Ava Adore

Shift: 07.26.10, 6pm-2am.

I had a pleasant mix of folks last night. First I talked with Rv.’s cousin about women’s studies and feminism, then the House’s owner came in for a bit and I chatted with him and his friend until a group of post-game golfers wandered in en masse. I snuggled up barside in the middle of about four of them and got to talking.

One, apparently the ‘strip club vet’ who’d suggested it, kept making sarcastic comments he meant to be funny—I could tell he was trying to be funny, but he didn’t have the tone down. His friends seemed to be in-between deciding if they were amused or embarrassed.

One of them was actually very entertaining, and he and I chatted for a bit; he has a very Italian name, I think it was Sandros, or something close to that. He was curious about lapdances and wanted to know if ours was the sort of place where we danced 10 feet away.

It’s not that sort of place, so he took me for 2 dances. After that I was immediately called to stage, and from that stage set, an older gentleman regular whose name escapes me called me over. He told me about his wife’s passing and his time as a mental case worker. Literally, he handled the cases.

He tipped me for my time and while I was with him, a number of other folks came in; to my right were two ‘high roller’ types who were very misogynistic and not my cup of tea, and past them Al came to visit me. After Richie (one of the rollers) assessed my ass and tipped me, I headed into two 15 privates with Al.

Dancing for Al is very weird to me. Most gents dance with me for what I bring to the table: I’m a hip-shaker, a fast dancer (though I have a ‘slow’ setting, if you get me), and prefer my ass. My dances are designed around this. Al prefers pretty much none of that, with repetitive similar motions done from the front. It’s a little physically awkward.

In between the two privates, I changed into a new outfit Candy made, which I am still working out what to call it. It’s ridiculously day-glo orange and I am kind of in love with how obnoxious it is. Also, Sk. got awesome new ink on her neck, an ambigram of the word ‘werewolf.’ I also got my next group to howl for her on stage.

Which brings me to them. They were a trio: a boyfriend (Brett), girlfriend (Felicia), and their friend (Rob, I believe); I spent most of my time talking with Brett and Felicia, who got a big kick out of me, and Felicia did a dance with me, too. They said they’re coming back in Sunday to see me again.

More spotty bruises but nothing to write home about or photograph. Went a little ADD with costumes, started with Limewire, went on to Closer, Ska-rling, and then the day-glo one. I am still on the fence about my new UV shoes; nothing’s going to replace my corset heels for style or comfort. It may be another failed foray into stage shoes.

Douchebag Count: 0, cos I left the misogynistic guys. Go me.
$hift Grade: A+