Ava Adore

Shift Roundup!

10.20.10, 10.22.10, 10.24.10, and 10.25.10, all 6pm-12am.

It’s been boring, what can I say. First we chalked it up to the playoffs, but the Yankees lost out due to the fact that they weren’t playing like they fucking cared—Come on. Come back out of the woodwork. You want my tits, I want your money. Fair trade.

Anyway. Each night had one good thing about it, like Keith and Bob, whom I always like bullshitting with. Ch. and I call them Penn and Teller; Keith looks exactly like Penn, and Bob looks close enough to Teller that we don’t care if they’re different people. Ch. likes to think it’s really them.

On Sunday one of my regulars, Charlie (of Proud Mary fame), came in to visit. I authentically love spending time with him. He’s such a bloody sweetheart. He just moved to Bayside, and I used to live in Whitestone, so we talked about that for awhile. He comes in with his friend Joe, who likes to hang with Lilah.

Charlie does this thing, I’m pretty sure it’s an unconscious tic, but when he’s happy or pleased, he makes little whimpery-sigh puppy noises. So if you’re leaning into him and rubbing his back and talking, he just kinda makes noises like this. It’s adorable but I don’t want to call him on it in case he gets self-conscious.

Monday I got to see Jim, who doesn’t get dances but tips well because he’s one of the liquor suppliers to the House and he does spends and I’m his favourite to chat with meanwhile. Last time we talked about Napoleon and Russia. This time ranged from Tarantino to Louis XIV.

Oh, does anyone know: Did Tarantino cameo in Kill Bill as he does in most of his other films? If so, as who? I need to find this out.

Other than that, not much went on. Hung out with regulars Tony, John and Jeff; got a few dances from randoms; nothing to remark on. I don’t remember what I wore, partly because I’m ADD with it and partly because Penn and Teller like to tip me to go through my wardrobe.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grades: C, C, D, and C, respectively.

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: 10.11.10, 6pm-2am.

Possessive.

That’s the word that comes to mind after last night.

Blood, too, but I’ll get to that later.
We’ll start with ‘possessive.’ We’ll start with Keith.

It was slow, because it was a holiday kids are off from school, so after I sat with a great gent for a half hour, Ch. and I sat barside and bullshitted for another half hour. At one point I happen to look up, surprised, to see Keith standing there. Right next to me. Mouse quiet, ninja style.

He remembered me from the last time he came in; he said he’d come to see me. Alright, that’s cool, I’m down with that, I didn’t remember much but most people who come to see a specific dancer have brought money for that dancer, and the more we talked the more I remembered a few things.

He’s like a twisted Father Figure, he believes the best of me and that this isn’t the way, but since he knows how I feel about it he’s taken it upon himself to Protect Me from Other Men there. Ch. got appropriated into the umbrella for the evening, or so he told me he didn’t ‘like when the other guys hit on her.’

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Shift Roundup!

10.01.10, 10.03.10, and 10.04.10, all 6pm-2am.

I’ve been bad lately with my shift summaries because there’s been so much to talk about in the world of stripping, and so much I still want to talk about. I have over 30 posts in my drafts section, it’s really a terror, and I don’t like to overwhelm you.

That being said, I’m hoping the minor cold snap is an indicator of better money at the House. I’ve made A- grade for all three of my last shifts, which I’m pretty happy with. Friday and Sunday were busy, while Monday was slow and I got lucky with one client who tipped well and got 2 private rooms with me.

Sunday was interesting particularly because I made half of what I did barside in stage tips, which actually always makes me feel like I’m doing a good job and performing well. I had favourite clients in, Brett and Felicia, and made new friends with a girl, Debbie, who started as a dancer yesterday.

Retired Evidence by Marilyn Manson and Fire in My Eyes by Fireflight after giving them test runs. Brought back Ka-Boom Ka-Boom. Loving Sweet Sacrifice. Added a black vest to my wardrobe, which gives second lives to my Punk Rock Princess and Hot For Teacher outfits, so those have been fun to wear. No major douchebags.

In other news, Story of Story of Story fame is coming to cameo at the House on our Sunday night shift! Stoked.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grades: A-

Shift: 09.13.10, 6pm-4am.

Alright, alright. Fair’s fair. I suppose when I say, ‘we all have those nights,’ it should apply to me, too. Now, I’m not an egomaniac, but I go on facts and I am one of the House’s top consistent earners… but I work hard, and even on a slow night I can get something going.

But this was My Bad Night. You win some, you lose some. This was set up to be a night for Total Lose. I lost count of the douchebags. Literally. It started with Douchebag Number 1, Keith, who set the tone for the evening.

I don’t even have a DSM write up for this guy. I’ve never met a douche like him and I’m not sure I will again. It was flat-out bizarre. He liked me—a lot. He bought me drinks, we laughed and got on well, he tipped me, he wanted a dance. He wanted a private.

Okay, we go to pay for said private. He gets to the bloody host where he has to pay, and the host says, ‘$120,’ and he hesitates and asks for a lapdance instead. I was surprised and I asked him what was wrong; he said ‘Nothing, I just…’ and then directly,

‘Nevermind, I don’t want anything.’ And walked out.

_{(This shift report is kinda long, soooo…)}

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Shift: 09.06.10, 8pm-4am.

Last night was a holiday shift at the House, meaning the first 6 girls on get shift pay (score!) but it also means we’re opening up, like day girls usually do, so it was slow for the first hour until the night-comers started wandering in. It’s funny how much I take for granted the happy-hour-spillover clients on night shift.

I’ve worked one holiday before, I forget which, but I tend to feel that holidays do well. Humourously enough, the first gent who walked in the House last night was Ken from Saturday, so I set off bullshitting with him right away to see how things were in his double lives. We had a shot and he tipped me for stage before leaving.

Then it all happened fast. I remember sitting next to Lilah and being like, wow, there ain’t nobody up in hurr. And then literally, we looked up 2 minutes later, and 8 guys were suddenly there. I have no idea if they Apparated or what, because we were by the door, but it was quick and there they were.

So I sat with some very handsy Spanish gentlemen, Carlo and Giovanni. Carlo spoke less English and it was hard to handle him, especially when he kept trying to be too friendly than I like with my bum. After constantly outmaneuvering him, I was about to leave and was pleasantly surprised by Giovanni offering me a dance.

They left right after, whereupon I proceeded to waste two fucking hours of my life on a douchebag. This was unintentional, obviously, and he will make an update to the DSM of Douchebags. Douchebag, alias Reggie Roo (can’t make this shit up), and his friend Paulie (not a douchebag), sat with Lilah and I for awhile.

Long story short (read more in Douchebag updates), I told “Reggie Roo” to fuck off in as many words. I promptly went on to my next client, who liked my stage work. His name was George and he was a kind gentleman who works security at clubs in the Hamptons and in public schools. He got 2 dances from me.

I got called to stage again (it was a good stage night—in as much as I got up pretty much every hour, which I prefer) and when I came down, a group of younger guys was interested in me, including a sweet guy named Caleb and a funny guy who said his name was Bilbo.

I didn’t take Bilbo seriously at first (obviously), so I spent some time talking Latin and ink and Dexter with Caleb. Then Bilbo decided to get in on that action. He made me laugh and he and Caleb got dances with me an Ev., which was a nice way to round out the evening.

Douchebag Count: 1.
$hift Grade: A-

Shift: 08.16.10, 6pm-2am.

I really gotta stop procrastinating shift reports. I don’t do it a lot, but when I do, I always forget things. Okay. So. Monday night. …Uhm. We walked in and it was hella busy, but it cleared to a normal Monday speed by 7:30pm.

Sat with Sammy for a little along with Cr. and Lilah; he was on the drunk side of things, so haggling with him for tips was a pain. He also faltered in his English more, which produced things like, ‘I am going to squeeze the juice out of you!’ when he hugged me.

I also sat with this trio of Spanish gentlemen, they were great, really fun to hang out with. The kind of customers I like: respectful, looking to have a good time, and know what they want—so you can deliver. One got a private with me.

The night ended (there were other dances in between) with another trio of men out to celebrate one’s birthday. They were another bloody funny group. Not as spendy as the other trio, but they did right by the bar, and they did right by me.

They really loved my dancing and the birthday boy got a lapdance from me which he described as ‘the best, but fastest, 5 minutes of his life.’ 5 minutes can go quickly! His boys bought his dance though, so a private with him wasn’t in the cards.

Sold Ev. my lime green heels; only one pair of clear heels left to sell off in the reducing of my garb, and two outfits. Wore Limewire and Halestorm. No new bruises. I think that’s about it. Shift tonight!

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grade: B+

Shift: 08.02.10, 6pm-2am.

Blurry night… Began with a gent named Charlie who was new to me but good-natured, we talked about music and I’m always into talking about music. He didn’t dance but he did tip. When he left I sat with Will, whom I’ve sat with before, but he got an urgent call, had to leave, and gave me $15 in apology.

After that I slid right on down the side of the bar to talk to Sammy, who is the inverse of what we usually handle. Normally a drunk man tips more. Sammy does not. Sammy tips sober and is an asshole drunk. If he’s sober, sit with him; if he’s not, leave. It saves both of our sanity that way. Anyway, we talked for about an hour and he tipped well.

Sammy has a mixed review at our club; he’s one of the few patrons our manager says we can say anything to, because he can be such a schmuck. But partly I wonder how much of that is misunderstanding. English isn’t his first language and he comes from a very different culture, so many of his remarks are offensive.

There may have been someone in between, I feel like I gave a dance before Natalie came in, but I don’t remember. Regardless, Natalie was next; she tipped me profusely on stage so I sat with her after. She was a little (okay a lot) coked up but very friendly. She got a private with me and it was one of the funnier experiences of my life.

She seemed to want to pay me to be impressed with her, and not the other way around. Which is to say, she wanted to dance for me, and for me to find her attractive; she was also intensely paranoid that the bouncer was going to come in at any moment. It felt like a B rated spy movie a la Austin Powers with less shagging.

She was pretty and kind though and I didn’t mind talking to her; she left right after the private because her ride was there. Then I sat around for a bit and was a lazy stripper, talked to one of Lilah’s customers while she took a break, and then chatted with a trio of cousins who came in, Jay, John, and some other J-name.

Jay called me over because he, and I quote, said ‘My baby brother has a boner for you.’ Class, I tell you. Nothing but class. Anyway, John (the little brother) was very sweet and didn’t mind me being a little aggressive, which I was feeling by that point as it was the end of the evening. He got 2 dances from me.

I didn’t work Sunday night, so no double updates. It was also slow a lot of the night, so I got to try out new shoes, new gloves (both of which I love), and new tricks. Sold off a few outfits, just got 2 skirts and a pair of heels to go. Ls. and An. want me to take online orders for them. Stayed in Pinot Noir the whole night.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grade: A-

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+

Shift: 07.12.10, 6pm-4am.

Oh man, where to start. This wound up being my longest shift to date, not really on purpose. I did a 6-2, as I tend to on Mondays, but wound up staying later because Todd, a customer I hang out with, came in around 1 with his friend George.

It was also Ny.’s first night, so that was good in itself. She seemed nervous at first, but by the end of the night she’d scored 2 dances all on her own, so she’ll do just fine. Not like that was a question: her pigtails and glasses pretty much make her a hit right off.

My customers are kind of a blur to me; this is why I try to update the very next morning—and not a day later like this.

I know one of them was a douche, and I tried very politely to explain to him why he was a douche as he tipped me, but, he wasn’t so keen on hearing it. He was a low-level Pimp Juice: he felt he should only tip a girl if he ‘paid attention to her’ (and chose to pay attention to nearly none of them).

After getting tired of getting too much sass from girls, who on the polite scale simply said ‘Hello’ and ‘Are you tipping?’ after waiting too long, and on the harsh scale some had a few choice words, he decided to leave. Godspeed, I tell you. I forget his name. Whatever.

Apart from Todd, who got 2 dances from me at the end of the night, I had 1 other dance from a gentleman whose name I never got; he never even spoke to me. I danced to Bad Things and he was so into it that he took me to the lapdance room immediately after I got off stage.

Other than that, Candi brought in a new outfit for me, Limewire, which I’m in love with. Also, the deejay for the night played a song for me that he thought I’d dig, so I was excited for that. I’ll post it in a little. No bruises; costumes were Miss Scarlet, Second Skin, and Yellow Card.

Douchebag Count: 1.
$hift Grade: C