I’m a STRIPPER!
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.
Shit.
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.
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!
*image from: T magazine blog @ nytimes.com
