Funny Things

The funny thing about men in a go-go bar is that they always think that what happens there, stays there. Funny thing about that philosophy is... it's a hot damn lie. Listen, when you walk into a regular bar, sure things might get a little hazy on a drunken night but the chances of it spilling out into the streets beyond your circle of friends and the random people you may hook up with is about fifty/fifty. But when you want into a strip club or go-go bar, honestly, you should really not walk into there thinking you're going to get anything outside of it. Because whilst there are those clubs that cater to men who want the whole nine yards for a $50 bill, I know that those women are thinking about only the dollar, dollar bills ya'll. Seriously, you think this woman who has just spent countless hours dancing on her feet wants to go home with you and fall in love after you've been guffawing at every other woman in the bar? Or that she'd even consider you seriously if you were to go out after you met her at a strip club? Now I'm not saying it doesn't happen but the chances are highly in favor of it not.

Another thing that I find entertaining is the simple-mindedness of many of the guys that come. I mean many know what their "type" is and they will try to stick that as best they can. But when since working at Push I've noticed that what men seem to really want is someone to show them some attention. Remember Tara? I'm not being catty when I say tat although she isn't completely unfortunate looking, she is definitely not the first girl I'd pick out of a group of 20. I've brought my own mother to my job and she said "How does she even make money? She doesn't even dance! And a weh she a go wid dem chakka chakka teet deh?" (The last part she said in 'Jamaican patois' and basically means "where is she going with those messed up teeth?") Now Tara does have one main thing going for her, she is one perseverant little old ho. As she has been dancing for 12 years, and her mother is a "House Mom" (women/men who take care of things for the girls in the dressing rooms), she knows that men crave attention and her main weapon is eye contact. She will stare a man down with a sexy stare and literally stand there on stage mesmerizing him with a meed up smile and grin and make him feel like he is the only one in the world she could ever want. And that is what our customers want. To feel like they are special. To escape. And they will do it to the girls who don't even fit there type. They could have been making fun of her and 10 minutes before with his boys but a little bit of interest will go a long way. A nice, long way to the bank.

Cutting It

There was a dancer named Tara. She was bird-nosed and small in stature with these beady little eyes that seemed to dart about the room at al times. She was the first person to say hello to me on my first day. She has also become the last person I want to say hello to since. She'd been dancing for 12 years, so she is what another one of my favorite dancers called "an old hoe." Lo, who has since coined this phrase was the person who helped me get my first lap dance. As I'd never done one before, not even for a boyfriend or even in the dance clubs for fun, I was apprehensive about doing one. But Lo introduced me to one of her customers who had a distinct affinity for women of color. Had I known my skin color was going to be such a commodity later in life I would have gone through less soul searching and angst as a teenager.

Lo decided to take me under her wing and to help me get through my first dance. Chaz, was on the overweight side of town so he didn't mind having two pretty black girls on him, one for each side of his body you see. And honestly there was really nothing to it. They'd know each other for years and were quite at ease with each other. All I really had to do was jiggle my tits a little and whine a little on his knee and she took the rest of the show from there. I noted her running her fingers through his hair, placing her cheek next to his cheek, and light conversation topics throughout the dance. I'd need to remember these moves for later. we danced for about four songs and I made $80. That was even a bigger pay out than the stage time. I was liking the way this was looking. After our dance Chaz invited us to sit down again and I chatted him up some more, had a drink and had a grand old time. Since then, Chaz has become a good acquaintance and I learned how to give him dances solo as well as with other girls.

Back to Tara. Now this girl was a definite pro. When I'd explained to her that I wasn't necessarily unhappy with the money I was making, but I wasn't exactly happy considering I saw how much everyone else made, she explained to me that her goal was to try and get at least one dance in between her stage times otherwise she'd never make any money. But we can't all be Tara. She has this way of looking at men and drawing them in with a stare and a flex of her pectoral muscles and weird looking boobs. She wasn't at all attractive to me but men digged it and I tried to emulate. Unfortunately what is sexy for one is not universal so I gave up the game quite early on when men just looked at me like I was insane. I then noticed a very strange thing happening. Every time I moved on from a guy, there was Tara right behind to pick up where I'd left and then took the guy for a dance. Now I'd been talking to one guy for almost an hour and on my stage time, I got up and although he was meant to wait for me, ended up going with Tara for a lap dance. I thought "How fucking dare she?" That was how she got the nickname "piranha" amongst the girls. She was a man eater and she didn't care who's customer she took, she just did.

So I learned how to do a stupid dance, so what? It means nothing if you have no one to pay you for doing it. I wondered if I'd be able to cut it in this business, especially with people like the piranha lurking about in the shadows of your success. I was gonna have to learn to be a little more cut throat.

The Game Begins

I'd borrowed my roomate's car for my first night of work because, I noticed when I had taken my cab over there, that Push was only a hop skip and a jump from where we lived. But as usual, I misjudged and soon discovered that a hop, skip, and a jump for a cabbie was more like a 2 hour journey of twists and turns to me. So I was late, on my first day (needless to say I discovered on the ride home that I lived on a straight road 5 minutes away, no turns necessary). The look I recieved from the manager was definitely not one of pleasure. But he proceeded to tell me to change my clothes anyway.

I'd changed into my underthings and looked around at the women beside me. Much of the same as my last time changing except the Similac Twins were nowhere in sight. How many girls do they have working here, I wonder (on a rotating basis that is). I noticed that while my underparts were still nice and sleek I wasn't wearing nearly as much makeup and no hairspray at all. Fake eyelashes scare me and remind me of spider legs so those weren't going on my face anytime soon and my overall look could only be described as "green". I was so F.O.B (fresh off the boat. This was gonna be a doozy.

I went upstairs only to find that I would be going on stage in only a few minutes so I took the time to have a shot and prepare for the worst. Stage times were done in 10-15 minute increments, depending on how many girls were working that night. Tonight there were enough for 15 minute sets. My first time up felt like the longest fifteen minutes of my life. The first five minutes I almost had a heart attack. The second five minutes I was able to feel my heart in my throat, it was beating so fast. But the last five went by like cake. When you get off the stage you are supposed to walk around the inside of the bar and ask the customers for tips by way of dancing in front of them and shaking your jiggly bits. This was the easy part. I loved shaking my jugs all the time, and that but jiggling thing (almost a clap but not because I barely have that much rear end) I've been doing for ages (why I don't know). I went around twice and made $12. Easiest $12 of my life. Some people make $12 and here I'd just made it in twenty minutes. Go figure. A girl can get used to this.

Preparation

In the span of the two days before Sunday I decided to become an over achiever and learn some things about the go-go game.  So I went to other clubs and what I saw was far from what I was capable as a fledging go girl.  Women walking around with this air of confidence about them that allowed them to walk up to any and all people in the club, shaking the jiggle meats in a gesture to ask for a dollar or more.  I saw a woman who must have had some experience at Auntie Anne's or something, twist herself into something I can only describe as a pretzel.  Was that sexy? Is that sexy? I had no clue but I need to take an intensive yoga class to make this madness believable.

I also noted how very bare their underparts were.  Now I don't claim to be a bush woman, one's got to keep it trim and firm down  yonder for understandable reasons but I found myself wondering if I would have to go bare to be successful.  I mean who wants a woman with hairless parts unless they have some sick and twisted fantasy of doing a prepubescent girl-child?  Yet even with this is mind I took it upon myself to make sure I was extra shaped up on saturday night.  Who knew that such a task could be so daunting? I was in the shower for almost 25 minutes before I called it quits figuring, this was as good as it was gonna get short of me shearing my uterus.  In the light, I must say it looked weird since I hadn't done that whole almost bare Hitler look in a while.  But then I started walking and the friction made me forget about all the hard work it was to get that way and I got excited all over again.

First Impressions

Upon my first visit to Push Lounge I was pleasantly surprised.  Not only was the place not some shady dive bar like the one I'd worked at for the healthy sum of one night, but it also had the advantage of a stage rather than having women teetering precariously on the bar and bumping heads on a too low ceiling.  This party was definitely going to rock.  I inquired after the manager who like apparently all managers in this business was a white man with a shiny cue bald head.  Prior to going my boyfriend and I had a very interesting conversation.  He said if he were the manager of a place that boasted the title of a "gentlemen's club" then he would certainly make sure he tried to get benefits from the girls he liked by way of fellatio.  With this in mind I was totally prepared to kick the pervert in the sack and run for the hills like Maria Von Trapp if such a proposition even came up. Luckily for me, none of that happened.  It really wasn't a dive after all. However I did have to disrobe, but thankfully there was a dressing room for that.

In the dressing room I found myself with some very interesting company.  There were two girls there, both very young and I am almost certain I heard one of them say she wished she had her blankie and Juicy Juice with her.  Now, I'm of age but only just and for me to say such things, it had to be blatantly obvious.  By the time I had changed into my corset and lace thong panties ensemble though, the girls had transformed into fresh-faced temptresses, complete with enough eyeliner and eyeshadow to make even Rupal seem conservative.  And this was my competition?  I looked like my grandma Nancy compared to them, as they were also sporting the brightest and skimpiest bikinis I'd ever seen in my life.

I walked back into the manager's office, and soon noted that I had nothing to worry about.  He looked me up and down once and not even in a lecherous way and asked me simply "When can you come in?"  This is where I had to pause.  I didn't want to seem to desperate so I made up some lie about having a night class (which I didn't) and told him I wouldn't be able to come in for another two days, till Sunday.  I don't think I knew it yet but not seeming desperate was probably the smartest thing I've ever done.

I went back into the dressing room where Jailbait 1 and Jailbait 2 were replaced with another girl but I wasn't even worried about the fact she was walking around stark naked and needed to tone up in a few key areas.  I had gotten a job as a go-go girl. Something I never thought I could do as a bookworm and here I was.  My poor little H&M panties were bursting at the seams with excitement.

The Internet

It all began with a simple ad on craigslist.com, the site where they post anything from the sale of a small indonesian child to a personal ad for a SWM looking for someone to sing lullabies to him and rock him to sleep while he wears a diaper. Yea, you know the one.  This was where my story began and ended all in one foul swoop. 

"Looking for beautiful bikini bartenders" was what the subject heading read and being that I was a bit of a hot tamale in a two piece, I clicked on it and discovered that you don't even have to be a bartender to do the job!  That's when I should have known it was too good to be true.  You only had to wear a bikini and serve some drinks right? How hard could it possibly be?

Turned out it was a lot harder than I'd first realized to serve luke-warm beers and drinks to working class spanish men while simultaneously shaking my money maker on the bar which I was too tall to even stand up on without hitting my head on the ceiling. In one night working as a "bikini bartender", I'd managed to make $120 but alas I think the manager saw my discomfort in thrusting my private lady parts in the faces of random men and decided that he'd keep my application "on file".  Now I don't claim to be a brainiac but I know that once someone says they'll keep you "on file", it was going directly in the filing cabinet better known as the garbage.  I haven't heard from him since, and it has been almost a year. 

However, I didn't leave with merely a few dollars and a bruised head, oh no, I had spoken to one of the only men who came into the bar that was not of spanish decent and he had given me a contact for another club that was much like this one except I wouldn't have to serve drinks.  How fantastic it sounded, the idea of wearing a bikini all night, boozing it up and not really having to work and getting paid all the while!  This fancy little idea began step two of my journey into Gogo-dom.  I would go and work at the Push Lounge and make a killing doing absolutely nothing, well, that's if the equivalent of "absolutely nothing" was "everything but".  So I lay it all out here for you, as it happened and eventually we'll get caught up to happens, live feed style.