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Chapter 28: How Much Honesty is Worth, Part 1
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Confessions of an Exotic Dancing Librarian Chapter 29: How Much Honesty is Worth, Part 2
They were hundreds. He hadn't given me ten twenty-dollar bills; he had given me hundreds. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck…A thousand dollars was one month's rent. A thousand dollars was 1/30th of my undergraduate loans. A thousand dollars was food and bills for an entire month. One thousand reasons to say nothing and walk back upstairs and revel in the biggest payday of my life. You're in the hustling game now, and this is what it means to hustle, whispered evil Ariel.I started to walk up the stairs to the dressing room. I had every intention to put it immediately in my wallet under lock and key in my locker.He probably won't even notice it's gone. He probably has so much money and cash that he won't even notice the difference. Every single other person in here would just take the money and not say a word. God, evil Ariel sounded so sexy. I gave a deep inward groan, because I knew what I had to do. Not today, bitch, I retorted. "Hey Cynthia!" I rushed back down the steps and over to
Confessions of an Exotic Dancing Librarian Chapter 30: Nightmares
Nolan was giving it to me hard, and all I could think about was the rent that was due the next morning, the beige color of the walls, and the pudge on Nolan's stomach. He started sucking on my nipples, and I got that vague, sickly feeling again. It didn't excite me, didn't thrill me, but made me feel as though my breast were slightly detached from my body. I should really change the lightbulbs in the bathroom soon.My body went through the motions of sex, my mouth made all the right sex sounds, and I contorted my face just enough to let Nolan think that I was enjoying it. He kissed my neck, and I moaned, but I didn't feel the heat, didn't feel the goosebumps raise, didn't sense the flutter in my stomach nor groin. He flipped me over to do it doggy-style, and I was grateful that he no longer saw my face. It was easier to hide. Oops, Stripper Mode again.I wondered if I were insane, if my mind had somehow crossed the line, or was tiptoeing around the edge somewhere. This mome
Confessions of an Exotic Dancing Librarian Chapter 31: Detour, Part 1
No journey is complete without a detour and mine was becoming a bartender. After six months, I experienced what can only be described as stripper burnout. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. I was tired from the physical exertion of dancing and tired of the toll it was taking on my body; I had sore leg and back muscles, constant bruises on my knees, razor burn on my crotch and legs, and pimples from wearing so much make-up. My psyche was also weary from having to lie all the time to everyone: my parents, my siblings, my boyfriend, and my friends. The mask I was wearing felt like cement, ready to plunge me down into the depths of an abyss, head first. The demeaning nature of the work started to wear on my mental state as well. Guys slapping my ass as I walked by their table, fending off solicitations for sex, the constant chorus of "what are you doing here?"Winter had arrived, and no one wanted to warm up with a stripper; the river of customers slowed to a trickle, and I w
Confessions of an Exotic Dancing Librarian Chapter 32: Detour, Part 2
When he ordered shot #8, I gave him the stink eye. "Don't look at me like that, just pour the damn drink."I silently held my tongue. Don't get involved, just let the guy be an asshole. I poured the shots and handed them over with my best Resting Bitch Face. But he weighed about 250 pounds, split between fat and muscle, while Candice, while tall, looked like she weighed no more than 160. Her speech started to slur, even though it was obvious she was trying not to. "Another shot." I started to sweat; I was crossing into moral obligation territory. I didn't care about the guy or what he did to himself, but he was ordering shots for Candice as well. I hadn't spoken much to her, but she had always been nice to me, and I felt like I had the duty to protect her. The memory of the 18-year-old dancer who got so drunk at Lipstick that she had to get her stomach pumped swam in the back of my mind. I knew that Candice was an adult and could make her own decisions, but I didn't want to be
Confessions of an Exotic Dancing Librarian Chapter 33: Looking for an Escape
When so many things start to converge: romantic relationships, job, family, and friends, it can feel like water is closing in over your head or that the air is slowly being sucked out of a closed room. Everyone has felt this claustrophobia of life. I felt like I was navigating extremely rocky waters, but I was doing it on my own and in the best way I knew how. But I started slipping. Control is an illusion. Just at the moments when we think we are most in control, we aren't. It felt like I went crazy for a little while, and maybe I did. I thought that every action I made was because I wanted it, not for anyone else or to please anyone or prove anything to anyone. But it was like there was a different being in me, someone who secretly took over the control panel when I wasn't looking. I still controlled my arms and legs, my speech, and my thoughts, but something was making the decisions for me. It was as if Ariel were a speck of rock peeking out from the ocean's surface, while Rose wa
Confessions of an Exotic Dancing Librarian Chapter 34: Meeting Tor, Part 1
I had given my phone number out to plenty of guys. I gave out my personal number to strangers, hoping that they would return and be regular customers. I gave my number to the guy who would eventually become my boyfriend, with the same intention as I had with everyone else: entertain him as a customer and shut down any romantic advances. Maybe it was the way he requested me. After I left the stage, I heard my name over the speakers, "Rose! To the VIP area!" I was so excited: no one had ever requested me specifically, simply from watching me dance onstage. I was wearing my black and red corset, black pumps, a long chain of (fake) pearls, and a black fedora. I was surprised to see that the man who requested me was young, black, slightly chubby but with a cute face. He wore a light blue sweater and khaki work pants. We smiled at each other, and there was something, a spark, an instantaneous understanding that he had wanted me and that I was excited that he did. I sat down on his la
Confessions of an Exotic Dancing Librarian Chapter 35: Meeting Tor, Part 2
We started texting, and I at first didn't even save his name in my phone. I was afraid that Nolan would find it and see that I had been texting some random guy; I always deleted conversations and didn't save anything. I only recognized him by the numeric digits, and at first, I didn't even remember his name. We would occasionally meet up at a relatively country-ish, divey bar near the club after I finished my shift. We were on Glass 2 of House Merlot."Wait, wait, wait, so you also ride a motorcycle? That takes some guts," Tor said."No, you know what takes guts? Dancing when you're on your period," I said. He laughed and shook his head. "I'm serious! You try to dance and shake your ass when you're afraid blood is going to start trickling down your leg or your tampon string is going to swing loose from its tucked-away position. Just try." I swallowed more wine, giving him the feminist test: would he freak out by talk of menstrual blood?It seems he wouldn't. He fielded another q
Confessions of an Exotic Dancing Librarian Chapter 36: The Walls Have Officially Crumbled
We would have a glass or two of wine, talk, and goodnight. No kissing, no handholding. Over time, the nightly meetings became morning ones. We would meet for breakfast before work, him to the call center for an insurance company, me to the club. When I told him that I worked in a library, he almost couldn't believe it. I told him that I was currently working on looking up my family tree through a genealogy website and that I could help him do the same. I tried looking for ways to connect him to myself using the library, instead of the club. I asked him questions about his family, did research on the computer while at the reference desk, and presented my findings each week over breakfast. I began to trust him, that he wasn't an ax murderer, that he wasn't someone who was just after me for sex. We continued to talk for about a month without ever broaching the topic. There was still that boundary, that knowledge that outside of the club, we are simply normal people. We aren't dancer a
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