Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

Tales of a Dancer - “The First Installment”

  She put on black slacks, a dressy, low-cut, sexy shirt, and pulled on the black high heeled boots.  The flat-iron clamped on each clump of already-straight black hair.  Each one had to be in place.  She needed this.

  She carefully covered each blemish on her face with the pale base make-up.  Her eyeliner had to be straight.  Her lips had to be red.  Her eyelashes had to be curled.  If she didn’t get this, where would they go? 

  He had told her she didn’t have to do it.  But she knew she did.  He was visibly angry at himself for allowing this to happen.  Why couldn’t he do more?  Why couldn’t he get another job…maybe two?  Why was she being so stubborn about this?  But he knew she needed to do it.  It was the only way.

  She held her breath and tried not to think about it as she gripped the steering wheel. 

It’s okay. You can do it.

  Her very christian childhood prohibited sex, petting, or even talking intimately before marriage.  Kissing was to be EXTREMELY limited and reserved for those who were engaged…and now it had come to this.  How could she? 

I mustn’t think about that.

  She pulled into the bare parking lot in midday and was a little ashamed, hoping nobody had seen her turn in the driveway.  The gold on the handle of the giant wooden door was beginning to wear from use.  She pulled it open and stepped into the dark lobby.  The young, thin girl at the front desk looked at her blankly. 

“Yes?”

  The vibe was not a friendly one.

“I’m here for an interview.  I called on Friday and was told to come in today.”

  Of course they weren’t going to give her the job over the phone.  It was just contract labor, but what if you were ugly?  What if you were fat?  They had to see you before they gave you an answer.

“Hold on.”

  She picked up her cell phone and called the Manager.

“There’s someone here to see you for an interview.”

  Even the doorgirl was pretty.  Very exotic looking.  Half black, with a very light complexion.  Much thinner than the interviewee, something she noticed right away.  As a little girl she’d been very thin, but around 4th grade she ballooned out.  It had been hard to keep the weight off ever since.  She wasn’t fat, by any means, though sometimes she felt that way.  Still, her stomach wasn’t ‘flat’, and she was very self conscious about it.

There’s no way I’m going to get this.

“He’ll be up in a minute.”

Great.  Just in time to tell me I”m disgusting - “how could you even think I could get THIS job?”.

  She peeked a bit through the narrow entry way, trying to get a first glimpse of what was inside.  So dark.  A couple of men, older, dressed nicely.  No girls in sight.  Oh, but there was one sitting with a younger guy. 

Oh god.  I’m going to have to wear something like that.  How am I going to cover my stomach while I sit?

  A man in his thirties showed up in the doorway.

“Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Chris.”

  He noticeably looked her up and down, assessing her value.

“Follow me, please.”

He didn’t tell me to leave.  

  When she entered the giant room, she looked towards the stage.  Quite large, with one pole close to the front rounded edge.  A girl was exiting stage right, where there appeared to be a backroom that another gal was coming out from. 

  On the other side of the room was another, smaller stage that was freestanding.  There was one brown pole, the paint worn away from use, directly in the middle and it was surrounded by other poles in a cagelike manner.  It was empty.

  The manager led her into a small, lit room at the back of the club.  She could only assume this was to better see her figure. 

“You’re very pretty.  Have you ever danced before?”

“No, I haven’t.  I’ve waitressed alot.  I even bartended a little.”

“Have you ever been to a strip club before?”

“No, sir.  This is my first time.”

“Hmm.  Well, I think you’ll make lots of money.  Here’s how it works:  When you come in for a shift, you pay the doorgirl $25.  That’s what it costs to work here, but don’t worry you’ll make much more than that.  There’s a locker room in the back, near the ladies’ restroom, and it enters the front stage.  The second stage is only used at nights when the club is full.  You will dance two songs on the front stage, the first in lingerie, the second with your top off.  Panties stay on.  Don’t let anyone touch you while you’re on stage.  When the second stage is open you will step down off the front stage immediately after your set, and enter second stage.  Dance there during the next girls’ set.  In between your dance sets, talk to the men and have them buy you drinks, it’s good for the club.  Convince them to go to a back room and give them a dance.  It’s $20 for one dance.”

“What rooms?”

“Come on.”

  He left the lit room and pointed to both long sides of the rectangular shaped club.

“See the doorways?  They lead to short hallways with 2 rooms each off of them.  The last one there by the women’s restroom has three rooms.  When you dance for them, no sex.  You’re supposed to stay 6 feet away from them, but of course no one does that and we won’t say anything.  Just know that if the music turns off, get as far away from the guy as possible.  It’s probably a raid.”

She looked at him oddly.  A raid?

Nevermind, I’ll ask later.

“You will start out during the day shift, until you get the hang of it, and then you can work the night shift.  What is your stage name?”

“Oh, I, hadn’t really thought about it…”

“Dream?  Cat?”

Men.

She looked over the bar, at the T.V.  A commercial came on, advertising a flower shop.

“Rose.”

“Okay, Rose.  Write your social security number down here and we’ll see you tomorrow at 11 a.m.  Make sure you use the sign-in sheet when you come in, and don’t forget to pay the doorgirl.”