To be on stage

I walk out onto the catwalk style stage of the club I'm currently at. The mood is different depending on the crowd's disposition and the number of people watching me. I used to get really panicky, but now I do a stupid little dance before I walk up the stage on to the catwalk to calm my nerves. The stage lights can be blinding. I walk up to the first pole, hook my leg around and do a spin. I make sure I have an air of determination about me, but also a but of a wry little smile. I try to keep it light when I'm up there. This is part of my appeal. I'm not a scary intimidating super model style stripper. I'm happy go lucky. I want everyone to have a good time. I love being the center of attention when I'm on stage. Where else can I get a hundred men to pay attention to just ME. It feels good to be adored. Sometimes, I fuck up when I'm up there. My shoe will slip out from underneath me, I'll smack my knee on the pole. My knee will give out while I'm doing floor work. I laugh it off, no matter how much pain is involved. Keep up the fantasy, you little class clown. Sometimes, I'll play games with the customers, football. They get rewarded with a titty kiss, also known as a motor boat. It's so difficult to describe the feeling of power one gets from being naked on stage. Have I ever felt degraded? Sure, When some asshole throws a quarter up or yells a stupid comment. But most of the time I feel like a goddess, in control, the little people are in awe of me. They are lucky to be able to glance upon my luscious curves. You gotta keep it that way. You gotta keep it that way or you will lose your mind and yourself to fear and self doubt. There's nothing worse to see on a strip club stage than a terrified woman, not knowing what the fuck to do. That kind of shit makes me cringe. It makes me cringe because 2 years ago, that woman was me. In transformed this terrifying experience into an empowering one.

The first time...

The lights on Delaware Ave were sparkling as we drove past the Festival Pier, the colossal apartment complexes, restaurants and clubs that lined the river. Ayo Technology by 50 Cent ft. Justin Timberlake blared out the speakers as I sat in the passenger seat, wringing my hands.
"I don't think I can do this."
"You get naked for the camera all the time, you're fabulous. It's whatever."

I'm on my way to my first shift at a titty bar. I'd go-go danced before, but never stripped bare chested at a club with poles and lap dances. I had just spent the day shooting photos, and I had a bruise precariously close to my pussy from popping balloons with my ass. I much later learned, at a different club, that all the outfits I had in my bag were low-grade, no good for stripping at clubs where most of the dancers are beautiful, well shaped and made a decent amount of money.

As we pulled up to the club in South Philadelphia, I had a striking feeling this was a terrible idea. Even the exterior was dingy, the bars had windows and the sign above advertising topless ladies was missing a whole lot of light bulbs.
"Go get 'em tiger"
I grabbed my bag and sighed, rolled my eyes.
"Good Bye."
I didn't realize exactly how much weight this phrase held at this exact moment. I was saying good bye to so much more than I realized at the time.

I entered the club, the first dancer there. It was so dark. It smelled so musty. I needed a fucking drink.

I ordered a cape cod, as some kind of bug I'd never seen before I danced there, or since I've danced there scuttled across the bar.
"Go on honey, get your gear on, it's almost show time."
And so began my 8pm to 4am shift at one of the dirtiest hovels I've ever been in. Even the afterhours club we were forced to dance in after wards was cleaner. I've never seen so many hand prints on a mirror.

The other women working there were what I've been heard described as "very kenzo" (which in essence is a slur meaning white city trash). Too old to be dancing. Abnormally muscular for being so damn skinny. Most had been dancing forever. They had stumbled through so many dimly lit lap dance rooms to get to this. How depressing. But all in all, they were all helpful, sweet and knowledgeable. In the time that I worked in this particular club I would learn some very important lessons about the business of exotic dancing.

We hardly ever did lap dances there, and I particularly hated them because there was no one to watch and make sure the guys stayed in the. The first and last dance I did there was for a man who wouldn't get his mouth off of my tits no matter how hard I tried to pry away.

Other than boobie man, there was a customer that particularly fancied me that night who had the roughest hands I ever felt and insisted on rubbing my body with them. I didn't know what to do.

At some point during the night, a crew of guys came in and were acting all macho. They threw 20s on the stage at me. I knew who these guys were, I had been warned about them from the manager of the go go bar I worked at. A recruiter from another club with 4 of his goons dragging along.
"Hole fucking sucks"
"***** don't give me any shit. It's my first night. I know who the fuck you are, and I don't care."
"You should come work for me"
"Eat me."