Back to STL I went. I was making the trip mostly sidetrack to TN to see my estranged Meema, and dying Father for the first time in 10 years. Throw 5 shifts in there and (what was suppose to be) some time with a boy I had seen on my last visit. Oh, how things can switcherooo :P A few days before I left is when said kid decided to tell me he had gotten a girlfriend and wasn't allowed in Hustler anymore because he was standing up for her in a confrontation with management. She is one of my co-workers. (We had tag-teamed a pair of business partners, and I wound up getting a Champagne room with one back in Sept.) OH THIS AGAIN.. COOL! My out of town booty calls keep getting girlfriends. I felt gross when he picked me up from the airport, awkward hugs and general conversation. I made him take me to my favorite STL cocktail lounge and get happy hour tapas, and to a Wal-Mart to get white gas for my fire tools. I got to see a few of my friends at the restaurant and went on my way to Hustler wanting our interaction to be over quicker than it was.
Wednesday I was a red head. There was barely anyone in the club all night. I did a fire set, making about as much as Sinferno pays me. Later on I was summoned over by an older man, (snaps finger, "hey, come here!") 65 maybe, in a suit, lots of rings and a big watch that said he was the Dean of Students at NYU in his thick Brooklyn-Jewish accent. I listened to him talk at me about politics and Obama and tried to keep up. Lots of smiling and nodding, while sipping on the Grey Goose and Cranberry he bought me. About 10 min in he says "So, you do dances?" "Of course!" "How about $100 for 3 bed dances?" Yes! that's cost, plus a $10 tip. We went back to the booths and he removed his rings, watch & suit coat (what are you gonna do with those fingers?) He farted as he laid down, but I ignored it to be polite & went to it. He kept trying to lick me as I just did my thing. It was 100 effing degrees in there and my wig is like a little hot-hat as I tried to swipe my fake hair out of his face. "Hey! I can get the same thing watching porn!" "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you mean, is there anything specific you'd like me to do? We still have 2 songs..?" About 30 seconds later he got up in a huff, told me I was miserable and walked out on the 3rd dance. "I'm confused, my dances are within the legal confines of what I'm allowed to do to keep my job...?" As he gathered his things and walked out bitching to one of the bouncers that I'm not dirty enough. Fuck that guy, he was pissed he fucking farted on the bed! I hate 'professionals' like that. Rich guys that come into upscale clubs but are use to 'extras' in the booths, then get pissed when classy bitches like myself don't put out. I enjoy hearing compliments every time, but my favorite of all is that I'm "not dirty enough".
I make it a point to be one of the last dancers on rotation, every night. A bit of money seems to come between 4 & 6am. I'm here to work, and I have to wait for a ride back to the hotel from a co-worker or Manager anyways so I might as well stick around and get those last few dances and stage dollars. I was hotter than the last other girls, so thats cool when the stragglers come to my stage. By the end of Wed. I had made enough to cover the rest of my plane ticket and my hotel room for the week. I was so tired from my early flight, I sat for almost 2 hours waiting for the GM to count money, I was mouth-breathing and could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips as I ran down my iPhone battery looking at puppies on Instagram.
Thursday was just as slow. I knew this week would be close to torture, but it had a purpose. Pay for my rental car & gas to Tennessee to see my family and make peace. I got 'talked to' about not taking off my panties fast enough while looking at new tops in the Love Boutique. The GM was getting really serious about panty fines, and this was my friendly warning from one of the Baltimore Managers I hadn't met yet. He said they must be off at the start of the 2nd song, or the fines would be $20, $40, $80 and so on each time I didn't take them off right away. It was in my contract. Hey PDX! You hear that? Shit gets real outside our bubble.
I met some new girls and saw a lot of my favorites from my last trip. I felt like I was finally making friends, It only took my 4 effing trips! I acquired a new favorite train wreck. She is named after a designer label I'm positive she owns nothing from, nor can tell me the country of origin, none the less recognize anything from it's current line. At first, I thought she was from the Bayou (some girls down in NOLA sure are) judging from her 'accent' but others seemed to think it's a little more than just a poor education. I'm not trying to pass judgement, but boy was she fun to watch stomp around and holler about all sorts of bullshit. There was another girl who wore a long goth skirt, a collar and leash and whipped herself with a crop onstage. She told me she worked in Portland a long time ago, and thoroughly lectured me on which clubs in which cities I should dance at. There was this super cute girl who rocked the shit out of point shoes, but would probably kill it if she invested in fake hair and took off her glasses. Drastically change your appearance for this job, ladies! It really helps! I met another nice girl who works dayshifts that I realized at the last second that I was shaking her hand with the one I had just used to dust my vag with baby powder. ooops! Sorry girl.. wash those hands. Speaking of which, I counted 4 dancers walking out of a bathroom stall and bypassing the sink. Seriously? Wash your fucking hands! One of them, I was told, thinks that Baltimore (another Hustler Club location) is in New Hampshire. During bored time, about 10 girls sat in the back comparing our vagina lips for about 30 min. Some had butterflies, some are outies, some are innies, others have little girl-clam slits. That sure put a smile on my face. At the end of the night I had grossed a Sassy's mid shift. We decided to have 'gay-homo-music-hour-of-power!' I didn't name it, in the midwest people still call things 'gay' as an insult. Some favorites include a Kelly Clarkston sing-a-long, Meatloaf's "I would do anything for love", N'Sync and Backstreet favorites and some Ace of Base. That shit was fun! There was a bit of artistic, interpretive dancing and even a Dirty Dancing lift by my two male managers. Comedic gold :)
Thank g-d for Friday. I made friends with one of the managers in from Baltimore, he bought me a cocktail and wanted to know all about me and tell me jokes. There was two, the one who scolded me for not taking off my panties and the one who was a riot. He is my new favorite, I tweeted his one liners all week. He participated in my fire show for 3 days by lighting his cigarette off my boob. I'm left with a big ol' scab that will probably scar, and I shall name it after him. I sold a Champagne room (sans Champagne, unfortunately) which saved me! To a bigger, young guy with some extra cash. He got a lap dance then wanted more time. He spent the whole 30 minutes trying to bargain with, and offer me more money to let him finger or eat my pussy. I spent the whole time telling him it wasn't gonna happen. "You can touch my sides and butt, but that's all. You can make requests to which part of me you'd like to see more of, but I'm still gonna hover."
Working at Hustler can be exhausting. You sit and watch girls be filthy on stage, letting strangers rub their guided hands all over their breast & butts, pick up dollars off peoples faces with their vag, and then get on stage after them and try to keep your distance from these same customers that just got "one hell of a show". There was a girl who was kinda pretty, really tall & thin, but was coked out of her mind and was only capable of doing the "new girl dip" (when they hold the pole, drop their ass to the ground and stand back up quickly) and fingering her pussy lips. During a trash talking session in the dressing room, I learned this girl would let people finger her in dances. Good lord. I'm practically all pole and no game. I know this. . I'm surrounded by douche bags, having a serious sing-a-longs to "Down with the Sickness" and multiple Eminem songs. grosssss.... and I'm suppose to troll around and be dirty and beg these assholes to buy dances, only so I can thwart them off trying to do some dumb shit during a dance? yay.
Very late on Sat. night there was two regular guys, who had wads of cash and someone told them about my fire set. My favorite waitress convinced them to pay me $60 to light up my torches. They tipped another $30 on top of that. That's what I get for sticking around late! I sold one a dance, and got some refreshing pussy air conditioning. Why do doods blow on it, huh? cause they can't touch it? ack!
One of the girls who came for Amateur night on Wed. got hired to work the rest of the weekend. This much older lady from Chicago was super dirty and it sucked having to watch her. At one point she came into the dressing room to regale of story of taking a swig of some ones' beer, then letting it run down her stomach as a female customer licked it off her. I managed to blurt out "Good god, don't drink customers drinks! You don't know where they've been. Do you know how easy it is to catch Simplex 1?" Her stunned response consisted of " Whatever... it was hot!"
Sunday turned into a nightmare. Former booty-call's new girlfriend happened to be working that night. I did a great job of always being in the back when she was onstage, and out at the bar when she was in the dressing room. I got wind that he was gonna come in to the club (apparently it was ok now) and I pretended I didn't know he was there for about 30 min. I finally approached and was cordial, had some small talk and gave him a hard time for being responsible for changing my plans. He bid me safe travels to TN as he left a few hours later. I hope I never see him again. I text invited my friends to come out to see me, because in trips past, they'll come get me on Sunday around 4am, we'll go out drinking at the 24 hour bars in IL, then I wind up crashing on one of their couches then off to the airport on Monday. I never heard back from them all night and was devastated. This meant I'd have to go back to the hotel I checked out of already, negotiate getting my room back then take a 45min cab ride to the airport before noon on Monday. In combination with the emotions of having to see someone you let fuck you, at work, with their Girlfriend there, and I had made $25 for 7 hours... I was trying my damnedest to internalize my fury. I sulked around for awhile and asked my manager for a ride later when he was done closing. He pawned me off on a fellow dancer who totally suprised me with her kindness. She said I could sleep on her couch and she would take me to the airport to get my rental car in the morning. I was nearly elated! We hung out in her kitchen chatting about other girls, our bosses, our pasts and this stupid fucking asshole kid that apparently is a huge liar and cheated on said current girlfriend with me. Yeah, YOU fucker! I'll be closing my currently open relationship for a good, long while.
I took the next two days to drive to Nashville, pick up my sister who flew in from FL, and drive to the middle of TN. I spent an emotional day trying to reconnect with two major players in my life who have been absent due to a divorce, distance, illnesses and death. It was overwhelming. I'm glad, as an adult, it happened. But I couldn't wait for it to be over.
I had to be back at the club on Wed. by 10pm for the start of Miss Nude Illinois. There was 5 girls from Hustler and 2 girls from Deja Vu Springfield. It was a fun compettiton to do. Very different from the ones run by Exotic Magazine that I'm used to doing. There was a feeling of all of us being 'for' each other. I helped body paint one of the girls, and another helped me stretch. It was really cool. There was a bikini portion and a lap dance on stage given to a audience member. I give a poor lap dance compared to some of the aforementioned girls. My final set was Freddie Mercury, with only fire torches but a little more feminine with my long brunette wig & heels. Even as an outsider I knew who was gonna win, but was really excited I walked away with 2nd Runner-Up. One of the judges and I share some mutual fire entertainer friends who came to cheer me on and we chatted later. She complimented me on being a performer, not just a stripper in a costume. A nice patron said the minute I stepped on stage they could see that they were in for a show. Smiles all around.
Lark will be performing in Valloween! at the Bossanova Ballroom on Feb. 11th & 12th, 2012. Presented by A.M.P. Theater, tickets available at bossanovaballroom.com
Wednesday I was a red head. There was barely anyone in the club all night. I did a fire set, making about as much as Sinferno pays me. Later on I was summoned over by an older man, (snaps finger, "hey, come here!") 65 maybe, in a suit, lots of rings and a big watch that said he was the Dean of Students at NYU in his thick Brooklyn-Jewish accent. I listened to him talk at me about politics and Obama and tried to keep up. Lots of smiling and nodding, while sipping on the Grey Goose and Cranberry he bought me. About 10 min in he says "So, you do dances?" "Of course!" "How about $100 for 3 bed dances?" Yes! that's cost, plus a $10 tip. We went back to the booths and he removed his rings, watch & suit coat (what are you gonna do with those fingers?) He farted as he laid down, but I ignored it to be polite & went to it. He kept trying to lick me as I just did my thing. It was 100 effing degrees in there and my wig is like a little hot-hat as I tried to swipe my fake hair out of his face. "Hey! I can get the same thing watching porn!" "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you mean, is there anything specific you'd like me to do? We still have 2 songs..?" About 30 seconds later he got up in a huff, told me I was miserable and walked out on the 3rd dance. "I'm confused, my dances are within the legal confines of what I'm allowed to do to keep my job...?" As he gathered his things and walked out bitching to one of the bouncers that I'm not dirty enough. Fuck that guy, he was pissed he fucking farted on the bed! I hate 'professionals' like that. Rich guys that come into upscale clubs but are use to 'extras' in the booths, then get pissed when classy bitches like myself don't put out. I enjoy hearing compliments every time, but my favorite of all is that I'm "not dirty enough".
I make it a point to be one of the last dancers on rotation, every night. A bit of money seems to come between 4 & 6am. I'm here to work, and I have to wait for a ride back to the hotel from a co-worker or Manager anyways so I might as well stick around and get those last few dances and stage dollars. I was hotter than the last other girls, so thats cool when the stragglers come to my stage. By the end of Wed. I had made enough to cover the rest of my plane ticket and my hotel room for the week. I was so tired from my early flight, I sat for almost 2 hours waiting for the GM to count money, I was mouth-breathing and could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips as I ran down my iPhone battery looking at puppies on Instagram.
Thursday was just as slow. I knew this week would be close to torture, but it had a purpose. Pay for my rental car & gas to Tennessee to see my family and make peace. I got 'talked to' about not taking off my panties fast enough while looking at new tops in the Love Boutique. The GM was getting really serious about panty fines, and this was my friendly warning from one of the Baltimore Managers I hadn't met yet. He said they must be off at the start of the 2nd song, or the fines would be $20, $40, $80 and so on each time I didn't take them off right away. It was in my contract. Hey PDX! You hear that? Shit gets real outside our bubble.
I met some new girls and saw a lot of my favorites from my last trip. I felt like I was finally making friends, It only took my 4 effing trips! I acquired a new favorite train wreck. She is named after a designer label I'm positive she owns nothing from, nor can tell me the country of origin, none the less recognize anything from it's current line. At first, I thought she was from the Bayou (some girls down in NOLA sure are) judging from her 'accent' but others seemed to think it's a little more than just a poor education. I'm not trying to pass judgement, but boy was she fun to watch stomp around and holler about all sorts of bullshit. There was another girl who wore a long goth skirt, a collar and leash and whipped herself with a crop onstage. She told me she worked in Portland a long time ago, and thoroughly lectured me on which clubs in which cities I should dance at. There was this super cute girl who rocked the shit out of point shoes, but would probably kill it if she invested in fake hair and took off her glasses. Drastically change your appearance for this job, ladies! It really helps! I met another nice girl who works dayshifts that I realized at the last second that I was shaking her hand with the one I had just used to dust my vag with baby powder. ooops! Sorry girl.. wash those hands. Speaking of which, I counted 4 dancers walking out of a bathroom stall and bypassing the sink. Seriously? Wash your fucking hands! One of them, I was told, thinks that Baltimore (another Hustler Club location) is in New Hampshire. During bored time, about 10 girls sat in the back comparing our vagina lips for about 30 min. Some had butterflies, some are outies, some are innies, others have little girl-clam slits. That sure put a smile on my face. At the end of the night I had grossed a Sassy's mid shift. We decided to have 'gay-homo-music-hour-of-power!' I didn't name it, in the midwest people still call things 'gay' as an insult. Some favorites include a Kelly Clarkston sing-a-long, Meatloaf's "I would do anything for love", N'Sync and Backstreet favorites and some Ace of Base. That shit was fun! There was a bit of artistic, interpretive dancing and even a Dirty Dancing lift by my two male managers. Comedic gold :)
Thank g-d for Friday. I made friends with one of the managers in from Baltimore, he bought me a cocktail and wanted to know all about me and tell me jokes. There was two, the one who scolded me for not taking off my panties and the one who was a riot. He is my new favorite, I tweeted his one liners all week. He participated in my fire show for 3 days by lighting his cigarette off my boob. I'm left with a big ol' scab that will probably scar, and I shall name it after him. I sold a Champagne room (sans Champagne, unfortunately) which saved me! To a bigger, young guy with some extra cash. He got a lap dance then wanted more time. He spent the whole 30 minutes trying to bargain with, and offer me more money to let him finger or eat my pussy. I spent the whole time telling him it wasn't gonna happen. "You can touch my sides and butt, but that's all. You can make requests to which part of me you'd like to see more of, but I'm still gonna hover."
Working at Hustler can be exhausting. You sit and watch girls be filthy on stage, letting strangers rub their guided hands all over their breast & butts, pick up dollars off peoples faces with their vag, and then get on stage after them and try to keep your distance from these same customers that just got "one hell of a show". There was a girl who was kinda pretty, really tall & thin, but was coked out of her mind and was only capable of doing the "new girl dip" (when they hold the pole, drop their ass to the ground and stand back up quickly) and fingering her pussy lips. During a trash talking session in the dressing room, I learned this girl would let people finger her in dances. Good lord. I'm practically all pole and no game. I know this. . I'm surrounded by douche bags, having a serious sing-a-longs to "Down with the Sickness" and multiple Eminem songs. grosssss.... and I'm suppose to troll around and be dirty and beg these assholes to buy dances, only so I can thwart them off trying to do some dumb shit during a dance? yay.
Very late on Sat. night there was two regular guys, who had wads of cash and someone told them about my fire set. My favorite waitress convinced them to pay me $60 to light up my torches. They tipped another $30 on top of that. That's what I get for sticking around late! I sold one a dance, and got some refreshing pussy air conditioning. Why do doods blow on it, huh? cause they can't touch it? ack!
One of the girls who came for Amateur night on Wed. got hired to work the rest of the weekend. This much older lady from Chicago was super dirty and it sucked having to watch her. At one point she came into the dressing room to regale of story of taking a swig of some ones' beer, then letting it run down her stomach as a female customer licked it off her. I managed to blurt out "Good god, don't drink customers drinks! You don't know where they've been. Do you know how easy it is to catch Simplex 1?" Her stunned response consisted of " Whatever... it was hot!"
Sunday turned into a nightmare. Former booty-call's new girlfriend happened to be working that night. I did a great job of always being in the back when she was onstage, and out at the bar when she was in the dressing room. I got wind that he was gonna come in to the club (apparently it was ok now) and I pretended I didn't know he was there for about 30 min. I finally approached and was cordial, had some small talk and gave him a hard time for being responsible for changing my plans. He bid me safe travels to TN as he left a few hours later. I hope I never see him again. I text invited my friends to come out to see me, because in trips past, they'll come get me on Sunday around 4am, we'll go out drinking at the 24 hour bars in IL, then I wind up crashing on one of their couches then off to the airport on Monday. I never heard back from them all night and was devastated. This meant I'd have to go back to the hotel I checked out of already, negotiate getting my room back then take a 45min cab ride to the airport before noon on Monday. In combination with the emotions of having to see someone you let fuck you, at work, with their Girlfriend there, and I had made $25 for 7 hours... I was trying my damnedest to internalize my fury. I sulked around for awhile and asked my manager for a ride later when he was done closing. He pawned me off on a fellow dancer who totally suprised me with her kindness. She said I could sleep on her couch and she would take me to the airport to get my rental car in the morning. I was nearly elated! We hung out in her kitchen chatting about other girls, our bosses, our pasts and this stupid fucking asshole kid that apparently is a huge liar and cheated on said current girlfriend with me. Yeah, YOU fucker! I'll be closing my currently open relationship for a good, long while.
I took the next two days to drive to Nashville, pick up my sister who flew in from FL, and drive to the middle of TN. I spent an emotional day trying to reconnect with two major players in my life who have been absent due to a divorce, distance, illnesses and death. It was overwhelming. I'm glad, as an adult, it happened. But I couldn't wait for it to be over.
I had to be back at the club on Wed. by 10pm for the start of Miss Nude Illinois. There was 5 girls from Hustler and 2 girls from Deja Vu Springfield. It was a fun compettiton to do. Very different from the ones run by Exotic Magazine that I'm used to doing. There was a feeling of all of us being 'for' each other. I helped body paint one of the girls, and another helped me stretch. It was really cool. There was a bikini portion and a lap dance on stage given to a audience member. I give a poor lap dance compared to some of the aforementioned girls. My final set was Freddie Mercury, with only fire torches but a little more feminine with my long brunette wig & heels. Even as an outsider I knew who was gonna win, but was really excited I walked away with 2nd Runner-Up. One of the judges and I share some mutual fire entertainer friends who came to cheer me on and we chatted later. She complimented me on being a performer, not just a stripper in a costume. A nice patron said the minute I stepped on stage they could see that they were in for a show. Smiles all around.
Lark will be performing in Valloween! at the Bossanova Ballroom on Feb. 11th & 12th, 2012. Presented by A.M.P. Theater, tickets available at bossanovaballroom.com