The song starts and I lean into him, breasts in his face, and jiggle for a second before I pull back and push my dress down. It’s an art, the way it comes down, and then I lean back into him, brushing his hand away from his thigh before I slide my leg along it.… Continue reading Stripper Self Defense
Category: Stripping
Taking Stock
Whew. I’m finally done with my two weeks of dancing in this crazy drunken little christian town. Having to work at five every day and expend enormous amounts of social and physical (at this club I’m on stage for exactly one third of the eight hours they’re open) energy just doesn’t lend itself well to… Continue reading Taking Stock
Aha
Last summer I took my aching back to a chiropractor, and found out that my sacro iliac joint was out of wack. He put it back in and everything was better, except that the next day it came back out. Ever since I’ve been seeing chiropractors at a rather alarming rate whenever I’m in the… Continue reading Aha
Stripping Gods
Usually stripping goddesses’ are sensual, raw, strong. You feel them in the curve of your hip as you spin, in the strong muscles of your thigh as you move your hips with the music. You see them in the stars and cosmic fuzz when you roll down from that upside down position and flip upright… Continue reading Stripping Gods
Ishmael in the Dressing Room
When I’m ready, hair tamed, nipples covered, eyelashes glued firmly in place, I still have a few minutes before I have to go on stage. There’s no point in selling a dance if I’ll just have to go on stage, so I turn to Ishmael. The gorilla is talking about stories that we enact. I’ve… Continue reading Ishmael in the Dressing Room
New Laptop
I should have listened to Esther and done it back when the Gateway first broke. Last night I graced a gentleman with my company for the night. He owns an oil company and I could not resist the goldmine of a sociological train wreck that is me in this crazily Christian town, in the middle… Continue reading New Laptop
Sometimes
Sometimes it’s sad. Sometimes I look down at the plump young redhead I’m dancing for and see in him the old man I danced for last song. The old man whose fat hung yellow from his cheekbones, whose sexy face was a grimace of despair and hopes still mourned for. Sometimes when I sit down… Continue reading Sometimes
Sunday Stripper Migration
But first: one of my stories is on the Quirky Nomads Podcast today. I’m still on the crappy laptop, so I haven’t been able to hear it yet. Sunday is stripper migration day in the mid-west. Out here, you get “booked” for a week, which is Monday through Saturday. In exchange for all this planning… Continue reading Sunday Stripper Migration
Cops and Drunk Strippers
Sometimes in my life of adventure and leisure I run out of money. Then I work really hard for a while. While I was in Canada I made a list of money to make when I got here. There’s the IRS, the transmission, medicine for a friend, gas money for a couple months, and it… Continue reading Cops and Drunk Strippers
It was the best of places. It was the worst of places.
It was a dirty little biker bar in West Virgina. I was a hard working college student, driving eighty miles to get naked someplace no one knew me. The bar was a long, narrow room: a bar, seats with barely room to walk behind, and a little stage in the corner. There were no lap… Continue reading It was the best of places. It was the worst of places.