Dancer in Disguise: The Life of an Exotic Dancer
I looked around what had mirrors in front and in behind me. I had men gawking at me like they never saw a nude woman before. I heard comments of, ‘I want to take her home or I wouldn’t kick her out of my bed.’ I had this huge stage with three poles on each side. I thought it was weird to have a pole that looked like you were supposed to do pull ups on it. The smoke would be so thick at times it stung my eyes. I hated the fact that men would not keep their hands to themselves, whether you were on stage or off they seemed as if the signs everywhere didn’t exist.
That night I arrived home, my body felt like someone ran me over and beat me with a baseball bat. I soaked in the tub for hours just to ease the pain. It never really goes away. My knees were bruised and skinned up from sliding across the stage. Being a new girl I got called in a lot, so I had no time to rest and take care of my aching body. I also got really tired when I wasn’t used to staying up till one in the morning. I had to find a babysitter that was willing to watch my child while I worked. There aren’t many of those around these days; somehow I was able to find one.
I finally went shopping for new clothes and let me tell you, they are very expensive. I found a pair of stilettos that were about 4 or 5 inches tall. Words of advice, don’t wear them if you don’t have to. They killed my feet. If I wear stilettos too long my feet swell and ache. One disoriented move and you’re on your butt with a broken ankle or in someone’s lap. I have slipped many times due to the fact the dancers had a habit of wearing lotion. I slipped and there I was knocking over a shot of tequila. I will say the gentleman was royally ticked off.
I spent hundreds of dollars to have enough makeup, latex for cover up, which was used to cover the areola, clothes, hair supplies, and whatever else was needed. It got very expensive working only four days a week. I proceeded to ready for work only to entertain very intoxicated customers shoving money at me.
I remember the first year when it was fun being a dancer. I wanted to work and I enjoyed being the star. It was mostly the fact I met so many people that talked about their lives and gave me money at the same time. I had a gentleman that would come in to tell me how special I was to him. Jeff liked me so much he wrote me a check to go to school. I didn’t take it. I felt bad taking money from a man who just lost his wife. I wasn’t that sick and demented. I talked to everyone except the out of line idiots that thought they could take me home. Men would offer the moon if they thought I would go with them. I would just ignore it or tell them to go to hell, which I did very often.
I made sure someone walked me to my car at the end of the night so I wouldn’t be harassed or followed. I had a friend that me and my husband had to follow home because someone had waited till she got off work and decided to stalk her on the way home. We waited for awhile till they decided to leave which took awhile. As we waited they stayed down the street with their headlights off waiting for us to leave. She didn’t stay home; she left in a different direction so they wouldn’t follow her. She was fine though; she went to a friend’s house to stay for the night. It gets to the point you don’t even want to go back to work the next day.
I heard such things as take it all off or they would ask me to pull my thong to the side. I told them to kiss my ass, that if they wanted that to go to Shakers. It was a totally nude non alcoholic bar. I despised the fact that some of the idiots tried to kiss my leg when I danced for them. They often got kicked really hard or I would dump their drink in their lap and tell them to cool off.
Being a dancer means you have to be able to put up with a lot of people who stereo type you. I have been labeled a slut, prostitute, among other nasty things only because I danced. I had a man ask me to go to his office and dance for him. I knew he wanted more. I didn’t go because I am not a slut but to him, I was because I danced and acted like I was interested in him. I choreographed my dances so essentially I would look like I wanted to take him home with me and fulfill his fantasy.
I’ve been labeled a drug addict once when I danced because I would always go into work even if I were sick. Like I said stereo typed. He kept asking me where he could score some fluff. I know nothing about the stuff and people come to me because I am small. I explained to him, I didn’t know what he was talking about and that didn’t go over well. He called me a drug infested whore. I discretely walked up to the owner and told him about the nut job and he was thrown out.
Women like me work to make a living and pay for school and daycare. We are labeled because men or women feel that we are the lowest humans on the planet. I always heard comments about how skinny this girl was, how homely that one was. It really irked me. I told one guy that if he didn’t like any of the girls to get the hell out and go else where that we won’t put up with his belittling the dancers. He finally left and I haven’t seen him since.
I experienced another miserable night when I was dancing I had a habit of doing the splits. To make a long story short the disrespectful ass decided to attempt touching me by attempting to use me as a slot machine. I immediately turned around and backhanded the jerk. He proceeded to ask me what I was gong to do about it if he did it again. I told him if he tried his childish gesture again, I would put my boot up his ass. When someone tried to stick money up your ass it is not pleasant, so I was irate. I wanted him to try it again so I could show him I wasn’t joking. He got kicked out due to bothering the other girls
I had the courteous gentlemen which were mostly – business men or out of town guest. I normally walked around and asked for private dances which consisted of me dancing for them alone in another room. I didn’t have to do private dances but I could for extra money. It was very small, confined with windows and big arm chairs. I gave them the run down that if the man touched me, I would walk out and have him thrown out. I didn’t have many problems in the private dance area because the bouncer would watch out for us. His job as a bouncer consisted of throwing out assholes. The men would never understand that it was a no touch bar and to keep their hands to themselves. The business men were pretty cool, they normally came in just to have a few drinks and relax.
Most gentlemen didn’t want to tip unless I came and sat with them or brought drinks to them. They wouldn’t bother me. I was kind of indifferent about them because I wanted to make money and didn’t always get any when they came in. I got over it though, once I had to deal with the really aggravating dorks. I had the contemptuous idiots that make you want to throw your shoe at them and the groping types, you see it all. It all boils down to making the money.
I hated being a bitch at times so I changed my looks completely. I wore black gowns and lingerie, black thigh high stiletto boots, and dark make-up. I was the gothic queen bee. No one wanted to harass me, let alone tip me most of the time because they were too scared to. I ended up being the unique and very popular gothic chic. I was the one people would look for which made me dance even harder and become a royal bitch. I was labeled the Dominate chic. I would stomp my boots or demand they got up on the stage. I threw them offstage if they were jerks. That is when you hold to what you are called, other wise you have snobby girls on you like you wouldn’t believe.
I had problems with some of the girls because I was different. There was a girl that had a beautiful sensual body but a very bad attitude. She thought her shit didn’t stink because she worked out and her breast were perky and no flaws. I know they had to be faux because they were too rounded and her breasts didn’t bounce much. She would walk around and if someone touched her they would get thrown out, even if it were accidental. She didn’t like anyone that wasn’t her type. She liked the preppy type people that walked on egg shells for her. I wasn’t one of them soâÂ?¦ she hated me.
I had issues with her because when it was time for her to be on stage she was giving a private dance. I told her it was time for her to be up so she decided to tell me that if I were off the stage she would be on. That was it after weeks of putting up with her crap I went off. I told her if she would get off that guy’s crotch that maybe she would have been on stage in time. She put her hand in my face, which is a problem for me.
I do not go for the childish tactics at work. I slowly lowered my beer to the table and closed my hand up into a fist and almost decked her. I was responsible though, I didn’t want to lose my job over a whiny little bitch. Exotic dancers are territorial and they don’t want to lose their regulars because they think you’re better than the other. I wasn’t better, I was me.
I always looked people in the eye even if I didn’t like it. I made good money that way and it is part of being an exotic dancer. I am their fantasy; I am supposed to make them feel as if they are the only one. I had gentlemen that started bringing me stuffed animals to work, I was his favorite dancer. Every day he came to see me because I sat and talked to him about his life. I was his councilor, I guess you could say.
It always seemed to me that even though I loved being in charge, I still wanted out. I was tired of being a sex object and I wanted to be able to enjoy being a mother without going to a store and someone notice me. “Hey I know you from that strip club,” It gets really old. I had to deal with obsession and rejection every time.
There were days I wouldn’t make a dime, it was either too slow or the guys were just rude and didn’t want to tip. I would practice pole tricks instead of dancing. I didn’t take my clothes off it was so slow. If I didn’t have anyone at all I would set on the stage and drink my beer till someone showed up, but there had to be more than one for me to take anything off. I tend to get bored easily when that happens. It is mostly after the holidays when it slows down. I got used to it real quick. It was called dead time, just sit and drink and clean the stage. There would be ass prints on the mirror so we had to clean them off. I think I was the only one that did that.
I find it intriguing when the guy’s wife walks in and back hands him in the face dragging him out by his hair, only because he was in a strip club. He was supposed to be at work and come to find out his wife found him else where. I have seen it many times. I also experienced the bachelor parties that came in and the groom is so toasted that he can’t remember his name. He would either puke on the floor or pass out; on rare occasions the wife to be came in with them.
The fun and interesting one that will forever make me laugh is the guy that started masturbating at the stage. One of the girls told the bartender about it, so he walked over sat down and started staring at him masturbating. Then he would look up at the stage and back at the guy. This idiot had no clue he was being watched. The bartender looks and responds, “what cha doing?” The guy froze, his face turned red. The guy started to put his penis away when the bartender said, “No don’t put it away, you have two choices either you walk out of here with your penis in your hand or I will call the cops.” The guy literally got up and walked out with it in his hand. I could not stop laughing I almost peed it was so funny.
When the end of the evening arrives three stages later I want to just fall into bed and sleep for days. We got busy to the point of no standing room all three stages would be open and I would be sweating bullets because once I got off one stage, I would occupy another. Some nights I almost passed out from the exhaustion. It wasn’t something to do every day, it hurt too much to dance the next day. I wasn’t one that would offer to work the busy nights. I was too whiny and didn’t want the bullshit that came with those nights.
I never thought I could get tired of dancing. I always thought that would be the easiest job in the world. It was at first but then it got harder because I got older. I am not one that slowly dances. I would act out each and every song that played. I danced one night to A Perfect Circle. It was Called 3 Libras. The song is kind of emotional so I act it out. There was a part that said,” You don’t see me,” I was the person acting out aggression over a lost lover. It really made me feel like I was a diva. I had people tell me that they never saw that side of me that it was as if I were doing a video. I have been told by many that, I was the best dancer there because I show emotion and I made me smile.
Five years later I quit that job. I now write stories and go to school. I no longer have to show my body to anyone for money. I am getting married in June to the love of my life. I am no longer the dancer in disguise.
