Ava Adore

Shift: 10.18.10, 6pm-12am.

I am happy the Yankees are in the playoffs.

I am happy the Yankees are in the playoffs. I am happy the Yankees are in the playoffs.

Maybe if I keep repeating it, it will become true. Okay—that’s a little harsh. Being a Yankees fan, I am happy they’re in the playoffs. What I am not happy about is that the Serious Faced Sports Fans—a large chunk of clientele—don’t want to be distracted by chatty women with only slightly concealed breasts as they watch the game.

Which means they watch the games at home with their Serious Faces as we get closer to the playoff’s conclusion. Which means I’m slightly cranky. Not as cranky as Summer Season cranky, but about as cranky as a child who has a lollipop, and is promised another lollipop next Sunday, and then, come Sunday there is no lollipop.

Spent last night getting only stage tips and heavy barside tips from Tony, a respectful regular who comes in and just blows cash on drinks and tipping but nothing else—he’s always high as a kite and a good time to chat with. Then the gents from the other night, Keith and Bob and newly Bart, came in and tipped me for about an hour.

“Vegas” Jeff came in and Ch. sat with him for a bit; we didn’t get to catch-up long, but he did say something really nice to me: “When I saw you when you started, you were a dancer—now I see you and you’re a performer.” Aw, shucks.

And that’s my story. I spent the entire night hanging with Ch. and Jo. at Tony’s side and then Keith’s side, with stage interludes. Lo. got her job back, she’s working Saturdays and Sundays. I still have bruises. I wore Closer, Snow White, and Punk Rock V2.0. I’m still not feeling too hot; may not work tomorrow.

Douchebag Count: 0
$hift Grade: C

Shift: 07.11.10, 8pm-4am.

Thanks, new followers!

Okay, I’m a bad human being. Or bad blogger. Your choice. I went into work Friday too, but my weekend was so busy that I didn’t get to write up a summary. You didn’t miss much. Friday was uneventful (for me) and pulled in a grade of B- for the 6-2 shift.

On Saturday, Lilah threw Ry. a birthday party, which was awesome. Dy. and Ag. came as well, and Jo. did too for a hot minute before her ride had to chauffeur another girl. So that left me pretty wiped and I slept until 6pm Sunday, whereupon I woke up and hauled ass into the House.

We were all ‘miserable’ together, so it wasn’t so bad. I think Jo. was the only one mentioned who didn’t work the shift last night. Until about midnight, I had no relevant customers. I had one gent who woulda been a douchebag if I’d given him the time, but somewhere in between all his backhanded compliments, I walked away.

I sat with a kind gentleman, Andy, who had an interest in my gear: that is, I was wearing Lace Domme and he liked the idea of being put into handcuffs, so we got a 15 minute private. A few stage sets later and I danced with Chris, who was drunk but very fun. He was an ideal customer: knew what he wanted and was pleased with what he got.

So he got 1 dance from me, and then later did two double dances with both Lilah and I. “Vegas” Jeff came in for a visit, so we caught up with him, and I also had the pleasure of sitting with a young couple who was a friend of the bartender’s. They treated me to a glass of champagne, a shot, and tipped me well for talking with them.

Costumes were Cherry Kirsch, Lace Domme, and Miss Muppet. No new bruises. Got a lot of good stage tips last night. Gonna head into the House tonight again because Ny. is starting her first shift.

Douchebag Count: 1.
$hift Grade: A-

Shift: 06.28.10, 6pm-1am.

Lilah and I were pretty much literally served our first clients of the night. We walked in, she had her Red Bull, and the far side of the bar from where we were sitting was full, so the bartender asked this party of 4 to sit in our seats.

Sure, we stood up. And pretty much sat right back down in their laps. Not literally, but you get the idea. It was like a present. These Wall Street etc gents had been on LUNCH BREAK since about 1pm, and around 8pm wandered right on into the House.

No complaints there.

We were introduced at first to “The Man,” whose name is Damian, but we didn’t know that right away because we were too busy laughing over the fact that his friends introduced him as The Man. So we gave the rest of them names, too: Superboss (his choice), El Presidente/The President (depending on our mood), and The Sultan (their DD).

Damian spent the whole night with me and got 2 dances and tipped me very, very well. We got enough rapport that he let me tip the other girls for him, which I love to do. He was enamoured of my rock chick attitude and wanted me to get him drunk and give him a mohawk. That was the kind of night I had—and it was fun.

Other news: I slapped Lilah’s ass so hard that I left a full five-finger print. I was proud. Not gonna lie. I can give a good smack but I’ve never left a mark before. Also, you’ll notice in the subject, our shift got cut short: this was due to Lilah’s cranial bleeding.

While she was in the back changing, Br. opened the locker above her head quickly; when Lilah stood, the locker door slammed right into it. I’ll let her tell more. Needless to say, the result was bloody, dizzy, and got us excused early (since we travel in packs, you know).

I spent a lot of time hanging out with Jo., who sat with Damian and I for awhile, and Sk., who is growing on me a lot. I really like the rock girls. I’ve always enjoyed spending time with Ry. and Dy., but I’m getting closer with Jo. and Sk.; I love talking with them. And Lo., but I’ll get to Lo. in another post.

Costumes: Punk Rock Princess and Cherry Kirsch. No new bruises, but the friction bruises from Sunday night finally showed up, so I’ll give you a glimpse of those next. I forget the QFLN that Damian said. I hope Lilah remembers it. Go go gadget memory.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grade: B-

Shift: 06.21.10, 6pm-2am.

Ugh. Where to start. I’m not sure anyone was even relevant. It was another “barely a dozen customers” kinda evening. So rather than run each customer down one by one, since no one stayed very long, I’ll just give you the highlights.

Sammy came back in. Only this time I do count him as a certified douchebag for the evening. While he gave me $300 for listening to him last time, this time he only flipped me a $20, and gave all the girls a hard time, would barely tip anyone, and if anything a dollar, even Jo., whom he usually tips well too.

The icing on the cake was when I was called to stage and he turns to me, full Father Figure style, and says, ‘If you dance on stage I am leaving.’ I was like, ‘You watched me last time.’ And he just repeated himself. This nonsense after asking if I wanted to have his babies. Literally. I am not sitting with him again.

The other highlight was a gent named Greg who stopped me from sitting with this really nice guy John, which I now regret. John wound up getting a private with Ds., who took my seat after I relinquished it to sit with Greg. John is a sweet guy, graphic designer for an in-house company, so we had a lot to talk about.

Greg on the other hand was alllll about getting a dance from me (sound familiar yet?) and just wanted to hang out with Ts. (a new Russian girl I actually really enjoy spending time with) and I first. And then the infamous statement: ‘I just gotta run to my car to get more money.’ Car, ATM, Bank—same difference: Bank Run/ner.

I made pretty much no cash apart from what I made on stage: everyone was really into my Punk Rock Princess costume, I got tipped really well for that and rocked the handcuffs with it to House of 1000 Corpses (finally got around to adding that officially, only took me a month).

The only dance I got was because Au. was watching out for me again. She’s really sweet and I love working with her and I hope to get her back, too, soon; we were both hanging out and bored and she called in a regular of hers, Michael, whom she let give me a dance. He was very well-spoken.

I should have some of my regulars in tonight… god willing… and I was looking forward to returning her the favour, but she called me today and said the House had fired her for ‘making out with a customer,’ which seems like a pretty ridiculous charge when girls are kept who do worse. I’m hoping the House changes its mind and rehires her.

Minor friction bruises, inner right thigh, but too tiny to care or take photos of. Costumes were La Cage and Punk Rock Princess. In personal news, I did feel a lot better after dancing and it definitely helped clear my head to just not think for awhile. I love dancing.

Douchebag Count: 2.
$hift Grade: D

Shift: 05.27.10, 6pm-3am.

Whoakay… Lots to talk about, but my head feels like it’s splitting open, so I forget the memorable ‘did you really just say that?’ from last night, which goes to Greg. In other news, no new bruises… just made the one I had a helluvalot worse.

To start, it was dead slow until about 11pm. I mean dead. Like maybe four gents. So the lot of us just hung out and talked for a few hours. All my favourite girls were on—Ry. and Dy. and Rm. and Mi.—so I didn’t mind. Got closer with Jo., she’s a pretty cool girl.

Debuted my 2 new Porcelain songs and I love them. The verdict on handcuffs: Too soon to tell. First use was messy for stage, but I’m convinced to give it one more shot. Leading Jo. and Mi. around on them was, admittedly, fun.

New girl came in: Lx. I got a girlboner from the second I saw her and the bartenders helped me get her name. We hung out and talked quite a bit; she’s from California—surfer—moved for her boyfriend—boo—but has had relationships with girls—woo!

I want her for Christmas, please.

Got 1 dance from Greg, a gent who I’ve hung with before who is a cigar aficionado; got a private with Mi. and a new guy, very sweet, just got out of a marriage where he found his lady cheating on him. His name’s John Paul but I call him Jean Valjean.

Talked to a few other gents, and one, Marty, actually really and officially propositioned me for sex outside the club. He was so polite about it that it was really bizarre. Kind when I declined, however. Douchebaggery with class, and thusly, not a douchebag.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grade: B-