I walk into the club. It's midweek. There is a large man sitting on a bar stool by the front door. He looks me up and down with a stern look on his face as I ask where I can find the manager. I'm wearing Lulu Lemon pants and an American Apparel sweater. Not exactly sexy. More like work-out clothes. He walks me over to a door nearby.
From here, I can see most of the club. It's not what I was expecting. My only visions of strip clubs came from movies, and this wasn't even close. It was very dark, and much smaller than I was thinking. There was gum on the walls and all the chairs and tables were very old. I could see a few of the girls, too. They were all wearing similar outfits to what I had, and were very tall. Some were beautiful, and others were…not so much.
The manager is a small Asian man, with a huge smile. He gives me a form to fill out, photocopies my IDs and then takes my picture for the file. I'm under 19 so I can't drink, but at this point I really felt like I could use one.
He asks if I am freelance or schedule. I have no idea what this means. I babble something incoherent and he nods. I guess I'm not the first to be so lost. He gives me a quick tour of the club which ends with the changeroom.
I walk into the changeroom and the manager follows, to show me how to use the lockers. The girls in there don't even flinch at the man entering. This shocks me, although I know it shouldn’t. He leaves and I pull my shoes and outfit out of my purse. I shyly get dressed and lock my bag in a locker. I have a small clutch in hand which has my phone, some cash and lip gloss. I check my hair, fix up my makeup, take a deep breath and walk out onto the floor.
"Ohhhh what a beautiful girl! Look at you! What brings a sweet girl like you to a place like this??" The manager coos at me in his slight Chinese accent. He's sweet, I think, trying to make me more comfortable, "Wouldn't we all like to see you up there, eh?" He gestures at the stage, where a tall brunette with fake boobs is topless on stage. I laugh it off and say something like "Oh, I don't know about that."
I go grab a glass of water from the bar and quickly scan the club. It's pretty busy, I guess. Not many girls, but a decent amount of guys. Then again, I don't have anything to reference against. My clutch feels light, knowing I need to fill it with $600 between tonight and tomorrow night for rent. An impossible task, I feel.
Deep breath. I go talk to a man sitting by himself. I introduce myself as Nikki, which feels odd to say. We chat for a bit and I ask if he'd like a dance. He agrees, to my surprise, and the butterflies start fighting again.
The rest of the night is a blur. I ask as many people as I can if they'd like dances. I forget to keep track of the money I'm earning. I'm afraid it won't be enough. Occasionally, I go back to the changeroom (which is really just a dirty washroom with lockers in it) and text Boyfriend, letting him know I'm okay. There are girls rolling joints and talking on the phone. No one talks to me, which is fine by me.
2am comes around soon enough and I'm relieved to be able to go home. I'm tired and my feet hurt. I give the DJ my floor fee and get dressed. My ride is waiting outside, and we go home.
Boyfriend is anxiously waiting. We go into the kitchen and he makes some food as I count my earnings for my first night.
$620. I can't keep in my smile. That's my whole month's rent in one night. I go to bed relieved -- and excited.
No comments:
Post a Comment