Where are all the bankers?

Last Friday the papers had the front page news I had been waiting for.

The Banker's bonuses had been announced!!! 

Ok, so they won't get their money for the next couple of months, but they find out what was in the pot and how much they are going to receive for a years hard work (ahem!), so the theory is that last Friday should have been a night of rejoicing for the 10000 bankers at Citibank say, or the 4000 at Barclays and so on.  (My figures may be off here, but I'm trying to remember the Evening Standard article whilst hungover).

Even though I was dog tired, I dargged myself into the club on Friday night.  I keep an eye on these things, as one big night with a super rich client can be worth a whole week of normal nights.  I wore my favourite, but approachable dress - not too tarty, in a pretty white lace.  My hair was carefully waved, my eyes were dark and smoky - all in all, I was a dead ringer for the girlfriend they had always wanted, a Page 3 girl next door, a true high street honey. The banker crowd want to celebrate, I thought, not get so drunk that they go for the slappiest slapper with the biggest tits and blondest hair - thats more a Saturday night, stag do crowd.

As you can tell, I had high hopes for this evening.  I just needed to look good and stay alert to the waves of guys coming through the doors, pick carefully, and pounce!

I waited

And I waited

And I waited some more.....

Midnight came, and I had still not seen even one f**ging group of City boys!!!!  

I left the club early, at around 2am, sorely disappointed.  City boys, I don't know where the hoardes of you happy boys went to celebrate your bonuses, but it is a sad day for us strippers of London when you can't even go spend some of it on a pretty lady or two.

There are further announcements planned for the remaining banks bonuses - boys, once you get your good news, remember what Lou Mannenheim says in Wall Street;

"Kid, you're on a roll. Enjoy it whilst it lasts, 'cause it never does."

New Year, New Regular?

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.

Dreams for 2011

Pay off my Uni,credit card and loans
Pay my dealer whilst I'm at it after the Christmas binge
Try to drink one bottle of red wine per day, not two
Find some sparkly stripper shoes that don't give me callouses the next day
Get some more regular customers
Get a decent VIP booking at least once a week; not once a month!!
Find the holy Grail of tooth whitening products
Find my perfect blonde...and dream hairdresser to do it
Do something big, like buy a house, or get a book published, or learn how to drive ...actually what's the point in driving? I live in London for chrissakes and drink every day

So there's my resolutions for this year. I think they sound pretty doable, hey?

Testing

With a twitter virgin right now xoxo

Tonight was a Monday i dossed around around on the phone and twitter a lot as on Mondays it's usually quiet. I met a guy who was Scottish, a writer, he spoke about his marriage in Spain. Its weird when  a man almosts crying out for help and buys you drinks and gives you money just to sit at the bar and listen. Its kinda strange they give you their whole life history and then something clicks and they go from pathetic to horny. Then they remember all the tips they gave you and demand a dance for their money, sometimes give you more but once your in the booth it's like they are a child, they just want to collapse around you. Hug you with big heavy hugs that crush my little dancers bones. Hugs you can't wiggle out of.  
Clients hey? they are all fine I just had a feel for his story but not a feel for the hugs after is just all. I then met a this camera man, a director who is making a film about a camera guy who shot Lauren Bacall, Audrey Hepburn  Marilyn Monroe before cameramen and paparazzi were famous.  It was a doc but he made it and said i should go see. Unfortunately he also bought me a few tequila slammers so now i cant remember the name of the film. What kind of marketing is that?
he also told me that i should see the new will ferral movie the other man its even funnier than anchorman!
I just ordered a real sexy 12pound bird called goosey for THE dinner. Gonna pick it up with all the veg on fri if you fancy a festive shopping trip.  

Right at the end, thanks so much for this, I also danced for a bunch of men in uniform - soldiers in fact, and they wore medals on although I called them badges- bit of a faux pas!

Well theres a Monday for ya!!!

Scared of tuition fee rises? I am scared of everything!

London has been beset by rioting over the tuition fee rises all week, with rioting and smashed windows all over the center of town.
Incidentally, thats the same center of town that I work in, and if theres rioting, I really can't see the point in risking it.
Now, I'm not talking about getting caught up in a police kettle, or catching fleas from a dreadlocked protestor, or shivering in the freezing December air as the tubes are delayed, or even dancing for an underaged kid who has wondered in after the days protest is over (trust me, university students come in all the time, as we have super-long drinking hours and a late  late license)

No, the risk for me is that I will turn up, pay my house fee, spend ages getting ready, and then not make any money as the club is so dead and no customers can make the journey in through the hallowed doors.

Actually, there are a raft on things which have been turning me off dancing in the last few weeks.  First there was the snow, then a 5 day bender and the accompanying hangover, then the riots, and then, on Friday night, just as I was gearing myself up for a return to stripping on Saturday, I find that a doorman at a rival club was shot.

With all this cold and violence, is it any wonder I am finding it difficult to be jolly and naked at times???

Strippers stranded by snow

There's a good thick 8" of snow across London at the mo, the city looks beautiful. My club has taken the winter weather and upcoming Christmas on board and all the girlsare trusses up in Santa outfits. As a blonde, I am loving the red and White, and may even be incorporating some ermine trim to match my spangle snowflake thong.
Still, the snow doesn't just give us dancers inspiration.
It also means that dancers can't get in, or, as happened last night, can't get home.
Imagine the scene - it was a fairly slow night, the guys weren't spending yet, when someone finds out that the trains are stopping. So many of the girls catch the train in from the suburbs or Brighton - it's about an hours journey, do their makeup and have a drink, and they catch the first train back at 5am.
Last night was hilarious though as at about midnight the rumour went round that the trains wouldn't be running in the morning. All theselittle Santa Helpers began panicking, frantically checking their iPhones and blackberries - banned on the floor of course but they are always hiding in our handbags. The DJ tannoyed for the manager who was immediately surrounded by women clamouring to be let go, that instant, to catch the last train at half past midnight. You have never seen so many agitated pert bottomed santas quaking in their boots.(high heeled ones of course)
Luckily the manager let them all go early, without even asking for a tip!!!
With theclub empty of girls, I soon found a customer and made a killing in VIP. Happy days!!!!