Baby Stripper Story Day 8

Saturday was surprisingly slow. I sat down on the couch with Veronica, a tall curvy white girl with a shaved head. Outside of the club Veronica goes by they/them pronouns. In the club she had on eight inch sparkly gold stripper heels and a tiny gold g-string bikini. Sonya sat beside us, then Milan, Cece, and Lily. We were a mirage of strippers lounging around looking bored and beautiful. Bishop started my set with three of my favorite songs. One Kanye, one Beyonce, and a Rihanna. Nothing happened until around ten when men looking to check out the MMA fights began migrating in. I wore my red fishnet dress with a blue clamshell bra and pink thong. I didn’t have any matching sets. I gave my first lap dance to a guy who I actually entirely don’t remember. Well, actually that’s not true. He was a friend of a guy in the midst of a bachelor party. He had a wife and a young child. He looked about forty, but informed me most people thought he was much younger. I didn’t think he looked much younger. He had a plushy gut that probably took years of neglect to achieve. He said he hadn’t gotten a lap dance in a while. He was very docile. He didn’t try to touch me and I couldn’t tell if he was enjoying himself or my body. I placed his hands on my hips and waist, curved his fingers around my breasts. I asked him if he’d had a good time, and he said he had. He watched me for the rest of the night.

The next lap dance went to an older black man. He had worked the same job for forty years and had come to own a business he passed down to his son. He believed he had made one woman orgasm twenty-seven times in one hour. This is physically impossible. He told me his favorite part of a woman is her clitoris because he knows “how to do things to it to make it come and come hundreds of times.” For his lapdance I faced him and pretended to masturbate while grinding on him. I placed his hand on my breast so he could feel like he was helping me and I bit my lip and moaned a little. At the end he asked me if I was close to coming, and I said “totally, I probably would have if you’d bought another dance,” and he responded with disbelief, “you’re telling me I should pay for your pleasure?” What a misguided man.

After him I sat with a Latino man whose name I don’t remember and with whom I could hardly communicate. He did not speak English. I did not speak Spanish. I tried to compliment him on his grills. He had lovely full lips and was generally a handsome man around my age. His skin was soft and clear. I asked, “Quiero bailar?” First he said “mas tarde” but then he agreed. He wanted to kiss me. He kept licking his lips. He bought two dances.

I got picked up by a white Polish man who bought my time for his friend who had apparently been watching me for a while after my stage show. I was a bit stunned because the man was very cis, white, and conventionally attractive. I brought him upstairs. The club was hot and I was sweating. I felt bad for being so sweaty and climbing up on this clean man in all white. I was really into him and I got nervous because I couldn’t conceive of a man who looks like him liking a sweaty brown girl like me. But he looked at me with hungry eyes. I shoved my nipples in his face.

Upstairs I noticed one of the champagne lounges was occupied by a group of very wealthy looking black men. They all had nice clothes and expensive jewelry. I sat with a man named R. He was adorable, very sweet and had never been in a strip club before. He plays for the Amsterdam international football team. He was visiting his good friend who plays for the Orioles. They showed up with stacks of ones to make it rain on the brown girls. I was very happy to be one of the brown girls. R told me he would make it rain on me. One of the other girls who had come to the champagne lounge started dancing and the guys made it rain on her. I asked R if I should do the same, and he said yes, so I did too, and the guys got excited and started throwing money on me. I had to periodically stop to collect it from the floor. When the money fell, they forgot about it. I was the bitch collecting the money that fell from their pockets, but I’m not too proud to crawl around with money tucked in my thong. R did not want a dance. The ballers thought they were too good for lap dances. They wanted to stunt with stacks, attract girls, and make it rain on the lucky few. R asked me if I had a boyfriend and I lied and said “no.”

I went downstairs and talked to a white guy who looked rough. Told me he had spent a lot of time in jail and that was how he’d gotten all his tattoos. His ex worked at the club and he wasn’t interested in dances. He told me to talk to his brother, who actually was his uncle, though they were only a year apart. The uncle, Rob I think, liked me a lot, told me I was pretty. He promised if he was with me we would have had at least one child together. He has two daughters from two mothers. He only dates nonwhite women. His children look like they came from the same mother. He wanted to know if I was dating anyone. This was when I started lying to him, seeing if I could guess what he wanted to hear. I said I wasn’t dating anyone, that I had been hurt recently and needed time to heal. He was surprised such a pretty girl could get hurt. I told him pretty girls get hurt all the time. He asked me if I was hooking up with anyone. I told him I wasn’t because I needed to be careful with my body. He asked me if I had any children, I told him I didn’t. He told me having sex isn’t bad as long as you take care of yourself. I told him I just wasn’t ready. He asked what it would take for me to date someone, I said I’m not ready yet. He told me he might come back in a week and buy a 15 minute room with me. I told him I would like that. Then the lights came on signaling the club was closing, and I made my way back upstairs.