There’s a kind of bitchy Russian girl who chats away with the girls she’s deemed worthy of her approval and ignores the rest of us. I don’t bother her and she doesn’t bother me. The night before last, it occurred to me that I had never seen her back in the lap dance room. I told my friend “she must spend all her time sucking dick in the champagne room.” While many Russian strippers are tens, this girl is a chubby three or four. I think she’s a little older, maybe late twenties and I hear her talk about a son she has.
While the two of us aren’t chummy, I have spent plenty of time listening to her conversations in the dressing room as I apply fake eyelashes and bronzing lotion. Last night, the house mom was talking about how she saved money as a stripper (she just secured a house and has the down payment). The house mom was a bit discouraged to say goodbye to nearly all of her savings in one payment, but was pleased to make such a step. Home ownership is the American Dream however you get to it right? The Russian girl made a comment about “as long as you have a pussy, you’ll never go broke.” But she went on to explain how the maximizes the income her pussy brings in saying “I suck and I fuck.” Another girl made a comment two or three nights ago, “nobody gets my beautiful pussy unless they’re paying my bills.”
Last night was smooth sailing because I hung out with the same customer the whole time. When he wasn’t getting lap dances, he was buying me glasses of champagne that I make $10 a pop off of in drink commissions. He came in with these two very mobbed up type guys who are regulars and spenders. One of the Italian suit dudes introduced him as a “federal judge” who is handling “one of his cases.” (Ok then mafioso, is that the racketeering, extortion, tax evasion or Murder 1 case?) The attorney is a harmless Jewish guy from a family law firm, nice and white collar, which isn’t prevalent enough at my club. After an hour or so, he wanted to go to the champagne room. Since he wasn’t some dirtbag trying to rub my pussy without even asking first or flashing some cash, I knew going to the champagne room would be within the boundaries of what I’m comfortable doing. I got to name my own price ($250 for a half hour, it all went to me, no cut to the club) and I just sat on his lap and talked to him the whole time. He’s married. We made out a little. Blerg. I’m an instrument for other people’s hypocrisy.
I wish there were more customers like him. He just wanted a quieter more private place to talk and “spend time with a beautiful woman.” He wasn’t trying to get more for less like the broke-ass recession crowd we get plenty of. The only customer I’ve hooked up with outside of work met me during my first week as a stripper when I had no clue how to make money. He’s hot and we had a threesome with his girlfriend, but he doesn’t spend. By hooking up with him for free when I was new to the game, I set the wrong tone. Now he comes in and thinks he can spend jack $hit on me as if I’m still different from the other strippers when it comes to exploiting him for money.
I was glad I acknowledged him without wasting a lot of time at his table or worse, going home with him (for the third time!) I showed up at his table right before closing time when I was ready to call it a night after ignoring him for almost three hours. When I walked out the door in my civilian clothes, him and his friend were hanging around outside. Before they could catch my attention, I jumped right in a cab and waved bye out the window. The kid needs to learn he can’t get away with not spending on me anymore. I have $tripper $skills now!