A girl referred to the money at places like my club and other non-Manhattan clubs as “hood money” the other day. That was in response to my telling her we get a late night crowd, even on school nights. I’ve mentioned before that encounters with drug dealers are frequent, between a guy offering me a bump in the lap dance room to another guy encouraging me to try H. Eek, all set with that.
I always boast that I’m no Carmela Soprano. I don’t want to marry someone who earns dirty money to maintain a glamorous lifestyle. Still, I earn many lap dance twenties, rained singles and the occasional $50 or Benjamin from baller type dudes who are, in many cases, dealers.
We get plenty of thugged out looking guys who are broke as a joke and the odd white trash customer who isn’t spending cause he’s “waitin’ on a settlement check,” but there are very few suits at my job. A few lawyer regulars, sure, but the vast majority of the money comes from….well who knows.
One kind of snobby girl said she’s too proud to bend over and scoop up singles when guys are raining them. I wish I could be that proud, but at a hood club like mine, that’s where a lot of the money comes from. I got $150-$200 in singles in under a half hour that way last Friday night right before we closed. When you’re a stripper, it’s pretty easy to find sexy ways of bending over to pick that money up. We usually grab a beer bucket and throw all the singles in them to be sorted and counted in the dressing room later. When I’m buzzed, I’ll skip around with my little bucket of money treats like I’m fucking Little Red Riding Hood. It’s just annoying to sort and count them when you could be out working it and making more where it came from.