In light of my somewhat checkered past, I find it interesting to observe the biases and impressions of newer acquaintances, when the topic turns to strippers. The ones who are not aware of my previous experience in the field tend to display an alarming level of snobbish ignorance on the subject, often fostered by the caricatured cliche offered in TV and movies...
The media image of the stripper is absurd. The girls at the Bada Bing in “The Sopranos” wouldn’t make a nickel in the clubs I’ve worked. Spinning around on a pole? Who tips for that? Better to attend a gymnastics meet. Or take the big scene in the movie “Strip Tease” where Demi Moore works the pole, and whips off her top. Whoopee. She’s a lovely woman, but that’s it? Here in the corn muffin state (really, it’s our official state muffin), customers demand to see more than that, and at much closer range.
Many of our customers are OWH’s (other women’s husbands), and our job is not to seduce them but rather to titillate them. We are not necessarily prettier or sexier than their wives. We are different from their wives. Sex is not allowed in a club, so we provide a variety of skilled, light, tantalizing foreplay. Many customers admit that afterward they rush home to their significant others. We work hard to keep families intact.
How a dancer pleases a customer, though, is up to her so long as it’s within the law. Previously, strippers were independent contractors. We took no salary from the clubs, got no benefits. In fact, we paid the clubs for the privilege of dancing on their stages. This takes the form of a “tip out,” commonly $10 to $50 in the clubs I work for, depending on the shift and the discretion of the management. After that, every tip we garner at the stage (usually singles) and every private dance fee ($20 for a four-minute song is standard in western Massachusetts) is ours to keep. Then there is the “champagne room.” Fees and conditions vary, but a typical CR fee is $200 for half an hour: $150 to the dancer and $50 to the club for the rental of the private room, typically furnished with a couch or two, wall-to-wall mirrors, and sometimes a pinhole surveillance camera to make sure nobody has too much fun.
Yet the ignorance and harsh judgment offered by the stiffs in my new soccer-mommish circle of people I deal with, can't hold a candle to the hubristic, sweeping stool-sniffers in government...
The legislature of Massachusetts, attorney general Martha Coakley, and some savvy lawyers have now put me out of business. It’s not that they don’t like what I do for a living — dancing naked on a stage and giving private dances in a back room. I can keep doing that. What they don’t like is that I did all this as an independent contractor. That I was my own boss. Massachusetts much prefers that I work for somebody else. This came about because of a single verdict against a strip club in Chelsea, Mass., and it affects not only every stripper in the state, but could result in putting many small independent contractors, from painters to writers, out of business.
h/t