The Off Season

On this specific evening, the club had been really slow. I came to work at 7pm and started my rounds. I checked the men’s washroom for bottles and glasses, checked the woman’s washroom to make sure the girls were not snorting too much coke. Made my way to the private booths and found them empty. Most of the girls were sitting at the bar, drowning their woes in a sea of Rum and Coke or Baby Duck.

I talked to Stephanie, the 40-year-old lifer who notified me that SHE couldn’t even get a customer to dance with her. Steph was a pro, a girl who knew the trade and knew how to make the big money, but if she couldn’t make things happen, it was a dead night for sure. “You can only whip a dead cock for so long”

The younger girls were moaning and groaning about the club being slow. The drinks were flowing and as the boredom progressed, the girls started to turn on eachother. A powder keg was about to be ignited. It took less than an hour before the bomb went off.

Bouncing at a strip club is much like teaching kindergarten. You have to deal with Sally pulling Amy’s hair, and telling Tracey to stop making faces at Megan. Girls can be extremely competitive, but nothing can compare to the competition between exotic dancers. “She stole my brush”, “She gave me a dirty look”, “That whore was talking to my boyfriend”, “That bitch stole my customer”, “That cunt called me a whore”, “That slut spilled my drink”…… “I’m gonna kill you bitch”

I broke up two fights that night. The customers where cheering the catfights on, with zeal. Every man loves a good catfight I guess. I only made $60 bucks that night.