Here you will see all of my moments inside the strip club. Stories from the dressing room to the VIP room. Some funny. Some disgusting. Some disheartening. Welcome to my double life as Peyton Peony.
It had been a few weeks after I started I started dancing at Deliliah’s that there were a few things that would become part of my primary routine. Most of these of course had to do with dealing with customers, some dealing with the other girls. First i remembered every cheap bastard that refused to tip me as a waitress. Once I started dancing i took full advantage of the fact that i had to opportunity of who i danced for on and off stage. These assholes got absolute no attention from me at all. Even if they were the only guy at the stage i would still get naked because i had to but i would specifically go to the very end of the stage and hide every naked part of my body from them. One man in general I hated. He would always refuse to tip me when i served him a drink and would say.. ” what am i going to tip you for?” and then when i rolled my eyes and walked away i could see him staring at my ass through the many mirrors that covered the clubs walls and just want to bash his head in. Cheap asshole you cant tip me a fucking dollar but you sure as shit can stare at my ass. Now once i started dancing he was thrilled. would always come to my stage sit and expect me to dance for him like every other girl would. Little did he know i hated him. i would rather slit my own throat than take a dollar from him now. He was also one of the few that was ballsy enough to call me out on the fact that i would not dance in front of him and show my vagina. i believe the conversation went something like this:
Cheap Ass:” come on girl show me your goods!”
Me: ” why the hell would i dance for your cheap ass now?
Cheap Ass: ” Cuz thats what you do.”
Me: ” No. thats what every other girl does when she wants your dollar. Why the hell would i want your dollar now when you wouldnt even tip me as a fucking waitress?”
Cheap Ass:v” well… uh well.. i wouldnt tip you because i dont tip waitress’s i tip dancers and now that youre a dancer i can tip you now.”
Me: ” well then i guess thats your loss dick. maybe you should start tipping your waitress’s because you never now when your waitress is going to become a dancer. so this is me teaching you a valuable lesson. because you will never see my pussy as long as you live.”
This man pretty much stalked me around the club for months. Im not sure if he just wanted to piss me off or if he was just dead set on seeing my vagina. I have no clue but i yelled at him on a regular basis.
Now the second thing i learned to do to prevent dirty assholes from having wandering hands. This I did by making sure i didnt shave specific areas on my body. Most customers of strip clubs favorite thing to do was to go in like they were going to grab your ass but then reach a bit further around underneath so that their fingertips would then be able to either insert or graze the vagina. Now here where my brilliant logic came in. Im as true to a blonde can be every hair on my body is basically transparent. So shaving all but one spot was not noticed very easily and with dim lighting was basically invisible. These perverted fucks never saw it coming.
I had one spot just below my ass right next to the very back of my vagina that i never shaved. i mean I NEVER shaved. After not very long this was dubbed as the creeper patch. At least once a night if you were in the lap dance room you could hear the phrase yelling out of my mouth,
" BOOM! You just got creeper patched you sick fuck!"
This was then followed by a laughter coming from the other girls and most often myself. The look on the customers face was amazing. complete confusion, startled and bewildered. They had no idea what the hell just happened but all they did know was that they just stuck their hand in the biggest blonde afro brillo pad bush in their life. After the dance was over i would then ask if they would like another. most times they would definitely say no. other times though they would actually laugh, ask me to explain what the hell happened and then laugh some more think my idea was brilliant apologize, blame it on the fact that all the other girls allowed this and continued to get more dances from me trying not to violate my patch.
Now this creeper patch looking back on it probably lost me hundreds of dollars during the course of its life span. I quite frankly did not/do not care. This is because of my number one rule. avoid at all costs doing or putting up with something that i would end up thinking about and replaying over and over again in my head. No matter the cost. Nothing would ever bring back the minutes, hours, days i had spent thinking about these sick fucks that had no respect for me at all and the eventual all out hatred towards men if i allowed these things to happen. i know not all men are perverted scumbags, and not all strip club customers are either. I would like to be able to continue to think this way rather than turn into a jaded, non-trusting, man hater stripper. I would still like to enjoy a penis rather than turn into a lesbian because of a job i hated.
I guess the best place to start would be the moment i knew i was going to take stripping on as a full time job. Now i wont go into complete details as to why, that would turn into a damn novel instead of a short story. i will say though that there has not been one stripper i have met that has ever come into this profession for some positive self fulfilling reason. There is always some sad story that led up to this life and then a life turning event. Scene cut, enter stripper. Many things in this world become cruel and out of control leaving us with a decision to make. Suck up your pride, take your clothes off, grind on some cock for a quick buck or watch your life fall apart because of your lack of money. About 90% of us suck up our pride.
I’m no different to this scenario. I being already a waitress at a strip club in good old Delilah’s Den of Manville, New Jersey thought why the hell not? I was so naive its frightening. I had made the decision and was waiting for my replacement waitress before i could strap on my stilettos. The night it came i was so unprepared physically and mentally. In the middle of my shift i was asked to start. My manager was short girls and asked if i would dance. I had no shoes, no outfits, nothing. That night everything was loaned to me. Well except my panties of course. Thank god i wore a thong that night. I also was told that i would have to cover my chest tattoo. This tattoo of course covers my entire chest. The girls/my friends came back to me with everything i needed including cover-up of course not my shade, whiter than white. So i was ready wearing a pair of 7 inch stiletto’s with a death wish of dice and poker chips in them that rattled and threw your balance off, a god awful bra and skirt that looked hideous, and of course my orange colored bare chest with a hint of black tattoo showing through. I did my 15 minute long set with i believe 2 or 3 other girls on stage to from what i can remember the worst commercial rock music. I had no fucking clue what i was doing. I was so nervous i couldn’t hear the music and all i could see where the faces of the men and boys i had just served drinks to. All in absolute amazement that the ” hot waitress ” was now bearing all for them to see. I was nervous yet exhilarated at the same time.
I got off stage and was ready to do my first dance. There was basically a line waiting for me. The DJ should have had them taking numbers. I don’t think i could get to them all. The first dance though was with Mr. Han. I’m not even sure why i used that fake name. He was not asian. i have no clue now what his name was but he was the most annoying man. He constantly bragged about his money and said he was some millionaire. Would always talk to me about his business trips to Dubai and how he would love to take me. i always said..
" sure.. Mr. Han… that would be lovely one day. if i could ever get time off work i would!"
I was really thinking… ” yea fucking right you creepy gap toothed motherfucker. I’m sure i wouldn’t end up in some fucking basement lab while you pretended to be some sort of mad scientist. I’ll be sure to spit in your drink next time for your lousy dollar tip dickhead.”
So of course Mr. Han got my first dance of the evening. No one could have prepared me for that moment in my life. Everything was in a very controlled manner. He would tell you what to do and you did it or he basically made you. Not that what he asked was all that bad. I cant remember now how many dances he did maybe 3 or 4 but he wanted me to sit firmly right on his penis with my vagina (underwear on of course) as hard as i could barely moving up and down while he pushed you even harder on his disgusting old man penis to the point where you thought you were going to severe it with your pelvic bone. All the while you had to tell him how bad he had been and that you were going to punish him. This for me was a bit much i couldn’t really do it seriously. I could barely even talk dirty in my own bedroom. I did horribly during the entire length of dances. I was shaking like a leaf and bright red from embarrassment from having to talk dirty. Now the end of this dance was by far the worst moment in my life… well not worst.. just a moment that i will always remember along with all the other gross ridiculous things i was led to do during this job. Mr. Hans’ only objective was to cum during a lapdance. I did not realize this at the time. Of course though he did, while i looked at him with a look of horror and disgust on my face. I could not hide it. He was nice enough though to push me off at right moment so nothing got on me through his rough wool suit pants. I felt very awkward standing there.. i mean what the hell are you suppose to do after you witness a man cum in his own pants from a lapdance?? i did nothing but wait for him to pay me. i gave a quick half smile grabbed my money and ran away.
That night i made $350. I was on cloud fucking nine and a major money high. I would look at that now as chump change. That first bit of money though… I thought I had won the lottery. That feeling didn’t last long though. It took about 5 months for me to become extremely racist towards certain ethnicities in and out of the club, to learn that my friends were all prostitutes, and that my money would never be the same as long as i worked in a club that had extras. Delilah’s changed my life forever. I’m not sure for the good or the bad yet. I do know now though the real price you pay for $20. Sometimes it just doesn’t seem worth it.
My name is Peyton. I go by many names actually as i live a life full of alter-egos. For this section of my life though I’m known as Peyton. For 3 years( going on 4) i have worked and at times lived as this character. Many of these times were the best Ive ever had, many were the worst. I have decided to come here to this place to tell those stories exactly as they were. No sugar coating. No embellishing. Just the truth. I hope that everyone who reads this goes through the same emotions that i do. I hope you feel disgusted, amazed, confused, bored, humorous and mostly surprised by the events that will unfold to you. I am not going to pretend that i am some expert writer with the best of grammar and punctuation. I am a storyteller. Thats all you need to know and acknowledge.
Theme by Lauren Ashpole