I was giving a dance last Saturday toward the end of the night. I was lucky, the guy bought two half/hrs back to back which meant we got to by-pass the awful, soul-killing line—that line eats up more of my time lately than anything else. I clocked my time in line two Saturdays ago, over the course of the night almost two hours. 26 minutes of it for just one dance: ie, 27$ (after club/dj cut taken out).
But this guy was a doll. I mean, it was the night I was feeling unbearably fragile, terrified of not making enough money, terrified about my future, the whole boring deal. He came up to me while I was talking to my friend who let’s just call her Sex Magic bc she’s like the god of all hustlers. But he wanted me. We were waiting in line and part of the reason the line is killer is that you’re standing there trying to be entertaining and keep them from getting exasperated and leaving so that all time hasn’t been for nothing, and trying to upsell them so you can make the most out of the time you’ve invested in it (like I said, 27$ after 26 minutes not counting dance time for that one guy—and there are guys who get tired and leave which means you just wasted 20-40 minutes) so I cast around for something to talk about. He was going to Arcata, and the only thing I could think of was that maybe one book took place there?
“It’s about a kid, and he’s in love with a girl, and she gets him into trouble?”
I couldn’t remember the title (Youth in Revolt).
“Are you talking about where they have a secret kingdom and the girl dies? MAN! That book was tragic!”
I was not talking about that but more, I was surprised he even read/remembered Bridge to Terebithia.
So we started on the right foot and stayed that way. We were well into the second half hour when this godawful noisy moaning starts.
“Unnnnnh! Unnnhmmmmmmmmmoh yeah! oh yeah!”
He stopped talking and started to look freaked out. It kept going. It’s like your standard porn soundtrack, really loud moans over the weekend dj’s dubstep.
Finally I had to explain. This happens a lot and it’s part of why she drives me crazy, because it’s such a low, rude tactic. With the curtains in place the unseen moaning promises something she can’t actually deliver on, but it doesn’t stop customers from feeling betrayed that I’m not orgasming or more importantly bringing them to orgasm. How to explain depends on how the customer is reacting; my guy seems more horrified/fascinated than defrauded so I felt safe reassuring him:
“Don’t worry, she always sounds like that. It’s just her lapdance shtick.”
He didn’t look reassured.
“It could be worse!” I told him. “There are the two girls who loudly yell ‘Yeah, fuck me harder fuck it harder, oh baby you feel so good!’ and then what am I supposed to do everyone wants to know why I haven’t stuck their dicks in me.”
We were talking pretty loud, probably on purpose, honestly, and her moans increased in volume like she was trying to drown us out. Now you know how I feel I thought vindictively, and tried to think of the least sexy subject possible. ”You’re helping me pay my dogs vet bills!” I told him. ”Yeah he keeps falling over. And then recently my other dog had bloody diarrhea.” I wouldn’t normally be this charmless but he already paid and can’t get his money back.
“Oh that’s disgusting.”
“Yeah…” We both listened. She quieted down.
“One time,” I told him, “I was giving a dance and Seven Nation Army was on and the guy across from us spanked the dancer in time with the bassline for the whole song.” I demonstrated on my stomach. “Yeah. So are you really going to wake up at 6 am…”