You are paid to be a waitress, even though there is no need for a waitress in a strip club. You socialize, and soak in the atmosphere. You make friends with the dancers, and even with the regulars. The boss treats you well but doesn’t pay you much. Still, can you blame him? You feel bad that you aren’t exactly doing anything. And you need more money.
* * *
I am the boss. I am the manager. I need some help filling in tonight. You don’t even have to disrobe, just get up there on stage and mess around. Try out the pole, pick a song, and just have fun. The girls will give you some tips on what to do. The guys will love it. You don’t even have to disrobe.
I am the Doorman. I’m a nice guy, a fit guy, and I’ve never given you a second glace. You feel safe with me around. I walk you to your car when you’re done with your shift. I keep an eye on things in the club. I am your security here, I am the mortar that holds these four walls together, that allows you to flirt with danger but remain unscathed. It’s only fair that you tip me a little for my services.
I am Chastity. I tell you how pretty you are and what a good dancer you would make. I show you just how much money I rake in a night, and I offer you whatever you need to make the night go by easier. But you’re just a waitress, you don’t need a drunk or high to get through the night.
I am Bill. I’m a regular with Chastity, but I’ve noticed you around the club too. I tell you what a great body you have and that I’d love to see more of it. You tell me that you’re just a waitress, and I nod, but go on telling you how beautiful you are.
I am your naked body in the mirror. They’re right. I am beautiful.
* * *
I am the boss. I am the manager. I need some help filling in tonight. You don’t even have to disrobe, just get up there on stage and mess around. Try out the pole, pick a song, and just have fun. The girls will give you some tips on what to do. The guys will love it. You don’t even have to disrobe.
I am the Doorman. I’m a nice guy, a fit guy, and I’ve never given you a second glace. You feel safe with me around. I walk you to your car when you’re done with your shift. I keep an eye on things in the club. I am your security here, I am the mortar that holds these four walls together, that allows you to flirt with danger but remain unscathed. It’s only fair that you tip me a little for my services.
I am Chastity. I tell you how pretty you are and what a good dancer you would make. I show you just how much money I rake in a night, and I offer you whatever you need to make the night go by easier. But you’re just a waitress, you don’t need a drunk or high to get through the night.
I am Bill. I’m a regular with Chastity, but I’ve noticed you around the club too. I tell you what a great body you have and that I’d love to see more of it. You tell me that you’re just a waitress, and I nod, but go on telling you how beautiful you are.
I am your naked body in the mirror. They’re right. I am beautiful.
* * *
You’re doing great, I tell you. It’s been a pleasure having you work here. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off? I’ll take you out for dinner, my treat. Drinks afterwards. I won’t try anything with you, you can trust me.
You can trust him. He’s never done a thing to you except give you this job.
I am Angel. I was sent home early today with a nice little bonus.
I am Ricky. I’m here for a bachelor party with my buddies, and there’s no one on stage. I’m getting a little restless. I came here to see some tits.
* * *
I’m understaffed tonight. One of my dancers went home early, and the club is packed. Would you mind helping me out again? You don’t have to disrobe. Just get up there and put on a show for these guys. I’ll make it worth your while.
You are the drunk waitress. You are beautiful. You decide to show off a little and take off your shirt. The guys watching you are speechless. You step down to the front row and try out a little trick you’ve seen Chastity do a hundred times, mounting one of the guys and tracing his lips with your nipple. His eyelids flutter closed. When you are done, he leaves three ones on the edge of the stage.
I am your college professor. I want to know why you haven’t been showing up to classes lately.
* * *
I’m so sorry. I hate to do this to you, but we just don’t have the budget for a waitress anymore. I’m gonna have to let you go.
I am the rent check whispering in your ear, and the college tuition and the phone bill and the liquor store. I need you.
You tell him you are Jasmine now, and he lets you stay. You find an outfit that’s not too revealing and all the girls tell you how sexy you look.
I am Chastity. I ask if you want a little something to take the edge off.
You’ve seen me around the club before. I’m the DJ. I get a salary, but I get tips, too, for the songs I put on. They are the clockwork of this place, the time cards that you will live your life by, that defines each pole dance and lap dance. You would be lost without me, so you tip me.
We are your new friends. We tell you our real names and take you out to celebrate after your first real night of stripping.
I am your boyfriend who doesn’t tell you enough that you’re beautiful. I am the one who stays up worrying when you’re out past two, three, four AM. I am your ex-boyfriend.
* * *
No, you don’t get a salary, Jasmine. You make enough from dances to support you. But sometimes, you have to tip me too. Like when you’re late for work or talk on your phone too much or take unscheduled bathroom breaks. I get paid seven dollars an hour on the books. I need to eat too.
I am the taxes that never get filed, I am the welfare that sneaks by it.
It’s time for you to meet me. I’m the floorwalker. I am truth and honesty. I count how many dances you give so you don’t cheat the establishment out of our 33%. I am order, I am structure, and as such I need to be tipped. I am justice, I am sanctity. If I see you doing an illegal dance, I will have to report it.
I am Crunk, a word you never knew the meaning of before. Aren’t I fun?
My name is, let’s say, John. I have a tanline on my third finger. I only come in around lunchtime or after midnight, and I’m your regular. I love how you ask me about my life and talk Physics with me. I love how we watch the same shows and the hugs you give me after your lap dances. I tip more and more.
My name is Slater. I call you a bitch and a whore and try to finger you.
My name is Greg. I’m a college student too, and this is my first time in a strip club. You seem really nice, and you’re beautiful. I want to make you feel good about yourself. I want to know your real name.
My name is Allen. I ask for sex and you turn me down.
My name is Jordan. I offer you two hundred for a blow job. You need the cash, so you split it with the floorwalker so he’ll keep his mouth shut.
My name is Bart. You want a tip? Don’t piss in the wind.
I am the bartender. I am the helper, the wrench that loosens. Without me, you’d have to work harder. Tip me. I get paid bottom dollar. I am the haze over the club, the dampener of inhibitions. You need me.
I am just a stereotype. No one wants to hear that I diddled you or raped you or beat you. You’re just trash. But look how far you’ve come. I’m so proud of my little girl.
I am the feminist. I think stripping is a means of empowerment. It makes you feel beautiful, wanted, and there’s no way for a woman to earn so much money, right?
I am another feminist. The first one was full of shit. Believe me.
I am your tips, and I’m half gone.
You’re doing great, I tell you. It’s been a pleasure having you work here. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off? I’ll take you out for dinner, my treat. Drinks afterwards. I won’t try anything with you, you can trust me.
You can trust him. He’s never done a thing to you except give you this job.
I am Angel. I was sent home early today with a nice little bonus.
I am Ricky. I’m here for a bachelor party with my buddies, and there’s no one on stage. I’m getting a little restless. I came here to see some tits.
* * *
I’m understaffed tonight. One of my dancers went home early, and the club is packed. Would you mind helping me out again? You don’t have to disrobe. Just get up there and put on a show for these guys. I’ll make it worth your while.
You are the drunk waitress. You are beautiful. You decide to show off a little and take off your shirt. The guys watching you are speechless. You step down to the front row and try out a little trick you’ve seen Chastity do a hundred times, mounting one of the guys and tracing his lips with your nipple. His eyelids flutter closed. When you are done, he leaves three ones on the edge of the stage.
I am your college professor. I want to know why you haven’t been showing up to classes lately.
* * *
I’m so sorry. I hate to do this to you, but we just don’t have the budget for a waitress anymore. I’m gonna have to let you go.
I am the rent check whispering in your ear, and the college tuition and the phone bill and the liquor store. I need you.
You tell him you are Jasmine now, and he lets you stay. You find an outfit that’s not too revealing and all the girls tell you how sexy you look.
I am Chastity. I ask if you want a little something to take the edge off.
You’ve seen me around the club before. I’m the DJ. I get a salary, but I get tips, too, for the songs I put on. They are the clockwork of this place, the time cards that you will live your life by, that defines each pole dance and lap dance. You would be lost without me, so you tip me.
We are your new friends. We tell you our real names and take you out to celebrate after your first real night of stripping.
I am your boyfriend who doesn’t tell you enough that you’re beautiful. I am the one who stays up worrying when you’re out past two, three, four AM. I am your ex-boyfriend.
* * *
No, you don’t get a salary, Jasmine. You make enough from dances to support you. But sometimes, you have to tip me too. Like when you’re late for work or talk on your phone too much or take unscheduled bathroom breaks. I get paid seven dollars an hour on the books. I need to eat too.
I am the taxes that never get filed, I am the welfare that sneaks by it.
It’s time for you to meet me. I’m the floorwalker. I am truth and honesty. I count how many dances you give so you don’t cheat the establishment out of our 33%. I am order, I am structure, and as such I need to be tipped. I am justice, I am sanctity. If I see you doing an illegal dance, I will have to report it.
I am Crunk, a word you never knew the meaning of before. Aren’t I fun?
My name is, let’s say, John. I have a tanline on my third finger. I only come in around lunchtime or after midnight, and I’m your regular. I love how you ask me about my life and talk Physics with me. I love how we watch the same shows and the hugs you give me after your lap dances. I tip more and more.
My name is Slater. I call you a bitch and a whore and try to finger you.
My name is Greg. I’m a college student too, and this is my first time in a strip club. You seem really nice, and you’re beautiful. I want to make you feel good about yourself. I want to know your real name.
My name is Allen. I ask for sex and you turn me down.
My name is Jordan. I offer you two hundred for a blow job. You need the cash, so you split it with the floorwalker so he’ll keep his mouth shut.
My name is Bart. You want a tip? Don’t piss in the wind.
I am the bartender. I am the helper, the wrench that loosens. Without me, you’d have to work harder. Tip me. I get paid bottom dollar. I am the haze over the club, the dampener of inhibitions. You need me.
I am just a stereotype. No one wants to hear that I diddled you or raped you or beat you. You’re just trash. But look how far you’ve come. I’m so proud of my little girl.
I am the feminist. I think stripping is a means of empowerment. It makes you feel beautiful, wanted, and there’s no way for a woman to earn so much money, right?
I am another feminist. The first one was full of shit. Believe me.
I am your tips, and I’m half gone.