Ava Adore

Turnover Rate

I guess it happens sometime to all of us who stick around one place too long. You look up and suddenly you don’t recognize anyone. All the faces you came to know, laugh with, worry over—they’re missing from the life of the place, faded to decor and then gone.

It’s not all sad, of course. You get girls like Ag. and Rv. who go on to other things, life progress, moving up and moving out and moving on. You get girls who’ve left, hoping for greener pastures at other clubs in a down economy. You get girls fired over stupid shit they didn’t do. You get girls fired over stupid shit they did do.

And you look up and suddenly Ry., Lo., Ls., Ag., Rv., Sk.—they’re all gone. Ah., Cr., they never hacked it past their first month. Ev., Gi., Ri., Br., Dy.—haven’t seen them in weeks, I don’t know where they are or if they’re still with us. Instead I’ve got a ton of girls I have to learn the names of within 2 weeks if they manage to stick around.

And part of that makes me miss the girls I started with terribly… and part of it, oddly, feels a lot like college. It reminds me of my years in university when, each year around this time, your seniors aren’t on campus any more and the freshmen are instead. It feels a lot like that, a mix of forlorn and hopeful.

It’s somehow fitting that the gone girls were my seniors. But it’s also that mixed feeling you get at graduation: you know at some point, it’s going to be you doing the long walk. And you can’t see yourself doing it and you don’t know when—but you know others have gone before you, so you will follow, in time.

Stripping is a business attached to a body clock if nothing else. Circadian rhythm, lunar cycles, and the pull of gravity on the weight of our bones.

Shift: 09.01.10, 8pm-4am.

Made all my money at the end of the night, after 2am. Had a few tippers in the beginning, like Carlos who didn’t speak a lick of English who was friends with a new dancer Sh., and some others. Chatted with P Escalade, talked to Jason, nothing major.

Sat with a guy who’d never been to the House before, Justin. Justin was also tipped me a few extra for sitting with him, he told me about how he worked an 11 hour job and went to school and I asked why in the hell he was out so late and wasn’t it past curfew?

He wanted me to take his House ‘lapdance virginity’ but he needed to go get more money and his friend was pushing to leave, so he just said he’d be back. Sat with Nick, a Scottish gent who does international porn, interesting conversationalist to say the least.

When I was walking the well for my last set, a gent who’d just come in tipped and chatted: he was in to find a girl who would perform privately with his friends on a sex toy, but instead he got me. He took me for a dance first and then continued for a 15.

And no, I will not perform privately for his friends on a sex toy, which I was clear on, though he enjoyed himself nonetheless and was a respectful client; can’t ask for more. He was supposed to leave me his name; I feel bad I don’t recall it.

Some kind of nuclear war was going on behind the scenes last night; I know some girls were fired, but that’s only part of the picture. I’ve never seen so many locked doors at the House before, which only compounded other stressful events the night held.

Bonded more with Rv. No bruises, but did something painful to my back. I know more upper pole tricks but I feel like I’m forgetting the minor spins I used to know. It’s a weird feeling, as if I have this repetoire and if I don’t use it all, I forget pieces.

Wore Corona and Halestorm. Decided to do Slave Leia and Starchild for Halloween week. No one knows Closer well enough to get Alice/Jane and doing Jessica right would take too much work right now.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grade: B-

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+