the intro...

Hello and welcome to my blog! I’m your hostess, Ladyface.

I'm a 27 year old queer femme sex worker. Between my fancypants day job and my super sexy side gig I spend a lot of time being an attentive, diplomatic Ladyface so this blog is where I’ll let my hair down...I might even curse. Though I curse like a kitten sneezes, which is too say it's infrequent and harmless and still shocks me more than anyone.

I am a sex positive lady and will write candidly about my kinks, my history, my exploits and my daily life (but only the good stuff). And so that I can write as openly as possibe, I'm keeping this space anonymous. All characters are real people in my life but all names are pseudonyms and always will be.




P.S. you can now follow me on Twitter! @1ladyface

Friday, February 17, 2012

Introducing Ava

I wrote this on Saturday January 28th and I finally got around to editing and uploading it.  Sorry for the delay.  I think it's still worth sharing...


My audition was tonight.

             I went with a close friend who was also auditioning.  We talked to the DJ first and he pointed out the owner who was sitting at a table near the bar.  He looked like he had costumed himself to audition for the part of strip club owner in a Quentin Tarantino movie.  
             He had greasy gray hair past his shoulders, a chain necklace, facial hair shaved into thin angular lines and a shirt he had clearly borrowed from Charlie Sheen.  But even Charlie Sheen wouldn’t have so many buttons unbuttoned.  The DJ signaled to him.  He approached confidently and studied me intently.  Then he looked at my face. 
              And surprise!  There was an interview.  Didn’t see that one coming.  He shot off a couple rounds of rapid fire questions: Where have you worked?  Have you been here before?  Why do you want to work here?  Etc.  He actually answered the last one for me and then I corrected him.  We had gone back and forth my friend and I each answering his questions in turn then he asked her why do you want to work here?  She answered and he looked back at me and said “And you’re here for the money.”  I jumped in and said actually, I love that this space is so sex positive and the girls are so friendly.  He was surprised and amused.  Then he said alright, go get changed, you’re going to do two songs and then a lapdance. 


I had exactly one song worth of material.  So we changed and my friend went up first.  While she danced I spoke with the DJ.  It went something like this: 

Me: “I’m nervous and I don’t have many moves.  Can you play something slowish and short?” 
DJ: “Sure what do you want?” 
Me: “Do you have Little Drop of Poison?” 
DJ: “Yup.  And you want something similar for the second song?” 
Me: “Yes please.” 
DJ: “Got it.  You’re up next.”

               And then, demonstrating impressive psychic ability, he said “It doesn’t matter if you do exactly the same thing twice, just dance for yourself and have fun up there.”  And I wanted to give him a big boobiful hug.  But that seemed unprofessional.  I resisted.
              Then I danced.  And danced again.  And during the second song as I was writhing around on the floor I thought: “I’m so naked I’m not even wearing HAIR.”  And at that point I relaxed and melted into my new identity and had a hell of a lot of fun.
              Then between the pole work and the lap dance there was a brief break when the owner ran off to do something terribly important.  The DJ pulled my friend and I aside and gave us a few tips:
            “Full contact, full nudity but don’t touch his hair, his nipples or his belt.  Smile, don’t unbutton his shirt.”  etc.  So...we’d be trying to turn him on while navigating a minefield of boundaries.  Thank goodness I’ve spent the last decade sleeping with stone butches!
            When we got in the lapdance room he sat down and asked if I had ever given a lap dance before.  I confessed I hadn’t.  (I decided not to mention the informal training I’d had with my stone lovers)  He told me to straddle him and press into him.  This was not nearly as awkward as it sounds.  Then I pulled away and he proceeded to tell me the rules of the club as I remained naked and straddling him unsure of whether I should be moving or not.  I made the occasional half-assed hip sway motion but other than that it was a very business-like and un-dancey lap dance.  I think he just wants to know that the dancers are willing and able to do full nudity and full contact. 
             Then we went in the back and I filled out my availability.

          A few things I love about the club: it used to be a pirate themed family restaurant. (really) And the décor hasn’t changed much. The lap dance room maintains an especially pirate-y feel. But MOST importantly: it’s sex positive and the girls get along. In my experience that’s a rare find.
           An online review of this place says “while some folks say that strip clubs are degrading to women; this one is degrading to you. The girls call the shots and they are not afraid to embarrass you in front of your friends.” So true.

I visited several times before deciding to audition and each time there was at least one instance of some dude acting cocky and talking big and then getting schooled by one of the dancers.  As in, she jumps off stage, goes further than he expects and calls his bluff or he does a douchey move and puts a dollar on top of his head or sticking out of his collar for her to fetch and she makes a big show of flirting with him while dancing and then plops down in his lap in the least sexy way imaginable.  That one was my favorite.  It had the whole room laughing, including the dollar-collar douche.  
I’ve been to maybe 20 strip clubs in my life and this is the only one I’ve ever been tempted to work at.  The atmosphere is light and silly and fun and the dancers wear whatever they want.  One woman wears a scarf as a top, another is a hippie burner chick with giant fuzzy boots, there’s a cowgirl, a girl with the purple hair, a dommey lady in pleather thigh-high boots, a couple schoolgirl sorts, and now Ava, a lacier, vintage-ier version of me!  

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