You know how wild cats are in the movies? How when you throw them a bunch of meat they all eat together and then sit around licking each other, but if you throw a bunch of them a little meat they fight? Probably it’s just a Disney thing, like lemmings throwing themselves off cliffs. I’m sure that real life cats have ways of settling problems without injuring each other.
Strippers are like movie cats though. Throw us a bunch of high rollin customers and we bring other girls in to make it, do each other’s hair, and share outfits. But put 17 strippers in a club and give us 12 cheap customers? It’s on!
I walked into the dressing room early in the night and heard “I’m callin my homegirls an there’s gonna be some silicone titties poppin up in this bitch tonight!” I turned around and walked out. I just like to watch the drama and document it for posterity. Participating is not as fun.
A little later one girl was sitting with a customer when three of her friends swooped in, boobs in face, and tempted him away to the VIP room. Sparks flew. The girl who’s blowing the manager at their home club threatened to have them all fired. They threatened to call in their homies and pop her titties. She called them a bunch of whores taking money from her kid’s mouth. Most of us aren’t like this, but there’s a whole group of them now that came down together.
On a bad night it is almost mandatory for the women who don’t make money to accuse the women who do make money of being whores. Of course, while calling other women whores you have to mention that you are a pure white virgin of a single mother with six kids to support and bills to pay, unlike the whores. My friend who happened to luck out and spent several songs in the VIP with a good customer was accused of getting fingerbanged. A girl who wasn’t even there, but makes good money when she is, was accused of being fisted (as if that would even be possible during a lapdance). I didn’t make any money but a new girl called me fat.
Towards the end of the night (three customers, fourteen strippers) there was an impromptu meeting in the dressing room: no finger banging, no cut throat hustling, and remember to tip out really good.
Some girls left after the meeting, but I waited around for the end. Just in case a customer were to come in, you know.
Then the lights went out. The manager herded us all back to the dressing room with a flashlight and left us there in the dark until our genius bouncer discovered that one of the customers had thrown the breaker (conveniently located on the outside of the building) on their way out. He made the lights come back on and we all left, just a few bucks richer.