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  1. Scored at Scores

    I'm pretty happy. I had a great night working at Scores yesterday. I think I have found my dream club. Yesterday was dead and I still made $310, easily. I'm going in tonight, too.

    I really need new outfits. Hope my order from Snaz75 gets here SOON.
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  2. The day after

    I woke up yesterday feeling exhausted from the night before--the penis fiasco, my best friend's less-than-compassionate response, and the subsequent yelling fight.

    I had to go-go dance for this band that was playing at the Howlin' Wolf, and I did not feel like it at all. I just felt tired and numb all day-sort of like I was in a fishbowl and the world outside of it couldn't touch me, even though i was in it.

    Anyway, I took a nap and sucked it up and went to go-go dance ...
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  3. Disgusted

    *this is an expanded version of a post i made to the forums


    Last night I was doing a lap dance. I had my back to the customer for a few minutes; then I turned back around and straddled him. Something didn't feel right; something was poking me in the groin. Something warm and smooth and insistent.

    the dude's penis was out. poking my in my groin. about an inch away from penetrating me,

    I leaped off his lap and ran out of there yelling, "NO! NO!" ...

    Updated 01-26-2009 at 11:14 AM by Winged Dinghy

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  4. Well, that completely sucked.

    I see 3 people have read my last blog entry, in which I detailed the process of me mustering up the balls to go in to Scores with my friend/co-worker/dildo-fuckee S. Well, gentle readers, I'm sorry to say that mission was a failure at every level.

    After getting myself all geared up (put my makeup on, practiced my booty-clapping, ate a veggie burger, packed a little work snack, got all my clothes together, listened to upbeat music, drank some coffee), I called S on the way to the club. ...
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  5. Tonight: Scores!

    I'm about to go in to Scores. I've not danced yet in a club on Bourbon Street--mostly because I hate Bourbon Street, but also, if I'm being honest with myself, because the Bourbon Street clubs intimidate me. I'm scared of having to give lap dances to the drunken, Mardi Gras bead wearing tourists that I despise IRL(that stands for "in real life," right? Because that's how I mean it). I'm also scared of a fast paced Friday nights. I'm scared of dudes telling me I'm too pale or too flat ...
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