Memoirs of a Sex Symbol...

How Did I Get Here?

2011-07-26T19:49:00.000-07:00

Zion

“How beautiful if nothing more
Then to wait at my son’s door
I’ve never been in love like this before.
Now I pray to keep you from,
The perils that will surely come,
See life for you my prince has just begun.
And I thank you for choosing me,
To come through unto life to be,
A beautiful reflection of his grace.
See I know that a gift this great,
Is only one G-d could create
And I’m reminded every time I see your face.
Lauryn Hill/'Zion'

‘Innocence; Lack of guile or corruption, purity.'
(Guile; Sly or Cunning Intelligence)
My understanding of innocence has more to do with logic and practicality than the definition society has assigned. The loss of virginity does not eliminate innocence, not as I understand it. There is a measure of hope that is a huge facet of innocence and is often overlooked. This hope is a sign of purity of mind and spirit. This hope allows a woman to be truly open to love and willing to give the best of herself for it. This hope allows for a form of renewed innocence. It allows for a lack of guile or corruption and it allows for purity.

When I was eighteen, I was a young mother and probably more innocent than any other time in my life. Without an appreciation or even an understanding of innocence, I retained that purity and the fond memory of it as well. I focused on my son with a joyful anticipation of what wonders the world had in store for us.

I worked hard at that age; even then, I expected nothing handed to me. My days started early. Before the natural music of the morning my alarm blared its own song. The snooze button that I am so familiar with now was intangible in those days. In order to arrive at my fast food restaurant job on time, no later than 5:50AM, I had to be climbing aboard a city bus by 4:35AM. I made sure that our clothes were prepared and ready for the next day before I showered my son and myself each night. As a habit I secured my hair into a tight braid and wrapped a scarf snugly around my head before I went to sleep. That same braid remained the next morning, day after day, week after week. This was the extent of my ‘hairstyle’ in those days.

During that phase in my life, it took me no longer than twenty minutes to prepare myself to face the world. My last concern was for the admiration or attention I would or would not get once I walked out the door. ‘Pretty’ was inconsequential to me. The only concern I had for my appearance was that I look neat and clean, ready to do my job each day.

I wore a uniform to work. The mandatory navy blue pants and stripped button down shirt along with a baseball type of cap, which was navy blue as well. I usually worked the drive thru and did a million things at a time, keeping me busy and making the day fly by. Making French fries and drinks and collecting money was far from glamorous. It all had a way of making a girl feel miles away from being pretty...

The difference between my lack of concern with my impression on the opposite sex at that time and it becoming my priority less than a year later was similar to most things that resulted from the major lifestyle change I adopted. I never would’ve dreamed that the environment I took on would become part of my life. I wasn’t at all aware of the sacrifices that would come along with this decision either.

I became someone that was, for all intents and purposes, no more than a sex symbol in the opinion of so many people. People immediately judged me before having any opportunity to know me at all. It was so often assumed I was what I may or may not have been without allowing me the slightest chance at redeeming myself. This is where innocence can easily slip away in my opinion. This is where hope becomes more and more inaccessible. The contrasts in lifestyle when you enter this world are absolute.

Becoming someone within this other world was a transformation, a one hundred eighty degree turn. In order to become ‘Ginger’, my stage name and alter ego as she soon became, I had to mentally and emotionally rearrange myself. Had I not been the one to get through this personal metamorphosis seemingly unharmed, I probably would have been intrigued myself by any woman who had.

I worked harder being paid minimum wage at the fast food restaurant than I have worked at any other job before or since then. Over the years I’ve made wages exceeding anything I would have dreamed at that time. During those years I expected nothing more than to support my son and myself. Providing for our basic needs was an accomplishment in my eyes.

I had made the decision that my position as a young mother confined me to reach no further than the essentials. Supporting a child without an education or technical training was a decision I made on my own. As a result, I accepted my own self-imposed misconception that I no longer had the ability to achieve my own goals and dreams.

I worked hard every day. I kept up with my son and tried my best to keep up with the bills each month. My parents helped me to secure my own one bedroom apartment. This was an apartment it seemed I would be able to maintain suitably in their absence.

My parents and three younger brothers moved away to Iowa before my son turned two. My mother had been accepted to Medical School in Des Moines. She completed pre-med courses with accolades at the University of Arizona while working full time and raising four kids, not to mention helping out with her grandson. How I could have missed that kind of inspiration to follow my own dreams of becoming an attorney, I’ll never know.

My mother’s hard work and dedication easily earned her the support of our family. When she was accepted to Medical School in Des Moines my family relocated right along with her. I was expected to accompany them but in spite of having made the commitment, I chose not to keep it.

The thought of separating my young son from his father was frightening. The thought of separating myself from his father was even more intimidating, to be honest. It was very important to me for my son to have both of his parents nearby. The potential of separation was disheartening enough to give me the courage to face life without the support of my family.

With my family in another state and my pride intact, I only had a small support system. My fathers’ family is huge and most of my aunties, uncles and cousins lived in the town where I lived. Unfortunately, when it came to the family, I refused to ask for help. As a matter of fact, the more I needed help, the less likely I was to ask my extended family.

When I became pregnant as a teenager the general consensus among the family was I was too young and immature to make it on my own. Being able to prove the family wrong was important to me. So, even though I had a huge support system available to me, I chose not to use it for fear of appearing incapable.

The strip club was presented to me as an option. This was not the sort of option I would anticipate nor was it one that I would normally even consider. Under dire enough circumstances though, we will consider solutions we otherwise wouldn’t. I thought the strip club would serve as a temporary solution to my financial problems. When I realized I had a pink notice from the electric company and only 2 days left to come up with the $150 I owed, I panicked. I went to speak with my neighbor, Laura.

Laura had worked in the strip club as long as I had known her. The news that she was a stripper had been a shock to me. She had never struck me as the glamorous type. As I would soon learn for myself though, that was not a qualification in order to work in certain establishments. Laura had an obvious corrected cleft palette and very plain, straight blond hair. She was thin, not at all heavy and average on all counts, with a heart of gold.

More times than I could count Laura had bailed me out of something or other being shut off because of my minimum wage, minimum hour, fast food restaurant job. She had always helped and encouraged me but this time, when I asked if she would loan me the money to keep my electricity from being disconnected, she flat out refused. If it’s at all possible to be truly apologetic for not paying someone else’s bills, she was.

“Hannah, I would love to be able to keep helping, but what happens when I’m not here?” She asked the question as if I should really have an answer but I could only give her a blank stare.

How should I know? She put her arm around my shoulders, like an older sister, truly concerned. We were inside her apartment, with the big stereo and the nice furniture and all of the things I thought I would simply have to do without.

“I can help you make the money you need all by yourself.” Laura said.

I was baffled.

“You can come to work with me! They’ll hire you in a minute!” She said, enthusiastically.

I laughed at her. I was tickled. She was talking about me working in a strip club? I still had trouble with first kisses. I was surely far from a seductress.

“What’s funny?” Laura asked. Her tone of voice reveled that she was serious.

The thought of being a stripper had never entered my mind. This was not something I thought I was willing or able to do, not successfully anyway. “I don’t have that kind of figure Laura. I don’t know how to dance and men in general make me nervous.” I responded, matter-of-factly.

I really did expect her to dismiss the idea but she was determined. She swiftly pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it carelessly onto the floor. Then she looked up and smiled as her nipples stared me in the face, big, funny looking, and lopsided nipples. Her breasts sagged and I could see the remnants of stretch marks. I let my eyes travel down to her stomach and then her legs. I had never been this close to a naked woman I wasn’t related to before and it made me uncomfortable.

Laura had never mentioned any children but it was obvious now, as I looked at her stomach that she was a mother. I wondered where her child or her children had gone but I didn’t ask. I suppose if she wanted me to know she would have told me.

Laura probably had no idea it was so obvious she was a mother from looking at her figure. She didn’t seem to give it any consideration at all. I didn’t want to stare but I couldn‘t help it. I stood there without words for a minute or two and Laura continued talking;

“I’ve seen your body. My clothes always look better on you then they look on me. I make good money there, Hannah and it isn’t that bad, it’s a job. It’s a job that pays well enough that nothing ever gets disconnected and you can go shopping for yourself every once in a while. You can save some money and instead of borrowing, you can loan someone money. Not to mention pay me back!” She laughed a truly good-natured laugh.

“I’m just not the sexy type Laura. I just don’t think I could ever… “ My voice trailed off.

Laura’s voice on the other hand was strong and direct. “You won’t have any electricity, the day after tomorrow. You think about it.” She said and she said it with definite authority.

It simply sounded like something that had to be done. She knew all too well that her words would make a strong impact. She had helped me time and time again, never asking for anything in return. She knew I couldn’t afford to make ends meet alone and she had always been happy to help. She had even worked an extra shift a couple of times in order to be able to help me out. She was right though. Where would it end? I had to become self-sufficient.

Laura directed me toward the door, leaving me no choice except to ponder what she had said. She was right and I knew she cared. She wouldn’t have pushed me in the direction of the club had she understood the perilousness that kind of environment would offer me. We both had the best of intentions and no idea that this would be something that changed me so profoundly. I knew Laura well and she had the kind of character that could be trusted.

That conversation had been yesterday and here I was, bag over my shoulder, about to hop out of a taxi-cab in the parking lot of 'Curves Cabaret'. Laura had come by my apartment after we had talked the night before and given me the things I would need to start work. I made no declaration that I would be there and she didn't ask for one but we both understood that somehow I would gather the nerve to show up. I was determined, if only to salvage my electricity for a month or so.

Regrets....

2011-07-26T19:35:00.001-07:00

When I was young,

You used to hold me,

Told me I was the best,

Anything in this world I want,

I could possess.

All that made me want is all that I could get,

In order to survive,

Gotta learn to live with regrets…

Shawn Carter

‘Regrets’

The first time anyone walks into a strip club, it’s a shock. It’s almost impossible not to be shocked; it’s completely contrary to the outside world. The first time I walked into a strip club, I expected to see what my mind had created the hundreds of times I had driven past that very same building for years. I expected beautiful surroundings, a configuration of all of the pretty things it is to be a woman, surrounded by the modern bar settings I had seen on TV. I had never been inside of a bar and at eighteen, I got a view far from what I expected.

The smell was foreign even though now, years later, my memory alone can create the smell to perfection as I write. It’s a mixture of perfume and smoke, alcohol, body odor, sweat and cologne, among other things that I could not distinguish. There is no other scent quite like it. I walked into that bar that day different from the person I would ever be again and I was afraid. I wasn’t only afraid to go up there and show my innocent body to strangers even though that alone is a scary thought.

That nightmare is so common its been joked about, standing in front of a room full of strangers while they point and stare because you’re only in your underwear. I have the same insecurities as every other woman, my hips are too wide or my stomach isn’t flat enough. All of my insecurities were about to go on display for what felt like the world to see or anyone with an I.D. And the $5 cover charge and I certainly wasn’t comfortable with that idea.

The women in these clubs are so often degrated and assumed to be trashy and not at all respectable but still, expected to be perfect specimens of what men and woman everywhere consider sexy and beautiful. What if I just didn’t measure up? That was, somewhat a fear, but there was another, far greater and more frightening fear, of what, at that time I had no idea. Over the years, and now, I understand where that fear came from.

It would be impossible to work in a place like this even once, let alone day after day, and maintain the way of thinking I had developed over my short eighteen years. My young mind was quick. I viewed this environment as unfamiliar territory. I knew that something would have to change and change drastically in order for me to get up on that stage and take my clothes off. In order to smile and talk with these men, manipulate them, play the game that was surely a part of this new job. I was able to take in this information and calculate the facts. In my innocence though, all I was able to gather from that process, that intuition and intelligence was fear and fear propelled me.

In my opinion, fear meant that I doubted myself. It meant I was entertaining the thought that I couldn’t do something. There couldn’t be anything that I couldn’t do. This was a completely unattainable promise I made to myself when I had my son. At eighteen I was someone’s mother, responsible for another life. If I didn’t stop standing there and make this happen, my perfect son and I would be in the depths of the Arizona heat without electricity, without cool air and that just was not an option.

I closed my eyes and tried to keep my tears behind my eyelids and be who I tried to portray to the world that I was. It had become a game to me, convincing person after person that I was an adult, knowing deep down inside that I was so far from it. All along I had been winging it, never knowing which direction to take and presenting everything as if it were under control. I thought I had my friends and family fooled into thinking I was all grown up when, in all actuality, I was simply playing that role. It would be years before I realized that a lot of people felt this way. So many people never feel grown up in their own eyes and continued to feel this way, well into senior citizenship. That day though, as I saw it, I was the only one carrying on this charade and I was about to do it, damned near naked, in front of a room full of mostly drunk strangers.

I saw Laura almost immediately after opening the heavy doors and walking down the hallway that led into the rest of the club. It was almost as if she had known when to expect me. She gave me a genuine encouraging smile and I have to admit it was comforting. I wanted desperately to turn and run right back out the door. There had to be some other way to cover this electric bill, some other way to get out of this situation. Desperation came over me fast and strong, like desert storm clouds in the summertime.

Laura must have seen the terror in my eyes. She quickly took my hand, squeezed it gently, reassuringly and walked me over to what must have been an office. I glanced over at her but tried not to stare. Her outfit made me even more uncomfortable. She wore a bikini type of 2 piece that didn’t cover much at all and high heels. Somehow I had expected the ladies to be in long gowns, not revealing anything out in the open, possibly doing the stripping somewhere behind closed doors. Laura was dressed so that everyone could see almost everything. She was wearing less than any woman I’d ever seen on any beach and I would soon find out that most of the other women were dressed similarly.

Because I was only 18, I was not legally allowed to work in any establishment that served alcohol in the state of Arizona. The only other option was to work in a club that was all nude and that was not an option for me. I had been able to easily secure a false identification before coming to the club and decided to take my chances with that. After giving the manager my false id and speaking with him briefly he asked me my stage name. I looked over at my friend. She had forgotten to mention this part.

“What’s your stage name?” I asked her.

She just smiled but didn’t give me an answer. “How about Ginger?” The manager offered and Laura seemed to approve. I had no idea what made a stage name or how they chose one so I didn’t bother with even the slightest input.

Years later I understood that this man wasn’t only giving me a stage name, it was more than that. From that day forward some small part of me became Ginger. She was the role I would play every time I walked through those doors. Ginger was the persona I would create in order to keep Hannah safe and sound and at a distance from this debauchery. I would be called that for many years to come even after I walked away from this lifestyle. Some people still know me as Ginger, it is just what they call me and since it was probably how I was introduced to them, it is, in their eyes, simply my name.

Laura walked me toward the entrance of the dressing room and as we walked, I took note of my surroundings. The women were not only in tiny bikinis but some of them were topless. I had expected the women on stage to be topless but I didn’t expect the rest of what I saw. There were women wearing nothing more than a tiny g-string and heels and standing so close to some of the men sitting at tables that I felt like I should mind my own business and look away.

There were three stages in the huge club. This is the largest club I have ever been in, with the exception of Las Vegas and San Francisco, to this day. The stage in the center was larger than the other two stages. There were two floor to ceiling poles, one on either side of the huge center stage. Mirrors lined the walls directly behind it and a heavy velvet curtain hung across the stage opening in the center of the mirrors, which obviously led to the dressing room. The lights were kept very dim although there was quite a light show going on as the woman on center stage put on her show. There were chairs along the front of the center stage and surrounding the smaller stage were customers could sit and watch. I was surprised that the men were allowed to sit so close to the dancers on stage. It would be nerve wracking enough to go up on that stage but with strange men so close, it seemed impossible.

The dressing room entrance was hidden by the way the mirrors were all along the wall in front of it. There was actually no door at all, just an entrance way that cut off the rest of the club with a wall. The dressing room was a long, narrow room. One wall was lined with mirrors and a counter top with chairs all along it, the opposite wall was lined with lockers. There were three or four girls back there but it wasn’t crowded at all. Laura told me this would be a more comfortable night for me to start because it would be slow until about eleven. It was only around 7PM so I had some time before things got hectic.

My friend led me to an area that was even more private than the rest of the dressing room and sat down on one of the stools in front of the mirror.

“Are you OK?” she asked me.

I tried to pull together a smile. “Of course I’m OK, why wouldn’t I be?” I responded, trying to keep my smile genuine.

Laura laughed as if I were simply hilarious.

“Girl, you look terrified! You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Relax.”

She said it in a calm tone and grabbed my right hand before she continued.

“Listen, I know this place can be a little much at first, I know. Just remember though, everything is scary at first, that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Just sit back here a little bit before you get ready and breathe, calm down a bit. I have to go on stage and when I come back, I’ll help you, OK?”

I shook my head yes and she walked away. I didn’t want to tell her that this place reminded me far too much of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. That thought reminded me of the Bible, which reminded me that it would be best for me to leave, regardless of the electricity or anything else. My stomach was upset and for a few moments and I reasoned that it really couldn’t be that bad living without electricity for however long it would take me to get the extra hours. That wasn't a rational conclusion though, it was too hot and my son had to live there along with me. I stood up and walked out of the dressing room, finding myself a table in the dark where I hoped I wouldn’t be noticed. I decided to take a better look at the place. I wanted to see what Laura would do on the stage. I had never been on a stage alone before and I had definitely never tried to seduce anyone, let alone a stranger. It seemed completely overwhelming.

The music was loud, so much so that it would be difficult to carry on a conversation for very long or at all without raising your voice. My hearing suffers now, the loud music definitely takes its toll over time. On the far wall was a long bar I hadn’t noticed before. There were more bottles of alcohol than I could imagine would ever be needed. Two bartenders stood behind the bar and four waitresses on the opposite side, waiting to serve customers that hadn't yet arrived. They didn't look busy at all and when I took note I realized there were only twelve customers in the whole place.

Three of these men sat at their tables and had a dancer there with them. As the song began and Laura stepped onto the center stage, these three women began to dance as well, only inches away from the men they stood in front of. They were far too close for this to possibly be allowed but no one seemed to notice or care in the least. My heart was beating a mile a minute. I couldn’t even imagine being that close to a complete stranger with most of my clothes off! The way the men stared made me sick to my stomach. I tried to keep watching, remembering something I had heard about becoming desensitized the more you watched something go on. The men looked mesmerized, simply hypnotized and the more I looked, the more I wanted to grab my bag and run. I was not becoming desensitized at all, just more and more terrified.

I probably should have gone with my instincts and run but I didn’t. Now that I am older and wiser, I know there were probably a dozen people in my family that would have rather helped than see me even consider working in a place like this. At eighteen though, my mind worked in a very a different way. Some would argue my mind wasn't working at all.

I waited for Laura to get off stage and met her in the dressing room. She carefully explained to me how things worked. Table dances were what made this job lucrative. Table dances were something she had not mentioned originally at all. I thought there was no way I could possibly do it, but still, I followed her instructions. I kept telling myself that as an adult, as a mother, I had to ‘man up’ and be strong. Without a man in my household, the strength would have to come from me and it did.

Before long I found myself in a bikini similar to the ones the other girls wore, stiletto heels and heavier makeup than I had ever worn in my life. I was already wearing a wig so that hair hung well past my shoulders. Somehow, I gathered the courage to get onto that stage and work that day. It was humiliating and it made me sick at first but the desensitization came. It came with doing, not watching and it came quickly enough that I stayed.

I made more that night than I had earned in any two week paycheck from my fast food restaurant job or anywhere else prior to it. In the weeks following I returned, pulled in by the thought of money, attention and success. Before too long this new environment was commonplace to me. I no longer looked away immediately when someone removed their top, or did a table dance from ten feet away because it really was, the law.

No other dancer kept that distance during a table dance and soon enough I realized it was not helping my income to do so. The intimate distance I had been so shocked by the night I first arrived seemed pretty acceptable two weeks later as did so many other things I would have never considered before. The blatant flirtation I dispalyed constantly was not in my character but it became part of the job.

The bar had its own culture. There were written and unwritten rules and tactics for success just like with any job. The center stage was huge and I could enter from the bar where there were steps on either side of the stage or from the dressing room, through the heavy velevet curtain. The dressing room entrance always felt far more dramatic and provided much more of a 'stage' entrance. I started out by always entering from the dressing room. I headed back there at least ten minutes before my stages, making sure my hair and makeup were just right and pacing. I did that for months.

I studied all of the girls at the bar in those first few months. For at least a couple of days at a time, I would pay attention to one particular girl and look for what made her special. I would watch and see how she’d get through the night. How she performed on stage, how she related to her patrons, I studied the other women, one by one. As I would do with the men in my life for years to come, I took the best qualities from each girl and tried to incorporate them in with my own.

If a girl was more sexy because of the way that she walked, during those days I would concentrate on perfecting my own walk. I wouldn’t stop paying attention until it was as seductive as or more so than the object of my studies and then I would move on to the next girl. She may have a million qualities, but if her best one was a certain table dance move, a laugh or flirtatious wink, that would be the improvement in myself that I would work on accomplishing. By the time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrors as I was dancing one night, I had either equaled or trumped each girls’ trademark whether she noticed it or not and usually she had not. They had no idea what it was, but the gawky, awkward new girl had become some sort of super stripper in the making . . .

I had always had trouble with stages. My nerves always had me trying to skip a set, excuse myself for any reason I could come up with. That is, until I fell in love with a song, it was 'Big Poppa', Biggie Smalls. “To all the honey’s makin’ money, treatin’ niccas like dummies…” Once I became acquainted with that song, I’d gladly do my stages.

That song was playing the night that I lifted up my head and looked into the mirrors along the back of the main stage while I was dancing. It was months after that very first night. I was wearing an itty-bitty light blue bikini with rhinestones and all types of sparkles glistening all over it. It was a simple bikini, strings and triangles.

I was mesmerized by what I saw in those mirrors that night. My figure looked like an hourglass, a tiny waist and hips that were proportioned almost perfectly with my ‘C’ cup breasts. My hips gave way to long shapely legs and at 5’9” in 5” heels, they were even longer. I looked at my face in the mirror & I was truly astonished. I had never seen this woman before.

This woman had long, tiny braids, halfway down her back and fair skin, enough so to easily be mistaken for a white woman and quite often, I was. But the benefits of an African American heritage were obvious as well; full lips, a round, full booty and however minimal, some soul.

I looked into those mirrors that night and since then I have not seen the girl I had known before that. To this day I remember her fondly but that night I realized, that young girl had been replaced by what for all intents and purposes appeared to be a woman. The girl that walked into that bar the very first day had no idea that there was any power at all in the way that she looked. She was innocent and genuinly uninterested in that kind of power. This woman staring back at me in the mirrors was not at all innocent, not any longer. The girl that first walked into the club had been shy and unsure of herself, motivated by her son alone and feeling undeserving of anything except the role and responsibility of being a mother. That girl assumed everyone had good intentions. She expected only the best from people, which was what she offered in return. The image that stared back at me knew about manipulation and the power that came along with her looks. She knew the trouble men would go to for her attention. This woman was no longer innocent and had no desire to be. No longer were there only good intentions, no longer were good intentions what was expected in return. I had no idea the value of the innocence I had lost. This woman was someone I had created, little by little, putting bits and pieces together like a puzzle and coming up with a woman that I found hard to believe was me.

That night I decided that if I was going to be a stripper, I was going to be the very best stripper I could be, with as much dignity as I could muster. To my own surprise, I was off to a pretty good start. Unfortunately not much dignity can come along with a world surrounded by manipulation and dishonesty, no matter how hard you tried. Of course, that was not my reality at the time. I walked off of that stage with a smile, after I took the time to collect the bills that had been left behind. I had ignored the men at the stage so long, they had left the money and gone to sit back down. I remembered each one of them and offered them a moment of my attention with a wink before I left the stage.

Unbeknownst to me this was the start of a very real, very life changing transformation. This was when the line began to blur between Hannah and Ginger. This was where the two characters started to become one in the same. I was in dangerous territory, without a clue.

Stages became less threatening after that day. On some days going on stage became a much needed ego boost when I wasn’t able to get into ‘character’ right away. I learned, little by little, the practices and procedures that would make this job even more profitable. There was more than one way to go about it and if you paid attention, you could make as much, if not more money than the girls that compromised themselves. Doing this became achievable simply by becoming untouchable, physically and mentally to these men who wanted nothing more than to touch you in any way at all. The more I became untouchable in my own mind, the more I became untouchable to them and therefore, more valuable.

D'Evils

2011-07-26T19:30:00.000-07:00

D’Evils

This shit is wicked on these mean streets.

None of my friends speak.

We're all trying to win, but then again,

Maybe it's for the best though,

'Cause when they're seeing too much,

You know they're trying to get you touched.

Whoever said illegal was the easy way out

Couldn't understand the mechanics

And the workings of the underworld,

Granted, 9 to 5 is how you survive,

I ain't trying to survive

I'm trying to live it to the limit and love it a lot

Life ills, poison my body I used to say 'fuck my skills,'

And never prayed to G-d,

I prayed to Gotti

That's right it's wicked, that's life I live it

Ain't asking for forgiveness for my sins.

Endz, I break bread with the late heads,

Picking their brains for angles

On all the evils that the game'll do

It gets dangerous,

Money and power is changing us

And now we're lethal,

Infected with D'Evils...

D'evils

Shawn 'Jay-Z' Carter

The link between the women that work in the strip club and their male counterparts, the hustlers, becomes obvious if you pay attention. What we all call work, the rest of the world calls play and this gives us license into each others' world that not many people get. There is a mutual understanding of the mentality and the lifestyle and this creates a sort of a bond.

This is not the kind of a bond most people are familiar with. It is not the kind of relationship where you feel emotionally connected or like you have someone you can depend on. It’s almost the opposite. This is simply a mutual respect for ‘the game’ and the ability to play it and often times this is where the respect ends.

In this relationship, if you choose to call it that, there are only two positions. You’re either manipulating someone or being manipulated; making money or you giving it away. It’s a game, a rivalry or battle of wills. This can go on for long periods of time but inevitably before it’s over both parties give something up that they had every intention of keeping and both parties gain something as well.

This all became clear to me quickly. The seriousness with which these women looked at these relationships was different from anything I had ever seen before. The girls seemed to want attention from these men more than anything else but what they called respect bordered more on fear, a kind of intimidation. The desire for their attention even trumped money at times. Even Bianca, the woman with the utmost swag, she seemed to care less what anyone thought of her was somehow concerned about these guys.

Bianca was too pretty for words and she knew it. She was difficult to approach so I admired her from afar for a long time. Bianca danced like it came naturally, like she was dancing for someone important to her, all the time. She gave the impression that customers shouldn’t even approach her unless they were offering a significant amount of cash and they didn’t seem to bother. It was the way she carried herself, the value she placed on her time that automatically made other people place that same value on her as well. She walked with a grace and carried a strength that brought curiosity along with it, this was a priceless attribute in the club. I hadn’t spoken with her but I knew from watching that no one seemed to rattle her. The hustlers though, stole her full attention without seemingly even trying and that surprised me.

I planned my nights down to the minute. I planned my stages, enough table dances to leave with my financial goal each night and study time. The more time I took to watch what went on around me or to study, the higher my financial goal became the next night. The time I spent watching paid off. It became almost as important as what I looked like and the way that I moved. This was necessary in order to sustain my growing financial needs.

The hustlers intrigued me but that intrigue went hand and hand with an absolute intimidation. These men were highly revered at the club and they knew it. I would stay busy and always smile. I’d run my hand across a shoulder, do the whole, ‘I’m staying away because I like you’ game, and actually, it was quite true. On the other hand though, these guys really scared me.

The women they were nice to, they were very, very nice to and the ones they weren’t, they really, really weren’t. It was a love/hate relationship with almost every woman in the club and I decided not to take a position until I knew what I was getting myself into. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into anyway.

My watching time became dedicated to the hustlers most nights. In order to ensure it went unnoticed, I had to be working. This meant I danced nonstop, all night long. I kept close to them, watched carefully but made sure I was always working. In 5” heels, four and five hour’s straight, doing the job I did was ridiculous. It’s not only dancing, you’re an actress, and you have to learn to multitask. You become a banker, a negotiator, mediator, superstar, sex symbol, always an analyst and a detective, responding to clues. To all of that I decided to add undercover investigator...

There are men in the club that want you to be innocent. There are men that want you to be nasty, and everything in between. You have three and a half minutes or one song, to analyze what it is they want and become just that. All of this while you stand in front of them half-naked and tease them. You do this without any contact other than a soft shoulder caress or a brush up against them that you have to be able to call accidental but they have to be able to think was intentional. You have to make sure that you look as good as they thought you looked when they saw you from across the room or on stage where the lights make normal girls look beautiful and beautiful girls look unbelievable. Not to mention looking for your next customer while you make your current patron think there is nothing else in the world you are paying attention to except him.

All of this had to be done in 5” heels, a wig, lashes that are not your own and ever perfect makeup application. Usually, if I could get it all just right, a normal table dance that was $5 at the time, would bring me $7 or $10, sometimes $20 and an endless stream of compliments. I brushed the compliments aside with a nod or a simple 'Thank you'. I was sure they had no effect on me but I longed painfully for the attention when real life went on without it.

To add to all of that, I decided to take it upon myself to figure out the connection, unexpected attraction and curiosity I had when it came to the hustlers. They were a nonstop part of the club and they had style. They walked in and sat down like the party would now begin. They naturally commanded attention and the ladies gave it to them. I didn’t blame them. These men presented themselves well, they carried themselves well, they had a confidence that was difficult if not impossible to ignore. The cologne they wore attempted to do to me what my seventy-dollar Gucci now did to the men I seduced for money. They always made a strong impression and they began to take more and more of my attention each night. I decided I would make sure I knew what I was doing before I allowed myself to let them know they had my full attention or any of it for that matter. I thought I knew what I was doing that is.

At my age and with my lack of experience, it would have been impossible for me to prepare myself to go head to head with any one of these men. They were far more advanced when it came to this lifestyle than I was. Had I approached any one of these men, they would have easily taught me plenty at my own expense. I had far more confidence than I should have, never realizing why they called this a game. In order to learn it, you had to play and in the beginning, you were bound to lose. I didn’t even consider approaching anyone except Bloo, the alpha male of the group. This is a problem for me to this day. I am attracted to the man that’s in charge, always. I probably couldn't have made a more dangerous choice had I tried.

A Public Service Announcement...

2011-03-19T23:55:00.005-07:00

Today I had an unanticipated lunch with three of my favorite people and about 45 minutes in, my stomach was upset, the look on my face was undoubtedly foul and I felt like I had lost some respect for everyone at that table. After careful reflection, I realized, no, I hoped, that they were simply without the deep, personal understanding I know so well. These are three people I truly adore, three people there is not much I wouldn't do for. The conversation surrounded Lauren London's decision to have a baby with Lil Wayne being one of the best financial decisions she had ever made. Everyone else at the table was in agreement. These are not ghetto, unemployed, welfare recipient types, at all. These are talented, intelligent, well-educated, hard-working, self-sufficient people. Please, if you are out there people, young women, mothers, fathers, hear what I have to say...

I have worked in an environment where I was essentially trading sexual favors for money, a strip club. That is not a secret. I have bullshi**ed and sold men a million pipe dreams that would never come true. My 'mouthpiece' was a tool and when I walked through those doors at night, lies were truths and truths were lies and that was the game these men asked for when they walked through those same doors, so it was acceptable. Every lie I told, damaged my soul. Every disrespectful statement directed at me, dug into my heart and diminished my self-confidence. Every simple, thoughtless request from a stranger to prostitute myself killed a part of my spirit. Every single one. Money does not heal your soul. No amount of money heals your soul. Only God can do that.

The dollar amount does not change the act. Love is something that is to be appreciated and cherished. Family is something that should be sacred. In our communities, in urban communities today, that is not the case. 'Have a baby by me baby, be a millionaire!' Those are the multi-platinum selling words of 50-Cent. No one can respect a woman that had a baby in order to be a millionaire and even if they could, even if they can... A woman who has a baby in order to be a millionaire will have a very hard time respecting herself. When she has to face her child and her God, she will have a hard time. This mentality, this song, this story, is a pipe dream. Its 50-cent using his mouthpiece to sell a pipe dream to our daughters and they're buying it.

Our daughters will not all have babies to be millionaires. They will try, more and more, the more we condone it. They will try and have babies by NFL (Not For Long) players, NBA players, wanna be rappers, ANYONE they think may have a stable income. That's the REALITY of it. If its OK to have a baby in order to be a millionaire why is it not OK to have a baby by a man with a more stable income, I mean, its all a come up, right? Or depending on your standards of success, section 8 and welfare?

Have a baby by your husband, be a strong family. Creating life or false love for a monthly check, no matter how big the check, is NEVER acceptable. Not ever. Money cannot heal your soul. No amount of money. Those are my thoughts. Thank you for reading.

Now back to your regularly scheduled programming. ;-)

A Night BAck at The Club...

2010-01-13T02:31:00.005-07:00

I had made a conscious decision to come back to work on a Thursday. It wasn't quite the weekend so I wouldn't be overwhelmed and I'd have a chance to get back into the swing of things for a night. The club had been improved upon ever so slightly but enough so that it made a definite difference. The tables all had glass over them and each one was covered in a white tablecloth. I smiled as I saw that it gave the club a touch of class. There were a few men here and there but the place was far from packed, which meant I could take my time getting ready.

The dressing room was empty and all I had to do was change, makeup, hair, all had been done before I arrived. I slipped into a light pink fishnet top and boy shorts, 5" clear platform heels and misted myself with my signature scent. This smell had been my favorite for a long while but now it would remind me of the club. It wasn't until I inhaled that I realized I never should have brought it along with me nor worn it on a night I'd be working. There is something about a scent... No matter how many memories were clear in my mind, nothing brought back the feeling, the actual presence of a situation like a scent. This scent would have to become that of Ginger because that is who I had come here to be and that was just that, tears in a bucket, life.

I grabbed my tiny handbag, made sure everything was locked away safe and sound in my locker and headed for the dressing room door. Before walking out onto the floor I stuck my head in the DJ booth and smiled at my DJ, he smiled right back at me. "Ginger! What are you doing here? We missed you!" I stepped up the 2 stairs that brought me into the DJ booth and embraced him. "I missed you too babe. Had to come make some money. It's rough out there these days you know..." He shook his head in agreement and I headed for the door.

My eyes scanned the floor, a white man with a tiny girl in a very tiny bikini sitting in his lap, a table with three brothers that I recognized, they came into the club every single day after work. I looked over at them and smiled. Off in the corner was a man that looked somehow familiar but I wasn't able to place him from across the room.

I headed in his direction, my curiosity guiding me. As I got closer I recognized him, Kenyon Diles. This man was young, he had only been 23 when we met. 23, 6'4" and 305 lbs. of unobstructed muscle, newly signed with the Arizona Cardinals football team. He was gorgeous, he had no idea how handsome he actually was, not even a clue. Had he realized how handsome he truly was before he grew up a little more, he would have been impossible to deal with.

I smiled as I caught his eye and he did as well. He showed me a great big smile, looking surprised to see me but not at all disappointed. I had told Kenyon I wouldn't be working in this club or any other for that matter any longer and that had been my intention. He stood up and pulled me close to him, his body was solid as a rock, he didn't have an ounce of fat on him. He always made me feel so tiny, in his arms I felt small. "Hello Mr. Diles, what are you doing here?" I asked as I reluctantly slid from his embrace.

"I could ask you the same question." He smiled "I am not disappointed to see you though. I am disappointed to see you here but I am not disappointed to see you. I missed you. You look good." I smiled at him. "You look good." I responded and sat down.

I had distanced myself from Kenyon when I met J.R. J.R. was something very special, he was the equivalent of a professional athlete, mentally. He was handsome, so much so that he was far more attractive than Kenyon, even having a good 8 years on him and a completely opposite physique. Kenyon was an athlete, there were plenty of them out there. J.R. was an engineer, an intellectual, he studied what he had an interest in learning. I had always hoped one day he would choose to study me. When J.R. stepped into the picture, I no longer answered Kenyons phone calls, kept my distance for a good 5 months. After that we would talk every now and then but only friendly conversation when my favorite uncle wanted to go to a Cardinals game or some such friendly favor.

Now Kenyon sat in front of me looking better than I had remembered. He was candy, comparable to what a man would see in a 23-year-old playboy playmate. I definitely cared about J.R., we had dated for a solid year but I was no further now than I had been in the very beginning. He was afraid of me, at least that's what I liked to think... The truth was, he more likely just wasn't that into me. Kenyon, on the other hand, sat in front of me as if he were made to order and his interest could not be misunderstood.

"So, what happened to your little boyfriend? What are you doing in here? You shouldn't be up in here." I hadn't expected that response from him at all.

"I never ever told you I had any boyfriend K and you know it." I tried to smile.

"You didn't have to, it was obvious and it's also obvious that that little situation didn't work out too well."

WHEN did Kenyon Diles get so perceptive or perhaps I had never been perceptive enough myself so I missed the fact that he was not a true 'block head' as we called them at the club.I looked up at him and raised the right corner of my mouth in a smile and he did the same. Maybe I had missed something there all along...

"I have to check in, Mr. Diles. I'll be back." I stood up and Kenyon smiled.

"I'll be right here."

I headed over to the office, putting a special switch in my hips, quite aware Kenyon was watching whole heartedly. After paying my house fees and heading back onto the floor my name came over the loud speaker, Ginger will be up next... Of course.

Back To The Bar...

2009-11-19T17:50:00.006-07:00

Back to the Bar…

The club remains the same and my extended absence will go unnoticed for the most part. My intention was for that absence to be permanent. We are in a recession though and unfortunately my plans had to change.

I headed for the front entrance of the club wearing ‘the uniform’. The 'uniform' is simple something with a little style, anything from, jeans to a business suit because clothing won’t matter in a few minutes… Most important were the accessories, the wig, false eyelashes, lips that had a shine to no end and tasted like pineapple, flawless skin with the help of MAC and for me, an air of ‘Juicy Couture’ perfume, my favorite. The club had added a nice touch since I had been away. Two red ropes marked the direct route to the front door and gave the place a ‘red carpet’ feeling.

I conjured up all of the confidence I could muster and gave myself a mental picture of my own ‘Sasha Fierce’ tearing it up center stage, bills falling through the air. Not the mental picture I had as a little girl but one that put some sway in my hips and a smirk on my face. That was my most necessary element, an essential tool of the trade, attitude. Approachability is also key. Men want what they cannot have and a beautiful woman with an attitude showing them just enough attention is usually what they cannot have.

Roddy was at the door of the club, wearing black, looking like he could definitely have a couple guns strapped somewhere or other. He looked good, at his best, handsome. He was thick, he was always thick but he looked solid, very solid. He had a strut to his own step and he gave me his best smile. He has a warm smile and it’s genuine. Roddy is our head of security. This man would jump in front of a bullet or snap a neck to protect anyone working in the club. This I know. I feel safe with him there and he takes his position as head of security seriously and with good reason. Being one of the premier black clubs in all of Southern Arizona and the only one in Phoenix, we could at times attract some shady patronage. Roddy always has a big warm hug for me and a smile. He always made me feel like its not so bad for me to be here after all, gave me reassurance, acceptance. At 34 years old I did not want to come back and have to work in a topless club. If I had to do it though, this was definitely the place to do it.

In this business it was very difficult to find a club that treated you as at all valuable, someone that was respected and mattered to the business. The truth was, in most topless clubs they find young girls by the dozens. As long as the club had the clientele to keep their pockets full and even sometimes if they didn’t. They treated the girls like cattle, they didn’t notice if one was gone for a month, six months or forever. The club management, owners, etc, didn’t usually notice at all, nor did they care. The owner of this club had sent me an email, a month after I left, just to see how I was doing. Its a small gesture, but it meant something. That mattered to me, it mattered much more than he probably realized. It made me feel there was some sort of respect, some sort of connection outside of money and the people that ran the place care about the people that work there. That matters to me a whole lot. In most clubs, no one would have noticed had I been gone for months and had they noticed, they wouldn’t have contacted me with much concern, if any. The people I work with and for at ****** ***** are good people and that’s important. It is the little things that make it possible to continue to do this job and that was one of them, a big one.

I gave Roddy a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Where YOU been?!?” He had a deep, rough voice and it let you know, in no uncertain terms that you were dealing with a MAN. Roddy's smile was butter though, you could tell he had a heart of gold even though I’m not sure he realized it. Part of his job was to be a hard ass and he took that role to heart but his smile was genuine, a part of him, it could have never been considered hard.

“I moved back home, remember, I told you I was leaving.” He acknowledged that with a slight nod. I looked at my feet, feeling humiliated. I was embarrassed to have to admit that I had come crawling back to the club, not having been able to make it on my own without working here. “ I haven’t been able to find work down there. I was hired at a really great place, doing data entry but, they downsized before I even had a chance to get comfortable. Last to come first to go." Then I realized where I was. This was not the place fro a pity party that was for damn sure. I raised my head, feeling sentimental about my employment situation would have to come later, this wasn't the time nor the place. “Thank G-d at this age I can come in and work because otherwise I’d be in some real trouble right now.”

I painted a thick smile across my lips and looked over at him as if this was the best thing in the world and made me immeasurably happy. A lie. I had to lie often once I walked through those doors it was part of the job, another element. I lied about my name, I lied about the answers to most of the questions these men would ask. I lied bout the mood I was in and how I felt about being in this place and I did it well. One of the most important parts of this job was to convince myself that I was who I wanted to be, who these men needed me to be. As long as I believed it, they believed it. My swag was a huge part of the persona known as Ginger.

Roddy looked over at me as if I wasn't fooling anyone, least of all him and gave me another hug, a genuine show of support. ‘You’ll be fine baby girl. You look damn good!” He smiled, took my bags from me and opened the door for me to walk back into the club…

Night Shift... Part II...

2009-07-30T08:51:00.009-07:00

...I made my way over to the man left sitting at the table. He looked harmless enough. He was a black man with a dark complexion, glasses and a goatee. He was working on a Corona and paid no attention to me until I was standing directly in front of him. When he did look though, his eyes widened and he smiled, he made it clear he approved of what he saw.

I stood in front of him a few seconds, let him get a full view of me in my white bikini, then lowered my body so we were face to face. I usually spoke with customers this way, I'd squat down in front of them so we were eye to eye. This technique seemed to provide for more yes’s than it did no’s when I asked if they wanted a table dance. “Hi.” I said. “My name is Ginger. How are you?” I extended my hand to shake his.

His huge grin went clear from one ear to the other. He shook my hand firmly. “Better now, much better.” He looked around, looking genuinely confused. “Where did you come from?” He asked. “I would have remembered had I seen you.” He said.

I smiled at him. He seemed to want to keep me around, which was a plus. I never knew when I approached a man I hadn't seen before. This would improve my night if it played out right. I responded flirtatiously, smiling, “Oh I've been here! I’ve kept my eye on you since you came in the door. You’ve had some fine ass women dancing in your lap!" I laughed. “You looked like you were having a real good time! To have noticed me you would've had to stop paying attention to what was right in front of you and that would've been crazy!” I laughed. “I thought I’d never get a chance to come over and say hello to you. You seem like a pretty popular man in here tonight. When do I get to dance for you?”

I looked up at him then, through my lashes. I’m still not sure if looking at a man this way worked so well because it gave me the confidence I needed to say what I wanted to say and get what I wanted to get or if there really was something to the way I looked when I looked up at a man through my lashes. Regardless, for years it had been my best bet at closing whatever deal I wanted to make and it wasn’t often a man could or would say no when I looked at him this way.

This man didn’t even pretend not to be affected. He tilted his chair back a bit, rolled his eyes around in his head and took a deep breath. “Damn girl! You can do, have and be whatever you want, whenever you want if it’s me you askin’! Damn, you're fine!” He smiled and shook his head.

I had hoped to get a yes but his response made me actually blush. I smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, you're sweet. I’ll dance for you next song, alright?” I asked. “You want to stay here or go to the back for a private dance?”

He shook his head no. “I think I better start off right here, I don’t know that I can handle a private dance. I have to mind the table while my boys are gone anyway, so we'll stay right here.” He answered.

When the next song started up and I stood up in front of him, gently parted his legs to make room for me to dance right in front of him. He smiled, shook his head again. “Where did you come from? My boys are gonna trip when they come back!” He laughed.

I put both of my hands on his shoulders and leaned in close, moving my body slowly, dancing seductively. I had his attention. I turned around and bounced my booty, a move I had finally learned after struggling with it for what seemed like forever. The trick is to make it look natural, like its simple to move your ass this way. It isn’t simple at all, as a matter of fact, I don't know about the other girls but for me this was totally unnatural. It took me weeks but finally I got it down and I did not take it for granted. I'd only gotten it down a few months ago and the men loved it. My ass got stronger and rounder the more often I moved it this way so I tried to keep at it as much as possible and it went over pretty well.

I kept bouncing for a bit and then slid down low so that he was looking at my body over my own shoulder, slightly above me. He watched what I did as I caressed my breasts and raised my hips so that he could watch me move. My feet were on the floor, hips raised my pelvis moving fluidly, I was in a back bend position. I was able to see from the same perspective as my customer and it gave me confidence, it was sexy and somewhat signature. I had never seen any of the other girls snatch the move up yet so as of that night, it belonged to me.

I went from that position to another and then another and before long, we were working on dance number seven. ‘Blak' gave me enough compliments to have me smiling from ear to ear and leaving my insecurities behind. I ate up every minute of it. It wasn’t often I had a really good time with a customer but this one was fun. He flattered me and seemed so happy to be getting his dance that I couldn’t help but give him my very best.

When Blak’s friends came back to the table and were happy enough to see me. ‘Tone’ was tall with a baseball cap, perfectly trimmed facial hair and even though he was dressed down he was dressed well. The third guy was short. He was probably shorter than I am without the heels and I stand 5’9”. He had a very strong presence though, something drew me to him, naturally. He was obviously built solidly and his face was flawless, dark skin, perfect lips and beautiful eyes, with long curly lashes. His smile was sincere and hard to take my eyes off of. It was obvious he was paying for everything. He asked me right away how many dances I had done, handed me a hundred dollar bill and told me to keep dancing, I did.

The tall man stood and looked at me for a while, he looked like he was curious, impressed and or interested. “Where the hell did you come from? You been here all night?” He asked. The man I was dancing for, Blak, laughed hard.

“That was the same thing I said dog! I thought I woulda noticed her ass, she a fine mothafucka right?!?” He laughed again, even harder this time. “I’ll have to send her over there to you in a lil' bit you don’t know what you been missin' bro!” He shook his head again. “Not yet though, she's not headed your way yet. You gonna have to give us another little minute... A minute or two...” He smiled and leaned back to enjoy his dance.

Before long he introduced me to the other two guys at the table. Anthony was Blak’s cousin, he was the shorter one with the cash and Chip was Blak’s best friend, he was the taller one. I said hi to both of them but didn’t take my eyes off Blak as I did. I made sure and made it clear that I was dancing and that was where I’d keep my attention until I stopped or the song was finished. These guys took that as a challenge, talking with me, asking me questions, doing anything they could to divert my attention away from Blak and being sexy for him. He was paying me to dance and if I didn’t do it well who knew if he would pay me to do it again. With the shortage of men in the club, that night it wasn’t hard to ignore these guys to an extent and keep my mind on my own money and making sure they wanted that very same attention for themselves when or if Blak didn’t want me to keep dancing.

I stayed at their table at least an hour and danced until I needed to sit down and take a break. I sat and talked with the guys. Two of them were best friends, it was funny, they finished each others' sentences and stuff. The shorter man was in town but didn't live here permanently, he traveled but said he was based in Vegas. They seemed nice enough and had plenty of cash to spend so I stayed at the table and chatted, danced, chatted.

One of the girls approached the table asking for a dance and someone turned her away without much thought. "No thanks baby." She turned and started to walk away. Meanwhile, I was dancing between the two best friends until I was worn out. I stopped her. "Wait babe, don't go." I turned and looked at the man with the money. "Don't let her walk away, she's cute, you guys don;t want her to dance for you?" I knew he would say yes, I think he just wanted to question to come from someone he was already familiar with. "She can dance for you mama, I'll pay for it." He said.

"Cool." I smiled at her as she approached, then he made another adjustment. "No, better yet, both of you guys dance for my boy together. You two are friends, right?" He asked. Neither of us answered. We were not friends, had only spoken once or twice in the dressing room but we could dance together. I had hoped her coming by would mean she danced for one and I danced for the other. I had hoped her coming by meant we both made money. I should have known not to make friends in the club. Within days I had an adversary in the club, something I hadn't had in years. I wish I had known what kind of conflict I was inviting over to that table that night. I had no idea. It makes another good story though...

Night Shift...

2009-07-09T19:40:00.004-07:00

There is a definite difference between the men that come in during the day shift at the strip club and the men that come in during the night shift. Night shift guys have their friends, their 'boys' with them. They are there to party, to drink and have a good time. The night shift is so much more intimidating because during the night shift you don't just have to impress the one guy that is already into you, you have to impress his friends. If his friend thinks you're not the hottest girl in the club, you're not getting any money and they can be highly critical after a few drinks! No one is immune to feeling insecure, scared or imperfect. Even the most perfect looking, beautiful girls go through it. These girls probably go through it more because expectations are always so high for them. At the strip club though, you are who you pretend to be and that's just real.

Weekend nights are the busiest nights of course and if you're going to work a Friday or Saturday night the best way to do it is to prep like you're going to prom, get excited about it and feel beautiful. You could look like Beyonce but if you don't feel beautiful and walk with that swag, keep an attitude going like you're a boss, you'll get little attention because the other girls will do just that. There is a preparation to go through, there is no rushing and getting ready for work if your working a weekend night in a club that's at all popular. Hair has to be perfect, most of us wear wigs, hair pieces or extensions of some sort. The truth is in order to be a fantasy girl, someone these guys don't see everyday, we have to take measures the girls they do see everyday are not willing to take and that's one of them. You won't catch me in the club on a Friday or Saturday night without full on long, sexy hair. Then, there are the lashes, long lash extensions make all the difference in the world. they make your eyes look bigger, sexier and most importantly, they make you FEEL like a million bucks! Since you are who you pretend to be, a million bucks is a damn good thing!

Jewelry is a must, not the small, understated kind, oh no. The loud, boisterous, costume kind of jewelry. The kind of jewelry you wouldn't wear anywhere except the strip club because it might look downright silly. Under those lights though, with the music pumping, spotlights on you, the whole nine, it just works, it all works. It's a fantasy world and in order to create it you have to use fantasy props. These guys want a fantasy so if you tell them what they want to hear, they imagine the half or more you truly cannot provide. Attitude can bring any girl from a '6' to a '10', if you feel like a '10', it resonates and they feel you.

These guys brought their swags along with them on the weekends, always. It was the spot they went to before they hit the club, the spot they went to after they hit the club and some of them got caught up, stayed at the club with us and never made it to the 'other' club. The club where they were expected to buy a girl a drink in order to try and get her phone number and take her out on a date.

No one showed up on the weekend half assed. These guys wore their medallions encrusted in diamonds, their big, fancy watches and came in and bought stacks of one dollar bills so that they could throw them in the air and impress their friends. I didn't mind one bit being the girl that profited from them throwing their ones in the air and often times I was.

Lil' Wayne released a song that made me feel like the 'it' girl for a brief moment... On a Friday night, when the club was packed, if I stepped onto the stage, in my long hair, fancy digs, lashes and all, they loved this song and loved me when I danced to it. This Friday night, that was exactly where I started out and it was a damn good place to start!

I wore all white, which I do often, 7" heels and all the trimmings. My favorite DJ played me the very best song for me to dance to on a crowded Friday night. Lil Wayne, 'I Wanna F*** Every Girl in The World'. The song was catchy, everyone liked it but line one was my line and it worked for me that Friday night...

..."I need a long haired, thick red- bone!"...

I stepped onto the stage with my swag, walked, the lyrics did the rest for me on a Friday night. These guys loved it. I was the only chic on duty that night that could be their authentic 'Long-haired, thick, red-bone!' It was the 'in' thing to like, all their boys liked it because Wayne liked it, who knows why Wayne liked it but who cares, it made me money so I liked it.

If these guys did nothing else but show out for their boys when this song came on I made a good living on a weekend night when the DJ played it for me twice. They liked to be the one with the most ones to throw at the girl Wayne would be throwing money at and according to the song that girl was me. I never was too big of a Waye fan but I must say, he set me up nicely for this one!

There was a group of three guys, sitting close to the stage but not too close that night. They had a table, walked around with bottles of champagne and spent lots of cash. I had no idea where they came from or who they were but whomever they were it was clear that they were VIP.

They threw money at each and every girl, some more than others and I got my fair share when I did my stages. After three stages I sat down at the bar with a bottle of water to cool off. Stage lights get hot that is for damn sure.

I peered over at the table on the front where the three guys sat and seemed to be the flyest party in the club. The place was slow for a Friday night. There were customers in there but not spending nearly as much as most Friday nights and it being the middle of summer most of us knew it would be getting worse before it would get any better. These men intimidated me for whatever reason, probably because most of the ladies in the club would prefer to be at their table right then. They were spending the most money and had been for the longest. The way it was looking right then, the only way to pull through this night with a thick stack of cash would be to be at that table all night so approaching it was an intimidating feat.

When I looked over again there was only one man at the table, the other two had disappeared somewhere, which would make getting in with their party all that much easier. I slid off the bar stool and started toward the table with a swish in my hips, having no idea what this night would bring, but ready.

Day Shift... Part IV...

2009-06-04T12:53:00.006-07:00

I hadn't felt afraid being inside this club in a long time. I looked at my customer and decided the best thing to do was try and reason with him.

"Listen Lee, you'll get a better dance here in VIP but I can't do the grinding, I just can't." I was afraid but I knew the cameras were there. Lee had know idea who, if anyone, was watching. I continued to talk, sounding apologetic. "It's not up to me, if it were, trust me, we would not have a problem." I brought my eyes to his lap as if that was where my focus really was. I rolled my eyes and acted as annoyed as he probably felt.

He looked at me pensively, raised one eyebrow and didn't say one word but waited for me to continue. I did. I lowered my voice and leaned in close for effect. "There are six cameras in here, if they see me grinding I could lose my job." I leaned toward the camera, nonchalantly, as if someone were actually watching what was going on. Even though I knew better there would be no way for Lee to know and this was my last shot at avoiding a confrontation about his money.

"Look to my right, behind this speaker." He did, his reaction said he saw the video camera lens after just a few seconds. I continued, "The plant, right next to you, about an inch from the top, if you look, you'll see another one." He did, he saw it. He looked back over at me, patted the spot next to him, softening up, thank G-d!

I sat close to him and he threw his arm over my shoulders, "Wow, they keep a close eye on you girls huh?" He asked and chuckled a little.

"There are four more cameras in here. Well, four more that I know of. They only put them in a couple of months ago, we're not supposed to know they're even here but we do" I looked up at him through my lashes and smiled, tried to look disappointed.

"Well, go ahead and do what you can and we'll talk about what we can do later... Later." He sat up straight then and seemed ready for his dances.

I stood in front of him and started to move slowly, to the beat of the music, Drake, singing, 'Houstatlantavegas'. I decided to do my very best to give this man his money's worth the best way I knew how, without losing my dignity. I looked at him intently, stared at him and slowly but surely began to imagine he was someone I adored. A man I've known and desired a very long time, a man I find irresistible, let's call him 'J'. I don't get to see 'J' nearly as often as I'd like but this song made me think of him and thinking of him ensured Lee would get a damn good dance.

I leaned in close to him, convincing myself that he was no longer a customer in the VIP. I closed my eyes and he became my 'J'. I brought my lips close to his ear and blew, lightly. Had he been 'J', I would've kissed his ear and his neck, softly, with my lips, then my tongue. Had he been 'J', I would be trying to seduce, I would be trying to impress. I blew lightly, everywhere I would've kissed the man I wished he was.

I stood up and turned my body around so that I wasn't facing him. I closed my eyes and took my mind to where I wanted to be, lowered my body slowly and leaned back. I was in a sort of back bend, only closer to the ground. The top of my head was against his chest and the rest of my body was in full view. I moved slowly, bringing my pelvis up and down fluidly. I knew this move well but this time I moved more carefully. I took my time and felt the music pumping through the speakers on either side of the leather couch. I opened my eyes for a couple of seconds, imagining it was 'J' watching me dance, lusting over me. When I thought of him, my body reacted and I felt my face flush. I moved like the only man I really wanted to impress was watching me dance. I moved like I had not moved before, not at all.

I leaned forward then, supporting myself on the low table in front of me, moving my ass low and slow, without touching him. He mumbled something but I ignored it. If I paid attention to whatever he said or did, it would remind me that he wasn't my 'J'. If I were reminded of that he wouldn't get my best dance. I wouldn't get my fantasy dance. I simply smiled so that he would think I heard him and I continued to dance.

I turned to face him again and squatted down low in front of him, moving my body slowly, touching my breasts. When I looked up at him for just a fraction of a second, I saw 'J'. My imagination was impressing me indeed. I smiled and closed my eyes again in hopes I could keep the dream alive. I stood upright and threw my head down. My ass high in the air, my face a couple of inches from his lap. This was a fantasy move, I really wasn't doing much until I opened my eyes and looked up at him from there. There was a certain way you could look at a man with your face a few inches from his lap that said it all. Realistically, I had looked up at my 'J' this way many times in private. I took myself back there and looked up through my lashes. The move was meant to let his own imagination do the rest...

He smiled, I saw someone else's smile on his face. I smiled right back at him, sincerely, seductively. I stood up then, lifted my right leg and threw it over his shoulder, still dancing, sliding my calf over his shoulder until my ankle sat there comfortably while I danced. I had to use the table for support, I wouldn't have the balance to move my body around in this position without the support.

I danced for him until his time ran out but in my own mind, I was dancing for someone that was irresistible to me. Using my imagination this way made the time fly by and made Lee feel like he had gotten his money's worth without my sacrificing anything I wasn't willing to give up. I hadn't touched him except for the general contact I had when I danced for someone but he felt like he had been treated like a VIP. Little did he know, he had been treated as much like a VIP as possible. Had 'J' really been there, I would've broken quite a few laws, I would have gotten a lot closer, touched and rubbed and gotten nasty but he wasn't there. This man had come as close as any stranger would ever get to being the man I wanted most. But only I knew I could have gotten away with more had my 'J' been there.

I looked over at Lee and smiled when I was finished. "I'm sorry about the cameras baby." I tilted my head to the side, looking for his understanding. He looked down and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, you did just fine." His grin was ear to ear.

"Thanks you baby, I'm glad you liked it. Do you want me to get you another drink?" I asked him, searching for a reason to get out of the VIP room.

"No, no thanks. I'm gonna head out of here for now. I'll be back by to see you though." He said.

"OK. Thanks Lee." I leaned in and gave him a slight peck on the cheek.

As I turned to start to walk out of the VIP room I noticed a big, tall shadow standing there, Roddy had shown up after all. I smiled.

"Where did he come from?" Lee asked.

I looked over at him, shrugged my shoulders. "He works here. He's the head bouncer, they probably saw us come in here on the cameras so he came over. They usually keep a close eye on what goes on in here." I lied and winked at Roddy as we walked past him.

Lee turned around to give me a hug when he came close to the exit and I obliged. It wouldn't hurt to give the man a hug. He promised to be back soon and went on his way.

I took care of my tip for Roddy and thanked him. Then I headed toward the dressing room to clear my head. There were only a couple of other girls working day shift and they were both on the floor so I had the dressing room to myself.

Thoughts of my special man ran through my head and I sat back and relaxed for a little bit. I'm not sure if he'll ever show up to let me dance for him but if he did, it would be a definite site to see. I laughed to myself and looked over at the mirror, preparing to go on stage again...

'Day Shift...' Part III

2009-05-21T18:29:00.003-07:00

..."OK baby, sit down for just a minute, I have to go give this cash to management and then I'll walk you over alright?" I asked him as if it were a question but gave him no opportunity to reply. I was walking away as quickly as possible and I headed in the direction of the office. Liberty was working as bartender as well as manager during the day shift but when she saw me walk toward the office, she quickly did the same. She pulled out a key and opened the office door and within a minute or so we were safely behind the thick office door and I let her know exactly how disgusted I was with this asshole.

"This motherfucker just tried to pull me into his lap like I was going to just enjoy grinding on his dick! Piece of shit! Anyway, I don't guess I have a whole lot of time to whine about it but I don't like him at all! He wants VIP." I looked at her pensively and she looked back at me the same way. We have no bouncers during day shift, no security at all so taking a complete asshole into the VIP room was something I'd be doing at my own risk. If he got rowdy, I didn't need to go head to head with a man his size without back up. Our head bouncer was less than 5 minutes from the club and he made sure we knew if he ever needed him all we had to do was call.

"Liberty, will you give Roddy a call? Let him know I'm uncomfortable with this guy going into VIP with me and if he'll come down for an hour I'll tip him $50." She nodded. I handed her the three hundred dollar bills. VIP had to paid in advance and I would collect the cash at the end of my shift, the club kept $25 for each half hour, I kept the rest.

"It looks like your gonna be in there longer than an hour babe." She said.

"No, I charged him three hundred for an hour." She smiled, then she picked up the phone to call Roddy. From her end of the conversation it sounded like he was on his way, I slipped out of the office door and back over to my customer without even asking. I walked directly over and approached Lee.

"OK baby, we're good to go." I said to him, trying to be sweet.

He stood up and followed as I walked toward the VIP room. I walked up the two steps that led inside. I was accustomed to a bouncer standing right at the door and I prayed Roddy would be there soon. "Where would you like to sit?" I asked him.

He chose a seat against the wall and in the clear view of 2 of the 6 cameras strategically placed throughout the room. No one would be watching but it made me feel better. Lee smiled at me. "So, lets dance baby girl!" He said.

Men weren't usually so demanding the second they sat down but he had paid for this by the minute so I guess he had the right. I smiled at him as if I were pleased. I'm not sure what was worse, dancing for this asshole or listening to him talk. I figured dancing was the lesser of 2 evils and I had probably gotten a far better deal this way. I moved slowly, really slowly, paying a lot of attention to where his hands were and what he was doing. At the moment, both hands were at his sides, on the couch and he didn't look prepared to use them anytime soon.

I spun around to face him and got down low to the floor, moving slowly, he looked around the room and seemed content with what he saw or was looking for. Then he spoke and his words were sharp, angry, I had only been dancing a couple of minutes but he wasn't happy, not at all. "Listen honey, I just handed you $300 and you're further away from me than you were for 10!" I kicked myself for not collecting the $10 for the first dance. "Let me make something clear, I'm not in the VIP room to watch you doing the same dance I could watch you do out there for an hour. I'm in the VIP room for VIP treatment. So, for your $5 a minute, lets get past the bullshit and why don't you step right up and have a seat right here." He patted his crotch and smiled at me.

Normally I would have simply given him a choice, either he could take the dance I was giving him or leave. This man was angry though, I saw it in his eyes and I had no backup. His $300 was locked in the office and he wasn't getting it back. I didn't know what to do, I looked over at the entrance for Roddy. Roddy is the all time best bouncer ever. He was afraid of no one, or at least he showed no fear, he would take on whatever situation approached him and he took his job seriously. When he was in the building, we all felt safe regardless of what was going on. He just hadn't gotten there yet and truthfully I couldn't even be sure he was coming. I should've waited in the office so that Liberty could've told me what his response was, when he would be here. Something told me he would be here but nothing told me when. I should've just stayed on the floor and danced for this guy, I should have gone with my gut, how many times has my mother have to tell me my gut was always right, we are given instinct for a reason... Lee looked up at me with his eyebrows raised, his patience wasn't going far.I could think of a whole lot of things I should've done but not one that I should do right now...

'Day Shift' Part II...

2009-05-21T15:10:00.009-07:00

...

I led my new customer to the back of the club, my favorite table to dance at and smiled as he sat down.

"What's your name babe?" I asked him, a little embarrassed I hadn't asked earlier.

"I'm Lee. It's nice to meet you Ginger." He seemed very polite.

A new song started and I slipped my hands over Lee's shoulders ans leaned in close, "You ready daddy?" I asked him. That brought a smile that definitely meant yes.

I started my table dance making sure he wanted me to keep dancing. I had my own trick to this, outside of the dancing and flirting, that is. When I think about something that turns me on, while I'm dancing, these guys FEEL it. They feel the heat, the pheromones coming from my body.

I let my thoughts traveled back to Red, the beautiful woman I met during All Star week here in Phoenix. Red and I had a sexual relationship while she was here and we built a friendship hat I hoped would last a long time. Thoughts of Red always turned me on, she was the epitome of sexy to me. Red would never be a man and I would never be without a man over the long term but a man would never, no matter how hard he tried be nearly as sexy as Red was without even trying at all. She had the softest skin, she smelled good all over, all the time, she had a beautiful face, a gorgeous body and she carried herself in a way that it enhanced all of those things.

I continued to dance, I made sure I rubbed up against him so that it would seem accidental but he would wonder if it had been intentional, I smiled and flirted, whispered in his ear so that I knew he couldn't hear me clearly what but he felt my breath. It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse anywhere else, but here it was what they came for so the better I was at it, the more in demand.

The end of the song came and I made sure I was close to him, my ass moving slowly, inches above his lap but when I went to stand up, he pulled me down just enough to throw me off balance so that I fell directly into his lap. I didn't want to sit on his lap at all, his erect penis was evident and impossible to ignore and the man had the audacity to actually move his hips as if I were exactly where I should be. This was the part of my job I disliked the most. I looked around the club, he was the only customer here and even thought my first instinct was to turn around and smack the shit out of him, for so many reasons, that wasn't a good idea. I glued a smile to my face and turned around slowly to face him.

"Baby, you scared me, you know I can't sit on your lap." My gut told me then and there to walk away but I did not. My mind told me, 'Here we go again, its VIP time!' I went with the latter.

"You trying to get VIP treatment right out here on the floor? You're gonna get me into trouble baby." I smiled and tried to make the hatred brewing behind me eyes look to him like passion. He had a smug look on his face and he knew what he had done was way out of line. I didn't want to be anywhere near his erect penis and I damn sure hadn't wanted to fall onto it because he intentionally threw me off balance. I had nothing but distaste for the man in front of me but this was my job and he was my customer.

"I am a VIP. What other treatment would I expect?" He asked me. I disliked him more and more with every word that came out of his mouth. "I don't know why you didn't ask me that to begin with." He stood up.

I smiled. "OK." I paused. "The VIP is pre-pay only, you pay according to how long you'd like me to dance in there. Half an hour is $175, an hour is $300. I waited for his response. I usually bumped up the price a little but this time they were bumped up by $50, not just $25. We could charge what we wanted in there and the truth was, I felt he owed it to me for that bullshit move he just made. He quickly reached into his right pocket and slid 3 one hundred dollar bills from a money clip bearing his initials, I paid no attention to what his initials were. I smiled and slid the money softly from his hand...

Day Shift...

2009-05-21T12:15:00.010-07:00

Day shift at the strip club has always been different the from night shift. All the girls aren't allowed to work the night shift. Night shift caters to more customers with more money to throw around, there is a higher standard and some girls are hired for day shift only. I am allowed to work days or nights and I don't take it for granted. Working the day shift is a completely different mindset. The truth is though, you can make just as much money during the day as you can at night if the right customers come in.

During the day, the guys come in less to party and more to focus on their favorite girl and spend money on that girl. They're a more quiet, shy bunch and they're also a lot less pushy and much less drunk. We don't usually get groups of four or five guys getting plastered in the middle of the day shift, which is definitely a benefit.

I switch off between days and nights but I prefer the day shift when I can pull it off. There aren't always enough customers there to stay busy, especially on weekdays, so at times, I have to work nights. I'm not a 'party animal' type person and the night crowd is a 'party animal' situation. I play the role when I have to but I prefer days. My favorite manager works day shift as well and the manager you're working with makes a definite difference. She's a mixed woman, in school to get a bachelors in education, she danced for a long time and she could now if she wanted but she manages the club during the day instead. This woman is well put together, she gives you the impression off top that she can do anything set before her and she can, I believe we all can but this woman believes it herself, which is essential. Her name is Liberty and she carries it well.

I arrive for the day shift before 12:30PM and usually I'm the first or second girl to show up. Having the dressing room to myself is really nice, I take my time getting ready and when a customer comes in, someone will come back and let me know. My first day back on day shift Liberty let me know a customer was at the bar. I walked slowly onto the floor and over to sit down next to a tall white man wearing a tie and drinking a glass of water. He looked over at me and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Ginger, How are you?" I asked.

I knew that during dayshift I would need to talk with these guys much more then I would at night but it wasn't a problem at all.

"Hi Ginger, you're beautiful!"

"Wow, thank you. I'll take that compliment."

"How about a table dance?" He asked.

Wow, that was much easier than I remembered day shift ever being but hey, first day back, I caught a break. This is by no means the way things usually go my first time meeting a new day shift customer. Usually I'd spend a good fifteen minutes half hour chatting them up. I was in for more than I bargained for with this man though, definitely. All of these customers had thoughts and dreams of grandeur when it comes to getting a few table dances during the daytime. They usually wanted to discuss with you exactly what a table dance entailed before they spent dime one. I should have known it couldn't be that simple.

"Of course."

I hopped off the bar stool and led him over to a seat on the floor, where we did dances...

In The VIP...

2009-05-05T12:25:00.006-07:00

Jay started his story back up...

"How could you leave me?

I thought you needed me!

When the world got too much and you pleaded with me?

Who helped you immediately?

How speedy of me!

How could you deny me so vehemently?

Now your body is shaking, trying to free it of me

And your soul is in control, tryin' to lead it from me

And your heart no longer pledge allegiance to me!

Damn I'm missing the days, when you needed the D!"

The chorus started up again for the last time and about one line into it, the DJ called me off the stage. I was finished with my stage show and I had done it well. $37 in my pocket in four minutes and back on the grind!

I headed over to the back stage, I'd dance to one more song on stage and then get busy working the floor. Jay-Z was my favorite story teller and that had been one of my favorite songs, a damn good story. I liked the back stage better than the main, the lighting was better, the size and shape of the stage made it easier for me to dance, the cooler blew directly on me so I never got overheated, it was just easier to work with altogether. I probably put on a far better show on that back stage, which made for pretty good tips. The only drawback was, I wasn't able to pick the music I'd be dancing to. Of course it would be nice to pick the music but I really couldn't complain, it was rarely something I didn't like. This club was pretty much my style and there weren't many songs they played here that I didn't like.

I collected the tips that were left behind on the main stage, pulled my top back on and made my way down the stairs. I walked the short distance, that lead over to the back stage. The music started up right away. When it was a longer song or one that was radio popular, they started it before anyone stepped onto the stage, that way the song always played through to the end but we didn't have to dance for more than the normal three or four minutes. The girls doing table dances didn't either, not unless they had already been dancing for that same customer. We knew when one song started right up after another and the DJ talked over it, we had a good minute before anyone would be on stage or we should start our table dance. I always told my customers it was rude to start a table dance before the girl on stage started dancing, a strip club courtesy that we followed, always. That usually took care of it easily.

I put my purse right next to the pole and stretched backward against it. My hands reaching above my head and grabbed onto the pole, only my ass and the back of my head connecting with it. The guys liked the way it looked and it felt good. I stood there for thirty or forty seconds, the music pumping through my body. Standing against the pole that way made these guys curious to see what was coming next. I stood completely still, only my eyes moving, waiting, trying to catch as much attention as I could.

The next song played loudly and got everyone excited when it came through the speakers. The rapper 'Gucci Mane' is strip club royalty, without a doubt. This mans music played in the club so often, there was no doubt in my mind, strippers were his biggest promotional tool. He talked about strip clubs in his music so much himself, he did just as much promoting for us, it worked out I guess. Everyone in the club knew the chorus of the song...

'' She's a very freaky guurrrllll, don't bring her to mama,

First you get her name,

Then you get her numba.

Then you get some brain in the front set of the Hummer,

Then you get some brain in the front seat of the Hummer..."

Then Gucci Mane would let go of his signature,

"Yeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

There was no way this song, even with all of it's misogynistic based lyrical bullshit, was not a strip club classic. The beat made me want to move, along with any other dancer I knew, the words made me smile. There wasn't a story there but the egotistical, boss player, I have all the money lyrics, still made us smile. What more could a strip club song want? We weren't in the type of environment where we could really demand to be talked to without any sexual innuendo. It was take it light or hit the door, this was the kind of music strip clubs played, I loved it and I hated it. It was just like my relationship with the club itself, love/hate.

The song was playing while I was on the back stage and right then, I loved it and it took a little bit more energy, more tease, more 'video girl' type dancing than anything I had heard from Jay-Z. Well, 'Big Pimpin'' might rate with it, in it's day. Not today though, today, Gucci Mane had set the pace and I followed it, to the beat of his music.

I slid down the pole slowly and onto the floor, pushing my body away from the pole so that when I was at the bottom only my back was against it. They were waiting. I don't know what I could possibly do that these guys hadn't seen before but each and every one of them looked at me as if I had something he couldn't wait to see. I raised my hips slowly from the floor, rotated them in a circle and then stopped, this whole letting them wait thing could be entertaining. Then came the butterflies. (Dollar bills falling from the sky. Rain never felt so good. I call it butterflies.) I felt the dollar tickle my skin and flipped over onto my stomach, moving my body like a snake. They were entertained.

It seemed once any man threw a stack of ones on the stage, it became contagious. No one wanted some other guy to be the one to be able to throw more money. Soon enough there were three others letting the butterflies continue to flutter all over the stage. They all wanted to be the 'Alpha Male'. I had come to realize either you were or you were not that, I only knew one man I could actually call 'Alpha Male' in the Phoenix area, well, maybe two. Neither of them were throwing money at the stage though, neither of them would be anytime soon. It was nice to dance in money and that back stage got filled with money quickly.

I lay on my back and let the routine follow the same path it had on the main stage. Not step for step but close. I honestly don't think these guys pay attention to the difference between what I did on the main and the back stages. That was a good thing because I hadn't made it a point at all to switch it up much.

I finished up as the song came to a close and the bouncer handed me a silver champagne bucket for my ones. He helped me to stuff it full of ones and I handed him a couple handfuls of dollar bills, it had to be at least twenty. I had about one minute to get all the money off the stage, disappear and let the next lady take my spot and it wasn't easy to do alone so I appreciated the help.

There was a money counting machine in the main office and that was nice. I grabbed my champagne bucket and headed to the back office, knocked on the door, waited for the light to go out. The club has cameras everywhere so when you knock they peep who you are on their cameras and unlock the door from the desk.

Our manager was sitting at the office desk as I pushed the door open, plopped down on the office floor and dumped out my bucket of ones. He smiled at me. "Ginger, what makes you think I have time to sit here while you count up all this money?"

I looked up from my spot, he was right, they were in and out of the office all day. He was smiling so I knew he had the time. I apologized. "I'm sorry babe. Is it alright if I put these ones together and put them through the machine, get some bigger bills?" If I looked up at a man through my lashes I rarely got a no.

He blushed. Then I blushed. To make the manager of the bar blush was definitely a compliment, he saw naked women all day and was usually desensitized. "Sure Miss Ginger, I have a few minutes."

"Thanks. I appreciate it." I stacked the ones into piles and handed them off to him one at a time. He put them into the money machine and wrote down figures as they came up,wrapping up the dollars in piles of one hundred. When we were finished he handed me one hundred dollar bill, three twenties, a five and two ones. Not bad, not bad at all.

I stuffed the cash into my purse, hopped up and headed for the door. Good start, off to a good start. It would be easier to make money tonight because the guys hadn't seen me in a while so I had to take advantage of that, for sure. I slipped quietly out of the office and headed to the back corner of the club where the first guy to drop butterflies on my stage sat, alone in his corner.

I smiled as I approached him and asked if he'd mind if I sat down. He shook his head no and made a gesture to let me know I was welcome to sit right next to him. I did. He started the conversation, which was fine with me. I usually asked these guys where they were from and they'd ramble on from there.

"So, you've been gone quite a while huh? You took some time off? We missed you."

I looked at him again, I hadn't recognized him at all...

"Yeah, I went home to The Bay for a little bit. Only a couple of weeks, not so long really... Nice to know I was missed." I was surprised he had even noticed and no matter how hard I tried I did not remember this man, unfortunately. It probably would have been quite profitable at the moment to know who he was.

He smiled but something about him made me feel a little strange. I ignored it. "Why don't you do a table dance for me Miss Ginger?" He asked.

Table dances are $10 on the floor. I smiled at him and stood up, actions speak louder than words. The song playing was almost over so to ensure that I started the next dance from the start of the song, I prepared myself. I stood up in front of the man, made sure there was a table behind me I could lean on and a chair, part of my table dance....

The next song started up and I placed my hands on both of his shoulders and leaned in close. I needed to make sure I had his undivided attention. If you could get a man to pay his full attention to you during a table dance, half the battle was over. Cleavage usually did the trick so, that was what I worked with the first 30 or 40 seconds of the song, up close and personal.My triangle bikini top glowed in the blacklights as i leaned in and let him pay attention.

I spun around then, bent over and bounced my booty to the beat of the music... "Let's make a movie..." The song said, over and over. I got close to the floor, squating down and facing away from my customer, leaned back so that my head was against his chest. I lifted my pelvis and began to move, we were both looking as I snaked my body up and down, my head against his chest, feet on the floor. Men seemed to like this move and that's when I took my top off.

I never took it all the way off at this point, it would have been a complete drag but instead I pushed both triangles to the sides as I did my signature move. I had never seen another girl do this move and this surprised me as we all picked up moves from one another. This one though was all mine. I pulled my feet back underneath me so that I no longer had was now directly in front of this man and stood up. I pulled one string and then the other so that he could see my top was coming all the way off. There was a trick to this, to make it take more time than it should and make it look seductive. I pulled it off and placed it on a seat next to him, then spun around and faced him again.

My hands went back to his shoulders and I pushed against them, moving in close. My customer looked up at me and smiled, obviously glad to have DD's that close to his face, I smiled back at him. I put one knee against one of his knees and continued to dance, continued to flirt... The music kept going.

This man was looking into my face, which made me nervous. This didn't happen often, especially with bare breasts this close to a mans face. Sometimes these guys wanted you to truly believe they were interested in you though and they'd go to some pretty silly lengths to do it. I looked right back at him, right into his eyes and I flirted. I smiled and made sure I looked flattered, embarrassed that he was paying such close attention to me. The men seemed to like it when they could make me embarrassed and it wasn't a hard emotion to express on my face so it worked well when it came to a table dance. I continued to dance, did my signature move one more time, bounced my booty one more time, spun around and leaned against him so that my breasts bounced in his face again as well. The song was about to end and when that happened, the best position for me to be in was one he didn't want me to leave so I turned around and let my booty drop close to him and move in a circle, then up and down, very slowly. It was the kind of move that usually called for a 'Keep dancing.' over my shoulder when the song was just about finished. That was the goal anyway.

The song came to a close and the DJ started to announce the next girl on stage, telling the girl that had just finished up to 'get her kids out the street.' He meant dollar bills but every time I heard him say that to a dancer I couldn't help but to laugh. It was funny. He would rush us to pick up the dollar bills so that the next girl could take the stage but what he never seemed to realize was that we wanted to keep it moving probably more than he did. There wasn't a girl i knew that finished up a stage and had a floor full of ones but took her time getting them picked up, come on now. I spun around and looked at the customer I had just finished dancing for, he shook his head as I reached for my bikini top.

"No, no, keep dancing. Will you?" He asked.

Where was my head? I hadn't even looked or listened to see if that was what he wanted. I had to make sure and stop being so pre-occupied, this was my living.

"I'm sorry sweetie, of course! I was just laughing t the DJ and got sidetracked for a minute." I slipped into his lap and sat there for a minute or so while the ladies got ready to switch over on stage and the next song got started up.

The music started up once again, a more upbeat song this time and I moved accordingly. This continued for four more songs, then on the fifth, we had a little problem. I was facing away from my customer, tired, a little overheated but determined not to let him see me sweat. The truth was, after dancing to four or five songs, anyone would usually be pretty tired and I for one was definitely tired. I wiped my brow while I faced the other direction and thanked G-d for a song that wasn't so up-tempo so I could move more slowly while I danced.

I dropped my booty low and began to move it slowly, I had noticed he seemed to like this move, which was fine with me as it didn't take too much effort on my part at all. While I danced to the beat of the music I felt his hands reach up, ever so softly and grab onto my hips. Now, naturally, I would've automatically spun around and slapped him for a move like this one but I had learned the hard way that slapping a man first was not the way to handle the situation. Some of these ladies let them get away with who knows what so for them to try their boundaries was only natural, I should take it up with some of the other girls if I had a problem with this. I just had to let him know that wasn't gonna fly with me.

He pulled my hips downward, making it obvious that his intention was for me to end up sitting in his lap. If I hadn't had experience and unbelievable balance when it came to 7"heels, I might have just ended up right there in his lap but fortunately I was able to maneuver myself in such a way that I spun around and stood facing him more quickly than he expected. It was still quite possible that I had a tip coming on top of the $50 he owed me so I flirted.

"Baby, what are you doing?" I threw him a half smile and then had an idea, more money was always the goal, I didn't have the time to be offended at work. I could be offended later. "You trying to make VIP moves on the main floor? You're gonna get me into trouble baby."

He raised one eyebrow, this would be like taking candy from a baby. The VIP room was a pay in advance type of situation. I have and will never promise a customer what they would get when they made it into the VIP but I could imply all I wanted. The fact of the matter was, they had to pay before they could play and if they weren't happy with what was offered in the VIP, all I could do is give them my sincerest apologies.

"How much is the VIP?" He was asking the right questions.

"Its $150 for a half hour." I pointed toward the VIP room which looked empty but really couldn't be seen unless you were inside. The windows were mirrored so that the men inside could see the girls on the back stage but the girls on stage couldn't see them. The truth was that no one in their right mind would expect a girl to say outright what they would do in that room, if it was something that was against the rules, saying so would obviously not be a good idea. For this reason, guys were usually good with whatever implication I was willing to make about what a visit to the VIP room entailed.

So many of the girls in the club offered a whole bunch of benefits if man paid the money to be in that room for a half hour or even just fifteen minutes, which went for $75 but I usually didn't even mention that option. This way the girls would have regulars that came back, were happy and sent their friends in. I personally had my own limitations and they were the same on the club floor, the VIP room, a private show or anywhere else.

The way the VIP worked was pretty simple. The customer paid one hundred twenty five dollars, in advance, for half an hour in the VIP room. The club got twenty-five dollars, the girl got a hundred. I usually charged one fifty, the extra twenty five was a processing fee. I had to pay my manager and wasn't able to collect my share of the money until the end of the night, so I charged the guys an extra twenty five when I could get away with it.

The customers' half hour was to do with what they wanted, some guys went in there just to chit chat and feel like a baller sitting in the posh surroundings. This didn't happen very often though. More often then not, a customer paid the fee in hopes that the VIP room would provide the privacy needed to get more up close and personal with their favorite dancer. Quite often they got exactly what they wanted but not always.

My customer reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. he handed me a one hundred dollar bill and a fifty. I smiled at him. "So... You'd like to go into the VIP room?" I asked.

He shook his head yes and nodded toward the cash he had just handed me. "OK babe, the dances you already got are another fifty. I've gotta be sure and collect before we head in there." I reached out and slid my hand over his cheek as I looked into his eyes, hoping to take the sting out of the extra fifty I had just asked him for. He looked taken aback but only for a second, then he collected and handed me another fifty dollar bill.

"OK, let me square up with the manager so that we can go in there and I'll be back in just a minute!" I brushed my lips lightly over his cheek, hopped up and headed for my manager who was talking with someone at the bar.

"I need VIP for half an hour." I said.

He looked over at me and smiled, held his hand out. Usually, the manager had to write it down, go to the office to take the cash but right now I didn't see any reason to be held up. It wasn't a busy night so he wouldn't forget and the doorman at the door to the VIP room would remember as well. Just to be on the safe side though, I grabbed his hand firmly while I was handing him the cash.

"You won't forget, will you?"

He looked at me as if he were insulted and I went on my way. He wouldn't forget, not a chance. I made my way into the dressing room then, which was the only way into the DJ booth. I peeked my head into the DJ booth and let my DJ know I;d be in VIP which meant do not call me stage until he saw my face again. He shook his head in agreement and I walked into the dressing room, touched up my makeup, splashed some perfume on my body, then headed back over to where my customer sat.

"OK babe, we're all set to go." I said to him with a smile.

"OK then." His voice was deep and he spoke slowly. "You want to show me over to where I need to be baby?" He asked.

He stood up from his seat and I took his hand gently, leading him toward the back stage area and the VIP room. I had made it a practice to always handle these men with care. What I mean is, when I held a hand, touched a shoulder, if I came into contact with them in any way at all, I tried to touch them delicately. In turn the goal was for them to get the impression that I was delicate, ladylike, it worked, I don't know where I picked it up but it worked, so I delicately held my customers hand as we headed toward the VIP room.

I smiled at the doorman as we walked through the door of the VIP and he smiled back, then looked at his watch. "Half hour." I said to him, loudly enough so that my customer could hear.

"Great. I'll let you guys know." He said and turned his back so that he was facing the rest of the club and not the inside of the VIP room.

We stepped up the two steps that lead inside and I turned around and looked at my customer, waiting for him to let me know where he wanted to sit. To my surprise there was another customer and dancer in the far corner of the room and it was not the girl I wanted to see. This girl was one of the ones that offered a whole lot inside the walls of the VIP room and I knew well that if we sat anywhere near her then my own customer would expect a whole lot more than he would get.

I tugged at his hand gently. leading him over to a couch that sat along the window looking onto the back stage. He obliged, thank goodness. "What's your name baby?" I smiled at him. "I can't believe we have spent this much time together and I haven't even asked your name. Where in the world are my manners?" I dropped my head and looked up at him through my lashes, hoping to be forgiven.

"My name is Devon." he said. "Don't you worry about your manners, I know your name well and that's all that really matters right?" He asked. I wasn't sure the answer to that question was yes but whatever, they said my name each time I went on stage and he could have easily remembered it over a couple of visits to the club. He sat down on the couch and I stood up, waiting for the next song to begin. In the VIP it would be fine to just start dancing in the middle of any song since the time wasn't measured by songs any longer. i always felt silly starting in the middle of a song though. I was so accustomed to starting to dance at the beginning of a song that even in a regular night club if I were to go out and dance on the dance floor, I'd start dancing at the start of the song and start to walk off the dance floor at the end of it. After a while it just seemed like second nature to do things this way.

He reached for my hand and pulled me to sit next to him which surprised me very much. "Sit down and talk with me a little bit little lady." he said.

"No problem, its just, you have half an hour so I wanted to make sure you got your dances and all." The truth was, this man gave me the heebie geebies and I'd much rather dance for him than sit and talk with him. The choice was his though and he seemed to have made it.

"No no, sit." he said. "So, Ginger, what would it take for a man like me to get to know a lady such as yourself, outside of this place?" He asked. He sounded serious as a heart attack.

I had a staple answer to this question so I gave it to him as I had many other men in the past. "Well, I have a rule not to get to know anyone I meet in the club, outside of the club. The truth is, if I were to run into you somewhere else, I would probably give you my number, I'd hope you'd ask me out. I can't do that when I meet men in here though, for lots of reasons." I was hoping that would be enough of an answer. Maybe the fact that he was paying for this time would make that enough of an answer.

He smiled. "Listen, I want to get to know you. You don't even have to dance in here. It's a little more quiet, we can talk."

I would much rather dance but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"I respect your time. I know you're here to make money. I wouldn't expect you to take the time to have some long, drawn out conversation with me and just lose out on your earnings. When you said VIP was timed, half an hour, I thought this was the way to go. So, relax, let's talk." He was serious too! He really thought we were going to have a little talk and then what? Go to dinner? He had to be kidding!

Devon was handsome, not attractive to me but handsome and he probably didn't have a hard time getting the women he wanted to take out to go anywhere with him that he wanted. I on the other hand have a different kind of taste and he was not it, at all. Had he been attractive to me, I still wouldn't have gone out with him having met him in the club but the fact that he wasn't made this far more uncomfortable. I had to lie to him directly and that wasn't something I was accustomed to in this club. Seduction was my job, as long as I kept a mans attention and all, they never really seemed to believe we were going to hook up outside of the club.

"Listen, how about I dance for you? You don't want to pay for VIP just to sit around and talk, we can do that anytime, right?" I asked him, nervous now.

"Can we?" He asked in response.

"Well, maybe we can't. It's my policy though, I don't break it sweetie, really, not at all." I stood up, ready to dance.

"Sit down Ginger, really." He grabbed my hand and pulled me down right next to him. Not with a lot of force but I knew he didn't want me to dance, he wanted me to talk with him and that's what I was about to be stuck doing.

"Now listen, why don't you tell me a little about yourself, what do you like to do? Where can I run into you?" He laughed but I didn't feel like this was funny. I decided the best way out of this was to simply develop a character in my head that was so far from who I really was that the info would be worthless.

"Well, I love to shop!" I said. definitely a turn off to any red blooded American man. "I mean, I love to shop but not with my own money of course." Was I taking it too far? Who cares? "I love to travel. I want to go to Europe, that's my dream!" None of this was further from the truth but the man wanted to know and he wouldn't take no for an answer.

I spent the next twenty minutes telling him all about things that had absolutely nothing to do with me and I actually didn't have a bad time doing it. The last question was unsettling but I took it all in stride.

"So, Miss Ginger, where would be a good place to 'run into you', so that we could go to dinner?" He asked this question seriously, as if he wanted and expected an answer.

I told him I spent a lot of time on Mill Avenue in Tempe on weekend which couldn't have been further from the truth. I also told him even if we were to run into one another on Mill avenue I wouldn't be able to go anywhere with him because I met him here at the club. He seemed to believe otherwise, I let him.

I spent the rest of that evening doing table dances, stages and staying away from the VIP. This man had given me a reminder of the dangers of this job. Even in the club where I felt the most comfortable, I still had to be careful. Some of these guys had different ideals about why they were here. Some of them weren't there to party, have a few drinks, look at beautiful women... Some of these men had their own opinions about why we should be doing and why we should be doing it and if I didn't remember that at all times I could run into trouble. I was grateful for having that reminder.

I earned a good nights pay that night and I headed home about 2:30 AM, tired, worn out and happy to be back at work in a place I was comfortable. This wasn't the best job, not the one I would choose for myself if I had more choices. I was grateful to be able to do it thought, earn the money I needed to get back on my feet and move on. Things had a way of falling into place and these next three months at the club would make sure of it in my case.

Back To 'The TaTa Club'

2009-05-03T15:53:00.008-07:00

My plane touched down in Phoenix just before 10PM Mountain Standard Time. As I walked off the plane toward Sky Harbor Airport, I felt the warm, crisp Arizona air encompass my senses and welcome me home. Sky Harbor had been the starting and ending point for nearly every journey I had taken over the past decade. I stepped confidently from gate 21 and realized I had been just one gate over when I had started this journey. So much had changed in just a couple of weeks.

I reached up and touched my neck. I touched it where it hurt, where it was chaffed from being choked and it hurt. I pinched it, hard, in an effort to thwart the pain in my stomach. The nagging pain in my gut that reminded me that I missed my best friend. The very same person that had hurt me this way. It was a familiar emptiness that meant I was alone. I had always hoped that 'my man' would end up my partner. He knew everything about me, things no one else ever knew or would ever know. He hadn't judged me, hadn't tried to change me and accepted me for exactly who I was. I had been essentially homeless with a 13-year-old son and a little dog in tow. We had run to California with two suitcases, my son with two of his own, in fear of our lives. My sons father had attacked me during a drug binge and when the police got involved he vowed to come back and finish me off. My son and I knew what level of crazy this man would comfortably make his own. We left Arizona without looking back.

I was an emotional wreck. I had built home in Arizona, a career and a circle of friends. My family and friends were there along with the friends my son had grown up with, gone to school with for years. Walking away from all of that because of this mans drug problem seemed incomprehensible to me, it happened though and we have survived, survived and moved on.

'My man' had been there for me in a lot of ways back then, when we had first gotten to California. He had helped me get from that sad, scary place, to where I am today and I loved him for it. I told him everything, over four years we had become best friends and built bond that was not easily broken. Whatever his reason for putting his hands on me in anger, it couldn't be something that mattered to me. I'd be the first one to understand where I was coming from and that was not an option.

I headed for the baggage claim. I couldn't wait to see my son, he was about an hour and a half away and I'd be there to see him the next day, before doing anything else. At 17, he was no longer a boy nut always my baby. I grabbed my bags and headed for the pick up area. Levon was there to pick me up. He wasn't in a Benz or an Escalade, he was a real person. He drove a big van, a newer work van. You couldn't tell what type of work he did you could only tell that he worked.

Levon and I had been friends for a while, he was a great guy, he always had good intentions. He liked to argue and piss me off for some reason and that didn't always go over well but his intentions were good, always. I walked out and he hopped out of his van, helped me get my bags in and seemed to do it all really quickly, before I had a chance to even notice what he was doing. I gave him a hug and brief rundown of my drama while he drove to drop me off at my girls house in Glendale. I hadn't planned on needing a place in Phoenix for another two and a half months, I'd have to work that out now. Levon had offered me the spare room at his house for the next couple of weeks but I wasn't sure how long it would take for me to find a place so I stayed with a friend of mine, Bella. I had known Bella for the past 15 years and she was a good friend, she had a heart of gold.

I got a lot off my chest that night, hashed it out with Bella, then slept the best I could. I spent the next few days with my son and even though I didn't want to, prepared to go back to work at the club, in Phoenix. I had to get a manicure and pedicure, tan and work out a few days. Being in the gym for just a couple of days wouldn't make any difference but it made me feel as if it had made a difference and confidence was half the battle.

I arrived back at work on a Wednesday, nervous and excited, repeating my mantra in my head; 'The sooner you start, The sooner you finish.' The time had come to get it done and even though I had a bad case of the nerves, I was ready. Once I got dressed and was on the floor, the hours seemed to pass quickly, it was getting there that was the battle. It wasn't just a change of clothes, it was a change in persona. It was becoming something behind these doors that I was not outside of them, someone I was not anywhere else, except here. As a dancer I had to become a banker, negotiator, mediator, sex symbol, a superstar, always and analyst and a detective, responding to clues.

There are men in the club that want you to be innocent, there are men that want you to be nasty and everything in between. I'd have three and a half minutes to analyze what it is they want and become just that, while moving seductively in front of them, half-naked. I'd talk to them softly with just the right words to make their fantasies come true without any contact other than a soft shoulder caress or a brush up against them that you have to be able to call accidental but they have to be able to think was intentional. I'd have to make sure I looked as good as they thought I looked when they saw me from across the room or on stage where the lights make normal girls look beautiful and beautiful girls look unbelievable. Not to mention scoping out the next victim while I'd make my current patron think there is nothing else in the world I'm paying attention to, except him.

All of this is done in 5-7" heels, full stage makeup and a smile, welcoming and constant. This is why a total transformation is needed. Its not just a job, its a different frame of mind. You make a commitment to put yourself in a position to be under a highly sensitive microscope, under the judgement of the men in the club, the other dancers, the bouncers and managers as well. If anything wasn't just right, everyone was a judge and a jury, everyone had an opinion.

On any given night, you can get it all right and accomplish what you set out to do. On those nights you're flattered and complimented constantly and you can leave with a pretty decent stack of cash. There is also the possibility that you may not look just the way everyone else thinks you should. You may not be in the shape you are expected to be, any number of things may not be as expected on any night as well. When that happens, the rejection can feel overwhelming and you may not leave with much money at all. When you don't feel good about yourself, it's difficult to keep up the persona, when its difficult to keep up the persona, its difficult to make money. The whole thing is a very careful balance, it can become a heavy burden to live up to the expectations placed on you by strangers. It took a strong backbone to be able to handle all of this on a daily basis. It took a strong sense of self. A strong sense of self and backbone intact, sometimes it also took a crutch and many of us had those, in all aspects of life.

I walked into the dressing room, a little leery and luckily I was greeted kindly by co-workers and my favorite manager.

"Gin-Ger!" I turned to see one of my co-workers smiling from ear to ear, glad to see me. "Where have you been girl?! We missed you!" She gave me a big hug and similar greetings followed, which made me feel much more at ease, comfortable and up to the task at hand.

I turned the numbers on the padlock on my locker so that it clicked open, as always. I slid my clothes off and pulled out my body butter. So many girls didn't wear it, lotion made you sweat. I couldn't stand for my skin to be dry, even though I'd be the first person to break into a sweat. I covered myself from head to toe in the thick creme and slid into a white G-String and white triangle bikini top. The white glowed well under black lights, it always made my skin look very tanned whether that was the case or not. I slid on my white 7" platform heels, a sparkly choker and earrings. I pushed my bag into my locker, slammed and locked the door and placed my tiny purse on the counter, checking my face in the mirror. I had forgotten perfume. I retrieved it, fixed my face and headed onto the floor to check in.

The bar was just as I remembered it. I made my way across the floor,where there were a few men, here and there, sitting at tables. I always paid attention to my walk, I had to, the customers were paying attention, all the time. I'd push my butt out, or my lack of a butt. This was by far my biggest insecurity. Working in the bar where I worked a nice ass was almost essential. I was able to get by though, with my breast size and curves, I was able to get by. My ass wasn't small by any means but it wasn't round and perfect like I'd like either. My hips ensured that I had ass, enough to pull this off but not enough to satisfy the constant need for perfection you faced working mostly naked, most of the time.

I made it to the office. Checked into the office and the DJ's list and went to observe. This was my job for at least 20 minutes before I went on my first stage. There were a few new girls, no one that caught my eye for long bet definitely some girls that I hadn't known before. The DJ said my name over the mic and I hoped I was ready, I never felt ready. "Ginger, standing by." Meaning I'd be up next, for one song on the main stage and another on the back stage. I had always preferred the back stage, I felt like I looked better under the lighting on the back stage but we all had to do both stages, like it or not.

I made my way over to the steps and into the DJ booth to find out what song he'd play before I walked through the heavy curtain that led to the stage. One of my favorite DJ's was in there and he always played me something I liked, I didn't even bother to ask, I trusted him. I just gave him a hug and peeked through his little window and onto the stage as the girl before me finished up her stage. The stage wasn't covered in bills as most people expected it to be when a girl left the stage. Most people that didn't spend a lot of time in topless bars anyway. She gathered up her bills though and I knew on site she had made at least $40, not bad for four minutes, not bad at all.

There was a new machine at the entrance to the stage, a smoke machine. That would be an even better way to disguise any imperfection or nervousness as I went on stage. I pointed to the smoke machine before I stepped on stage and my DJ shook his head yes, understanding exactly what I meant. The music to one of my favorite songs hit the speakers and I smiled at him, he knew exactly what I'd want. Jay-Z, he always made that stage easier to work with.

Jay-Z's voice boomed through the speakers,

"I know and I know and I know and I know, you like it, you love it, you like it, you love it..." I stepped out, softly, one foot right in front of the other, hips moving from side to side, always walking light. The song made me move more gracefully, I got caught in it, it surrounded me. I listened to the story, let the beat move my body for me.

"She wants that old thing back! Uh, uh, uh, She wants those heroin tracks!"

I walked over to the far corner of the stage, where I always started off as the song started. I stood facing where the mirrors connected in the corner, one hand on each mirror, dancing for myself, so I could see what they would see when I wasn't looking any longer.

"She likes me, she fiends for me nightly, she leans for me.

Mornin' she rush for my touch, this is about lust.

Cold sweats occur, when I'm not with her,

My presence is a must, must, must."

The song was about heroin but I imagined it to be about so much more. It was about the dancers to the customers, the ones that always came back, spent every dime. About the club, the money to the dancers, it was all something we all had to have it was all a round-about addiction. It was something that really wasn't good for anyone but we all, had to have it.

"Bonita Applebaum, I gotta put you on.

If I didn't when we cuttin', the feelin' could be too strong.

In any form I'm giving you sweet dreams."

I moved my body from side to side and watched in the mirror, happy with my reflection. Billows of smoke rose behind me, between my legs. I turned my body around, still able to see myself from mirrors across the room but looking at the reaction from the men in the club. I seemed to have their attention, no one moved, they were watching intently.

I was lucky, at 5'9" with a naturally hourglass figure. I had my breasts done so that they were a DD and it made everything look more sensual, often they were mistaken for real, even though I ever minded if they did look unreal. I was there to be unreal. Real women rarely dance almost naked in front of rooms full of strange men.

"That Sugar Hill, she call me her sweet thing,

that black rain that take away your pain.

Just for one night, baby take me in vein.

Now that feelin' got you trippin',

You no wanna feel no different.

Said lust has got you itchin',

All wide open and it's drippin'"

At this point I guessed these guys thought the song was about sex, everyone didn't listen to the lyrics and the lyrics were tricky, so it worked. I leaned against the mirror with my back and slid my way down to the floor slowly, my pelvis moving in a perfect circle to the beat of the music. I made it down to the floor and rolled onto my back. This was something I would not do for a long time, get onto the floor in front of these men. Now I decided it was just part of the show, if you were gonna do it, do it or don't. I did it.

I swung my right leg in a circle while keeping the other one straight in the air. In seconds my legs were side by side, feet facing the ceiling, me on my back, both legs together, toes to the sky. I parted my legs slowly.

"I know what you like,

I'm your prescription,

I'm your physician,

I'm your addiction."

Back to the chorus, "And I know, and I know and I know and I know..."

I moved, just slightly as my legs parted ways, one in one direction and one in the other direction. I pulled them both to one side then, laying on my side, legs together, then rolled over onto all fours, rolling my body so that each part touched the floor, one right after the other, until my ass was in the air, bouncing to the beat of the music.

"I am so dope like Louis Vuitton's with red bottoms.

You gotta have 'em, you glad you got 'em.

Like every color Guiseppe's your guilty pleasure is me.

It's so much fun, you shun therapy.

Although it never be, the feeling is fleeting.

Shopping's like copping, you constantly need it.

I'm never around, you constantly seek it.

You'll never be down, I know where your peek is.

9 and 1/2 weeks is better than twelve steps.

I keep tryin' to remind you, to keep telling yourself.

Now your conscience is interfering, like, 'Better yourself!'

Like, 'You better get help!'

But when that medicine's felt?

We're back together, you'll never leave me.

Don't ever let 'em tell you that you'll never need me!"

I stood up and grabbed the pole, leaning back as the song played. I lifted my leg and bent it, danced around that pole that somehow made me feel more comfortable on stage. I made my way slowly to the front of the stage to collect tips from the men that stood there. Slowly approaching each one, leaning in close to them, shaking my body so that they smiled.

"My China White, 'til we D.O.A., its Montego forever, baby let's get away!"

Then the Chorus played, just enough time for me to continue collecting tips before the story started back up. That's one of the main reasons I like to dance to Jay-Z. I like the beats of the music but he also always tells a story. His words mean more than one thing and can refer to more than a couple of things in more than a couple of ways. I knew my routines on stage. I knew how to sway to the music. The stories he told gave my mind reason to wander, something for me to think about when I was up there, other than the fact that these men were looking at me ad the song wasn't over yet. I collected my tips as the chorus continued, then Jay started his story back up....

"How could you leave me?

I thought you needed me!

When the world got too much and you pleaded with me?

Who helped you immediately?

How speedy of me!

How could you deny me so vehemently?

Now your body is shaking, trying to free it of me

And your soul is in control, tryin' to lead it from me

And your heart no longer pledge allegiance to me!

Damn I'm missing the days, when you needed the D!"

The chorus started up again for the last time and about one line into it, the DJ called me off the stage. I was done. $37 richer and back on the grind!

Can I Live?

2009-04-10T23:15:00.005-07:00

... Continued From 'Remembering Red' ... Below...
I woke up having slept better than I had in a long time. Remembering 'Red' had put me at ease and let me relax. It was amazing that a woman could be nurturing enough to comfort me in my dreams, more than a month after we had spent time together. A woman could never do for me what a man could though. I love the smell of a man, the strength of a man, women are beautiful, fun, I like them but I love men. When I opened my eyes I was still in The Bay and 'Red' was nowhere to be found.

I looked beside me and sure enough, 'my man' lay there, peacefully sleeping. I love him dearly but we each needed some space and some time to ourselves. I knew from experience that by the way things seemed to be going, we would have drama between us before too long. We loved each other deeply, our emotions were strong no matter what level they were on. When we got angry with each other, the feelings were consistent with the way we loved each other and that was definitely deep.

I'd have to play it off. Having been in the business of making men happy, I have some insight on how that's done. I'd play it off, make nice, that was the way to do it. Men like to solve problems, so if it was his idea or if he thought it was his idea, the transition into my own little place would go much smoother. I had no idea my life would hang in the balance before I would get any time or space to myself.

I kissed him on the forehead and his eyes fluttered open. He glared at me, grumbled and rolled over. This man had a serious attitude, this was going to be harder than I thought. Living in such close quarters after being in a long distance relationship meant we had to get along. We slept in a Queen sized bed, we were side by side most of the time. I hadn't cared about any of that when I showed up in Oakland. I just wanted to be there with ‘my man’. That didn't look like it mattered too much now though, things could change a lot in ten days. I'd use what had to get what I want, that was the way I had to handle the situation. I had his love, his respect and he knew we worked well together and my being there was a definite benefit to his company. I also inspired him to work more, in turn benefiting his company even more. All I had to do was use that in order to 'help' him come up with the idea that I rent a room after all, so that we would have our own space and money would no longer be an issue.

We had been into confrontations about money before and that was the root of the problem now. I have a son that'll be ready to go to college in a couple of years and I'm stripping for every dollar. Because of the extent I went to earn a living, I didn't have room to be generous at the time. I hesitated even more because 'my man' wouldn't go to the extent of even getting a job to earn his own living. He had a business, he was able to earn money here and there but not nearly enough to offer him stability or take care of all of his responsibilities. My issue was with the fact that he wouldn't go out and get a job in order to make ends meet. He preferred to depend on family and would have depended on me had I let him. I didn't give him a hard time about it, his family did enough of that but I didn't help financially either. He wasn't willing to go and earn money for himself or work a job he didn't love, so why would I be willing to go earn money for him at a job I didn't love. He did actual work, for his company about 10-15 hours per week or less, the rest of his time was his to do what he wanted and he didn't want to work. What he didn't understand is that most people don't WANT to work, most people have to work. Bottom line, he felt like I should be willing to do more for him than he was willing to do for himself and that feeling ran deep, as I soon found out.

I threw on some boy shorts, a wife beater and slippers and headed for the kitchen. A freak in the bedroom, a lady in public and a mommy in the kitchen. That's how it's done, the way to a mans heart. I had always tried to please 'my man' by being all of the things I had learned a man wanted over the years. I handed him a cold drink before he ever realized he was thirsty, poured him fresh coffee when I heard him roll out of bed, I made sure he was served all three meals when I was at home. I supported his business, did what I could to help, put together a business plan, did the work he didn't want to do, data entry, research, anything I could. I kept things clean, looking good, I kept myself looking good, stayed in shape, always kept my hair, makeup, nails and toes done. There really wasn't much I wouldn't do for him, not much at all.

I didn't want to ruin the relationship by working together and living together after being apart for so long. We needed some time to live in the same town and have our own interests and outside friendships. We had to be able to adjust to being in the same town together again before being underneath each other every hour of the day. I had to be honest with the man, let him know I thought we were making a mistake. When he had invited me to come, he had insisted it would be best if he rented me a room with a friend of his. That had been a good idea but it hadn't worked out. There were places all over Oakland with a room for rent though. A lot of families rented out a room, even single moms that needed the extra income. We could find a room for me to rent and that would give us the privacy and space that we both needed. I'd pay my own way, he could pay his so our finances could be separate and therefore without conflict. I made a huge breakfast and waited for the right time to bring it up, talk to him and see what he 'suggested'. We had a nice day together, I planted the seed, tried to help him see things my way so he'd come up with an alternative, an idea for me to rent a room. We weren't quite there yet but we had a good day together and my plan was in motion. That evening it was a different story though.

I went to the bedroom to read a book and 'my man' was downstairs, working on the computer. He came through the bedroom door abruptly, no knock, he opened the door as if he wanted to plow through it. I looked up from my book and smiled at him. I knew though, the moment I saw his face that a confrontation was about to be our reality. He had mood swings often and when he looked that angry, the fire was not easily put out.

"What's up?" I asked him, as pleasantly as possible.

"You trying to treat me like a trick?" He was livid.

He sounded so mad I didn't even want to respond. I replied though. Ignoring him wouldn't help."What are you talking about?" I was genuinely confused.

"You think you can just come out here and break me? Spend all my money and then act like you don't want to work in the club to bring money in? Like those guys at the club, you think you can just keep taking my money until its gone?" He was serious.

Of all people, HE was angry with me for not wanting to dance in an all nude whore house? He wouldn't even take a job working for the state because he didn't 'want to'. There was no way. I had come to The Bay to help with his business. He had promised to support me while I was there, make sure I had everything I needed and employ me with his company to boot. What was he talking about? He continued.

"It costs money to live anywhere, doesn't it? You ain't paid shit and you have closet space, you here, laying on the bed all comfortably... You think you can just sit up here and not put any money in?"

At this point I was confused. The truth of the matter was he didn't put any money into the house himself, first of all. None! Second of all, I had only been there a week and a half and the deal was supposed to be, he paid me to be there, to help with his business, not the other way around. I was the one that should've been mad, I wasn't getting paid until I threw an event, and that was a task I quickly realize I would have to do the work for, on my own. He kept on talking and I listened, hoping I would get a better idea of why he had flipped the script all of a sudden.

"You stayed here before, you think you're gonna stay here again and not put anything in the pot?" He was practically snarling and if I didn't know any better I would've thought he was under the influence of something, on something. Either that or this was for someone else's benefit, he had someone downstairs and he was putting on show for them. He had been known in the past to 'Play the role' when it served his purposes.

He pissed me off then though. The last time I was with him in California it was for a month, when I moved back from L.A. to The Bay. I not only paid the majority of his share of the rent I had also bought all of the groceries, cooked, cleaned and taken care of him. He hadn't had to do anything for himself at that time. He hadn't had to buy anything for the house and the rent was paid, except $100 of it, which was the only thing he had to pay at the time. He was the one that hadn't put much in. That was one of the reasons I felt so comfortable letting him foot the bill this time. Not to mention the fact that the business seemed to do much better when I was there, putting in 6-10 hours a day and pushing him to do what he had to do in order to get the wheels spinning. Otherwise he would tend to procrastinate and wouldn't get much done outside of what he could do on his computer.

I stood up about 2 inches from his face. "Get out of here. You’re trippin'. They were selling ass in that bar. I don't sell ass, That’s not my style." I said to him. "You need to go downstairs and calm down and think about what you're saying. Then we'll talk alright?" He just stood there, feet planted firmly on the floor, eyes fixed on me.

"Bitch." He said.

Things escalated fast. We were both fed up, mad and frustrated with each other. I had become irate when he mentioned the last time I stayed there. I felt like it was misrepresented, he should have just stopped talking. He knew when I asked him to go away it meant I had lost my temper and was trying to avoid conflict. I spit in his face. I didn't think about it, I didn't consider the alternative, I just spit in his face. I shouldn't have but the truth is, if I ever get mad enough to raise my hand, that's my dumb ass alternative. The ugly thing is damn near every police force in the nation considers that assault, so it really isn't much better. It doesn’t hurt though, that was th difference. In less than two seconds I was on my back on the bed and he had his hands around my neck, choking me with more force than I had ever felt before.

I couldn't believe this.

I tried to talk.

Tried to say stop.

Nothing came out of my mouth.

I couldn't talk.

I couldn't breathe.

This wasn't right.

This had gone too far.

Too far, too fast.

Fear ran through me like ice.

I missed my breath.

I needed my breath.

I reached up and tried to pry his hands from around my neck.

I tried to pull them away.

They wouldn't budge.

I knew I would pass out if I didn't get air.

If I passed out I wouldn't have a shot in hell at walking out of this place.

"Die, bitch! Die, bitch!"

He said it over and over, who was this man? I didn't know him at all. I kept pulling at his hands and trying hard to tell him that he was trippin', that I couldn't breathe that he could kill me, ask him what he was doing, why he was doing this. I tried to catch his attention, make him look at me but he wouldn't.

"Die bitch! Die bitch!"

I wasn't going to die, not that day!

Hell no!

I was going to live.

I was going to live a long time.

There was no way I was going to die.

Not without a damn good fight!

I dug my fingernails into one of his fingers. I don't know which finger it was but I dug hard!

Dig, dig, dig.

His finger seemed to come a little loose, started to slip away from my neck. I dug my fingernails in with all my might. I knew I only had so much time. If I passed out, it would be over for me, I wouldn't have a chance anymore. Why wouldn't he kill me? He seemed to be set on doing just that and I was the only one that could prevent it. I didn't have a lot of time before I was incapacitated. I sunk my fingernails in as deep as I could, dug them into that one finger, as hard as I could. I wrapped my fingers around it as it loosened up and pulled, I pulled as if I wanted to separate it from the rest of his hand.

Finally...

He let go!

I sat up and took breath into my lungs immediately. It felt so good to feel air in my lungs, it brought tears to my eyes. I sat still, made sure I had all the air I needed in my lungs. I inhailed hard and deep, thank G-d! My only focus was breathing, I was so happy to be breathing again. I looked up, almost frightened to see what would be coming next, I might have to fight, why was I relaxing?

He had walked into the hallway and was pacing back and forth, breathing hard as if he had run a long way. He was sweating, pacing.

He was no longer a threat, the glazed over look was gone from his eyes and I recognized him. I didn't like him, but I knew him. I lay on my stomach and I cried. I cried like I hadn't cried in a long time. How could he DO that? What was he thinking? He was supposed to love me, care about me. What was he thinking? This was the man I would call had anyone ever laid a hand on me. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I had known him for years, how could I have missed this part of him? I cried for at least an hour, didn't move or talk. I just cried and cried and cried.

He walked downstairs minutes after the tears started. He had stared at me a couple of minutes, then disappeared. When I stopped crying and wandered into the bathroom I heard voices downstairs. He was laughing, laughing and talking with his brother downstairs, as of nothing had even happened.

How could he act like nothing had happened? How could he act like he hadn't just tried to take my life? How could he have done that at all? What was going on? I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone and I knew I had to get out of there. I slid onto the floor and bundled up, wrapped a blanket around me like a cocoon and hid my face. I had seen the bruises on my neck in the bathroom mirror, three fingers. The forth one must have been the one I pried away. The other side of my neck was chaffed and scratched. I knew that the bruises would get darker, with my pale skin I bruised if I bumped myself, but this? I knew I would have ugly bruises on my neck and how would I explain? What would I tell people? Could I stay in the house until it went away and who's house would I stay in? I definitely couldn't stay here. I couldn't go home this way, with these bruises on my neck. It would be obvious what happened, it wasn't like it would be hard to figure out.

I cried and cried under those covers for hours. He came in and I ignored him several times. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. I cried and cried. Finally, when he came back into the bedroom I stood up. I kept my distance from him but I stood up. "Why did you do that?" He asked me.

"Huh?" He caught me off guard what was he asking me? Why did I do what?

"Why did you spit on me? That was the ultimate disrespect!"

I stared at him in disbelief. He was asking why I spit on him. I would have answered him, even apologized, had he not tried to take my life! I ignored the question. If not, we would have been at it again, I wasn't angry anymore. I was afraid. I wouldn't show him I was afraid but I was. I spoke to him in an even tone, even I was surprised by how strong my voice sounded. I didn't feel strong at all. I was terrified.

"Look, if you don't want me to call the cops, I suggest you talk with your brother or whomever you need to talk with and book me a flight on the next plane back to Phoenix." That was all I had to say. I hadn't thought about it or planned it but it sounded good to me.

"I don't have any money." He said it as if I gave a damn.

"That's why you might want to talk with your brother about it. If you don't want to go to jail, I need to get back to Phoenix within 24 hours and that's that." I slipped back under the covers on the floor and didn't say another word.

"Why are you on the floor?"

I didn't say a word.

"Get on the bed man, you don't need to be on the floor."

I was as still as possible.

An hour later, he came back upstairs, this time his voice had some base in it and he left the door open, I could tell he wasn't only talking to me, there was someone else downstairs, listening. Good.

"Pack your stuff up, my brother is gonna take you over to your moms house." I didn't respond. "Did you hear me?" He asked.

"I sure did. Your brother isn't taking me to my moms house, my dads house, or anyone else's house. I'm not showing up on my parents’ doorstep, crying with choke bruises around my neck. I'm a grown ass woman, I'm not asking mom and dad to save my ass, that's your gig!" I knew that one cut deep because it was the truth and the truth hurt more than lies. "You brought me here, you get me home. That's that. I file a police report, the domestic violence associations get me a ticket or I don't and you get me a ticket, your call." He just looked at me, not knowing how to react.

"Look, my brother is gonna..." I interrupted him.

"I'm not doing this. Look at my neck." I turned so that he could see the bruises. "Let me tell you something, I show up on anyone in my families’ doorstep looking like this and it'll be bad for YOUR health, trust me! This is not any basic, Chris Brown, domestic violence charge. From the looks of the bruises, I would guess attempted murder, look at the damn bruises! They will get worse too, don't get it twisted, they will get worse tomorrow, bruises always do! You told me to die while you choked me." I shook my head. Wished I could shake the recent memory out of my head. "Trust me when I tell you, we're talking about some years and I will not be afraid to testify against your ass!"

I was referring to the case with my sons’ father. He had aggravated assault charges in the 2nd degree. He had put a tasar on me for forty-five minutes. Every time I thought I could get up, he would turn that thing on and sting me again. He was on crystal meth and on a binge, looking for money to get high and I had refused. We hadn't been together in years when this happened but it happened, never-the-less. I had second thoughts about testifying about what he had done to me. 'My man' knew that and might have assumed I would have the same pity on him. He was wrong. He was a better man, I expected more from him, he knew better and he was stronger. He wasn't on drugs, he had more discipline and whatever my reasons, I would not have any problem testifying against his ass. I turned to face him then and my own voice sounded unfamiliar. I was proud of the strength that came through in my voice. I only said one thing;

"Get me home."

"I'll take my chances." He said.

"No, you won't. Trust me, you won't be taking any chances. You're choosing to go to jail. If that’s your choice, I'd rather not but oh well." I was raising my voice at this point but I didn't care. I grabbed my purse and started to head for the door. The police station was only a block and a half away. I could walk there.

All of a sudden his older brother appeared in the hallway. He directed ‘my man’ to go downstairs without saying a word. When he started to walk down the stairs his older brother assured him he would handle it. Thank goodness. His older brother was a smart man, he was fair and considerate and had a lot of life experience. I knew this would be settled and settled fairly and quickly with him taking care of it.

"If you don't want to go to your family, what is it you need?" He asked.

I intentionally turned my head so that he could see the bruising on my neck, so he knew what he was dealing with. This wasn't some simple matter where I had been pushed and I was freaking out and his brother needed to know that. He grimaced when he saw my neck, then he looked down and shook his head. I saw the shame on his face. I knew he understood that there was nothing I could've done that warranted that. We both knew it and hopefully he would help his younger brother to understand as well after I was gone.

"Your brother brought me here, he asked me to stay three months." His face said that he had no idea I would be staying that long. Then he spoke.

"Let me tell you what I've been told, OK?" I nodded in agreement, curious as to what he had been told about my presence here. "My little brother came to me and asked if I would mind you staying here for two weeks." He looked down at the floor then and shook his head, as if he were unhappy about that.

My mouth dropped open but I didn't say a word. What had he intended to tell his brother in a few days, when the two weeks had passed and I was planning to be there for another two and a half months? What if his older brother and I had been in a conversation and I mentioned how much I would miss my son, being away from him for three months. We sat and talked often. What did he plan to tell us when we discovered he had been lying to both of us? Thank goodness I wouldn't have to deal with that. His brother continued talking.

"Now this is his house but I live here and I pay bills here also. I was very hesitant to say yes because you guys have had conflicts in the past and I didn't want to deal with any arguing but I said yes out of respect and because I trust my brother to have that same respect for me. I don't know what type of arrangement you two had but I was under the impression you were here for two weeks to help him out with some things." He paused for a moment again. "now things have gotten bad and we have to come up with some sort of agreement that everyone can live with and part ways like adults." What he said made sense and I was glad he had stepped in for his little brother. He wasn't at all emotionally involved, he wasn't angry and he simply wanted to end this with as much dignity as possible. That would be better for everyone.

"OK. Well sir, your brother asked me to come and work for him for three months, offered to pay me to do so. He agreed to provide me with a ticket here and a ticket home. I was here to spend time with him, make some money for the company and for myself, help him get this business off the ground. We came up with some great ideas together, we inspire each other, we even compete which makes for more success all around! I thought it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement." I stopped talking so that I wouldn't start to shed more tears. What I had said was the absolute truth. I had honestly believed that my being there would be beneficial to both of us and most of all the company. I took a deep breath and continued to talk.

"If I am not staying, I need to get back to Phoenix and its his responsibility to get me there. If that isn't a possibility I have no choice but to contact the police and they can assist me in getting back home to Phoenix." I paused again for a few seconds. "I'm not going to run crying to my parents under any circumstances. That isn't an option for me. I'm a grown woman and my parents are not at all responsible for this situation." I was going to leave it at that but then decided not to.

"I'm not buying my ticket home and neither are my parents. I will be going home though and in the next day. It'll be him, someone on his behalf or a victim advocate program through the police department that gets me a ticket home. No disrespect intended sir, this is just the way it has to be. I don't mean it to sound like a threat and it isn't your responsibility either, I just have to get myself home and my parents won't be getting me there." I was surprised again with the way I had clearly ad respectfully expressed myself. I hadn't downed anyone, hadn't been rude and I didn't sound scared even though I was more frightened than I had been in years. I was frightened and my heart was broken.

"I'll buy the ticket. Is that all you need, a ticket home and things will be squared away?" He asked incredulously.

"That and a ride to the airport. Yes sir." I shook my head in agreement, it was a pretty simple fix, considering what had just happened a few hours before.

"Consider it done." He said it firmly and I didn't offer an apology for his little brother but I saw one in his eyes. He didn't approve of what he had done and he had not been the one to show that kind of example while his son grew up. This I knew and I respected the man. I don't think it was a learned behavior at all, I couldn't imagine that he had seen anyone treating women that way growing up and he had never mentioned such a thing. In all of the conversations we had about his childhood, that had not been a part of it.

I'm not the crying type, not anymore. For years I was a crybaby but these days it took a lot for a tear to roll from my eye. I had cried more in those few hours than in the entire year previous, probably twice as much. There was no way to go back and change it, no way to correct it. This was just something I'd have to feel and it hurt, it hurt bad.

Within 30 minutes I had a ticket home, my plane left in 5 hours. I had just enough time to pack my bags, shower and get to the airport. I did. I called my brother and asked if he would drive me to the airport and he agreed. When I realized though that waiting for him would put me at the airport only a half hour before my flight I walked downstairs and talked with 'my ex man'. His brother had gone to work, we were there alone but I wasn't afraid anymore. After his older brother saw what he had done, I think he was ashamed and I believed that was enough to stop him from laying another hand on me, if nothing else.

"Look, my brother won't get here in time for me to make the flight. Do you know when the next flight is?" I asked him this without even considering he could take me, as far as I knew his truck was outside on a flat and he hadn't had a chance to fix it with all the commotion.

"You need a ride to the airport?" He asked.

"I do. I don't want your mother taking me though, it would be really uncomfortable and..."

He stopped me. "I can take you."

"OK. Lets go." I said.

I wore a blouse with a collar, it hung low, about as long as a mini-skirt from years ago, leggings and heels. On the ride to the airport I couldn't help adjusting my collar. It rubbed against my neck where it was chaffed and scratched and it hurt. The skin was bruised and sore and it was uncomfortable.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"No. I'm not alright." That answer fell out of my mouth without a thought and before I even intended to speak. "My neck hurts, it hurts a lot."

"I apologize." he said.

I didn't respond. A day late and a dollar short is an understatement. I was so relieved to see the airport that a smile actually came across my face. I was going home! No more tears, no more arguments, no more fear, I was going home! The last 24 hours had changed my perspective completely. I was so glad to be going somewhere I felt safe. i had taken it for granted that I had felt safe with 'my ex man' before this happened. That was something I would never take for granted again.

I shed tears on the plane home, cried for what I had lost. When we landed I felt like I had been given a second chance at life. I could have died with that mans hands wrapped around my neck. I made a decision then and there to earn at the club what I had planned to earn in The Bay over those three months, $10,000. That would be my goal and it was definitely reachable. I had to work smart and hard. Now I would have expenses, rent, bills, etc. While I earned the money I needed to go and find a job in Tucson.

With the economy the way that it stood, I knew it would be difficult to find gainful employment in the small town my son and I had called home for most of his childhood. I had no doubt I would earn enough to support us until I found a job though and whatever job I found would work out just fine. I still had a spot dancing at the club I loved most in Phoenix and I would take advantage of that. I had a new road to travel and I felt content and secure I could travel that road and get to where I needed to be....

Remembering Red...

2009-04-10T11:59:00.001-07:00

Remembering Red...

... Continued from Part 2, 'The Bay'...
... (Below) ...

I was ready to jump out of that car at his response but I knew better than to let my emotions get the best of me so that I put myself in an impossible situation. I was afraid to hear his response, afraid of what it might be, afraid he would say yes, that is exactly what he wanted me to do.

"You have a mouthpiece! You can get me to spend every dime I have to my name, not to mention all the others you've taken to the cleaners! Why not just talk your way into a damn twenty or two?" He took a deep breath but still, he wouldn't look in my direction. "Just say you quit. That's it right? You didn't want to do it so instead of sticking it out, you quit, you're a quitter."

What? Were he and Daniel in kahootz? I didn't see it that way. I refused to work in a whore house. I had already considered breaking the promise I had made myself about nudity. There was no way in hell I was going to put myself in a situation where I was perceived as and treated like a prostitute. If that made me a quitter then so be it!

My man and I went back and forth all the way back to the house and when we got there I went straight upstairs to the bedroom, shut the door and prayed he wouldn't find a reason to wander up there. I slipped out of my clothes and slid under the covers, my favorite place to be when I am unhappy, nice and cozy in bed.

'I want to go home. I just want to go home...' Kept running through my mind. I was a big fish in a small pond at my club in Phoenix. I knew how to make my money, how to relate to the customers. I knew the other dancers, I knew the managers. I was well liked at home and I did my job and kept my self respect without sacrificing money in order to do it.

I let my mind wander back to All Star. There had been so many people there. the club was packed every single night. Every stage money flew through the sky the whole time I was up there, if it didn't we stayed on that stage shakin' and movin' until it did. I didn't do a single stage for less than a couple of hundred dollars. There had been so many good looking men there and women as well, for that matter.

The women had come to work at our club from Houston, Atlanta, LA, Sacramento, Florida and probably a bunch of other places I haven't mentioned. There were girls in all shapes and sizes from all over the place and no one had to go home empty handed. There had been one dancer that had caught my attention though. She caught my attention like no woman had ever done before. She was fair skinned, same as me and her body was curvy but in no way fat at all. She was far shorter than I was and her hair hung past her shoulders wavy and full, framing her face perfectly. She had full lips, perfect skin, light brown eyes and a beautiful smile. She looked like she belonged in a magazine or on TV somewhere, not in a topless bar. I stared at her long enough one night in the dressing room that she approached me, asked my name.

"I'm Ginger. I'm sorry for staring, I know that's rude. I don't like it when people stare at me." That wasn't true, I was usually flattered. "You really are beautiful and I am critical so trust me, that's a compliment. I don't think half of the Hollywood starlets are beautiful. You've got most of them by a landslide." I smiled at her. It was an innocent enough compliment, definitely the truth, she was beautiful.

"Are you from here?" She asked. "I'm from Dallas. I came down just for All Star. I don't know anyone though, I'm pretty much on my own." She smiled at me. "You're beautiful yourself. I bet we could pass for related, though, huh?"

I looked at her and realized she was probably right. We looked similar in a lot of ways. I was taller than she was but other than that, we could have been related. "Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment for sure. I work here in Arizona, Phoenix. I'm from The Bay area but I've lived out here far too long not to be considered a native." I smiled at her then. "I'll have to come out to your club for All Star next year. It's in Dallas, right?"

She looked down at her perfect feet and smiled. "Yeah, we have All Star in Dallas next year. You should come." She hesitated, looked around and then back at me. "Hey look, in Dallas we work together a lot. One other girl and me. We go around the floor and dance together, sell ourselves as a team. Play up the girl/girl thing, you know, like we're all into each other and not afraid to show it. It eliminates the competition since we are the same 'type' and the guys love it, we'd make way more money. I mean, since we have to do stages with another girl anyway I thought, maybe, we should work together and cash in on these guys as much as we can..." She seemed so embarrassed when she asked me that, like she was really shy about it.

"Yeah, we can do that, that's a good idea. I did that back in the day with my homegirl in Tucson, I was younger and worked at the club out there. She passed away though. I hadn't really done it since. You're right though, we'll do that, it works, that's for sure." I smiled at her. "I'll tell the DJ, what's your stage name?"

"I'm Red." Then she paused, I waited though, I could tell she wanted to say something else. "My real name is Patty though." I shook her hand.

"My real name is ****** but like I said, they call me Ginger in here. Its nice to meet you." Her hand was light, it was delicate and she didn't squeeze my hand like she was fighting for attention, she shook it gently, she was sexy, a quality I didn't find myself usually noticing in women.

I took off in the direction of the DJ booth and went to tell him that I'd be doing my stages with 'Red', it only took a minute. The DJ was relieved he didn't have to match me up with someone as a lot of the girls let him do it and then complained that he had chosen someone not to their liking. I headed back to where I'd left 'Red' and found her on the way to follow me to the DJ booth. I spoke first.

"So, how do you run this? Just ask them if they want a double dance?" I raised my eyebrows in a curious way. "Like we do on our own, just together, right? Or do you have a hustle that works better with this thing you've got going?" She smiled before she responded.

"I mean, I think the best way to do it is to play on their fantasies, let them think you and I are into each other and they get to peek in on our little 'thing'. They love that! So, you know, walk close together, rub and touch, do like you would do with someone you wanted to be with that was standing right next to you at their sexiest, trying to seduce you. Keep that in mind and we should be alright, trust me." She had a smile on her face that let me know she was going to enjoy this.

'Red' smelled good, her skin was tanned and looked as soft as silk. Surprisingly I started to think I might just enjoy this myself. "I got you." I said. "You've done this before, you take the lead." She smiled.

"No problem." She reached her arm around my waist and led me to a seat on the floor of the club, it was right next to the entrance that led to the smoking patio but one table over, so that we weren't right next to the traffic going in and out. "Go ahead and sit down, I got this." She whispered in my ear. Her breath was warm and soft and her lips brushed my ear as she spoke. I didn't say a word, just sat down as she had asked me to do. I sat down and she leaned in toward me and pushed my knees away from each other like we did with a customer that hadn't had a dance before and didn't realize he had to spread his legs.

She positioned herself between my legs and began to dance. I wasn't sure how to react. I had been given a dance before but it had always been friends, girls I had known forever and they just weren't sexy to me. We had always done it to catch a customers' eye but it had never been truly entertaining or at all a turn on. 'Red' was different. The minute she leaned in close and traced her lips on my neck I started to react to her. Her breasts were only millimeters from my face and her tongue traced my neck then. A shiver went through me. She stood up and smiled at me. Then leaned back in and whispered in my ear. "In case you were wondering" Then she stopped for a few second. "I AM trying to get your personal attention." She said to me and she sounded out of breath. "You certainly have mine mommy." My body got hot from the inside out. She turned around then, leaning backward so that I could watch her fondle her nipples, then bending over so that her perfect ass was in my lap.

Her ass wasn't close to my lap, it wasn't near my lap, she sat in my lap, rubbing and grinding in places I knew she had to be aware of because she had those places herself. She guided my hands over her breasts when she turned back around and her skin was just as soft as it looked. She expertly traced her own fingers around my nipples, ever so lightly until they were both hard, begging for more. I hadn't expected my body to react that way but it was like I didn't have control of it, at all. I reacted to her involentarily and I liked the way it felt. I was feeling good but I wasn't in control, 'Red' was running things, she had my full attention and she knew it. She was making me feel good, feel things I wasn't accustomed to feeling and she knew it.

Finally, when I felt like this was getting out of hand, I didn't know how to react or what to do in response to my unexpected attraction to her. The song ended and 'Red' smiled at me, she was happy with her performance. How could she not be. She was sexy, that was for sure, I had my lap dance down to a pretty erotic show myself. The two of us would give these guys a real run for their money, that I knew. If I were a guy I would have given 'Red' all of my money but for the both of us? They would empty out their account to whatever limit our ATM gave them, this I knew.

'Red' leaned over when the song was over and started whispering in my ear. "Who do you want to dance with me for mommy?" She asked as if we had our pick of men in the club. Usually I had a rule never to dance for a man I was attracted to, it could lead to problems. I didn't think I could be attracted to any of these men more than I was to 'Red' though, so that rule was void for the night. My eyes wandered through the club for a tall man I had been eyeballing since the day before. He was an athlete and I usually tried to keep my distance from them but this would be all in good fun, not to mention money. Athletes did have plenty of that most of the time.

Sure enough, when my eyes finally found the man I was looking for, his eyes were on us as well. He was staring at us as if he had never seen women before. 'Red' raised an eyebrow at me as she followed my eyes to where he was. Then, she simply put up her pointer finger and gestured for him to come to us. He did.

"We want to dance for you daddy." She said to him when he was close enough to hear what she had to say. He looked at us both carefully and smiled from ear to ear.

"It would be my pleasure ladies." He sat down when I stood up and 'Red' sat on his knee. She reached for me and I came close to her.

"Isn't she beautiful?" She asked him, never taking her eyes off me.

Her gaze was different from a mans, she looked at me like she could see right through me and she liked what she saw all the way through.

"She is." He responded. "So are you."

Then 'Red' tugged at my waist so that I leaned in close to her face. I thought she was going to whisper in my ear again but not this time. This time she brought her lips to mine and kissed me. At first I didn't know how exactly to react but that passed quickly. When she slipped her tongue from her mouth and let it trace my lips I wished it was just she and I in that club. I kissed her back, in a way that was sure to let her know I wanted more and she responded, letting me know the same.

The song ended and 'Red' got up from our customers lap, we looked at each other and smiled. We danced for each other more than for him but he kept us dancing for each other for five songs and it seemed to arouse the attention of any man that could see us. After five songs he owed us $100 but handed me four hundred dollar bills and leaned over to ask 'Red' something. She shook her head no.

"After we leave here it will be just her and I." She said, making the conversation between the three of us now, even though he had tried to talk with her about it, hush, hush.

"I won't touch you. I just want to be there." He said. "I'll be as quiet as a church mouse, you won't even know I'm there. I'll pay you what you want."

He was serious as a heart attach too.

"Listen, we are flattered, really. Right, Gin? We are here to dance though, that's all. I'm sorry."

He dropped his head and looked at the floor. "OK. I understand. Thank you ladies. Best time I have ever had in a strip club." He said.

We took turns giving him a superficial hug and walked away. Within seconds the doorman approached us, we were wanted in VIP. This chick was on top of her game. The whole night was that way. We stayed in VIP, where, during All Star we could charge what we saw fit for dances. 'Red' and I saw fit to charge $50 a dance and loved every minute of it.

We looked at and touched every inch of each others' bodies. We licked and caressed enough of each other too. She was soft, smelled perfect and her touch made me crazy. I have never been one for becoming intimate without knowing a man well but I had never been one for becoming intimate with a woman, at all.

I had looked, thought about how beautiful women were before. I had wondered what it would feel like to touch or be touched that way, even fantasized but never had I acted on it. By the end of that night though, I was going wherever 'Red' was going and I couldn't wait to get her alone. There were places I wanted to lick, be licked. There were places I wanted to touch, kiss.

We were one for after hours during All Star and I had stayed until 6AM every night. This particular night though, 'Red' turned to me around 1AM, "We've made over a thousand each. I want you to come back to the hotel with me." She looked down at her shoes like she was shy all over again. "Will you?"

I couldn't believe she didn't know my answer. I thought it was obvious how bad I wanted to be alone with her. "I thought you would never ask." I said.

'Red looked up and smiled. She kissed me, but this time it wasn't for any customers benefit. She kissed me in a way that made me want to throw her down on the floor right there and just act like there wasn't a bar full of people. "Let's go." I said.

We got to the dressing room and 'Red' pulled out a cell phone and called a cab before she even started to get into her street clothes. I had never even seen her in her street clothes. This was something I never dreamed I would do before but I had no doubts in my mind at all.

'Red' and I got into our clothes quickly and headed for the door. We were almost t the door of the dressing room when one of the girls said, "I wanna go with you two!" The rest of the dressing room broke out in laughter and a few of the girls agreed. I smiled a huge smile and we disappeared through the dressing room doors.

The cab driver got a show far better than any of our customers at the club that night and I was crazy with lust by the time we pulled up in front of the Radisson, only five minutes from the club.

We rode to the top floor and made it to her room, which overlooked the city. We made out on the balcony, on the floor, in the shower, in the bed. I touched 'Red' in places I never thought I would touch on any other woman and she did the same. We passed out from sheer exhaustion just before the sun came up.

I spent every night she was there after that with 'Red'. We would work together and stayed at her hotel. I ran home to get some things and stayed with her the rest of that week. She stayed two extra nights and then had to get back home. She wouldn't leave until I promised to be in Dallas for All Star the following year. Whatever I am doing, I will make sure and be there.

I fell asleep with memories of 'Red' running through my head. I slept like a baby, forgetting that I would wake up with the same conflict with 'my man' but it was nice to have a few hours of escape. 'Red' was amazing, enough so that her memory alone provided an escape...

...To Be Continued...