Fire or Ice

I did well on Saturday. I walked out with more than $800. Sadly, it was the perfect stereotypical night of a stripper.

It started out with a half hour in VIP with a customer with whom I've been in VIP before. He's got a drug problem, is a whoremonger, and can be less than pleasant in VIP. I really wanted to make money, so I put up with him.

Then he wants another hour with me and another girl. At $400/hr, how can I say no. It's always easier to do VIP with another girl because the attention is on how you interact with her, rather than how you interact with the customer.

I did about seven dances for one guy who kept trying to get me to stick my nipple in his mouth.

The best (or worst) part of my night happened around 2:00. I was lounging around the stairs to the upstairs VIP when suddenly a waitress (who looks like skeletor) asks me if I want to go to VIP. "Uhh, sure",then I'm whisked upstairs with two gentlemen and another girl.

This other girl is one I've noticed since my first day working. She's exactly what a stripper should look like. She's got the huge fake breasts, the bleached blonde hair, the surgically enhanced face, the expensive yet tacky stripper outfits, the nails, and the squeaky, bitchy stripper voice. I also notice that she never comes in before 12:00. Meaning that she's paying $200 in late fees every night. And she only gets 3-4 hours to work. I always (naively) wondered how she made any money. Now I know.

Now, I like to think that strip clubs aren't as bad as they're made out to be. In my stripper world there's no rampant drug use, prostitution, blow jobs in VIP, etc. It's just good clean fun (ok, so maybe I'm exaggerating).

Well the reality is, this stuff does go on. I know this deep down, and have since day one. There's coke, blow jobs, pimps, johns, dealers, sometimes all at once.

Soon after we get up to VIP, blondie asks me if I party. I don't. At least she doesn't ask me if I'm a narc, like the last girl who wanted to party in VIP with me. She pulls out some baggies of coke and crack, and asks her customer if he wants fire or ice. I don't remember his answer. I think he takes the coke. Blondie and her customer snort a few lines off an ashtray. 'My customer' is the cab driver. This is hilarious and sad to me. We talked about the usual; school, work, hobbies, whether or not he can touch my pussy. I find out I was only needed for a half hour, at the end of which blondie gets one of her friends (who I've never seen before) to take my place. I can tell her friend parties a little too much. As I leave I hear the cab driver ask for some fire (crack). These are the people we rely on to drive our drunken selves home safely.

At this point it's the end of the night, so I collect my VIP money and head to the dressing room. I have a few Club bucks (about $20 worth), which I don't even bother cashing it because it's not worth the time and energy it takes to walk to the office.

Money is just that disposable when you make $800+ in a night.