell them that they're going to have to keep their tongues in their mouths.

Honestly, it's a lucrative deal. If I could get $500 for one hour of sex once a week, that's not bad. Too bad I'm not willing to face prostitution charges and federal prison for an extra 500 a week. An extra 500 that could buy me a new couch, or flat screen TV. Fuck.

I'm so very excited about moving into a one bedroom apartment. I adore my roommate, but she's a pig. I'm pretty sure there are fruit fly larvae in a pan that she left of the stove. And there's some pretty furry spaghetti in the fridge. It's really mind-boggling to me because I know her parents and they're the cleanest people I've ever met.

I have work tonight and I really want to break the $500 mark. For some completely irrational reason $500 just seems like a lot of money as opposed to $450 or even $480. Half a grand for 6 hours of work just seems extravagant and I love it.

Too bad I've been hovering around the $350 mark for the past week. And its not due to lack of customers.