A Strip Club is a magical place. A fantasy playground.
On NYC’s Wall street during the 90’s, greed and easy money created the Age of Excess – starring “The Wall Street Strip Club” as the corrupted den of iniquity.
I was weary of bartending nights. My circadian rhythms were in overdrive from years of vampiric hours. Pouring drinks till 4 am; quick pit stop on the way home to drink the blood of a virgin before settling into my coffin for the day.
Jana, a fellow actress, was a dancer (i.e. stripper ) at the Doll House, a Wall Street strip club. She lured me into bartending there with promises of night time tips during daytime hours.
The outfit was cringe-worthy: a Vegas cocktail slut / Magenta from “Rocky Horror” get up. Bustier, fishnets, 4-inch spike heels. I somehow convinced myself I hadn’t compromised my ideals. Yet.
My very first day, I developed an intense girl-crush on a beautiful Latina. Long, dark hair. creamy skin, and a slamming body. She looked like a teenager.
She was a teenager. At 19. Tanya was already a single mom to a 3-year-old; wise beyond her years, and funny as hell.
She sounded exactly like Rosie Perez. It was fucking adorable. She was saving money for college so she could give her kid a better life.
She looked up to me. I was older. College educated.
I adored her. She had an ass like J Lo.
Many of the day girls were moms. Students. Actresses.
A couple were Straight-Up Whores.
Frankie, the manager, was a big, burly, scowling strip club cliché. Big Daddy to an incorrigible bunch of bad girls. Incessantly ill-tempered because he was always short staffed. A job description that consists of drinking at noon and grinding against stiff cocks doesn’t exactly lend itself to responsibility.
One advantage to working in a strip club is getting blazed mid day. Tanya and I bonded quickly. After we’d sneak-smoke a fattie in the dressing groom, she’d spray Bvlgari perfume like air freshener and play her favorite game, “manipulate Samara into taking her clothes off onstage.”
“C’mon, Samara, Frankie’s such a prick today! Can’t you just dance this one time?”
“Sorry, I left my anal bleach home today!”
NO WAY I was getting up there. Until..
…the day she got one of her regulars to pay me $500 to do a 3-song set with her.
$500? for three songs? That little brat got me just high enough to do it. Plus, she double-dared me. You feel me?
I wiggled into one of her cheesy stripper dresses. Day-glo neon lime green leopard with matching g-string. This was not ironic; this is what they wore.
I made a valiant attempt to walk in her 7-inch fuck-me platforms.
“Can you really get used to these?” I asked her.
“You can get used to anything,” she purred back at me.
We entered into intense negotiation with Geo, the DJ. He demanded payola to play your music. And I wasn’t getting on stage without the exact right music.
I paid. I wanted it to go exactly like this:
“Hypnotize,” Biggie Smalls,
into “No Diggity,” Black Street, finish with
“Hip Hop Hooray,” Naughty by Nature.
We threw back some shots of Cuervo.
They called us up in trios – me, Tanya, and some fucked-out bleached blonde with enormous implants who looked like she’d drank too much tequila and passed out in the sun.
The 90’s predated the age of the suburban house frau requesting a stripper pole for Mother’s Day. That gleaming silver column onstage was largely ignored. Occasionally a girl swung around it. Hung on it, drunkenly.
I wanted to shimmy up that silver shaft. Make it my bitch. A couple of years prior, I had kicked a drug habit and replaced it with the gym. I had mad upper body strength.
I straddled the pole…inched my way up, nice and slow. Till I was at the ceiling.
And decided to slide all the way down. Upside down. Using my quads to keep it slow.
And once at the bottom, I ended up in a wide straddle. Thanks to yoga.
Facing away from the audience, I leaned forward, arched my back. Grabbed a handful of dress in each fist, and pulled it up over my butt.
Bounced my ass really fast against the floor. I saw that shiz in a rap video,
That bounce was a fantastic clit massage. I was grinding my pelvis onto the stage like it was a man. My head tilted, my long hair a curtain over my face. It felt really good.
Mmmmmmm. I forgot for a minute where I was.
The feel of a hand on my leg startled me out my stoned floor hump. A customer pushed a $20 bill in my garter.
I looked back. Every guy in the club was looking at me. Not at the 2 naked girls.
I hadn’t even taken off my dress yet.
Song 2 starts. Shit – we’re supposed to have our dresses off by the middle of the first song.
“No Diggity” is a hot jam to get naked to. By the time Black Street said,
“Yo Dre, drop the verse,”
I dropped my dress. I was surprised how easy it was.
I danced a lot after that, but preferred bartending. Working as a stripper is a full-time mind fuck. Pouring a drink is just pouring a drink. Dancers convince customers that they’re really INTO them – their strip club “girlfriends.”
That stripper who really digs you? – I hate to break it to you. She doesn’t. The only part of your body she’s really into is your wallet.
While we’re giving you this erotic experience? Rubbing our breasts in your face, and breathing in your ear? We’re looking at each other over your head and rolling our eyes. Sorry.
I did perfect the art of the worlds slowest, most sensuous lap dance. I developed a string of clientele off of it. I would get lost in my own head; move my body, really slowly, in a certain way, and get really turned on, just like my inaugural floor hump. Ironically, it was never connected to the man underneath me. But it was my signature “thing.” Everyone had something.
Some girls just gave blow jobs in the champagne room.
Wall street honchos would think nothing of dropping $2000 on a group of us for dinner. Or taking a limo with a couple of us to Atlantic City and blowing $5000 overnight.
They’d come in and offer to fly us to the Bahamas. Puerto Rico.
The first time a customer announced he was flying a group of us to Cancun, I said sarcastically, “Yeah. Right. We’re all flying to Cancun.”
And he replied, “Bitch, you’ll know you’re in Cancun when your face is in the pillow and my dick is in your ass!” That became the “Line Heard Round the Clubs.” Repeated and laughed at, endlessly.
It all boiled down to math. The Pythagorean Third Theorem.
The Strip Club Patron Rule Of Inverse Proportion:
The more money a 90’s Wall Street asshat in a strip club had, the less class and intelligence he was likely to possess.
Money bloated the scene into something surreal. Normalcy became something else entirely. We’d start the night at an after hours club and end up on a plane with an entourage. I only went if Tanya went.
Our one rule- we never slept with them. EVER. They were always way too coked up or drunk to even remotely get it up, anyway.
They did occasionally want to watch us “have sex.” Bisexual chic is all the rage in strip clubs. We’d kiss, moan and try not to laugh until whoever it was passed out. Then, we’d pick his pockets and go on a shopping spree go out for pancakes.
17 years later, Tanya is still one of my closest friends. She lives in Massachusetts with her two daughters. I’m god mother to her younger one.
She went back to school and became a nurse. She’s a single mom and works hard to take care of her family, like always. She’s still gorgeous. More so, at 36.
Those foolish girls who danced at the Doll House, partied at clubs, took ridiculous chances and traveled with strangers are long gone. We’re suburban single moms, working to support our families.
We wonder, would we ever want her daughters dancing in a strip club? It was whorish. Immoral. Dangerous.
It also grew us up. Taught us about people; the complexities of needing; empowered us as women.
When we weigh it out, the pros always outweigh the cons. But if I’m being honest here – it’s only because it was the goddamn PARTY of the decade and I’m glad I was invited.
But the truth is, when it comes to her daughters – NO WAY.
Because as much as it served us, gave us the strength for the lives ahead of us – it did something that we don’t wish on either of her daughters.
It robbed us of a certain innocence. We saw a side of the human race, a view from the inside of that arena, that we wish we hadn’t.
Today, I have mixed feelings about having worked there. My consciousness has changed. I no longer view strip clubs as empowering for women.
They’re disempowering. They create an environment where men can openly objectify women. Strip clubs reinforce the notion that women are more highly valued for their outward appearance than for their intelligence.
It’s pathetic that we’ve capitalized on this objectification and created an economy in which the skin trade is worth $500 a day, but incredible teachers molding young minds get paid dirt. We can’t even attract strong talent to the most crucial job in the world because it pays so poorly.
But a woman can show her tits and make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. And I fueled that system. So did Tanya.
And we sure as hell are not letting her daughters do that. That system needs to END.
Do you know anyone who ever worked as a stripper? What would you say if your daughter waned to dance in a strip club to pay for her education?
Do you like me a little less because you know I worked in a strip club?
Talk to me. I’m listening.
Do you know anyone who ever worked as a stripper?
Oh yes. Cimmy and I met a young woman by way of our live action roleplay (LARP) game group who had done some stripping and told us about it. She showed us a business card, so we had no reason to believe she was lying. What disturbed me especially is she told us someone asked for her specifically because she looked childlike. Oh, she eventually developed breasts and hips, but at the time we first met her, she had none to speak of.
Another I met by way of an odd job delivering telephone books, working as a driver. When she told her story, and mentioned drugs were part of the scene (as in the strippers took them), another guy said he used to deal them, and such girls were part of his regular customers. I’m fuzzy on remembering all the details– I seem to remember them saying escort services were on the side, and that’s how the biz worked in our area.
Some girls just gave blow jobs in the champagne room.
Is Chris Rock wrong, then?
Bisexual chic is all the rage in strip clubs.
As well as some porn marketed to men. I do understand the appeal, but once I began to understand the reality of that orientation (in myself, my wife, and some friends of mine), it started to annoy the shit out of me. Men tend to whistle a different tune if they get smacked with a rude awakening of “nope, not interested in a threesome”.
Strippers and drugs go hand in hand. The day girls were not as hardcore fucked up as the night girls, but most were drunk and high on something- how else do you get through a bizarre day like that?
Yes, some men love the “little girl” look. Oh, bless your heart for being disturbed by that, but that’s why the child porn industry exists.
Chris Rock knows that’s just a song – he’s 100% WRONG. Champagne rooms are enormous. Some of us talked our little hearts out, to keep the hours tick tick ticking and listened to all manner of sexploits in the other corners. Whatev.
Yeah, drugs and porn stars tend to go hand in hand, too *cough*I think Charlie Sheen was a pusher*cough*
*sigh* Pedophilia. I can’t deny the existence of it, or child porn, for that matter. Cimmy and I know it’s out there, and I wish such hadn’t affected us so personally, I mean, *sigh* other family member, can’t really elaborate.
Strippers and porn stars – not the same thing, love. But I know what you mean.
I am SO sorry that you’ve had any connections to pedophilia whatsoever. Big love to you, sweetie.
Yeah, not the same thing. Sometimes coincidental, but yeah, not the same thing. I sometimes really trip over my words.
It’ll be okay, really. A loved one made some mistakes in the past, but I think everything with be fine. It was scary news, and Cimmy and I were worried for a bit, but I think things will turn out for the best.
I wanted to include my comments along with those of my husband’s. Do you know anyone who ever worked as a stripper? if jak says we knew someone that was a stripper, I guess we must have, but I don’t remember her. It’s a hazard that comes with Attention Deficit Disorder.
What would you say if your daughter waned to dance in a strip club to pay for her education?
I would tell her that I most certainly don’t approve. jak and I have done our best to help our daughter understand that her body is sacred, a thing only to be shared with her husband. However, if that’s what she wanted to do with her body, I wouldn’t stop her. I know my daughter well enough to know that if I tried to stop her doing something like that, which I don’t think she’d do, she would resist me with everything she had.
Ladies- do you like me a little less because you know I worked in a strip club?
Samara, this post is about something you did in the past, right? If it was about something you were still doing, I might have less respect for you. However, I want you to understand something about me. I don’t ditch friends because they don’t share my values. I ditch them when, after coming to an understanding of what my values are, they attempt to convince me to go against them. To me, that’s not a friend, that’s someone who doesn’t want to “jump off the bridge” by herself. You don’t qualify.
In short, yeah, I still like you.
I truly admire your openness and honesty in writing this. Unless you made it up, lol. Just kidding.
True story. I gave details to authenticate it. I left out some out because the post was too long.
Do I like/respect you any less?
No, not at all.
You are obviously a super strong woman, who owns everything she’s done. You get mad respect from me.
Thank you!! You know who gets mad respect from me? Destiny. She’s unreal. She’s like this “I got pregnant as a teenager” story gone right. I love her like crazy. Can’t wait to visit her in the spring.
I’ve had a little experience with this myself, darling — I had a friend I met in Cheyenne, Wyoming (who went by the ridiculously apt stage name of Cheyenne Wyoming) who once saved my life. You can read all about it.
Now I want to write all about my friend – Paris Kentucky. Yes, that’s the hometown of my friend. You sound like you belong on a stage, but with your clothes on, doing a one person show. Have you considered this? I know people. They have no connections to this kind of thing, but I know people.
I’ve had my time in the spotlight already — that time is passed for me, I think.
I almost became a stripper once, glad I missed the boat. & I don’t judge you or like you any less. In fact, I like you more so because you bare all in your posts and I like that. There’s no shame in your game.
“bare all” – see what you did there?
I’m glad you missed it, too. Try putting the tag “stripper” in and read about it. It ain’t fun anymore, I don’t think. It’s not like it was when men were making so much money on Wall Street they had to waste thousands a night on strippers to feel their own balls.
Your writing is fab. You should seriously consider writing your story as a book.
That is quite a compliment coming from Mr. Freshly Pressed -but there’s no way I could write a book. Why don’t I dictate it to you, and you could ghostwrite it for me? We could call it “The Oxford Chronicles of High Class Stripping.”
You’ve already written several chapters, right here on this blog!
Do I think less of you for stripping? Uh….no. If we were to play the judgment game you would get to judge me for the stuff I did in my twenties. No thank you!
I totally understand why you did it at the time and under the circumstances. I hate that it’s even an option for women, but it is what it is. I can only hope that the women who do it, DO use that money for an education or other skill because they know they are worthy and capable of more than being objectified by men as an occupation. Good for you and your friend for doing just that!
Your writing and descriptions were superb. I enjoyed the read very much!
Some strippers have a goal in mind, but some just get caught in the easy money trap. We didn’t stay in the profession for long – but I searched the tag “stripper” and found some blogs with women who had been doing it a decade. That sounds exhausting.
Thanks for reading, and for not judging. We were crazy in our 20’s right? Only…you look like you’re still in your 20’s. WTF!
I love you for saying I still look like I’m in my twenties. I will kiss you on the mouth for comments like that!!! lol
Really? Cause I would totally be down for that! (I can only get away with flirting with you cause you’re a woman.) And you know I think you’re gorgeous. So stop toying with my affections!!
You are right I have only three hundred brain cells left after this piece.. Wow… So you weren’t raised by nuns..
I was raised by stripping nuns. Flying nuns.
your (still) Young Grasshopper
Oooo Grasshopper… You lived quite a life but now is what matters. You are on a path and that was a pebble in the journey. Now you must fill your heart with the fact that that was the. And this is now. You have used up another few brain cells of this helper after reading your words. Tell me something that makes you happy… Your son? Now is now..
Happiness is…my son. My students. Yoga. Music. Baking Christmas cookies. Cooking. Reading. Laughing with my friends. Working out. Going to the beach. Yoga on the beach. The perfect sunset… on the beach at the end of a great yoga class. Riding my bike. Movies. New York City. Art galleries. Museums. Prayer. My son. He counts twice.
And finally, after 20 years, writing. Writing. WRITING.
Yes good grasshopper! This is good! hh
An interesting peek from the other side of it. About what I’d imagine it must be like. It’s all about the Benjamins, reet?
I’m sure this makes me weird or broken (which, come to think of it, is pretty accurate) but I cannot stand strip clubs. I can never surrender myself to the fantasy, like a lot of normal, red-blooded American men can. Those girls don’t want me! They want nothing to do with me! As soon as my wallet is empty, I’m invisible. It’s like dating without the occasional sex. Plus, I look around the stage at the drooling hedge fund managers and end up feeling bad for their wives and the dancers. So much repression! Why can’t I just enjoy myself like everyone else?! Fucking Catholicism.
I’m not judging because judging’s not my business, but I’d be really, really heartbroken if either of my daughters worked in a club.
Heed the words of Chris Rock, and remember your primary job as father: “KEEP YOUR DAUGHTER OFF THE POLE!” True that, sir.
Many men hate strip clubs. And of course you’re invisible when your wallet is empty, silly! I adore you for your writing prowess, your vast knowledge of Bukowski and all literature, appreciation of modern art, incredible intelligence and keen wit – but during strip club work hours – not so much.
Early on, my sexual escapades usually included not only expensive meals but lots of begging. I thought the idea was to keep hammering away at my prey until she finally relented. Victory! It wasn’t until I moved to New York that I finally realized that begging was not a legitimate aspect of foreplay. Imagine that. This, of course, clouded my strip club experiences. Those girls were coming up to me and offering their cookies without my pleading! How fake is that! Saw right through it.
Okay – I’ve seen pictures of you. I find it hard to believe that you had to beg and hammer. Stop. It. This self-deprecating thing is all part of your humble charm.
Appearances are irrelevant. The flaws aren’t visible to the naked eye. Once they sensed the mess they had on their hands, it was only through persistence that I finally achieved the desired results.
Who isn’t a mess?
Only the most boring people are neat and tidy.
It’s interesting the choices we make for ourselves that we would never wish on anyone else. Why do we hold ourselves in such low regard compared to others? If we wouldn’t want our daughters (or sons) to do something to open the possibility of a better life, why were we so willing to do so ourselves? It’s also interesting (scary as hell) to ponder the truth that when the time comes we probably won’t have a say in the matter anyway. We can do our best to raise them and steer them the direction we want them to go, help them, guide them, but the choices they make will be theirs and theirs alone…
So true, DJMatt. I think it’s all part of wanting a better life for our children than what we had. I would not want my daughter in that environment. I suppose, in the end, it helped Destiny achieve her dream – but I had already gone to college. What the hell was I doing there? Trying to be an actress and make as much money as possible – but money is NOT the most important thing.
In the end, our decisions are our own, BUT – I did not grow up with a whole lot of self worth. It was not intentional; my mom just worked all the time and didn’t have time for those pats on the head. So, even though I work all the time, I am trying to do things a little differently. Every day I make time to tell my son how special he is. That he’s smart, important, how proud I am.
Did you know the DJs in strip clubs RULE? Or they did, back then. They completely control the environment, and everyone’s paying them off to get what they need played. 25 women, each throwing the DJ about $50 a shift. Yowza!
I’d say, “Dang, I was dj’ing in the wrong places,” but… as you said, money isn’t everything. And I copmletley agree with that.
Happy holiday season, my new friend. 😀 May it be filled with many happy new memories.
I was just heading to your blog and buzz! There was the orange light!
The same to you, although surely we’ll run into one another before Christmas? maybe not…well, happy holidays to you, too, new and very dear friend. 2014 is going to be a VERY good year!
I’m never sure of anyones schedule this time of year, so always feel it prudent to get in the well wishes early and and often. 😉
I do believe that 2014 is going to be a good year. A start of that you may find over at the kingdom, if you haven’t seen it already. 😀
No, I don’t think I know any girl or woman who worked at a strip club. At least no one I know has admitted that to me – and I probably wouldn’t think differently of them if they had.
I was in strip clubs three times, always because of someone’s bachelor party. I never had any thoughts that girls who work there sincerely care even the tiniest bit about the guys around them, so each time I got bored after about 20-30 minutes.
Well, X, it’s a good sign that you got bored after 20 minutes. I had to insist that my Ex husband go to a strip club the night before we got married. He refused a bachelor party – it was his second marriage.
I told 2 of my brothers, “just drag his ass to a strip club – and here’s $300. See what that gets him in the champagne room.”
They all came in around 5 am, smelling like titty bar funk. Smoke, perfume, alcohol, sweat. It’s a certain funk. It brought back memories 🙂
Unfortunately I think most people would pay me $500 to keep my clothes on.
Keep in mind this was 17 years ago, sir. I feel the same way.
Oh, cool. Then we can party naked and drink fruit punch.
Umm. Well. How about, No.
I’ll serve the fruit punch. You can get naked and I’ll cheer you on! I’m much too modest, sir. I am a suburban mom. I am a PTO member. I run bake sales. I organize holiday breakfasts.
I don’t do naked fruit punch Dionysian events. Anymore.
Oh, you and my wife would be good friends!
She blogs too, and don’t think I’m not going to read her – my main thing is funny women bloggers! I’m gonna check her out – as soon as I get the phrase “cranial vagina” out of my head.
She would like that
Geez Samara, that was a good post. I don’t know any strippers, though I’ve been old that one of my public school classmates is one now.
I think the guys who regularly go to strip clubs know that they’re being played, but are okay with it. At least seems to be from the ones I know who go often, but that’s a pretty small sample set.
Trent! There you are! I know you’ve posted and I have to come over and read – it’s a BIG EVENT when you write something.
It’s great when guys know the deal. It’s sad when they don’t. They waste far too much money. Of course, I’m writing about a time and a place when money was made to be wasted. It was surreal.
Samara, thanks for sharing. I mean just wow. Oh, the stories you could tell. And you have time on your side to tell it and tell the whole picture. Where you were and now where you are. So powerful. I can’t imagine any mother would wish this on her daughter, but I understand people do what they must. No, definitely no less respect from me. You lived to tell the story and I respect your strength as a woman and as a mother.
It’s amazing the stuff we do, and how much we don’t want our own kids doing. My friend would freak if her daughters ever got caught up in that life – but that’s a double standard, I suppose. It’s pretty complicated, but we just know it AIN’T happening!
Thanks for still being my friend. I really wanted to tell the story, because it was such a huge shift in perspective for me – but I was worried that readers would find it really too much. I should have known this is a very edgy group. Not a whole lot bothers them!
Ha ha. Yes, we’re edgy AND sophisticated. Of course, my friend, it’s all about sharing here. I like a good reflection, especially when it comes from the heart.
These yahoos flew you to Cancun and you were able to avoid sleeping with them?
I mean, good for you, but that boggles the mind. These guys were complete morons; why didn’t they just hire hookers?
By the way, I’m loving your work so far!
The wall street dudes were addicted to the girls from this club – and I mean, they bought them everything. Cars. Homes. It was ridiculous. And yes, I have never met stupider men in my entire life. Men who would give everything to these women at the mere promise of sex. It’s a certain psychological hook, as it were, that I tried to explain in my post, but perhaps failed.
Some girls had sex. Just not me, darlin. I talk a big game, but i’m the original sang froid when it comes to doing the deed.
And, as I said, they were so effed up on coke and ecstasy and booze and special K and all the drugs of the 90’s – they rarely did anything.
Except in the champagne room. Eww.
Samsara, so much I want to say here. Firstly, your craft at writing is inspiring. As is your honesty. I can suss from the story that we are about the same age and while I never worked the pole, I was a club girl and I frequented quite a many strip clubs in my days. (and have had several offers from club owners to work at their strip joints). I’ve lived most of my life in South Florida; strip clubs are like the after party to a night out. It was never out of the ordinary to see a lot of women, as patrons, at a strip club in South Florida.
I see so many sides to this coin. I have a daughter and would probably keel over if she ever worked at a strip club but I also believe that working at a strip club is just fine for some women. The story that women strip to pay to go to college is not a myth for some women. And some women are just fine with their bodies and with what they are doing. I’m okay with that. I’m always okay with it as long as it’s not the sad story of a girl who does NOT want to be working there but has to in order to not be homeless or does it because some man (pimp) insists upon her doing so. I hate to see those women who work at the club because of a drug addiction as opposed to having a family to drag her to rehab or any number of other options aside from undressing in order to pay for coke. It’s the aspect of a woman’s fundamental sadness as a reason to strip, when I start feeling awful about such a choice.
When I’ve partied at strip clubs, none of the people I went with had any delusions about what the women who work there really want. As long as both parties have an understanding, and the woman is doing said work of her own honest volition, I’m fine with it and don’t feel guilty participating. I’m sure some women will and have judged me because of it. Personally, I’d love to see more women owning such clubs as opposed to men. I know of one woman who used to work as a dancer who now OWNS a club of her own. That, to me, is empowering and one would hope that she teaches her women employees how to also become empowered and set strict boundaries in the work place. I believe there IS a gray area here, as we never know all the stories behind every stripper or dancer’s motivation. Everything in life can become a perversion (seriously, NO pun intended!) of what it could or should be.
Personally, I don’t want to see the industry disappear, I would simply like to see it reformed. Women are, in the literal sense, *the* industry. They should be the ones running it, too. It’s another way to take power back, just as we have recently been talking about power with regards to words. And in doing so, maybe we can change the way society views naked women. That it’s okay to be naked but our bodies are not solely who we are. And maybe we can change the idea that taking our clothes off does not mean that we are promoting the objectifying of women, but that it’s simply another facet of being a human being/of making a thoughtful choice. We can embrace sexuality without allowing it to become something that is frowned upon. It will just take a long time. And I’m sure that with every point I’ve made, there is an intelligent counter point. It’s all in the way we choose to view aspects of human behavior. Sorry for rambling – I really loved your post!!!
That is an incredibly well thought out comment; possibly one of the best I’ve ever received.
I definitely don’t frown upon nudity – actually, a photographer friend of mine did a photo shoot of me for Christmas. I frolicked about the studio nude or semi nude much of the time, and you will see this, as some of the photos are going up soon as part of my blog re-design. I think the human body is beautiful, and can be used as an expression of who we are.
That being said, I’m still not sure how I feel about the amount of ready money there is for the display of nudity, and how little there is; in comparison, for the education of young minds. But I do like the idea of women owning strip clubs; at least, if they exist, let US make the money off of them.
Please feel free to visit and “ramble” anytime. You gave me incredible feedback, and a whole other perspective. This is the beauty of the blog. I cherish this community, and you for being a part of my newly growing family.
OH, I absolutely agree that teachers are underpaid and with that, undervalued. The socioeconomic disparities in this country are gross and yes, our priorities are not where I think they should be. While I despise my sociopathic mother, she was a middle school teacher in the public school system with a master’s degree. It is an extremely honorable job, especially when that job is held by someone who is in it for the love of it.
And thank you for allowing me to be a part of your growing family, I’m grateful for the wonderful people I’ve met recently and I hope that I’m on my way to finding solidarity with other human beings and a place where I finally feel comfortable being me. Right now, I’m just beginning to dip my toes in.
xo back at ya.
From the way you write, and comment, you seem as though you’d been blogging forever.
you’re a superstar to me, rae girl. that’s all that counts.
I’ve had good friends who were working girls to varying degrees, and when I was a Pastor I met even more…there’s always a story that will break your heart behind those eyes, there’s no way I could judge someone for going down that road. Many do make it out the other side but not unscathed…I think my closeness changed things forever for me as well. I can’t imagine my daughter ever needing to choose that path but if she did she’d be more concerned about what I’d do to the patrons than how I felt about her trade.
p.s.when I say working girls, I don’t limit that to just prostitutes but rather the whole spectrum encompassed by those places from service behind the bar to servicing in Cancun, they pander to something that to my way of thinking is quite maladjusted given the damage done in those environs…there’s a deep sadness attached to it all. Glad you and Destiny made it out the other side anyway.
Red, love, there is indeed. Which is why I would not want my Goddaughter, her daughter, working there. We saw a view of life I wish I hadn’t. We lost an innocence that no one should lose.
Destiny is amazing! Smart, college educated – raising two beautiful, accomplished daughters on her own. Her baby daddy is a wealthy asshole, so she’d rather support herself and just not deal with him. But man – we get on the phone and laugh like hyenas – she ALWAYS brings up that shit that guy said about Cancun. 17 years later, and we both start laughing on the phone so hard we can’t breathe!! I love my girl!! You would dig her, too. She’s very special.
She’ll never do that. Your job is to keep her OFF the POLE. That’s a Chris Rock joke, but it’s not a joke. I don’t see her ending up there. ever. Ya know, come to think of it, neither Des nor I had daddies. I wonder if that had anything to do with it? I think most strippers have daddy issues.
We’re all just lost little girls, looking for someone to make us feel safe. I think. I thought my Ex would do that. He pretended to, for a long time. And then he became the most unsafe person to be around. But that’s a different post!
You could be right about the whole “daddy issue” thing, it’s been trivialised as a bad cliche these days but it’s valid. So many of the girls I’ve known were invariably attracted to me because I was so safe. I still have the sweet young things at the local pub hanging off me.
You girls are very fortunate to have each other and I reckon we would all get on like a house on fire. I’ll be coming state-side Aug/Sept next year for the 75th Sturgis…might hafta make a little detour maybe, hmm…
Holy shitballs! You ride Sturgis! No effing way!
Where are you from?
Sturgis is the Holy Grail of Bike Rallys! But wait – this year is the 74th; so you mean 2015?
You. Ride. A. Motorcycle.
You’d better stop. The Ex was a Harley man. If you tell me you ride a Harley, I’m going to have to take a cold shower.
Yeah 2015 (next year), I live a long fucking way from anywhere in the Pilbara region of Western Australia and the plan is for a few of us to come over for the 75th with a mate who has been several times, so I’m a virgin to Sturgis. Best you get in the shower, Darlin’, I pick up my brand spankin’ Fat Bob (complete with Stage 4 race kit) next week. I’m Ducaisti at heart but I’ve owned Harley’s amongst others, though this one will be my first ever brand new bike. Hoping it will reignite my flacid, passionless existence once I’m back on the road…it’s been a while.
Stage 4 race kit……..
Oh. My. Word.
I’m so a Harley girl, it’s ridiculous. Not to ride myself. But I look effing good on the back of one. True that.
Ducatis are hot shit, too, my friend. Don’t get me started talking about the desmodromic valve design, because I’ll get. Damp.
I gotta get some writing done. Possibly some sleep. Tonight, I may actually sleep.
I never sleep. But tonight, I might just sleep, and I’ll dream about Harley Davidson motorcycles, and the Black Hills of South Dakota, and it will be Heaven.
Goodnight, sweetie. I’m so glad you’re writing again.
Thanks Darl, I blame you for writing again.
Send you a photo when the deals done.
barely made me like you any less, if anything i’m amazed by the openness. loved it, keep going:)
Thank you so much for your support, and for taking the time to read and comment. I really am so appreciative.
I’ll definitely keep going!
The ways inwhich we fill the gaps between who we are and where we go, the lines we form for time to run along they are the flesh of nature.
If I were to be washed up up a desert island I’d wish for you to be there. Now don’t get me wrong on this, what I mean is I like your attitude
Thank you. I totally took it the right way.
Your quite special
This is fucking brilliant Samara! Of course it says a lot about me that this was the first post I chose to read…
You say ‘do we think less of you because you used to be a stripper’ yet I’m now wondering what you’ll think of me when/if you read more of my stories, as I’ve probably spent too much time and money on both strippers and hookers…
That stuff aside though, this is a really great post. I love the way you write. And you talk about the other side of the coin very well.
But the best part of this post, which I don’t think anyone else has commented on, is your playlist. Fucking awesome. And no shit, I have each one of those tracks on 12″.
I like you.
The Awesome playlist! yes – Music is everything.
It’s all good. Strippers, hookers – no judgement here, darlin’.
I also went to an Ivy League college, which you’ll soon read about. I’m a Complex Person.
Like I said; I like you.
I’m reading your blog and crying.
Shup up and let me finish.
Ha. I REALLY like you. Good tears I hope? Will shut up now.
Ok, this was fucking great. Now I’m inspired.
Yes. Pretty please.
Then I’ll write about working as a phone girl in a whore house…
And you can write about….
YOUR MOM FOLLOWS YOU???
Double entendre gold: Frankie was ill tempered because he was “short staffed”
Great post! Loved the raw real feel of it. You captured the environment perfectly (especially the eye rolling part).
Took me back to my years living in Buffalo, NY and visiting Canadian strip joints for business. I closed more than a few deals in the back room over the heads of strippers. It was odd, at first, getting a blowjob on one couch while your client got one (on your dime of course) on another couch facing you from across the small room. I worked in a slimy industry so “When in Rome…” The place we frequented was 75% whorehouse / 25% strip joint.
While “entertaining” clients, my partner and I mostly chatted with servers and shot-girls. Those were the ladies we fell in love with. They’d come by and camp-out when they needed a break from patrons trying to snake a hand under their skirts. The place closed-down a few years back so it all went to hell.
What a great place to learn the true meaning of motivation & human nature. Thanks for posting!
Hey – thanks for the well thought out response from the other side!
I would have to say…where I worked had a different ratio. Maybe, 75% stripjoint, 25% whorehouse? It also depended on the time of day. I was a “day girl.” We were the more respectable girls. The “night girls” were probably 75% whores!
So glad you visited my blog. There are lots of other strange and wondrous stories here. I hope you peruse a few more…
Good read. A rather ridiculous number of my friends have worked as dancers over the years- in fact the only time I’ve been in a strip club in the last twenty years that didn’t involve visiting a friend who worked there was my brother’s bachelor party. I have a personal policy about always tipping my friends when I visit…
Interesting! You must live in an urban area.
Good for you on the tipping! And why so may stripper friends?
My latest post is up. EXTREMELY snarky. Yikes.
I lived in the West Palm Beach area of Florida, and the Orlando area. My crowd was the Rocky Horror/goth/industrial/geek set, so there were a fair amount that did that for the money, although they’ve all moved on from that as far as I know. Although one still does burlesque
Currently, I’m in Germany. Where prostitution is completely legal and very easy to find. (I’ve been reading your other posts…)
Yah, You are A Strip Club is a magical place where all can relax and open.