I Have A Dream…

…And in my dream, a team of polite, respectful, decent looking, gregarious and wealthy men come into my work. These men are ensconced in a cloud of a mysteriously delicious fragrance (one that has not been tested on animals). There is one guy for me and each of my girlfriends. These guys have the trifecta covered, the holy trinity, if you will. Smell good, cool guys, LOADED. They spend all night at the club with us. They make it rain.

There is champagne, laughter, and not one of them is a Mr Octopus. They keep their damn hands to themselves. The DJ refrains from playing anything by Jason Derulo or Pitbull. My girl Lolly is there and we do what we do best – terrible accent imitations. As Germans we make ze pahtee, as Indians we are endearing Idoooooo’s, as Latecia Quanicia’s we shake ass and go ghetto on that shit. We are all booked out for 8 hours and have a fabulous time. It doesn’t feel like work at all.

At the end of the night, the men tip each of us $1500 and say it was great meeting us, we’re awesome girls. They don’t ask for our phone numbers. They don’t ask us to come back to room #3015 at the Grand Park Hyatt to ‘hang out’. They say they’ll be back every month for their board meeting and will stop in each time. They hand us each a business card for good measure and then disappear in a puff blue smoke. Leaving only the smell of their perfume and their money behind!

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Stripper Babies

This year I’ve had heaps of friends have babies. In March alone I had 9 friends pop them out, including my sister, who’s little baby girl is heartbreakingly cute. My boyfriend’s sister had her baby with the apple cheeks in March also. Before Apples was born, I watched her mum-to-be research a potential name. She gave me the list of Melbourne’s Hottest 100 baby names for 2010 and gone were the names like “Katy”, “Gemma”, “Jess”, and “Anna” that had occurred so frequently when I was growing up. This list took me on a journey. A journey through the archive of “Strippers I Have Known”.

Layla, Milla, Scarlett, Bella, Lara, Annabelle, Trinity, Eva, Mia, Stella, Madison, Samantha, Alexis, Faith, Lily, Victoria, Abbey, Portia, Gabrielle, Maya, Taylor, Charlotte, Riley, Chloe, Savannah, Madison,  Destiny, Lucy, Bailey, Paige, Natalia. It goes on…

It’s a bit unfortunate really. It was difficult enough picking a stripper name that wasn’t taken. How the hell am I going to think of a name for a baby girl that doesn’t bring on a memory montage from a dancer that I’ve known? Some of these montages are very, very alarming.

Some of these girls have become my closest friends. Most of them I would say I respect and many I call good friends of mine. We all get together when we can, have dinner, exchange stories from the past and the present. It is NEVER a dull time.

Recently I caught up with some of the girls I worked with when I first started 6 years ago. We were at a first birthday party for one of their daughters. Almost all of them had moved on to other things. A couple of us are still dancing or working in some capacity in the industry. We had a blast. The tales these girls can tell! With such humour and compassion. Sitting in a room with them, I felt really, really lucky. Most people don’t get to hear stories like ours. And if they do, they can’t ever really understand unless they’ve worked that stage. There was a warm, fuzzy, ya ya sisterhood feeling in the room that would have been capable of sending the oestrogen levels soaring at a Doherty’s gym.

In the future, I hope I come across little sprockets that take me back to the days. Cause the Annabelle’s, Lisa’s, Taylor’s, Lara’s and Electra’s are well worth the trip in ridiculous stilettos down a cobblestone memory lane.

“I bet I must be the only guy who’s ever just wanted to look into your eyes”

Don’t be so sure Buddy!

Lot’s of guys just want to stare into your eyes. Drown themselves in some kind of connection that doesn’t actually exist. Then they do that thing where they applaud themselves for not being a dirty bastard who only wants to check out your cooch. Cause they’re there for more than a pussy show. Whatevs.

Alot of girls can’t stand the intensity of having some guy stare into their eyes. For me, these ones are a blessing! Not being one to willfully show my bits these days, it helps me if they actually choose not to notice that they didn’t ever get to view the honey pot. Instead of me having to control my angles, make sure the lighting only hits the right spots, concentrate on distracting conversation etc.

Every now and then it does get a little intense. If they’re staring in that super sexual gross out way. Or when their eyes say that they know, that you know, that they know that you totally wanna fuck them. When really, you just want to punch them in the face and tattoo ‘delusional’ across their forehead. One of my girlfriends says that she grits her teeth and doesn’t say a word. Apparently she looks like she’s smiling when she does this, cause she never gets negative feedback. In fact, this one customer in particular speaks for her, like this, “You really want me don’t you? I can tell by the way you’re smiling at me. Why don’t you speak….? No! It’s ok, you don’t have to. I can see it all in your face.”

At times like this I maintain the eye contact, but blur my vision so that I can’t really see them anymore. I’ve been told by one of my fellow dancers that this makes me slightly cross eyed, but I only ever get comments about my “amazing” and “deep” eyes, crossed or not!

Why?

I still have no idea why people pay me. For a start, I’m a Disney stripper. I don’t do spreads without underwear on, I don’t touch people and I don’t shove my boobs in their face. I don’t find the nudity sexual. It is what it is. Body of Eve before the apple was eaten.

Germs. Sweaty, sticky alcohol hands. Bleh. Oily faces. Scratchy faces. Ugly faces with tongues lolling out and eyeballs rolling back in heads. Disgusting. Syrupy Jack Daniels and coke breath with the heavy cloud of cigarette stench on top. Rancid. The occasional specimen who has remembered to brush their teeth this year and spray perfume before they left the house. Heavenly.

These days I try not to remember people. Good or Bad. But of course, pictures, sounds, conversations, phrases, smells, feeling, operate on a level beyond my control, and memories are made. My own experiences and those of others that slip through the filter are the ones I’ll be passing on here.

There is no one way to answer the question “Why do people pay us?”. There are way too many variables to put it down to any number of things. Each to their own and all that.

Lonely? Got a fetish? Bored? Undersexed and overpaid? Sadistic? Curious? Wanna realise and release your alter ego? Unfaithful? Hedonistic? Artistic? Do girls avoid you when you go out? Stupid? Smug? Horny? Looking for love in all the wrong places? Well, this is the blog for you.