Sunday, Nov. 6th started my week with a bang. I had my most lucrative Sinferno set ever! Dancing to my new formula of "slow sexy song, then a hip-hop banger". AWOLNATION 'Sail' & Wiz Khalifa 'Black & Yellow' fuckin. killed. it. Monday I had a split double of a open at one club and covering the fire night at the other. I'd be up all night to make it to my 6am flight on Tuesday. I opted for the early flight because of price and I thought I was gonna get booked for a fire show. Instead I hung out with my 2 friends from my last trip, ate & drank good food with good company. I got dropped off at Larry Flynt's Hustler Club on Wednesday night to be on the floor before 10pm. I'll start out by saying the entire trip was not nearly as lucrative as my other two STL trips or my NOLA trip. MASSIVE BUMMER! I just made sure to do a fire set every night so I could get my stage fee for free. I think I made the club under $50 in dance fee for all 5 days. I've made them $1,000's in the past. C'est la Vie.
It was the Hustler Honey Search on Wednesday night. A $500 prize, audience-chooses-winner, amateur night. I had horrible flashbacks to the 3 amateur nights I did when I was 18 & 19 at Deja Vu in Ypsilanti, MI and the now topless only Landing Strip in Romulus, MI. (MI has full nude juice clubs, & dirty topless alcohol bars, apparently) I remember my co-workers from my restaurant job coming to root for me. I had cropped hair, a rounder middle and probably looked like an Ox moving around on a stage in a cowboy outfit, my sister's old stripper heels, dancing to Ginuwine's "Pony"... good lord. 3 of these 5 girls looked just like that, but much more overweight than I ever was (must be a midwest thing.. ack). 2 were cute and obviously not new to the pole, and one was going around to every staff member and saying "I use to work here, but then I had a baby and now I'm back." I think she should bury her former stripper glory and stay home to take care of her kid. The one 'alt' chick with a few ok tattoos and lots of fake blonde hair brought all her friends to cheer for her and won. Now I know why they call the plates at the bottom of the poles to stand on & spin easier "Training wheels", for the amateurs. One of the girls wound up working the rest of the week. We became buddies. Mary Jane was a 20 year old southern belle with curly brown hair, pretty boobs and an amazing ass. We bonded all week about being very 'conservative' dancers and bitched about how slow it was. If you're reading this, approve me as your Facebook friend! I met a really cool, but kinda broke artist/coffee shop owner named Larry who was at the club because his hot, foreign wife was out of town. We chatted a lot and really got along.
Thursday was my best night, money-wise. It was Taboo Thursday, there is a bunch of 'fetish' furniture and the patrons who use it dotting the room. A whipping bench, a large wooden X to get tied to and spanked, and a cage. I am super vanilla when it comes to stuff like this. I reserve myself for my partner(s) in the bedroom. I have to be sexy all the time at work, so no way in hell am I letting some dood with a ponytail and a bluetooth (who is gonna call you at 2 am?) whip the shit out of me for (his) pleasure. I witnessed a ridiculous act I have to share for all my PDX prudes. A girl would lay a customer on stage, fold a $1 bill on their face, separate her labia and dip down onto the dollar that would stick to her pussy lips. So very wrong and gross.. but common practice amongst more than 4 girls. ew. An extremely intoxicated tall, thin, and bald black man came in and honed in on me in my blonde wig. "You're gorgeous baby, do you love me?" "Yeah, of course!" as I watched him shuffle through about $400 of wadded up currency in his suit coat pocket. He kept dropping all of it on the ground and as I stooped to helped pick it up I thought 'I could just tuck this $100 bill in my hand and you would never know' but I didn't. Karma (not the stripper) hates me enough already with my motorcycle crashes and general bad luck in this industry. I convinced him he needed 2 bed dances and he gave me one of the $100 bills and didn't want the $40 of change. We we sitting at the bar, I was thwarting his inappropriate advances and he laid another $20 on the bar. "Do you want another dance?" "Naw, baby.. do you love me?" "Yeah!" I ditched him when Larry came in to say hi. I tried to sell a Champagne Room to this Bro who said "Man" every 4th word. He told me I was too conservative, because he was used to getting 'motor-boated' in the dance rooms, and I couldn't promise him 'more'. "Aw, then I'm sorry I'm not enough of a dirty whore for you, have a good night." I decided my shift was over shortly after this.
Friday I hung out with Larry, we went to eat, and went the mall so he could get some shoes. I had Starbucks coffee for the first time and it's gross, fuck that shit. We Yelped a tattoo parlor and went to get 11/11/11 tattoos at Inkwell in Fairview Heights, IL. Mine are XIXIMMXI on 8 of my toes and he got XI/XI/XI on his chest. Rad! I tipped the guy too much and got dropped off at work for another horribly slow night.
There is a kid (we'll call him T) that I have seen at Hustler pretty frequently during the other 2 trips I had been there. We had met, chatted, I was cordial, but I knew his kind. Young, well off, cute, my type, and was only there to drink beer, at the bar, not on the floor or the tip rail. Pshhht! Regulars, fuck 'em! I had brushed him off and decided not to be one of the many girls fawning over or just trying to get some cash or drinks out of him. When my night was nearing an end, I went over to give him & his party shit for not tipping me during my fire set. "Oh, hey you guys.. I'm sorry do you see that kind of thing all the time? No? Cool, I'm glad I could entertain you all... for free. Hah!" One of the scruffy biker dudes laid down $20 on the bar for me.. I felt sheepish. "Is this because I'm busting your balls?" "Naw baby, it really was awesome, you're a badass!" They were all going to breakfast and I asked T if he could drop me off at my hotel across the street. "Yeah, but you have to come to breakfast, my treat." Ok, fine. What ensued was a hilarious, booze fueled laughing fit between 2 dancers, a cocktail waitress, T and 3 of his motorcycle club dudes. At the end of breakfast when the staff was trying to usher out the 'rowdy table' one of the guys hollered to the entire restaurant to sing Happy Birthday to the 72 year old server, Mary. I thought she was gonna have a heart attack. T dropped me off at my hotel, I hugged him told him it was nice to see him and that maybe we'd cross paths on my next trip.
Fiona would not be able to make it down from MI. This sucked because I wanted to see her and I like hanging out with her. I also have no way to get around without her. The midwest is a vast place. Michel, Hospitality from NOLA, and I had taken a $40 cab just to go get dinner in the next town over on Thursday night. Then we had to catch a ride with one of the managers to the club later. I got to suck in her cigarette smoke, and listen to Eminem on our way to the Taco Bell drive through. Oh, Portland, I feel like I'll never love anyone but you!
Saturday was another financial train wreck. My past 2 Saturdays in Aug. & Sept. I had grossed $800-$900 this was not the case. 4 people who were suppose to come see me had ditched out on both Friday and Saturday. I get tired of working with sub-par girls. I'm spoiled being surrounded by beauties in PDX. I guess I make more money being surrounded by 4's & 5's, but I just wanna pull theses girls aside and say "Get a nose job, stop wearing your street clothes on stage, SPIT OUT YOUR FUCKING GUM, and smile!" I actually did say to one girl, "I'd love to see your pretty smile when you're on stage, you look so mad." "Fuck that! I make more money as a bitch!" ok... never mind, tootse. T was back again, after telling me the night before he was usually just there on Tuesdays for the drink specials and to hang with his bar staff friends. The 'biker dudes' hadn't left town yet and still wanted to party. He was actually sitting at a table this time, when I went over to harass him. We had a good conversation. He took me out to breakfast again after my shift and we got Krispy Kreme donuts too. I invited him in to watch the Harry Potter marathon in my room and talk more, we kept it PG and cuddled a bit. Don't judge a book by it's cover.
Sunday was my last shift, I was gonna spend Mon & Tue with my buddies. I had alloted the nights for fire shows, but I learned you can't rely on people to do leg work for you. I'm doing all my own promoting now, for the rest. of. my. life... The money was only slightly better than the rest of the week. I met a kid who became obsessed with me, I tried to sell him a Champagne room, but he "was too much of a pussy" he told me. I did get a fair amount of stage money from him. He told me I was very under appreciated. I liked hearing from someone how I feel too often. One of the girls had sold his friend the $1,500 Chinatown VIP room, twice. So I sat there and drank their 2nd bottle of Pierre Joet with this kid and their massive dummy friend that reminded me of Biff from Back to the Future. The drunker he got the more he would shove or try to kiss me. I'm glad she made $1,800 off that dude and all I got was 2 glasses of Champagne. I was worried my friends who I had made plans with weren't coming. I can have the worst anxiety go from 0-60 almost instantly. T came in again with his sister & another one of his friends. We made plans for Monday night. My friends did show up, tipped me generously and hung out with me until 4am when my shift was over. We went back to J's loft (boys, seriously, clean your damn houses!) and hung out on his 4th story ledge drinking rum and smoking pot. I think I would have to live downtown if I was ever gonna live in STL.
My other friend met us later on Monday and we went all over town hitting up the restaurants they work at, getting the hookup, and eating crazy good food. I spent $30 on a cheese board, and it was totally worth it. If you find yourself in STL, go to Bridge, Salt (amazing!), Sanctuaria (my favorite!), Drunken Fish, Brennen's and Blood & Sand. T had to work really late and didn't pick me up until 5 am from my friend's house. I sprung for a hotel room out by the airport because it was the closest one and I needed to sleep for the 5 hours until checkout. On Tuesday morning we went the 12 miles back downtown to Rooster. I went there last time I was in STL and it was great. T took me to see the graffiti wall too. It's miles long, 12' tall concrete levy next to the Mississippi with a many layers deep collection of pretty bad ass painting and wheat pasting. The city just leaves it too, and no one gets in trouble for painting it. What a cool idea, give graff artists a place they can paint, and maybe they'll fuck up the city a lil' less. T dropped me off at the airport with a perfect amount of time to get on my flight. I hate airports. Knowing the rad kid that dropped me off is outside for just a bit longer right before I go get trapped in security. It feels heavy to go home sometimes. But instead of making a bunch of money on this trip, I made friends. More people to chill with when I come back to STL. I'm never bummed for long because I remember I have the most handsome, supportive partner I could ever be in such an amazing (open) relationship with. My dream lover, making my life totally worth it.
Lark is working a metric shit-ton this week in her attempts to buy a truck by Dec. 1st. Paypal donations can be sent to emwings@gmail.com or check out her schedule at xoticspot.com/Lark to go see her in person.
It was the Hustler Honey Search on Wednesday night. A $500 prize, audience-chooses-winner, amateur night. I had horrible flashbacks to the 3 amateur nights I did when I was 18 & 19 at Deja Vu in Ypsilanti, MI and the now topless only Landing Strip in Romulus, MI. (MI has full nude juice clubs, & dirty topless alcohol bars, apparently) I remember my co-workers from my restaurant job coming to root for me. I had cropped hair, a rounder middle and probably looked like an Ox moving around on a stage in a cowboy outfit, my sister's old stripper heels, dancing to Ginuwine's "Pony"... good lord. 3 of these 5 girls looked just like that, but much more overweight than I ever was (must be a midwest thing.. ack). 2 were cute and obviously not new to the pole, and one was going around to every staff member and saying "I use to work here, but then I had a baby and now I'm back." I think she should bury her former stripper glory and stay home to take care of her kid. The one 'alt' chick with a few ok tattoos and lots of fake blonde hair brought all her friends to cheer for her and won. Now I know why they call the plates at the bottom of the poles to stand on & spin easier "Training wheels", for the amateurs. One of the girls wound up working the rest of the week. We became buddies. Mary Jane was a 20 year old southern belle with curly brown hair, pretty boobs and an amazing ass. We bonded all week about being very 'conservative' dancers and bitched about how slow it was. If you're reading this, approve me as your Facebook friend! I met a really cool, but kinda broke artist/coffee shop owner named Larry who was at the club because his hot, foreign wife was out of town. We chatted a lot and really got along.
Thursday was my best night, money-wise. It was Taboo Thursday, there is a bunch of 'fetish' furniture and the patrons who use it dotting the room. A whipping bench, a large wooden X to get tied to and spanked, and a cage. I am super vanilla when it comes to stuff like this. I reserve myself for my partner(s) in the bedroom. I have to be sexy all the time at work, so no way in hell am I letting some dood with a ponytail and a bluetooth (who is gonna call you at 2 am?) whip the shit out of me for (his) pleasure. I witnessed a ridiculous act I have to share for all my PDX prudes. A girl would lay a customer on stage, fold a $1 bill on their face, separate her labia and dip down onto the dollar that would stick to her pussy lips. So very wrong and gross.. but common practice amongst more than 4 girls. ew. An extremely intoxicated tall, thin, and bald black man came in and honed in on me in my blonde wig. "You're gorgeous baby, do you love me?" "Yeah, of course!" as I watched him shuffle through about $400 of wadded up currency in his suit coat pocket. He kept dropping all of it on the ground and as I stooped to helped pick it up I thought 'I could just tuck this $100 bill in my hand and you would never know' but I didn't. Karma (not the stripper) hates me enough already with my motorcycle crashes and general bad luck in this industry. I convinced him he needed 2 bed dances and he gave me one of the $100 bills and didn't want the $40 of change. We we sitting at the bar, I was thwarting his inappropriate advances and he laid another $20 on the bar. "Do you want another dance?" "Naw, baby.. do you love me?" "Yeah!" I ditched him when Larry came in to say hi. I tried to sell a Champagne Room to this Bro who said "Man" every 4th word. He told me I was too conservative, because he was used to getting 'motor-boated' in the dance rooms, and I couldn't promise him 'more'. "Aw, then I'm sorry I'm not enough of a dirty whore for you, have a good night." I decided my shift was over shortly after this.
Friday I hung out with Larry, we went to eat, and went the mall so he could get some shoes. I had Starbucks coffee for the first time and it's gross, fuck that shit. We Yelped a tattoo parlor and went to get 11/11/11 tattoos at Inkwell in Fairview Heights, IL. Mine are XIXIMMXI on 8 of my toes and he got XI/XI/XI on his chest. Rad! I tipped the guy too much and got dropped off at work for another horribly slow night.
There is a kid (we'll call him T) that I have seen at Hustler pretty frequently during the other 2 trips I had been there. We had met, chatted, I was cordial, but I knew his kind. Young, well off, cute, my type, and was only there to drink beer, at the bar, not on the floor or the tip rail. Pshhht! Regulars, fuck 'em! I had brushed him off and decided not to be one of the many girls fawning over or just trying to get some cash or drinks out of him. When my night was nearing an end, I went over to give him & his party shit for not tipping me during my fire set. "Oh, hey you guys.. I'm sorry do you see that kind of thing all the time? No? Cool, I'm glad I could entertain you all... for free. Hah!" One of the scruffy biker dudes laid down $20 on the bar for me.. I felt sheepish. "Is this because I'm busting your balls?" "Naw baby, it really was awesome, you're a badass!" They were all going to breakfast and I asked T if he could drop me off at my hotel across the street. "Yeah, but you have to come to breakfast, my treat." Ok, fine. What ensued was a hilarious, booze fueled laughing fit between 2 dancers, a cocktail waitress, T and 3 of his motorcycle club dudes. At the end of breakfast when the staff was trying to usher out the 'rowdy table' one of the guys hollered to the entire restaurant to sing Happy Birthday to the 72 year old server, Mary. I thought she was gonna have a heart attack. T dropped me off at my hotel, I hugged him told him it was nice to see him and that maybe we'd cross paths on my next trip.
Fiona would not be able to make it down from MI. This sucked because I wanted to see her and I like hanging out with her. I also have no way to get around without her. The midwest is a vast place. Michel, Hospitality from NOLA, and I had taken a $40 cab just to go get dinner in the next town over on Thursday night. Then we had to catch a ride with one of the managers to the club later. I got to suck in her cigarette smoke, and listen to Eminem on our way to the Taco Bell drive through. Oh, Portland, I feel like I'll never love anyone but you!
Saturday was another financial train wreck. My past 2 Saturdays in Aug. & Sept. I had grossed $800-$900 this was not the case. 4 people who were suppose to come see me had ditched out on both Friday and Saturday. I get tired of working with sub-par girls. I'm spoiled being surrounded by beauties in PDX. I guess I make more money being surrounded by 4's & 5's, but I just wanna pull theses girls aside and say "Get a nose job, stop wearing your street clothes on stage, SPIT OUT YOUR FUCKING GUM, and smile!" I actually did say to one girl, "I'd love to see your pretty smile when you're on stage, you look so mad." "Fuck that! I make more money as a bitch!" ok... never mind, tootse. T was back again, after telling me the night before he was usually just there on Tuesdays for the drink specials and to hang with his bar staff friends. The 'biker dudes' hadn't left town yet and still wanted to party. He was actually sitting at a table this time, when I went over to harass him. We had a good conversation. He took me out to breakfast again after my shift and we got Krispy Kreme donuts too. I invited him in to watch the Harry Potter marathon in my room and talk more, we kept it PG and cuddled a bit. Don't judge a book by it's cover.
Sunday was my last shift, I was gonna spend Mon & Tue with my buddies. I had alloted the nights for fire shows, but I learned you can't rely on people to do leg work for you. I'm doing all my own promoting now, for the rest. of. my. life... The money was only slightly better than the rest of the week. I met a kid who became obsessed with me, I tried to sell him a Champagne room, but he "was too much of a pussy" he told me. I did get a fair amount of stage money from him. He told me I was very under appreciated. I liked hearing from someone how I feel too often. One of the girls had sold his friend the $1,500 Chinatown VIP room, twice. So I sat there and drank their 2nd bottle of Pierre Joet with this kid and their massive dummy friend that reminded me of Biff from Back to the Future. The drunker he got the more he would shove or try to kiss me. I'm glad she made $1,800 off that dude and all I got was 2 glasses of Champagne. I was worried my friends who I had made plans with weren't coming. I can have the worst anxiety go from 0-60 almost instantly. T came in again with his sister & another one of his friends. We made plans for Monday night. My friends did show up, tipped me generously and hung out with me until 4am when my shift was over. We went back to J's loft (boys, seriously, clean your damn houses!) and hung out on his 4th story ledge drinking rum and smoking pot. I think I would have to live downtown if I was ever gonna live in STL.
My other friend met us later on Monday and we went all over town hitting up the restaurants they work at, getting the hookup, and eating crazy good food. I spent $30 on a cheese board, and it was totally worth it. If you find yourself in STL, go to Bridge, Salt (amazing!), Sanctuaria (my favorite!), Drunken Fish, Brennen's and Blood & Sand. T had to work really late and didn't pick me up until 5 am from my friend's house. I sprung for a hotel room out by the airport because it was the closest one and I needed to sleep for the 5 hours until checkout. On Tuesday morning we went the 12 miles back downtown to Rooster. I went there last time I was in STL and it was great. T took me to see the graffiti wall too. It's miles long, 12' tall concrete levy next to the Mississippi with a many layers deep collection of pretty bad ass painting and wheat pasting. The city just leaves it too, and no one gets in trouble for painting it. What a cool idea, give graff artists a place they can paint, and maybe they'll fuck up the city a lil' less. T dropped me off at the airport with a perfect amount of time to get on my flight. I hate airports. Knowing the rad kid that dropped me off is outside for just a bit longer right before I go get trapped in security. It feels heavy to go home sometimes. But instead of making a bunch of money on this trip, I made friends. More people to chill with when I come back to STL. I'm never bummed for long because I remember I have the most handsome, supportive partner I could ever be in such an amazing (open) relationship with. My dream lover, making my life totally worth it.
Lark is working a metric shit-ton this week in her attempts to buy a truck by Dec. 1st. Paypal donations can be sent to emwings@gmail.com or check out her schedule at xoticspot.com/Lark to go see her in person.
