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...

Judges and other perverts

Why is it that just because I provide "Entertainment" for people, do they automatically assume that I am willing to provide them with sexual stimulation, i.e;  A blow-job, hand-job, sex, or whatever else there sexually deprived hearts desire?  Am I these mens girlfriend/ wife?  No.  Did they pick me up on the street corner of 25th and Lorain?   NO.  Did they find me on Craigslist or roaming the halls of a brothel?  NO.   THEN WHY IN THE FUCK DO THESE MEN THINK THAT I WILL GIVE THEM SEXUAL GRATIFICATION, ESPECIALLY FOR THE PRICE OF 10 BUCKS?!?   (Not that I would for any other price, but that's a low- blow.)  Take *Tim, for example, a Coyahouga County judge for common pleas, walks into the bar today, and before you can say "hi, there, how are you?",  he has his fly unzipped and his peter was wagging in the wind like the tail of an eager dog waiting for a treat.  It's people like *Tim that disgust me.  You see, while I stay away from him, because I've been at the same club long enough to know what he, and others like him is all about, I will still here stories about him later that night.  Sic. "OMG, that old dude up there in the gray suit just offered me $40 to have a 'drink with him~  he put my hand on his wanker!!'  or, 'OMG, that man in the suit just told me $50 and he would put a condom on!!  What The Fuck?!?''   Its men like this that turn me off, its men like this that de~sensitizes me from the rest of the male population of this world.  I know that this should not matter to me, that every individual is different, but, this job has taught me to see the downfall of the male population, and just how important the role sex plays in a males life.  I cannot no longer look at my boyfriend, or any other man I have dated for that matter, threw the innocent eyes of the person I once was.  I see them as a creep, as a manipulative, lying, insincere, cheating douche bag that make up 48% of the population.  Correct me if I am wrong, but, if presidents, judges, doctors, FBI, lawyers, cops, and other people we are taught to trust are doing it, what makes you think the person YOU trust isn't doing the same?
*Note:  Names have been changed to protect the ignorant

A Hard Nights Pay

I am dealing with personal issues right now. A few nights ago, a good friend tried to commit suicide, and last night she finally passed. I had to work last night, and it was hell. I didn't care about my makeup, I didn't care about my mismatched outfit, and I certainly didn't care about hearing about some middle aged fat man's fantasy's. Yet, I endured 30 minutes of his good- girl- gone- dominatrix scenarios, listening how he wanted me to tie him up with cuffs and his tie, bind his manhood with a shoestring, and gag him with my panties. I have no idea what this man said after that. my mind was somewhere else. I was replaying my own scenarios in my head~ Will I ever see her again? Why did she do it? Was she in pain when it happened? Where is her spirit? But, most importantly,I was wondering if it was because of men like the one I was sitting next to, that drove her over the edge?
I had enough of this. I collected my $50 and walked away.

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?