Ava Adore

Shift: 11.07.10, 5pm-12am.

Started out with John, a gent I’ve sat with before. We talked Jets games and Metallica tickets and his life that’s going awry: he and his wife are having screaming matches. He loves his 3 young children. Which is more damaging: divorce or hostile environment?

Hard questions. He also likes to question me about my love life, he’s seen Ch. and I make out for money for him before (you mean we get paid to do what we normally do?). I don’t reveal much of anything.

He asks about coming out to my folks. I give an abbreviation version. I’m not all-out to most of my clients - I think that merits a whole other post. He doesn’t get dances but again, tips me very well, and without my asking. A pleasure.

After that all the post-game kids come in and crowed the bar for about a half hour to an hour, and while they’re useless for dances in favour of their beers, they’re good for macho posturing and made it rain for me twice. Thank you!

When they cleared out, one of the football game kids remained; he’d apparently really taken a shine to me, called me over after my set with an ‘Aren’t you available yet?!’ His name was Brian; he’s a painter, works in abstract with spray paint.

We talked art and galleries and big families and Etsy before he took me for a 15 minute private (please and thank you) where he was incredibly kind and respectful (please and thank you) while still showing he enjoyed it. Please and thank you!

I told him to come back. I hope that he does. By that time I was about done with my shift for the day. I spent time with an older duo of friends who weren’t tipping me as well as I’d liked; then I went on stage another time and high-tailed it out of there.

Douchebag Count: 0
$hift Grade: B+

Shift: 11.05.10, 6pm-1am.

Put on 3 new songs to the set, Cloud Nine by Evanescence; Losing My Religion by Justin Murphy; and Heaven’s a Lie by Lacuna Coil. On test runs I feel pretty good with them on stage, I like their energy.

Unsurprisingly, Heaven’s a Lie is the one I’m on the fence about. I finally broke down and added it, and it does work better than I thought it would… but not as good as others, so I hate ‘taking up space’ in my set with songs that don’t get me going on stage.

I started out the night with Penn and Teller - sorry, sorry, I mean Keith and Bob - which is always a good time. ‘H’lo, honey!’ ‘Allo, baby!’ They’re so damn jovial. They’re a great example of how to be a good client without getting lapdances.

I then spent some time with a would-be douchebag. The ‘would-be’ is because he paid me, and paying me makes you automatically less of a douchebag, because putting up with douchebaggery is part of the job.

The gent and I talked at length, and he was very kind; he tipped me well on stage, enough to get me over, and then he said he’d like to pay me for my time to sit and talk, so we did. Except then he wasn’t going to pay me for my time.

So I laid into him, and guilt-tripped him, and was all like, ‘You said you’d pay me for my time, that’s why I’m here, you know it’s my job,’ (because we’d been being that up-front), ‘and if you’d like me to stay longer you’ll need to do that.’

He grumbled about it but did finally pay me, ‘Just so you know, most guys don’t do this.’ I said, ‘Actually, most guys that say they’ll pay me for my time, do. Now, would you like me to stay longer?’ and he said, ‘No, that’s alright, go get dances.’

So I went to the back to change and when I came back out, Joe and Charlie were there! Charlie burnt me a Bruce Springsteen cd, he says if I can’t find one song to like then we can’t be friends anymore. He’s too funny.

It was Charlie’s birthday, so I stayed an hour past my shift to hang out with them (gladly!). Joe bought him 2 dances from me, I changed into street clothes and hung out a little more. Ended the night on that note.

Wore and retired/sold Faster Pussycat, the thing was too annoying to wear to actually keep. Changed into Starchild, the remnants of said costume from Halloween, but now it’s mainly just a cute bikini. No bruises.

Douchebag Count: 0
$hift Grade: A

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: 10.17.10, 6pm-12am.

This shift was not as intense as Friday’s, thankfully. It was slow for a Sunday, surprisingly. I made my first $100 simply because Ch.’s drunk, handsy client Gary thought I was cute and Ch. was nice enough to share, and the drunk guy was good enough to continue to tip us both heavily, so it was win-win.

Ch. left hella early because her knees were killing her. I gotta get that girl some Tiger Balm patches. I made stage tips the rest of the night until Brett and Felicia came in for her post-birthday lapdance (Happy birthday girl! I don’t think you read this, but you rock anyway) right before I left, around midnight. I love those clients.

Lo. came in to visit around 11:30, which was pretty cool! We caught up, she’s trying to get her job back because it turns out Mi. got fired (!) which I didn’t know until last night. I don’t know what Mi. could have possibly done to get fired, but seeing as it’s Mi., it must have been pretty bad; I know they like to keep her. I am surprised.

That’s about it. Watched bad Japanese horror at Ch.’s after my shift. Was ADD with clothes, wore Lorenzo, La Cage, SOS, and Baby Firefly. I need to update my locker list badly. I have new bruises on my hip from landing a new trick. Learned two new tricks, still working on getting them to look right.

Douchebag Count: 0
$hift Grades: B

Shift: 10.15.10, 6pm-2am.

This was a really fucking intense shift. Long report.

So much happened. So much surprised me and concerned me and taught me new things. Like why guys consistently try to solicit sex work from dancers. And that Tr. can actually be pretty nice. And that sometimes the things you want destroy you. And that if they want you bad enough, it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing.

One by one…

I sat with two gentlemen, Keith (not the possessive one) and his friend. They look like two circus guys I can’t remember the names of. Keith tipped me very heavily and we spent about two hours bullshitting. He was very frank and, despite being good humoured, he said flat out: If you’re not giving me a blow job, I don’t want a dance.

I was taken aback by his honesty and his frankness and recognized this as a point of opportunity for learning, since he didn’t want me to leave, despite him dubbing me ‘Snow White’ for my modesty (Good thing he didn’t know about my costume?). So I asked him, in a non-jackass tone for once, ‘Why don’t you just get a prostitute?’

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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: 10.10.10, 6pm-2am.

It looks like we might be rounding the bend back into Stripper Season, which I’m thrilled about. The sun goes down, it gets colder, beaches have less half-naked women… and so you come back. You always come back. Disney villain laughter here.

It’s about damn time, and I’m ecstatic to be working the cold season again. I’ve been kept so busy that I haven’t been able to update the last two shifts from Wednesday and Saturday: I made B grades each night but I definitely still hate, hate working Saturdays.

I didn’t work Friday like usual because I went out with Ch. instead and dyed her hair blue. It brings out her eyes and she’s fucking adorable. Just saying. Anyway, Story came in to work with Lilah and I at the House last night, so that was sweet.

She had great shoes! Leave it to me to notice that. Teeze-05s in candy apple Red, in case you were wondering. It was cool to have a kindred blogging spirit around, plus just the charisma and wealth of experiences she brought with her. A definite pleasure.

For my part, it was the Evening of Dudes with J-Names. I got a dance with a teddy bear named John, 2 from a Hollister guy named Jerry, and 2 from Joe, who was a total sweetheart and was just happy to dance around with me at the bar like middle school.

I also got a private with Joe—and a private with a married couple a) who won’t be married for long and b) whose names I didn’t catch. That private I did with Vi. I danced for the gent, she danced for the lady; the lady is the second encounter of the Naked Vagina kind that I’ve had.

That shit never ceases to floor me. #Put That Away!

Like seriously? Seriously. Seriously right now you’re at a strip club without panties on getting a lapdance and trying to suckle Vi.’s breasts like an unweened child? Even for me, it was a bit intense. The husband seemed equally turned off, thus the ‘not married for long’ statement. His words, not mine. Good luck with that one.

Also, I’m running out of Douchebag profiles because I am better at picking them out right away. Sat with some guy who had the makings of a That Guy, his line was he was a millionaire on welfare. All his friends ratted him out for having money, but oh no, he’d rather take me to “real dinner with real drinks and real girls.”

Apparently I’m Not A Real Girl! Now I know what Pinocchio was on to. Anyway, I left his sorry ass before I could really count him as a waste of my time. Go me. Spent the evening in Punk Rock Princess (v2, with vest) and got new bruises on my inner upper right arm. Pics to follow.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grades: A+

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: 09.29.10, 6pm-2am.

This was an… interesting evening. I should have had omens when I walked into the back and a new dancer, Lz., looked at me, then the manager, and said, “Where did you find that?” in an appreciative tone. Turns out she was a dancer at the House a few years back.

Also funny, because she looks like one of my little brother’s friends. She was working day shift, so I only was in her company for an hour or so, during which she wanted to impress me with tricks on stage—one of which was picking up dollar bills with just her ass cheeks?

I know I was supposed to be appreciative, so I was: I recognize the strength and skill that takes. However, it still on a basic level suggests to me, between squatting and clenching, a number of other, less impressive things. My client seemed to dig it, though.

I did a few dances that night and took care of a few drunk people, like Ch.’s friend Justin from the other night who was unabashedly throwing an inordinate amount of money at the stage for her. I guess this was the evening of Attempts to Impress?

Anyway, he was trashed and we had to put him in the car to sleep it off a bit. That bad. The client-highlight of my evening, though, was when a group of 3 (or was it 5? the group seemed to grow) came in a little after midnight.

One was a girl in plaid, another was her engaged friend, and the other was the friend’s fiance’s best friend. The Best Friend Man liked asses, liked me, and had this idea where he wanted to get all three of them a lapdance.

It was like Musical Chairs, if people were chairs and instead of walking between beats you were grinding. Okay. Just so we have correct visuals. So for the space of 3 lapdances I rotated between the 3 of them, and that was pretty funny.

Nothing other major to report. Emotions were high because both Ch. and Lilah were having bad nights, so I spent some time talking with each of them. I learned a new ending to one of my upside down tricks. Wore Hot for Teacher all night.

Douchebag Count: 0.
$hift Grade: B-