The Girl That Became A Friend

As a stripper, I am forced to work with a variety of woman from all walks of life.  Some of these ladies are mothers, just simply trying to make there rent.  Some of the girls are addicts, hoping to god that they make enough for there next fix, so they do not get sick.  Some of these woman are collage students, earning cash to get them by until there next opportunity approaches.  Some are nice, some are bitches, and some just keep to themselves. 
I have always been a listener.  I tend to try to show how much I care by saying as little as possible.  It has only began lately that I am finding myself sympathizing with a certain girl that started out as just another dancer but ended up being one of my dearest friends.
On the floor, she is shy and yet bewitching, seductive smile and exotic gestures set off against the essential elegance of her -- her classical face, that serious lode of smoky black hair. She seduces me again and again, like she seduces everyone.
She takes there words too seriously, like they are precise and to the key, but it seems like she forgets that the men that come in are usually TOO critical, and that most 'normal' woman will never have to be subjected to the harsh torment that exotic dancers frequently have to endure.
I have had enough of that look of pain in her eyes.  I wish that she would see it the way that I saw it;  But, unfortunately her soul seems to remain in a fragile state, and,  as I try to bat off there hurtful words, and remind myself that I have already become desensitized, I realize that this current state that I am in is a curse, never to be reversed...

Who I am

I have been depressed lately... I have been trying to "find" myself, learn more of what makes me unique in this universe.
I'm looking for another job. I am currently an exotic dancer for a gentleman's club. I hate it. I hate the attention. I hate the sleezy men telling me how "hot" I am, and asking how much it is to sleep with me. I don't do that. I have a boyfriend.

The Dressing Room

The dressing room smells of smoke and cheap perfume; Before I can even walk threw the door, this girl Gina rushes up to me and asks to borrow a few bucks until she makes it so she can score an O.C from some dude thats out in the lounge area. She just started yesterday, and I don't even know the chick. In fact, I'm not even sure if her name is Gina, it could be Jenna. Who knows, I don't pay attention to the new girls, half of them stay around long enough to make enough money to get there 'fix', and the other half quit after a few days for whatever other reason. Only a few stick around.

"You know, like, I really will pay you back the money when I make it, I mean, I only need 60 bucks and I'll split it with you if you want. And if you want, he's also got-"

"No, I'm cool," i interrupt. "and I don't carry cash with me. Sorry."

I push past the Gina chick and make my way to my locker. Some day shift girl at the locker next to mine is pulling $20's and $50's out of her G-string and bragging about the 'awesome' day she had, and how 'they were tipping good on the stage today'. Everybody knows she sucks dick in the private dance area; I don't know who she thinks she is fooling.

I quickly changed into a blue and black corset with black thongs and fishnets. After applying my makeup, i took one final look into the mirror and asked myself the same questions I ask myself every night: 'Why do I strip?