In response to a gentle, manicured tap from the luscious and wily River City Kitty, this is a list of all the strip clubs in which I have ever shaken it for money. My list is not particularly long or impressive, but I’m glad to participate anyway. To keep this from being a five-sentence blog entry, I’ll add a brief description of these clubs as well as their names. In chronological order:
Club Wizzards, Philadelphia PA
“Every woman has a price,” my old manager Eddy used to say. “Just make sure yours isn’t forty bucks.” Certainly words to live by. The woman who hired me was named Vanity and told me at my audition that I had a really fat pussy. This was almost enough to traumatize me into never going back, but when I spun around the pole for the first time, the entire room lit up with neon lightning that zigzagged across the ceiling on a time-release so that it looked like real lightning. I had a torrid affair with the DJ. Left after almost exactly a year.
Club Diamonds, Charleston SC
I worked here for about a month while trying to avoid the Philadelphia winter during my first year of dancing. What I remember best is that there was a long, rickety metal stairway that was seriously, at some parts, held together with duct tape. Once an hour, “Girls Girls Girls” would start playing and no matter what we were doing, every girl in the place would have to run to the dressing room in order to descend from this long, steep, and terrifying staircase onto the stage. Then we handed out T-shirts and gave 2-4-1 table dances. The trashy factor was counterbalanced by the generosity of the patrons, many of them visiting South Carolina’s golf resorts on company trips. I drink Cristal for the first and only time in the Club Diamonds champagne room. Then a girl named Paris licked some off my boobs. I love the South.
Cheerleaders, Philadelphia PA
I was always sure to launder any hundred dollar bills I got from this place at the convenience store across the street before trying to deposit them at a bank. The management gave us fluffy pink bathrobes for Christmas. And the DJ gifted me with the charming and eloquent soubriquet of “Shady Sadie: The Girl With the Checkered Past.” I learned everything I never wanted to know about football at Cheerleaders and successfully stayed out of the weekly wet T-shirt contest for the entire season, a feat accomplished through no small amount of effort on my part. I stayed here for about another year, maybe a little more.
Delilah’s Den, Absecon NJ
I worked here for a night with my friend Tracey. We wore bikinis under our gowns, which I thought was kind of weird. The lap dances were all performed a foot away from the customer. Slut that I am, I couldn’t, at least in the four hours I was there, figure out how to make money this way, so I gave up and drank shots of Sambuca at the bar with a guy who I still remember was the head waiter at a BYOB in Cape May. Jersey wanted nothing to do with me, pretty much.
Crazy Horse Too, Philadelphia PA
This is the place where all my stripper gear is possibly to this day still hanging in my possibly still-locked locker. When the club was crowded, the money was obscene. The men were rich and easy. The girls were barracudas, and I mean that as a compliment. The bosses were from Vegas and so mobbed up it was leaking out of their eyeballs. Unfortunately, the club was not always busy enough to turn it into the stripper’s paradise that it could be on “on” nights and I was reaching the end of my rope as far as stripping went. This was the last club I worked at, and I lasted about eight months. When I quit, I lived off my last night of work for almost two months. The club has since been sold to Rick’s, and I have no idea how that affected anyone because I removed myself pretty thoroughly from that particular loop.
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