Private Dancer
Coming to the stage
Gentlemen this is what you've waited all night for...Coming to the stage right now, Jasmine" The announcer said very loudly.
I walked confidently from behind the curtain and into the spotlight. I twirled and danced my way down the stage, all the while feeling the eyes of each man on me. Yes, this was my life, night after night, I had become my own worst enemy; a stripper. Wouldn't this make my father proud, I thought to my self as I swung my legs up to grab hold of the pole.
Wouldn't he love to see his little girl all grown up, every night dancing and undressing for a mindless crowd of men. No, I thought, he wouldn't like to see his little girl doing this because he doesn't care about his little girl; he doesn't even know her... He abandoned her and her mother. He left when she was eight. These were the thoughts that occupied my mind when they called my name to come to the stage. And every night I tried to shake the thoughts from my head.
No, my name wasn't Jasmine, my name was Abby. But when you enter into this profession you learn very quickly not to use your real name, too dangerous the girls had told me on my first night. It was true, I had been harassed, and followed and fondled by men I didn't know. But who could complain when you're making a thousand, some times two thousand dollars a night. The money was amazing and very alluring. Once you came into this business it was hard to get out.
Tonight I was dressed like a school girl. A private client had rented out the club for a birthday party for his brother. Whoever it was must have some kinda cash to get Bill, the owner to agree to that. There were two other girls performing with me that night, Vixen and Che', or as I knew them Anna and Misty. Each of us were to perform a private dance for the Birthday boy...or man in this case. It was dark in the club but I could make out a few faces here and there as I started to remove the very tiny skirt I was wearing. This was about the time things started to pick up, often times getting rowdy. I felt the cold hands of a man who was trying to stick dollars into my push up bra. I just shook my finger at him..."Nothing less than a $5 baby" I would always say shaking my boobs in his face and licking my lips. "Sucker", I thought to my self as he stuffed a $10 in between my boobs. This was too easy.
I looked up and met the eyes of one of the party goers and he gave me a brief sad smile, almost saying "Sorry" to me. Caught off guard I almost tripped but grabbed the pole quickly to recover. The crowd cheered as I wrapped my legs around it and bent backward, with my legs still firmly wrapped around the pole I started to remove my bra. The crowd of men were chanting and cheering and throwing money my way. Tonight might be a record night, tonight might just get me moved out of my apartment and into that new house I want.
Later that night I made my way to the V.I.P. area of the club, I guess it was my turn to entertain the birthday boy. It was dark and smoke filled the air in the dingy private rooms as I walked in to see the same pair of eyes that almost tripped me up on stage. I try not to notice that he's staring at me as I start the routine of my dance. This was supposed to make the "client" feel special; coming into the V.I.P. area and all...little did they know this was the same crappy dance I put on for every man that came through that door. I started to walk toward the man and stand in between his legs, the closer you were to them the more willing they are to part with their money.
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." He says to me. My hands stop on his knees as he says that. "Excuse me?" I ask, knowing I'm not supposed to be talking to him. "You can stop, its okay. This is my birthday but I really don't want to be here, and my guess is that you don't want to either." He says and gives me that same sad look that he did earlier. "I...um...this is my job. If I don't dance I don't eat." I say, raising my eyebrows. "Money isn't an issue" he tells me reaching for his wallet. "Look, I don't know what you're trying to do, but it isn't going to work." I say rudely and stand up. "I'm not trying to do anything, I'm just saying you don't have to dance for me, you can just sit and wait for your time to be up if you want. I didn't really want to come here so I'm not that into it." he says as he puts his wallet back into his pants pocket.
I sit down beside him on the little couch that occupies the dimly lit room. "So, you're Jasmine?" he asks me. I just shake my head yes. "Leland" he says reaching out his hand to shake mine. "Abby" I say in return. "Jasmine is my stage name, I guess you could say." I tell him laughing. I had never felt this at ease with a man that came into this God-awful place. This is what I always tried to avoid.
"So...its your birthday? How old are you if you don't mind me asking." He just smiles and laughs and says he's Thirty-one. "Nice" I say quietly. "I'm Twenty-Seven, do you live around here?" I say trying to start a conversation.
I walked confidently from behind the curtain and into the spotlight. I twirled and danced my way down the stage, all the while feeling the eyes of each man on me. Yes, this was my life, night after night, I had become my own worst enemy; a stripper. Wouldn't this make my father proud, I thought to my self as I swung my legs up to grab hold of the pole.
Wouldn't he love to see his little girl all grown up, every night dancing and undressing for a mindless crowd of men. No, I thought, he wouldn't like to see his little girl doing this because he doesn't care about his little girl; he doesn't even know her... He abandoned her and her mother. He left when she was eight. These were the thoughts that occupied my mind when they called my name to come to the stage. And every night I tried to shake the thoughts from my head.
No, my name wasn't Jasmine, my name was Abby. But when you enter into this profession you learn very quickly not to use your real name, too dangerous the girls had told me on my first night. It was true, I had been harassed, and followed and fondled by men I didn't know. But who could complain when you're making a thousand, some times two thousand dollars a night. The money was amazing and very alluring. Once you came into this business it was hard to get out.
Tonight I was dressed like a school girl. A private client had rented out the club for a birthday party for his brother. Whoever it was must have some kinda cash to get Bill, the owner to agree to that. There were two other girls performing with me that night, Vixen and Che', or as I knew them Anna and Misty. Each of us were to perform a private dance for the Birthday boy...or man in this case. It was dark in the club but I could make out a few faces here and there as I started to remove the very tiny skirt I was wearing. This was about the time things started to pick up, often times getting rowdy. I felt the cold hands of a man who was trying to stick dollars into my push up bra. I just shook my finger at him..."Nothing less than a $5 baby" I would always say shaking my boobs in his face and licking my lips. "Sucker", I thought to my self as he stuffed a $10 in between my boobs. This was too easy.
I looked up and met the eyes of one of the party goers and he gave me a brief sad smile, almost saying "Sorry" to me. Caught off guard I almost tripped but grabbed the pole quickly to recover. The crowd cheered as I wrapped my legs around it and bent backward, with my legs still firmly wrapped around the pole I started to remove my bra. The crowd of men were chanting and cheering and throwing money my way. Tonight might be a record night, tonight might just get me moved out of my apartment and into that new house I want.
Later that night I made my way to the V.I.P. area of the club, I guess it was my turn to entertain the birthday boy. It was dark and smoke filled the air in the dingy private rooms as I walked in to see the same pair of eyes that almost tripped me up on stage. I try not to notice that he's staring at me as I start the routine of my dance. This was supposed to make the "client" feel special; coming into the V.I.P. area and all...little did they know this was the same crappy dance I put on for every man that came through that door. I started to walk toward the man and stand in between his legs, the closer you were to them the more willing they are to part with their money.
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." He says to me. My hands stop on his knees as he says that. "Excuse me?" I ask, knowing I'm not supposed to be talking to him. "You can stop, its okay. This is my birthday but I really don't want to be here, and my guess is that you don't want to either." He says and gives me that same sad look that he did earlier. "I...um...this is my job. If I don't dance I don't eat." I say, raising my eyebrows. "Money isn't an issue" he tells me reaching for his wallet. "Look, I don't know what you're trying to do, but it isn't going to work." I say rudely and stand up. "I'm not trying to do anything, I'm just saying you don't have to dance for me, you can just sit and wait for your time to be up if you want. I didn't really want to come here so I'm not that into it." he says as he puts his wallet back into his pants pocket.
I sit down beside him on the little couch that occupies the dimly lit room. "So, you're Jasmine?" he asks me. I just shake my head yes. "Leland" he says reaching out his hand to shake mine. "Abby" I say in return. "Jasmine is my stage name, I guess you could say." I tell him laughing. I had never felt this at ease with a man that came into this God-awful place. This is what I always tried to avoid.
"So...its your birthday? How old are you if you don't mind me asking." He just smiles and laughs and says he's Thirty-one. "Nice" I say quietly. "I'm Twenty-Seven, do you live around here?" I say trying to start a conversation.