i’m a fallen sparrow

i love you deep within

my bones

i feel you churning  within

my blood.

 

i’m a fallen sparrow

from your arrow’s fatal blow,

 

my beating heart lies bleeding

into the freshly fallen snow…

 

trading kings for aces

in Hollywood the only thing that’s cheaper than talk is sex. in a world where words and actions rarely coincide i relish a place where i have complete control and for me that place is the stage. when i’m up there all eyes are on me, and though every move i make is being watched and rated by an audience full of strangers theres something liberating in the exhibition. unlike the lack of control i often feel in my personal relationships at work i call the shots. i enjoy the fact that very few people who know me in the real world have ever seen me strip. there’s something intimate about it, something private and exclusive only to those who pay me for it.

it’s been a little over a year now since my financial situation forced me back into the club and back onto the stage. looking back over the past year despite some upheaval in my personal life i’m pleased with the positive change that my re-entrance into stripping has inspired. just like most things in life, stripping is what you make it. it can drag you down or lift you up and i’ve decided that i’m going to let it lift me up.

though i think it’s unhealthy for anyone to base their self-worth on their appearance, i have to admit that being validated by an audience can work wonders in terms of enhancing a lagging self-confidence. stripping has not only helped me get back on my feet again, it’s given me a renewed assessment of my power.  my real estate value has gone up because i’ve intentionally inflated my self worth. my tolerance for disrespect especially from men has dwindled to zero. if a man in any way becomes more of a burden to me than a benefit he’s cast aside and soon replaced. i suppose much in the same way that most men treat the women in thier lives. look, i don’t like playing games but i will play before i’ll be played. there’s an old saying, “if you can’t beat them, join them” and if i’m going to play the game damnit i’m going to win.

a girlfriend of mine once accused me of playing with men as if they were a deck of cards. at the time i didn’t realize i was doing it but since then i’ve become much more self-aware. and i feel lately as if i’m sitting at the roulette table and the stakes are high but at least i’m winning.  if you wanna play you’ve gotta roll the dice and i don’t mind throwing away a few disappointing kings because i have a hand full of aces to replace them with. it’s like i can almost hear the lyrics to that old country song by Kenny Rodgers playing in my head…“You’ve got to know when to hold them and know when to fold them. Know when to walk away, and know when to run.” for me when it comes to losing i’ll walk away before i bet all of my chips, and i’ll lay down the entire deck before i lose the game.

the girlfriend experiance

          the “girlfriend experience” is a term usually used in reference to a certain type of prostitution, a more intimate kind of prostitution. i suppose what men want can be as hard to define as what women want, but most women might be surprised at is just how intimate most men prefer sex, even if they’re paying for it. if a man is paying for a woman’s attention he has certain standards, after all he is paying for a service and therefore he has the right to be as selective and discriminative as he would for any service he’s shelling out his hard-earned money for. i’ve found that though men enjoy the idea of sex without strings and commitment they also don’t want sex to feel impersonal or robotic. that’s where the girlfriend experience comes into play…

men hate that strippers have fake names. every time i introduce myself using my fake name 9 times out of 10 they express some sort of resentment for the fact that i’m using an alias. i couldn’t figure it out for a long time and then one night it struck me that the reason they resent my fake name is because it makes them feel they’re being lied to or deceived and in a way it’s insulting to them. i guess they don’t consider how awkward it would feel for me to have a room full of men who exclusively consider me a sex object to call me by the name my parents gave me. i may get off on the freedom and thrill that being an exhibitionist provides but even i have my limits. somethings are just too personal and my real name is one of them. it also makes it more challenging to stay in character, having a fake name makes it easier for me to play the role i play at work which is so drastically different from the real me. when a guy asks me my real name, i almost always give him another fake name that sounds real. somehow they always believe you when you tell them your name is Jennifer or Stacy. sometimes i lie and say my stripper name is my real name. to keep things light-hearted and believable i often joke and tell him my parents were hippies and that’s how i wound up with a name a like a stripper. whether he knows i’m being cheeky or lying at that point it really doesn’t matter because humor has broken the tension and thusly allows him to let his guard down and have fun without putting pressure on me to reveal information i consider personal.

it all goes back to how men like the thrill of a fresh or illicit experience without it feeling manufactured or contrived. that’s the art of being a geisha, that’s part of playing the role of the placating concubine, that’s the true girlfriend experience. something more personal, more intimate, something priceless. well almost priceless, money and power can’t buy love but it can buy the illusion of it. and honestly i don’t mind playing that part for the men at the club who compensate me accordingly, in fact it gives me almost the same thrill it does them. as for my personal life, i like sex without strings as much as men do, and it never hurts to have “friends with benefits” just as long the risks don’t outweigh the benefits. i don’t mind playing the part of the concubine, the one to love and leave behind. my only stipulation is that in playing that role it doesn’t cost me more than i get in return. they say all is fair in love and war, but i’m not prepared to fight and when the battle starts, i retreat.

i love men and i enjoy their company but i refuse to let my personal involvement with them take a toll on me. perhaps i’m a wounded romantic, i’m jaded, or i’m running from a fear of being hurt but the minute i feel that he is getting more than i am, the illusion is over. i lose the ability to play the part of the proverbial ballerina spinning in the music box. the one who pleases and disappears, the one who shows no need, no attachment, no fear.

i am capable of having casual sex. i enjoy it for the very same reasons men do, but when i feel i’m giving more than i’m getting it’s no longer enjoyable for me and it’s time to walk away. there is no scarcity of love in this world and there is no scarcity of male attention for ANY woman who values herself. guys aren’t as caught up in looks as women sometimes think they are. sure men are visual creatures but that never keeps their attention for very long, what they really want in a woman is confidence.

lately i don’t flinch when it comes time to rid myself of a disappointing lover, even a lover that i deeply care for because i know when it doesn’t feel right any longer and i trust myself that i’m making the right call. there’s only so much disappointment a girl can take and i don’t have time to wait for lofty words to match lofty actions. when what he says doesn’t match what he does, i’m out the door. it hurts at first but over time i find i regret my decision less and less. why? because every time i don’t settle for less, i wind up getting more. every time i walk away from an unhealthy situation, i find a better one. in fact a couple of weeks ago after making the executive decision to end a long-term romance that had become an emotional liability for me with very few tangible benefits to compensate my personal risk, i serendipitously ran into an old friend that turned out to be much, much more than just a friend. i wound up having one of the most romantic and pleasurable experiences of my life. i’ll share the juicy details in my next confession…

leader of the pack

i’ve observed volumes about human nature in my work as a stripper. i’ve seen things most people have only imagined. i’ve learned so much about human behavior, but i’ve learned the most by far about men…

at my club there are two shifts; day shift and night shift. i like to swing both ways. day shift is nice because the clientele is older and more distinguished, it’s low key and has the vibe of a lounge. they serve food so most days i’l l enjoy eating lunch with a gentleman while wearing little less than a silky kimono and lacy lingerie. sometimes it feels as if I’m entertaining in my own private boudoir, it feels more intimate, less assembly line. in ways i prefer working days over nights because i’m not going home and crawling into bed at 4AM. but nights are good because even though i find them a bit over stimulating, there is more volume at night and more volume usually means more money. in the wee hours of the evening when the bars close and inebriated men find themselves devoid of female company, they supplement their void by coming in to see us.

however i must confess that i laughed to myself when i arrived for day shift the other day and heard that there was a bachelor party going on in the middle of the afternoon. i supposed it was because that was the most inconspicuous time they could correlate that would ensure that their wives and girlfriends wouldn’t suspect. it never ceases to amaze me at just how conniving boys can be.

in fact i’ve observed that when men travel in numbers there is always an appointed alpha male among the pack. i’m not sure exactly what qualifies him as alpha male. maybe he is self-appointed using his most aggressive tactics, gnawing and gnashing his teeth to the top. or is it that there’s something innate in his nature that drives him to lead and others to follow? perhaps his status as top dog is directly related to his income, the biggest earner also has the highest status. whatever the reasons are there is always an alpha, and last week i put that theory to test…

a group of men all wearing business suits came in and gathered around a table near the stage. i was sitting with one of the girls chatting when they walked in. she and i were watching them from across the room like jungle cats stalking prey. we sat for a few moments observing their behavior and i decided to share with her my theory that when men are in groups there is always an alpha male that the others blindly follow. she thought it was interesting but seemed slightly incredulous. so i purposed that we hold our own private little sociological experiment. i bet her that if i could convince the alpha to start spending than the rest of the pack would soon follow. so we approached the table, it was instantly clear which one was the alpha. he was the most talkative, the most aggressive, and the one the other weaker men catered to and laughed heartily at his witty comments and jokes. i winked at her from across the table, it was our silent agreement as to which one among them was the alpha. i wanted to do the honors and the challenge was exciting so i went in for the kill. i sunk my teeth into the seduction wholeheartedly, he surrendered and enjoyed every second of it. apparently the only one who can bring the alpha male to his knees is the alpha female. just as i predicted after the alpha decided to indulge the rest of the pack followed. when they left my friend came prancing up to me with a wad of cash and a huge grin, “You were right! You were right!” she joyously exclaimed. i just smiled and nodded, because of course i wasn’t the least bit surprised.

secret thrills

 

i vary greatly from the typical image of a stripper but i find it works for me. when you hear the word stripper automatically what appears in your mind is probably a tan blonde with fake tits and a face caked with makeup. i am the exact opposite of that image. i like not being so obvious, it works for me.

i’m a voluptuous brunette with blunt cut bangs. everything on me is real including my tits. men seem to like that about me. at work i play the part of the sexy secretary, stockings, pearls, tight-fitting dress and glasses. it turns me on to dress like that and men are suckers for it. the more i get into character the more they seem to like it. i’ve been enjoying it more lately simply because i’ve allowed myself to. i think the more i let go of the guilt and shame the more enjoyable the experience becomes.

it’s also an outlet for me for what is lacking in my personal life in terms of my intimacy with men. i somehow have the uncanny knack of loving unavailable men so things are usually never ideal for me romantically. i feel i have little control over what happens in my personal life but when i’m at work i have all the control. i like that feeling. i’ve found that relinquishing control is as exciting as taking it. at work if a man wants my attention he has to earn it with cash and i like being well compensated for my time and attention.

they say if you love what you do you’ll never work a day in your life, perhaps i’m beginning to embrace my job. what at first was a necessity and at times has been tough has now become a pleasure. that’s not to say i’m still not trying to continue pursuing a career outside of the strip club but i know when the time finally comes for me to hang up my dancing shoes a part of me will miss the secret thrills i get out of being a stripper. until that day though i’ve decided i’m going to enjoy every minute of it while it lasts and i don’t care who judges me for it. i’m going to enjoy the power and the vulnerability, the elation and the degradation, the pleasure and the pain.

let him eat cake

a man’s worth in society is often based on his success where a woman’s is often based on her looks. don’t shoot the messenger if my words have an unpleasant ring. in my mind we can wax poetic about women’s lib and equality in the work place until we’re blue in the face but in ways we still live in the dark ages.  just like generations before many modern girls still go to college to meet and marry rich boys not to get degrees. women still want to be taken care of despite our cries for equality. i can brag all day about the freedom stripping allows me but at heart what i really want is to be able to call some one daddy.

don’t get me wrong i’m not delusional enough to be waiting for a knight in shining armor but strong arms wrapped around me at night never hurt either.  it may make me seem weak to admit my desire to be taken care of but maybe i just prefer to be valued for the gifts i bestow at an exchange rate that seems reasonable to me. maybe i dont like feeling like i’m going for cheap. of course that being said i know i’m not exactly “Miss Right”. i”m unconventional, half crazy and in some ways a complete mess but when it comes down to what a man really wants i’m a veritable dream come true. men want a woman who can carry a conversation, look good in a dress, laugh at his jokes, and swallow like a great white whale. by those definitions i’m a catch. therefore is it too much to demand that i be treated as the commodity that i am? certainly it’s no more outrageous than fat ugly old men who get the privilege of parading around with nineteen year old models just because they’re loaded. is it wrong for me to require the utmost level of consideration from a man in exchange for the privilege of my company and the pleasure i give him whole heartedly? is it wrong that i expect to be a priority when i am making him one? is it too much to ask to be rewarded in return by a man who receives something quite precious from me? in my opinion it is no more perverse for me to think of my body, my hands, and my mouth as a currency than it is for a man to treat it as such.

i guess my point is that there will always be a supply and demand when it comes to the benefits and rewards that men and women bestow upon each other. men give security and women give pleasure. men bring home the bacon, women fry it up it. this is not my opinion this is the voice of millions of years of evolution. as humans we can try to deny our nature but it will always prevail. as women we can engage in big talk about independence and equality but it’s not really what we want, we’re just like men in the sense that we want our cake and to be able to eat it too. men want security and passion just as badly as women do, only men are wise enough to see that they can usually only achieve both through multiplication. they know they need a wife and a mistress and most men are either lucky enough or cunning enough to actually enjoy both. where women go wrong is that we seek both security and passion in one singular man which is usually more than he can provide.  i guess in the end we’re all doomed to be disappointed and the only question is whether there is enough cake for everyone to get a slice.

ménage à trois: sharing is overrated

i’m lucky i’m an “independent contractor” at one of the most exclusive clubs in the country. location is everything and it’s a luxury to be nestled somewhere between Beverly Hills and Hollywood. the clientele is usually a notch above the rest and they don’t just let anyone in off the streets like they do in other clubs. in fact it’s routine that some of the customers are household names in the sports and entertainment industry.

a while back i sat down and starting talking with a guy and it took me a few moments before i recognized him. once i did i was a little surprised to find myself sitting around in lingerie with a film icon. i’d grown up watching him in movies but i didn’t let him know that. i let him believe that i had no idea who he was because i figured that my knowledge of his identity might be a drag for him. after all he’s not there to sign autographs he’s there to be entertained and to be distracted. i also assumed that part of the reason he was there was because for a moment he could eschew his fame and blend in with the crowd. i imagine that the temporary anonymity was relieving for him. we talked for a while, i confessed that i liked to role play, given that he’s a successful actor i wasn’t all that surprised to find out that he enjoyed role-playing as well. my outfit was proof of my affinity for playing dress up being that night i just happened to be dressed as a French maid. i think he appreciated my thematic attire as much as he did my lacy panties. i was ready to take him upstairs to the VIP so we could get lost in our mutual fantasies, at least for the duration of a few songs. however there was a kink in my plan as his wife approached the table.

she had been on the other side of the room talking to another girl. he had failed to inform me that his wife was there so it came as a surprise and some what of a disappointment. the three of us chatted for a minute and he suggested that we venture upstairs for a dance. she had her heart set on going with another girl, the one she’d been chatting with but he insisted that they choose me instead. i must admit that it was exciting that he wanted me, and a turn on that he didn’t relent at his wife’s request. though i would’ve preferred to have him to myself his wife was nice and actually quite sexy. she was tall and blonde with a slightly boyish haircut that complemented her delicate features. we made our way upstairs. i danced for her first. she was a little shy, but i could tell she was desperate to explore. slowly she began to let her guard down. i whispered in her ear, chills covered her skin, she arched her back and moaned. he was enjoying just watching us. i could feel her warmth through her jeans, she was on fire. the song ended, it was his turn. he was like putty in my hands. i really wanted to kiss him, i wanted so badly to feel his lips on my skin. in fact i’d always wanted to, i use to fantasize about him back in the days of my pre-pubescent hormonal haze. however the problem with dancing for a man while his wife is watching is that he can’t look like he’s enjoying it, at least not too much. that’s just one of the many reasons i don’t particularly relish dancing for couples, it’s much more work and half the reward.

they were on their way out to grab drinks and they invited me to join them. i couldn’t leave at that moment but i told them i would consider joining them later when i get off work. he asked for my number and they left. a couple of hours later i looked at my phone, i had missed his call and i since the number was private i had no way to call him back. i figured it was for the best anyway. it was a fun fantasy but in reality i prefer not to share.

the price of milk

when I’m close to a stranger it gives me a private thrill. he doesn’t have to be good-looking or even rich just cordial, receptive and carrying enough cash to buy his way into the champagne room. every time i lead a man to the VIP i get a secret rush of excitement that i didn’t before when my sex life was active. i think it turns me on now more so than ever to be alone with a stranger, it turns me on to be close to him, to feel him getting excited. it turns me on to hear a grown man whimper with pleasure, and it turns me on to hear him beg for more.

in fact quite often I get so turned on i can have an orgasm just from giving a lap dance. i guess given the lack of a man in my private life i should consider myself lucky that i still get a chance to enjoy them safely, without guilt, without emotions, without fear and far beyond the real intimacy and privilege my boudoir. does that make me a dirty girl? does that mean i’m a sex crazed pervert? probably so but i don’t feel guilty about it. i refuse to let the poison of shame detract from my ability to give and receive pleasure, even from a stranger. i’m slowly but surely letting go of the guilt i have felt about my job. i’m tired of being my own worst enemy. i’m embracing my sexuality and absolving myself for being the highly sexual creature that i am and i’m not making any apologies for what gives me pleasure.

i think that it’s possible that intentionally bringing my sex life to a halt has had a positive impact on my work performance. why? perhaps because my work as a stripper provides an outlet for the intimacy lacking in my personal life. maybe i’m just as lonely and starved for intimacy as the gentlemen i entertain. in fact entertaining the clientele recently has been less work, my performance less manufactured and i suppose it shows. men know when a girls faking it and i’m very clearly not.

at times stripping takes it’s toll on me. i go through periods where i feel i just can’t do it anymore. and then there are times when it’s my greatest pleasure and my greatest distraction from the mundane inhibition that pervades the outside world. in that sense the strip club becomes my sanctuary of sexuality, my veritable playground of pleasure.

when i’m stripping i never feel like i’m the one giving more than i’m getting. i don’t feel like i’m going for cheap as i often wind up feeling in my personal life. i’ve been taken for granted too many times simply because i enjoy the same pleasures men do and i give them freely. unlike most women who seem to somehow know this from birth, it’s taken me experience to find out that a woman gains more by giving less. have you ever heard of a book called “Why Men Marry Bitches”? i’ve read it and it just as well may have been titled “How to Get More by Giving Less”. so i suppose from now on part of my private sexual revolution is that i’m doing just that, giving less with the exception being only to those who give me more. there’s an old aphorism that i assume must have been coined by a man, ”Why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free?”. well boys, i guess what i’m saying is you may not have to buy the cow but if you’d like a glass, the price of milk just went sky high.

strippers, secrets, and lies…

the other day as i was hastily on my way out of a crowded restaurant i happened to notice that one of the girls from work was dining at a table with a friend. instantly she recognized me and she knew that I recognized her yet to a casual observer nothing in our body language would’ve ever revealed that.  for us there was no stopping by and chatting, or the usual nauseating small talk that commonly occurs among coworkers. there was no “Oh hi! Nice to see you! … blah, blah, blah”. she simply regarded me with a sort of half-smile of acknowledgement and embarrassment and I winked back at her quickly without displaying the slightest visible reaction as i walked by. essentially seeing each other was our little secret. why? because i want my identity as a stripper to remain private just as badly as she does. in this sense strippers are like spies, we share a mutual desire for our professional identities to remain under cover . if I blow her cover I by default blow my own.  also it’s an issue of courtesy and respect, if you see a stripper out in daily life, especially if she’s with another person you should NEVER confront her because the person she’s with may not know about that aspect of her life and you could be doing her irreparable damage by accidentally exposing her.

i have very little desire to make small talk in the real world with most of the people who i fraternize with at work, be it a fellow stripper or client. who I am at work and what happens there stays within those four walls. though I’m very revealing and honest in terms of writing about it, I am however doing all of my confessing under the guarded protection of anonymity because for me it’s very personal and private. i only fully share that world with the other girls and the customers who pay a cover charge to briefly inhabit it. when i’m stripping i’m an entertainer, i’m a character, i’m playing a part and when I’m not I get to just be me. there’s a time and place for indulging in the social aspects of my work as a stripper and that time and place is not at the checkout counter at the grocery store, or the post office, or the food court at the mall, or anywhere else aside from the safety of the club. so if you ever by chance happen to run into a stripper in the real world, don’t forget the last time you saw her you were a guest in her world. a world she controls, a world she manipulates, a world where she makes up the rules. and if you do happen to see her outside of the fantasy world you met her in be prepared to have your illusions shattered. unless she engages you first do her a favor, pretend you didn’t see her  turn around and walk the other way. if you’d like to enjoy the pleasure of her company again it’s probably best to go back to the club and pay for it like all the rest.

prohibition or inhibition?

there are mainly two types of strip clubs, those that serve alcohol and those that do not. this varies from state to state and is dependent on state laws and regulations. but mostly how it works is that if a club serves alcohol the dancers are permitted to take off their tops but are required to leave their bottoms on. if they do not serve alcohol the girls are allowed to dance completely nude, but only on stage and not during lap dances. the vibe in a club that serves alcohol is vastly different from those that do not. but the primary distinction at least from a strippers perspective is the money. let me explain, if a club serves alcohol they cover most of their overhead through alcohol sales. if they don’t, they pay their bills directly from the dancers pockets or rather their garter straps. this is how it works, in clubs that serve booze there is a small fee to work that night, and a tip for the dj is also required. basically it doesn’t matter if you make $300 or $3,000 you pay the same nightly fee. by contrast clubs that don’t serve booze take a percentage of every single dance that each girl does. this percentage can be as high as 40%. So u do the math if I make $1,000 in a prohibition club I walk out with $600. it’s always nice to make $600 bucks in an evening but it burns to know I really made a grand.

in the nude clubs they have varied methods of keeping track of each dance. some have bouncers that scan every corner of the club with a clip board in hand marking each dance given by exactly which entertainer. some clubs hand out ten tokens to each girl, every time she gives a dance she is required to drop a token in a little box beside the couch. when she drops a coin in the box a red light turns on, she can not give a dance without the red light being on. when the dance is over the customer can not give the money directly to the girl they have to pay at the bar, that’s when the club takes their cut and reimburses the dancer each of the coins she dropped in the box, that way after the guy pays you should always have exactly ten tokens. at the end of the night you return all ten of the tokens, pay a small house fee, tip the dj and valet and you’re finally released and cleared to leave the club. some clubs have a mandatory rule that you have to park your car with their valet, they say it’s for safety reasons but that’s a lie, they do it so you can’t sneak out and drive off with their money.

one thing I like best about the clubs without alcohol is that the girls are so much easier to be around. imagine a room full of twenty half crazy drunk strippers, its like being trapped in a parallel universe where life is strikingly similar to the movie HANGOVER. it may sound fun, but after a few nights a week it gets old quickly. on more than one occasion i’ve seen girls get so plastered that they have to be sent to the hospital. it’s routine to find a girl passed out backstage. after a while you become so numb to it you just step over her so you can get a closer view of yourself in the mirror.

but the biggest difference between the clubs with a liquor license and the ones with out are the clients. when men have a few drinks in them they become more primal, vulnerable, easier to seduce and control and they spend money with ease and regret it in the morning. when they’re sober they act like scared little children, you have to ease them into the experience it’s much more work.

as far as being nude on stage some girls enjoy it more than others, personally it turns me on. maybe i’m a closet exhibitionist, maybe i’m a freak, or maybe it just turns me on to wear nothing but high heels and stockings in a room full of sex crazed admirers.