Posting pictures of the club today. The renovations are not completely finish. We will have an upstairs sports bar that looks down onto the stage. To future employees if I forgot to mention, it is easy to average $250-$400 day shift without “regulars.” So imagine if you were a strong hustler, which means outside of beauty, you use personality, ambition, and wit to connect with the customer in a timely fashion, how much you can make. Oh, and I might seem friendly in my blogs but once you start dancing with me as my colleague, I’m about my money and I don’t hesitate to get mine’s!
The club was closed last week for renovation. If you want to see what’s going on follow my employer @albertblush on Instagram. (I got rid of my dancer instagram sorry.) We are open tomorrow but I only work based on the mode I wake up in. We are the best club in Pittsburgh because everyone is almost as hot as me. Lol There is variety in the beauty department, and ladies here not thots. Everyone’s different. I don’t bring my personal life to work unless asked to. And even if I’m asked to, I won’t usually speak on it unless because it can unbalanced me for the rest of my day. Though feel free to chat and tip, I don’t mind if I’m not busy. I’m a chatter box. Don’t forget the tip part! Champagne Rooms $360/hr, $220/30mins Booth Dances $30 a song or 3 for $79. We are taxed 30% for booth dances. Be conscious of this when you tip someone. Hope to see you soon. My stage name is India. To my traveling dancers I will take pics as soon as I’m back to work.
I’m annoyed to have to write this, but it’s part of my story and it’s the truth. The truth should instantly change people. But it doesn’t. Time always shows the proof of that. The truth has reeled in my head time and time again, and I won’t do it to myself today. Today is a new day. I’m tired of being a victim, and today I will not be subjected to my mind. So I will state the truth plainly to not arouse my mind.
Three or so weeks ago, I was heavily intoxicated working in the club, I felt and spoke of things getting a little blurry. My customer goes to the bar. My memory is blurry, he is telling someone he wants a champagne room with me. He moves quickly to the lobby. I remember this because my customers usually walk behind me. And there was a tiny step by the bar, and I was angry he didn’t take my hand. My thoughts were floating question marks. Why does he want to do a room? Why is he checking which room he wants? Doesn’t he know how this is going to end? My mind answered back, it’s a room, take the money. None of the cameras work anyway. You’re in control. Let him be disappointed a second time.
I remember the first time we did a room. It was close to a year ago.He was in the lobby. VIP came to me to let me know he was ready to do a room. I remember wondering why he hadn’t told me himself. We sit across from each other. He says “I want in.” He continues about how he has money and for me to name the price. I say I have no price. It’s not my thing. I don’t have sex. Unconcerned he questions whether someone did something to me, and that someone is going to get it sooner or later. “I want in. I’m not going to wait forever.” I repeat myself. The room is over in ten minutes. The VIP guy is even surprised and says so. He responds, “We skipped to the good part.”
Currently my chest is starting to hurt, but I’ve prolonged writing this so I’m going to skip to the facts.
my clothes came off
he ordered two shots, two club sodas
I am in a position where his weight is over me on the couch
he chokes me
he starts saying some dominatrix shit
he kissed me
I bite his cheek hard
he’s mad he goes to the bathroom saying I don’t think this is going to work.
These events are floating, I am floating and I’m feeling like- something is not right
I go to the bathroom, lean over the toilet.
Somehow my room is over. VIP gives me blue money while I’m still in the room.
My customer requests more time, I say I have to go to the dressing room. Something is not right. But I make it to the dressing room. Im in the bathroom stall. Then my face feels the coolness of the bathroom floor. I hear voices. Then I’m out.
Four hours later, I’m still in the dressing room. I regain some consciousness and then I’m throwing up, til I’m repeatedly dry heaving, crying over and over. Stating over and over that “something is not right. I think I was drugged.” An angel is telling me “Yes, I know. You aren’t yourself today. It’s okay.” I keep crying and tell that angel to go back downstairs and make her money. She smiles because she hears me returning. Then she eventually leaves. I think about what wasn’t right. Sure I had a few drinks but the part that was off was I had felt no emotion. No emotion when I was kissed, or even choked. My bite didn’t hold anger it was a response. I couldn’t move my arms. All I had was my mouth. I get dressed and call a cab. I save my fears, and anger, and sadness for my shower. My boyfriend bathes me as I sit in the bathtub crying while the shower ran. Soup nor water would stay in my stomach all morning. I had panic attacks every day throughout the day for a week. It was annoying, because I didn’t want to look crazy losing my head in public. So I stopped leaving the house. My boyfriend stayed home with me for more than a week.
I would like to say I’m getting better. I would like to say I quit drinking. I like to say I quit my job. Truth is, I’m laying in bed at 2p.m. not washed, eating Papa John’s, waiting for my boyfriend to get off so I can get up, cook, watch a movie, have a beer, and do it again tomorrow.
I’ve been to work once since the incident. Why go back? I’m scared of having nothing again. No purpose. No money. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. It’s like a light should be coming on that stripping is a small chapter in my life. But I keep trying to make it longer, or worth it. And now seeing the end is like seeing the end of pricetag dreams. That day should have been a wake-up call, not a death notice. Yet I keep seeing myself die in this room every day. Though this is easiest way emotions can be balanced and my mind can be at peace. It is what it is. I can’t change how everything is affecting me. Only time can do that. And only time will tell.
A gentlemen’s club can provide a level of intimacy almost equivalent to a genuine relationship. Two key words: can and almost. It is the foundation on what a club builds on. Pretty girls get customers in the door. Witty, and connective woman keep people coming back.
During a dry season, they hire the same hoes back, add a few new girls and again our price value plummets, as the club reaches its sales. Am I surprised? No. Am I angry? Hell yeah, fucking right!
These amateurs are so happy to double a 9 to 5 paycheck, they don’t even see that they’re losing! I’m not as angry at the hoes because on night shift, I will get paid regardless. But lately, I’ve been hungry and ready to work. I want to see Paris next week and Greece next month. My hunger for life is growing and I can’t keep settling with seeing the same ol same ol, doing the same ol same ol, resulting in the same ol shit. My anxiety is getting the best of me. I’m ready to go right now. There’s just one tiny problem: I don’t want to work too hard.
I believe in hardworking America but everyone knows hardworking America works for “smart working” America. I rather work smart.
Stripping may be losing its value as admirable art. People are tired of being teased with what they can’t have, and are willing to forget their fantasy, for the quick satisfaction of every day life. And in this case meaning sex. Strippers are doing more for the dollar. The same dancers who said they would not do “this and that,” are doing “this and that” and a lot more. All the hard work to stay in the game.
Little do they know, their temporary profits will push them out, unless they pursue escorting or porn. Clubs work like seasons. And when the seasons change, their worth won’t increase because everyone already knows what they are worth. Can’t expect a high bid on something, if everyone has seen EVERYTHING it’s capable of. It’s smarter to just wait out the dry season, perfect your body and pipe game, then to give deals or “extras.” A lesson I learned from the “smart working” America. So I think I’m going to sit this season out. So if your a regular and you miss me, remember I still miss my check! And I still don’t do extras.
I don’t know why customers get nervous about buying a girl a drink. Yes, I am going to order a $20 strawberry martini but if I’m the stripper you want to spend time with tonight, prepare to spend time. My logic is the faster I cut out the cheap beer calories, the sooner you will realize chatting over drinks wastes my time and yours. Instead of ordering $20 martinis, we could be in a champagne room, or even a single $30 dance and both of us can relax about the time.
Here’s a customer tip : Only buy a stripper a drink if you like her and want her to stay so you can spend time with her. Why is this a tip? Because too many guys think they are being nice buying a dancer a drink because she seemed nice. If you aren’t attracted to her, your not being nice because your stopping her from shopping for someone who is already attracted to her. So if your that nice guy at the bar, in the dressing room your labeled Nothing. Yes we talk about our rounds in the dressing room. And can you blame us for labelling you by how much money you have. If it was a regular date, we would point out personality, great attributes blah blah. But this is work, and we squeal and get excited over big tips first, then like an afterthought we remember your personality and whether you were a dick or not.
Want to know what makes you a Dick. If you talk to a stripper and not offer her a drink, especially if you make the approach. Once again, nobody’s begging for a drink it’s just Stripper/Customer etiquette. FYI: Drinks don’t pay my bills, dances do. Some dancers forget that drink money is not real money. Then in the dressing room they announce their stupidy like, “Hey, bitches, y’all sitting up here not making money while I’m with a customer that “might” do some dances because he’s been buying me drinks all day!” That would only be something to brag about if you were broke and at a local bar. Your wasting time just like the rest of us. So sit tipsy ass down and redo your lipstick.
Like seriously maybe overrated at times but if your doing it clean and right, stripping takes talent. Trying to not waste time, and spend it right, being aggressive but not too pushy, being a naked saleswoman and making sure people take you seriously like a man, ALL takes talent. My favorite quote from A Bronx Tale is “There’s nothing sadder than wasted talent.” And sadly that’s the truth.
So Atlantic city sucked. I didn’t know the strip clubs weren’t for the casino crowd. The casino crowd NEVER left the casino. Everybody looked like money, too bad not my money.
I only checked out the Bare Exposure club on Pacific Ave while in Atlantic City. The club was just as cold as the beach. Four young cheap idiots came in. Cheap because when I danced, they whistled and didn’t pay me. Idiots because they were talking to other dancers like they were at a house party. This club didn’t serve alcohol but allowed you to BYOB (Bring Your Own Beer), so I kinda understand how they can get that impression. The girls weren’t aggressive or carrying that these guys were wasting their time. They actually looked happy to have some company. Well, I’m happy to have unpaid company. That is a no-no. I’m always focused on the money and can only relax when I have reached my goal. Even after that, I still try to make more. I could tell these strippers didn’t average well on weekdays. I like to average at least $400 a day. I know the economy is bad but if people can make it to the slots, they can make it to the strip club. All of a sudden, thoughts of what a stereotyped stripper came to me. And at that moment, I was surrounded by them. Mist believe strippers are poor. They believe a stripper should be happy to go home with $150. Hooray right? No. Most people, especially woman believe the average stripper are people who can’t become employed, take drugs, or just prostitutes. Not to put them beauties down, but I’m not your average stripper. I gave up my nursing job because stripping bank more than a 9 to 5 is willing to pay.
That being said, I can’t stay here. $pp150 would be my daily expenses since I’m living in a hotel, so I wouldn’t make a true profit. Hustling hard, and hustling smart are two different things.
So I’m going back to Pittsburgh where I can hustle smart. Until I am ready to try again. Yes this trip was discouraging but I will try again. The search for the money is not over. To be continued…