therealprettyboygirl

CW: Rape pt. 1

It’s been difficult writing recently, because of my current relationship tumult. I’ve been with my partner since I began stripping. Prior to meeting him, I’d dabbled a bit in sex work. I’d tried to find a sugar daddy during one summer spent working a miserable internship in Brooklyn. A few years later I took up camming with little success. It wasn’t until I was months into my relationship that I decided to take the plunge and enter the strip club. It’s funny, the questions people ...

More Menstrual Madness

After dancing with Dale, it was a nearly insurmountable challenge to care about selling additional dances. Ultimately, I was still determined to leave with $800 after my tip-out, which meant I needed to rack up at least another $100. I’d spent about an hour puttering about on my phone, eyeing possible customers when I noticed a surfer bum eyeing me from a group of other surfer bums in a VIP booth. Typically, I don’t put effort into talking to large groups because it’s a shit show and I�...

A Roll in the Hay

Here's some episodes of an podcast I made 7 years ago when I was but a wee lass in my Sophomore year of college. My cohost is Lathan Vargason who is an amazingly talented artist and friend. If you click into my SoundCloud you can listen to 5 episodes in total. I was definitely not as aware of gender stuff then and could have definitely done more not to be so binary, so apologies for that. Anyway, let me know if you like it!

Kylie, The Light of Dale’s Life: Part 2

Him: Kylie never let me touch there. She was always worried about germs.

Me: Bacterial infections are concerning.

Him: And your butt is so soft. It feels like you don’t even have to shave it! Kylie always shaves her butt.

Me: Huh. I don’t really grow hair on my butt.

Him: Me neither.

Me: You don’t really grow much hair on your chest or shoulders either?

Him: I don’t! I don’t like body hair that much. That’s why I always shave down there. I’m g...

Kylie, the Light of Dale’s Life: Part 1

I wouldn’t have gone into work at all on Friday were it not for Dale. I’d bumped into him Thursday night after my falling out with Rob, and it was as if the goddess above had sent him as a gift in the wake of the madness I’d just endured. I saw his simple white face and smiled because I knew my night was secure. In a previous story, I’m sure I gave Dale a different pseudonym, but I can’t for the life of me find that story. To recap, I met Dale many months ago after I’d watched him...

Rob Triggered

I’d been vacillating on how and when to tell this story for some time now, because regulars are a tricky group of people to write about due to the intimacy of the relationship; however, at this point this man has irritated me to such an extent I’m ready to air his bullshit.

I met this man a few weeks ago, one early Saturday evening. I approached and he enthusiastically agreed to have me sit on his lap. He looked like the type of old white man someone might use for an active grandpa...

Abe’s Babies

I was lounging beside one of the VIP booths after a series of dances taking a break. When I noticed a black man standing nearby in a white undershirt and slacks. I hadn’t considered talking to him because it struck me as strange that he would show up to the strip club without a proper shirt. But he leaned in to speak to me.

Him: Working all night?

Me: Maybe, depends how it goes. Hopefully not.

Him: What does it depend on?

Me: Depends on when I meet my goal.

Him...

My Three Bosses

Boss 1:

Me: (chatting with one of the bouncers)I’m so boring. I don’t party because my job is to party, and I don’t drink anymore.

Boss: (slides into the conversation) We can change that.

Me: I can’t. I’m taking medicine

Boss: Do you like wine?

Me: I like red wine

Boss: Room temperature or chilled?

Me: Room temperature, but I’m not too picky.

Boss: You know what I like to do is take a glass of red wine, and you know Maker’s Mark? 2019-06-14 00:03:34 +0000 UTC View Post

A Very Married Man

A greasy looking white man with dyed dark brown hair came in during mid shift. I wasn’t interested in talking to him, however I’d spent the past half hour scrolling through my phone and I knew it was time to resign myself to the business of working. I sat on his lap, and we got to talking. He had an open face with wide eyes full of admiration as he sat keeping as much of a polite distance as is possible when a naked person is sitting on your lap.

Me: How was your day?

Him: Wow...

Sisterhood of the Traveling Taints

I had a regular show up with a lady companion. She was Russian, my regular is a Turkish American mix. He told me she was visiting and staying with him during her travels. At first I avoided them, because I don’t like to fall into couple traps, but eventually I said hi, and he greeted me warmly. I could tell she was a sex worker immediately, because of the way she carried herself and because she was undeniably out of his league. He wasn’t bad, just weathered and pockmarked. But she was lik...

Couples: Chaz and Rocky

I sat chatting with a fatherly white man who vaguely reminded me of Jim Gaffigan when he asked if I could make room for his friend. I turned around to see a plump woman about his age with dark hair and black eyeliner around her eyes who appeared to be South Asian, maybe Filipina. I don’t like handling couples most of the time because I hate navigating tension. I don’t like to have women compare themselves to me just to highlight their shortcomings while they provoke some sort of reaction ...

Five Questions I Ask Before I Make My Sale

It’s getting increasingly difficult to write stories because I’m at this point where all men I interact with at work are utterly indistinguishable. John, Mark, Tom, Rick, Mike, Chris, Joe, Marcus, Thomas, Richard, Michael, Christopher! Why is there so little inspiration in naming men? It’s a lot for a young heaux to keep track of, and I’ll admit: I have been cutting corners. I mastered doing my hair and makeup like a baddie in part to compensate for how little I pay attention to custo...

Paul the Pleaser

You may remember a delightful old man from one of my stories a while back who said:

Him: I’m an ass man. Do a little twirl for me.

I did the twirl.

Him: You’re a solid 9, but that ass is a 10.

He’d put me off the last time, after giving me a number of backhanded compliments while groping my bottom. This time I was the first girl he saw and he zeroed in on me, except that he didn’t recognize me from the last time. He’s a short, squinty eyed elderly man with gr...

Part 2: An Inch Too Far

I saw London Aussie, whose name I learned from Candice was Marcel, sitting near the stage slumped into a rolling armchair with his chin in his hand. I took my place on his lap and thanked him for his patience. This time I ordered my own root beer, primarily because I’d hoped he would generously tip Candice, however he only tipped $2. Marcel was wearing the same leather jacket as last time but this time with a white embroidered paisley shirt. It looked freshly pressed, as if he’d put in so...

Part: 1 The Floridian and His Tractor

I was surprised to see my fragrant London Aussie again, but he had contacted me, via his burner flip phone asking when I might be popping in. We coordinated, and he arrived right as I was walking into a half hour room with a man from Florida. I excused myself and ran over to London Aussie and let him know where I was so he wouldn’t wander off during my dance. I shook my mams in his face for good measure, then went back to the Floridian, a large man in every sense of the word. He was white w...

Part 2: Don’t Get Kidnapperino’d

I drove to Jerry’s house listening to My Favorite Murder, hoping my sister’s Lyft would arrive after me so she wouldn’t have to wait alone outside at night. Thankfully I made it there first. Bert came outside and helped me parallel park in front of the house on Jerry’s cobblestone driveway. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was beachfront property. As soon as I stepped out of my car, I smelled the briny scent of the ocean and heard the waves crashing nearby. Bert led me in through a...

Part 1: Bulging Eyed Bert and Geriatric Jerry

I was dancing on the small stage for a group of young black men when a white man in a white and blue gridded button down shirt came over and made it rain. I’d been eyeing him and his friend, another neatly dressed white man with gray hair, wondering if they would make my night, and the rain was the sign I’d been looking for. I went over to the rain man and sat in his lap. He had mousy brown hair and a round face with bulging eyes that stared at me unblinkingly as he smiled with his mouth ...

Selena the Sadist

I saw a large bellied white man in a Hawaiian shirt with wavy gray blonde hair and a bristly unkempt beard staring at me while he bit his lip. He walked over to me and leaned in to speak. He smelled like he’d been hotboxing cigarettes in his car all day, it was difficult to keep myself from grimacing in response.

Him: You are absolutely adorable.

Me: Thank you. Are you an Aussie?

Him: Actually, it’s funny you would say that. I was born in Sydney, but grew up in East Lond...

Papi Mami Mommy Daddy

Calling someone “papi” doesn’t have the same tinge of incest-play that “daddy” does for me, so I use it frequently with my Latino clients. I recently happened upon a new papi. Initially, I hadn’t paid much attention to him. I vaguely remembered being warned about him and his friend by another dancer, something about how they always come to watch but never buy anything or tip. Maybe I confused him with someone else, because to my great surprise he came up to me.

Him: When yo...

Parental Love

One of my recent regulars, Evan stopped in Saturday. I had met him once before, about a month ago, on a Saturday after a date. Evan had admitted it must have seemed surprising, to stop by the club right after a date, but he hadn’t been ready to go home and call it a night. He and his date had gotten an early dinner and allegedly she had been too tired to hang out longer, since she had been up since 4 a.m. and was on the verge of passing out. Evan is a tall, slim middle aged man with short d...

An Erotic Fantasy For Strippers

Once upon a time in the near future, there was a young woman named Irene. She was not especially unique in any way. She lived alone in a cozy little apartment in Inglewood with two gray cats. Irene was a stripper, and had been dancing for a few years at the time when this story begins, at a little club on the edge of town. One day, Irene decided she was tired of dancing every night. It had been a good run, and she had made many close friends along the way and put away a considerable amount of...

The King and Bobby

I was telling one of my favorite sporadic regulars, Bobby, about my writing and when I told him I hadn’t written about him, he was disappointed.

Him: Why not me?

Me: Because I’m protective of you.

Him: Are the stories mean?

Me: No… I just wasn’t sure how to write about you. To create a story, there has to be some sort of tension. There has to be conflict, but with us, I don’t know.

I had to think about it. The problem was I liked Bobby, in a real, genui...

Fighting Filipinas

Luciana and Katrina have an ongoing beef that seems to have happened accidentally. Luciana has seniority. She’s a curvy tan Filipina with wavy ash blonde hair. She’s been working our club for four years now. Katrina is one of the newer hires. She’s itty bitty, the kind of girl who’s tininess becomes a fetish for a special crop of rotten men. She’s also a Filipina, but with straight blonde hair and tight breast implants. The original misunderstanding arose with the best of intentions...

Solo Te Quiero A Ti

It’s a surprisingly bustling Thursday night and I’m sitting on a customer’s lap. A couple comes in and sits by the small stage. I realize I’ve danced with the man before. His name is Hector. He’s white latino with dark hair and brooding eyes. He owns a small construction company and tends to come in on payday at the end of major projects. He prefers Mexican women, but makes an exception for me after we talk for a while. He tells me that he’s recently been divorced after spending a...

Churrasco on the Barbie

Excerpt from longer work about a year spent in Brazil teaching English.

On Sunday we were invited for churrasco with Daniela and Adelino. Daniela was still recovering from a sickness I may or may not have passed onto her.

After telling us she would be by to pick us up at 1, she arrived at 1:30 trailed by Ana Paula, one of our students at Bora Bora English school, and her morena friend. We walked out to Daniela’s tiny non-Jeep all-terrain-vehicle, and Hassan took a s...

Work O(f) (Art)

I’m dancing on stage when a guy about my age with dark spiky gelled hair comes in. He appears to be either Latino or Asian, sometimes it’s hard to tell, and LA is full of mixed people. He was one of a handful of early birds hanging out through mid shift. I didn’t pay much attention to him because he hadn’t tipped me during my set. The easiest way to get a dancer’s attention is to hand her money. When I say “money” I mean more than a few stupid dollars. Give her at least enough t...

Good Good Not Bad

I’m sitting, surveying the club. It’s a ghost town, maybe twenty girls to eight men— five of them regulars who only buy twofers. There’s an older white man in aviators with a broomstick mustache and plaid flannel shirt; a large bellied old white guy with a long beard who appears to have descended from the mountains of Appalachia; and an “I’m good, maybe later” Asian man in a blue button down. Usually I’m pretty good at surveying a room and knowing who to talk to, but I felt li...

BryCe

I didn’t write this story for some time because the DJ at the club, and the subject of this entry follows me on instagram. For the sake of his privacy, let’s call him BC. BC is a shortish white man with gelled, spiky dark brown hair and a thin chinstrap beard which serves to delineate where his jaw ends and his neck begins. BC is the primary DJ at my club. He works Friday and Saturday nights, which are the most important nights for club revenue. BC is a caricature of smooth, in a way that...

Part 3: Learning Together

Danny scrolls through his phone and pulls up a picture of he and his twin. In the photo, Danny is smiling while his twin looks at the photographer with a stern frown.

Me: So you’re the cheerful one and he’s the serious twin?

Him: Yes.

Me: Is that why you’re so—

I searched for the word. How could I describe Danny without coming off as judgmental? Impulsive? Wild? One with no regard for his own life or health?

Me: Spontaneous?

Him: I think so. I think...

Part 2: Me and Danny McKee

The Kandinsky might be the hippest hotel for plutocrats I’ve been to, not that I have much experience traversing the spaces of the well to-do. When I pulled up in my dusty economy car, I immediately felt like what I am: a whore on call, except that I hate that kind of derogatory language and would never use it to describe anyone but myself. Tonight I’m an expensive escort on a date with a rich and powerful man. Nobody looks at me sideways. The valet takes my car and I’m greeted as I ent...