Everyone has the wrong idea when I tell them I work at a strip joint. I'm the desk lady, I take in all the gentlemen's names, making sure nobody stays after 5 am. I work the whole night, I come in at 11 pm and check out around 6 am. I didn't go to college because it's a waste of time, if I want to know about something I'll just go to a starbucks and use wifi. The only reason I see to study is to become a doctor or get some other "honorable" job.
I have to hurry, forget about clean underwear, just take a shower and get dressed. I need that lighter.
My uniform is all black, skinny jeans and a tube top, I can't wear any accesories except for earrings but they have to be small. It's not that hard getting this job, that's why anyone with this job can be replaced easily, it pays well and a lot of people want it.
You'd think this place would be filled with douchebags and horndogs, but a lot of them come here because they're lonely, sometimes I converse with some of them and it breaks my heart hearing their stories. An old man often comes here, not to see or to feel up the "exotic dancers", he only comes here to give them each a 100 dollars and leaves. His wife died giving birth to a still born, he left Finland and his family just to be with her and now he's alone, working selling lottery tickets. I never accept his money, I think these girls need it more, the only thing I ask is to see him at least once a week, he calms my concience and I'd like to think that I make him feel better. Sometimes I think I'm his friend. I don't think old Mark is coming tonight, he never comes 2 nights in a row.
Guess I have to use matches, I'll get the lighter when I check out. I can hear the music from outside, booming and vibrating. I finish up and toss it to the sidewalk. My boss is always telling me not to do it, customers don't like the smell when they come in, as long as I don't do it inside, he can't tell me shit. I never bothered to learn his name, it's some scandanavian name and I have too many things on my head to even bother so I just call him Mister.
Smile, lean over and ask for the name.The only hard thing about this job is avoiding the cat fights, some of the people that come here leave me tips from time to time and the dancers think I'm taking the money that should belong to them. The Mister has offered me a job in their post but I'm not that desperate, and I don't want to imagine the fights backstage. A good night is when an 18 year old birthday boy comes here with his pals and spends all the cash his parents gave him on every curve he sees. A bad night is today, on a saturday, saturday is when the women get suspicious and the parents get worried. Hopefully today I'll make it 'till morning if the girls don't get me first.
