I love regulars, I really do.
I love regulars more than I love looking good, or learning a new trick on the pole, or stepping out in a new G-string.
Regulars are the guys who come in the club and always say hello. Sometimes they have a couple of dancers that they like and give attention to, but others only have one favourite, and no-one else compares to her. They come on a sliding scale - some always give you a compliment, remember your name, and perhaps buy you a drink. Others make a point of watching me when I am on stage, and tuck a few tips into my G-string. Some always call you over for a chat, and you know that after 10 minutes they will take you for a dance, and that the pressure is off. Of course, the best regulars do all of the above and spend a lot of money on you, and only you.
Regulars always make you smile - they are like a pit-stop of compliments and normality amongst the sea of strangers faces.
So when you meet a guy who you think can be a good regular, and he says he is coming back into town next month, us dancers get excited. Last night I met a lovely guy - lets call him Al. He would make a perfect regular - on paper, he's the real deal. Just divorced, an accountant, and comes into town every month or so. He dropped £400 quid on me, and we just sat at the bar, talking and drinking, for about an hour and a half. He came in early, around 9, and left early too. Thats perfect for me, as it set me up for a really good shift - I still have 3/4 hours left to make money, and perhaps meet another Al.
Not only that, but we had a really good chat. He loved to listen to my sparkling conversation, and we spoke about all sorts - my writing, my uni degree, art, good sightseeing and plays in London. And dancing? We did a run of three in the booth, which he tipped me for as well, but he really just wanted to talk and listen in the company of a lively, beautiful young woman.
Bliss - Al, I'm looking forward to seeing you again next month.