My heart raced. This was so exciting. I couldn’t believe it. I was at the strip club, on the fourth floor, the dancer’s locker room. During my first visit to watch my friend perform, I saw for the first time Sophia Simone. Sophia Simone was the most erotically intoxicating female I had ever laid eyes on. She won Miss Nude USA every year, and it was obvious why. She was stunning. She was now right in front of me, perched on a stool, topless, smoking, looking in the mirror, complaining about her boyfriend.
There was some obnoxiously sweet gay guy smothered in makeup dolling up the girls, trading stories about other dancers, managers, and customers. He has his little chiwawa with him. There was a little store that carried costumes, lingire, shoes, and emergency needs. I was in awe of all these beauties. Some were laughing, some were crying, some were practicing their moves on a pole, and some were applying makeup to places I never would have thought to put makeup. I was in.
We headed over to her locker. She handed me a pair of shoes, 8 inch heels. I put them on immediately to learn how to walk in them. Later I would learn the every single dancer has a story of when they have fallen, and I would eventually have mine. I threw on a g-string, fish nets, a garter belt, and a lacey bra. Then came the pounds of make up, and fake eye lashes. I looked good. I looked like one of them.
I checked myself out in the mirror on the ceiling of the elevator. We held hands as we walked out. She guided me and did all the talking. We danced together. I learned how to give a lap dance on willing men, happy to pay double the regular price in order to have two girls dance for them instead of one. I was introduced on stage, and did a stage set all on my own by the end of the evening.
We counted our money, tipped the staff, and walked out to her brand new SUV the valet boys had waiting for us. I loved the attention from the customers and from the staff. I was the gorgeous, mysterious new girl. I was part of it. I could not wait to come back.