STRIPPING, FACT AND FICTION REVEALED THROUGH THE MEMOIR’S OF A SIN-DUSTRY NEWBIE…..Part 2 “The man called Stan”

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Day 2 — Stripper Hell — and a man called “Stan”

Days had passed since my ” premier” at club ( “stripper-hell”), I had struggled and thrown up and struggled some more. The decision to return was made from necessity not desire. When your older kids need clothing , your infant has no diapers, and formula is running low — not to mention “the sperm donor” is virtually M.I.A. the lengths you will go to just to provide — are astounding. 

Again I found myself in my car, circling the lot and reflecting on” HOW THE HELL IT WAS THAT I GOT HERE?”…. Marriage….Vows…Happily ever after’s….. WAKE UP HONEY — not in this story book. TEN years dedicated to “serving my husband”, “bearing his children”, “enduring his wrath and daily beatings”. But… Was I truly better off? ” Look at where you are I thought to myself”. You feel dirty, used, and un-human — despite the stigma of the “sexy “exotic-dancer / pole-goddess” — truth be told I felt like shit. Eye candy for some shmuck with too much money, and no real life. “DADDY ISSUES” HAH …That took on a whole new meaning for me, on this particular day.

Remembering my “outfits”, makeup, and all other stripper friendly materials, my “stripper-in-a-box” was more like roll away luggage, than a backpack of items — perhaps because I had yet to learn of the lockers in the changing room. You guessed it — put there to help us out  — although I believe so it didn’t seem like every dancer was slowly moving in.

I checked in at the desk, made my way to the locker room, and began the extravagant task of morphing into “pole dancing Barbie”. Then off to the stage to practice on the pole.  There was a 2 hour break between opening and closing of the club — during this time “we” could practice — though I seemed to be the only one needing it. Yet another half-clothed veteran of displayed nudity — offered some pointers to my sad,ok down right embarrassing excuse for pole moves and “dancing”. DAMN she was good. I watched in amazement as her body movements were fluid — flipping and swinging, ass over head, and reversing in one stealthy, sultry, swing of her perfectly toned self. “AWE SHIT — I’m so screwed” I thought to myself, as she slowly ushered me toward my personal Mt. Everest. Surprisingly I managed to learn quicker than I thought, and not half bad according to my “teacher”.  A glance at the clock and my stomach turned like I had guzzled sour milk — the doors were about to open…… TO THEM…….Gulp…Wave of nausea…Gulp number 2 — yeah sure I was ready — or not.

Ready or not they filed in like children after recess, each taking a seat and grabbing a stiff drink — pun intended. After my first 3 stage go-round, it was off to the floor to attempt some lap dance cash. But was I really ready for that? What would I do? How would I move? The rules were strict and important — last time I just swayed to the music and bent over a few times — feeling as though I might fall head first into god knows what. Well it was time to find out — it was time to really step-up my game — after all the whole point is to make money right?

As I scoured the now near capacity small side room,  I was summoned by an “interesting” looking guy — okay honestly — an overly attractive man who had NO earthly business in that place. He ordered me a drink, and we sat and chatted for quite a while. He wasn’t trying to get me to sit on his lap, play with his hair, or even talk me into some kind of extra’s. (sidenote you hear a lot of that type of thing, with 5 other dancers within ear-shot.) But “Stan” as he was called tried none of those tactics. He simply wanted to talk and know a bit about you before shelling out whatever dough he was wanting to spend that day. “Hmmmm a bit about me” I thought. EVERY girl had a “fake-back-story” — the favorite was I’m putting myself through college — HA- you’re 47 and done this your whole life. College???Really??? But whether ignorance or lack of interest in the truth — those women were never really questioned, or called-out on their bullshit. Me of course like an idiot I tell the truth. Why not it has to be better than some of these ridiculous stories right?

Finally Stan agrees to a special performance — a champagne room performance –“WAIT…WHAT”??..” What in the holy hell does that mean”? “Oh wait I’ve heard of these rooms” Petrified I lean in and softly say “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND”?????? “I WILL NOT have sex with you”!!!!! “Oh my God, I can’t even believe you would”…… Then I was shushed by a bouncer, and he and Stan the man had a great old belly chuckle at my expense. Finally my look of bewilderment and confusion must have caused a synaptic connection for Stan — only then did he finally let me into the circle of “Bubbly room knowledge”..,….ASSHOLES………

Here are the Champagne Room Guidelines

  1. You have the allotted paid for amount of time — anywhere from 1-4 hours.
  2. They must purchase a bottle of champagne off of the list supplied once in the room — the list goes according to time purchased.
  3. You must dance — though not necessarily straight through if it’s 3-4 hours — but also keep them company.
  4. The customer can decide how clothed you are and at what points throughout your “Room time”.
  5. You make A SHIT TON OF MONEY the happier they are with the visit.

Once in the room — after an hour of dancing — and several glasses of bubbly — did the most unexpected thing happen…

STAN BEGAN BAWLING LIKE A FREAKING BABY…..For the next two hours I consoled his giant whiney ass, reassuring him he was not a pig, or a slime ball — thinking to myself “Is this guy for real”?

THEN the truth came out — Stan was a regular, who also had a family — a struggling family of six. Stan lied about how much he really made a week to his wife of 8 years– just to feed his sex/ porn/stripper addiction.

I cannot begin to explain my anger and disappointment, I felt guilty taking the 450 bucks. But then again — like Stan’s clueless wife — at some point we learn the hard truth, often it hurts us beyond imagination — sometimes beyond broken. But you will never pick yourself up, and start gluing yourself back together, if — you don’t learn how to TEACH YOURSELF TOUGHNESS. This day — this man — this incident — was lesson one, in my journey to learning that very thing. As I walked bouncer guided, back to my car — I glanced back at the building — and challenged it AND it’s nut-job clientele to another day.  A day in the life of Sin-Dustry I guess — till next time.

Written By: Heather Cornell

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Stripping, fact and fiction revealed through the memoir’s of a Sin-dustry newbie…..

Stripping, Is it an art-form, or just a

        skanky way to make money?

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I met Jazmina and Chloe back in 2007, Jazmina a.k.a Jazzy was a tall slender girl about 25 years old, long dark pin straight hair, olive complected and beautiful by all accounts. Chloe was a larger, much curvier gal, with fiery red hair, blue eyes, pale complexion, and a bra size to match her unbelievably bold and outrageous personality.

Jazmina mother of three beautiful little Jazzy look alike’s, had a long heart to heart with me about her life. Minus an alcoholic mom, and a few boyfriends from the wrong side she was from a fairly normal up-bringing.

Chloe was just a rebel from what I could tell, older than Jazzy by about 3 years, yet Jazzy had her in maturity by about 6. Chloe was adventurous, wild and intoxicatingly fun. Her curvy bodied “OH HELL NO” to some — was her — “$500.00” pay day to others….. Literally half a grand for a days worth of “work”.

Raising the question is it really work? How hard could it be to take your clothes off? Literally one piece at a time slowly walking around a pole while gyrating to the music picked and played for you? Where do boundaries exist? when are they crossed? Is it worth it? Why do it at all?

Questions that could only be answered years later, when I found myself in a predicament, similar to the one Jazzy had confided in me just 3 years prior. So to the phone I went. Dialing her number seemed not at all strange, almost welcoming……Like the answer to my problems — salvation even — could be just a “Hello- what’s up?” away. And just like that a stripper was born.

Arriving at the club that night knowing not what to expect but instead scared to death, I popped a little something for anxiety and thought to myself “am I really about to do this?” and truth be told I WAS……I had no choice….

The flashing neon sign of the club was actually more tasteful than I had remembered — not so cliche — or Amsterdam red light district-ish — “somewhat classy for a strip club” I thought to myself. After an hour of self-pep talks, and driving in and out of the lot, I finally parked, and got out. “You have had children in teaching hospitals — where it felt as though the entire maternity ward had seen, examined, and could on all probability thoroughly describe your nether regions in great detail if asked to”  I said out loud — to myself — this should be 1000 times easier than that.

This club was a step- up from the usual ones I had been to. I had spent many a night paying some half witted, over salined, bitchy broad to give a friend or friends newly 18 or 21 year old brother his first real taste of the XXX world. This particular place was no dive pig pen, or not-so-foxy- or lady at all. THERE WERE RULES……Strictly enforced rules….

A) No removal of bottoms.

B) Pasties — use them –or lose money

C) Lap-dances Definition: Not so much in the lap as much as a dance near , or around the lap area. Dancers hands may only be placed on recipiant’s shoulder’s or knees. There is to be no butt to crotch contact, dancer may not “grind” … Recipient may not touch — AT ALL — PERIOD.

D) When the shift is done the dancer MUST tip out the –

  • DJ — For playing the shit she wanted to dance to.
  • Bouncer’s — For protecting her ass.
  • Other Dancer’s — If they participated in any champagne room, or dual dances with one or more dancer’s
  • Floor manager — For running a tight ship
  • House — For being allowed the opportunity to shake your covered parts on one or even all three of their stages, then working their room in an attempt to gain more money, and also attracting the clientele to the club — to purchase overpriced drinks, and go home alone.

After the sign up card, which was very minimal to say the least — identification shown — and a quick “By the way your responsible for your own taxes” paper to sign, I was escorted to the changing room — before receiving the “grand tour”.

The dressing room was so overwhelming to me, a first timer / newbie. There were fake hair pieces on model heads strewn about the make-up clad counter tops. Mirrors galore, posing the question; Fun house, or nut house? The amount of glitter containing products also taking up residence on the counters was astonishing — sure fire way to get that  “night prowling ” husband in deep shit, as that is NOT easily washed off. Self tanning spray a.k.a oompa loompa spray was a staple — along with; hairspray /hair glue, fake nails, and pastie heaven — felt more like Barbie hell to me, but hey I was the newbie right?

One girl took me under her wing and “taught me the ropes” so to speak.

“What are your outfit choices?” she asked to which I replied a muffled: UMMMM!

“Outfits??? shit —  how could I forget something so vital?” “Oh yeah perhaps the freaking out over the getting naked thing, threw me off.”

Well now what? Sweetly and to my rescue she came with a strange looking bag of random, well I guess you could call them “parts” of clothing.

When I was done “getting ready”, I was at best a mish-mash of a patriotic hula-cowgirl-teachers assistant….Hmmm. well “here goes nothing” I thought. Standing behind the DJ booth I waited for my “name” to be called in rotation, I would dance one song on the main stage, one song on the satellite stage, and one more on the second satellite stage. “Wait what 3 songs, 3 stages?” If I was going to puke that would have been the time. But before vomit could enter my esophagus, the DJ announced loudly “And for the first time here at (insert club name here) please help us welcome (insert ridiculously cheesy any porn star-ish name possible here)……

Pole tricks

I had watched the 3 or 4 girls that had gone previously, and the pole seemed to be an acrobatic tool. “I’m flexible and acrobatic” I thought…..NOT SO….That pole is deviously challenging — and not at all a good idea to debut your lack of stage skill, or learning curve sexy skill components. As the first song played I gripped it, white knuckling the hell out of it , and praying those 6′ heels would not do me in. I swayed “not so sexily” to the rock song playing.  “Floor work….yes floor work” I thought to myself, ” how hard can it be to roll around and do acrobatic things in a seductive manner?” NOPE WRONG AGAIN……..knocking off peoples drinks, almost spiking “the ball” literally, and trying to gauge the amount of space in which to roll around…….HA!!!! — a fools errand at best –but I tried. Other than Mr. whiny-wet pants everyone seemed pretty nice, even throwing “pity bills” or at least that’s how it felt. After stage 2 and 3, my legs felt immobile, What the hell were these muscles, where did they come from, and why do they hate me? All relevant questions a newbie asks once they are un-able to move.

After realizing the catty nature of my next step in stripper-dom,, I really wanted to run and never come back…..These girls literally would have cut your grandma’s throat if it meant that they had a chance of scoring a lap-dance or two, from a mindless patron. It was absolute mayhem on the floor. But the newbie gets the attention or so I learned:

  • The regular clients want to see how far you will go.
  • Will you push boundaries or break rules?
  • Will you know what is and is not acceptable?
  • Will you play by the rules and rat them out if they slip you an extra $50.00 and an apology.
  • Are you willing to leave with them?
  • How desperate are you for cash?

It’s pretty stomach turning when you start to realize the mentality of some of these men, and women.

By night’s end I just wanted to go home, shower, and be done with a world I never thought — would actually take and blacken a piece of my soul — but it did. Question is will I come back tomorrow?  I guess you’ll have to come back to find out, and so will I……..    Your’s Truly: Sin-dustry

Written By: Heather Cornell

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ONE QUESTION ( SHE’S ) TO SHY, OR GROSSED OUT TO ASK….

Man-Cestry

ONE QUESTION ( SHE’S ) TO SHY, OR GROSSED OUT TO ASK….

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I AM MAN……..

“HEAR ME ROAR” would just be way to cliché — so instead I will say

” How you dooooin?”…Now that the girls have giggled and thrown up in their mouths, I can happily begin my first post for Here and Sphere.

Woman are funny, disturbing, wildly attractive, and insanely annoying creatures. They have brilliant minds, and Jedi tricks — their super powers are kind of awesome — also THEY PISS ME OFF TO NO END.

However: without them life would SERIOUSLY be a GIANT boring sausage fest, of gaming, messy houses, unshaven…..well…EVERYTHING….and TOTAL BOREDOM.

So in the spirit of these brazen, self – starting, and completely  bewildering Goddesses…. <—-(hoping I scored points there, though doubtful) — I give a peace-offering of sorts. INFORMATION, yup that’s right…. I may even break guy code here — so hopefully no one puts a hit on me. IF I live to see another day, MEN — Will at some point thank me….. I PROMISE…

HERE IS A QUESTION, WOMAN WANT ANSWERED — BUT ARE TO SHY TO ASK:

Q. Numero Uno) Why in the hell does it take so damn long for a guy to take a crap?

A. Well my lovely Fast Crapper’s, and power pusher’s of the world;                  1.) WE ENJOY THE DAMN SILENCE. The reason that porcelain god is called a “Throne” is — for when we sit upon it We are one again King of OUR castle.  ”If” we share a domicile, that means that at some point…..YOU WON. We surrendered our hearts and spare key, to the woman we knew should be ” Our Queen”. 

2.) The Solace of the “poop room” helps us to think…. ( Yes we really do that thinking thing….smart-ass) It’s a “Turd World Country” but it is rich in plushCottonelle butt paper. Plus there are hand-towels..neatly folded and perfectly placed hand-towels (that we KNOW we are NOT supposed to touch — since they are simply there to look pretty.)

3.) THERE ARE NO RULES…Other than the hand-towel NO-NO!!!! In the “Palace of Poo” we men are FREE. We are allowed by human-ism, and possibly god given right — to obnoxiously fill the air — with our rancid man-ufactured, possibly toxic, tear-inducing ass perfume. AND THERE…..It is acceptable….even encouraged.

4.) Finally and most honestly –IT FEELS GOOD….. There I said it.. After all we worked hard for that feeling of accomplishment. After stuffing our faces behind the backs of our beloved queens, and slowly digesting our gluttonous bounty — it feels GREAT to know….. OUR CRAP STILL WORKS……….

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Your Friend: Lost in Mans-lation

Wishing for fishin!!!! “Coffee or Vodka? Parenting 911”

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Dear: Parenting 911
My husband and I are currently trying to blend our families from previous marriages. Now that he has won full custody of his two boys; and I’ve always had full custody of my son- as a single mom.

My husband’s son’s were raised around many” outdoor” activities such as soccer, little league and their favorite past time FISHING. Jacob and Jared are 2 years older then my son Lucas. Lucas has always been shy, and introverted; more-so since my divorce and remarriage. This will be our first summer living together as a family. Lucas has never been interested in sports, and is especially jealous of the Father- son bond he sees and lacks. My husband is very willing to take him fishing and is always trying to include him, but Lucas shys away; and he’s apparently freaked out about baiting a fishing hook…Jake and Jared have teased him relentlessly all winter about it.

We’ve talked with them, but nothing. Even my husband has no ideas on the next step. Parenting 911 I hate seeing my son hurt and I hate to say it but- I think I may have created a wuss!!!! How can I help him learn to love a hobby I know will bring the boys closer together??? I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING…. Any advice would help, thanks so much.
Sincerely,

Swedish fish Vodka

Dear: Swedish fish :
The blending of two families, homes, rules, standards, and backgrounds is no easy feat. Any therapist would advise you that this task is more than fishing trips and family night’s. I will say this, you are right in wanting to bond them now. As time goes on and things get harder- the boys will begin to focus more on the disruptions, and differences instead of what good might be there. On the bright side you already know this and want to fix the leak before it sinks your “boat”. The way to being a successful captain is to run a tight ship. Including sneaking Lucas the extra pointers needed to play with the big boys. You mentioned in your e-mail that Lucas is a bit of a “neat freak”- dirty hands are not welcome…. I would try this; take a day for you & Lucas to practice. You will need baby wipes hand sanitizer, or sometimes even rubber gloves will do. Also know your baits, tackle, and the type of fishing you will be doing. Will it be salt or fresh water? Are you using worms, shiners, mackerel, or squid? You get the idea. What type of fish are they fishing for? If salt water..perhaps they are going for big game such as striper / striped bass, or blue fish..Fresh water possibly and most likely it is small or large mouth bass, catfish, trout, or salmon they are after. Know your target! And of course it’s favorite entree.

Make Google your new best friend, learn some lingo, familiarize yourself with how to “rig up a pole” English translation; Know how to set up the pole from start to finish by threading your fishing line through the eyelets of your pole. Learn if a sinker is needed and how to attach it.  Leader wire and barrels- what are they used for and how they are attached to your line. Hooks, what size how sharp etc..and even when, where, and how to use bobbers where applicable. I know it sounds daunting but I assure you a few times of getting stuck on a rocky bottom, or a stray cast lands your rig on a tree limb; causing you to lose your tackle- and you will be a pro by days end. Lucas seeing his mom do this happily and persistently will more likely intrigue him to try more himself. And continually encourage his efforts at trying and attempting new things. Lucas’s effort is not the only effort needed here though. So as a new blended family unite with your husband and demand respect, and honor among the boys. That hurtful things WILL be punished, that it’s unacceptable in your new home together. Hope some of this is helpful…
Sincerely,

Heather C of Coffee or.        Vodka, Parenting 911
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