Where do you enjoy spending your Sundays? Sundays might mean something different to you, especially if your job involves entertaining others all weekend, every weekend. The fans expect you to be there, punctual, stage-ready and to bring on the fun. The clubs are most busy and wildest on the earlier weekend night, but Sundays are slower when the world is at rest.

“Gig worker” is how we are classified. The position is usually an additional part-time nightly work to earn extra income on top of what we do during the weekdays. Some dancers may also be working a regular full-time job, go to school, and/or take care of their children and family. We know that nights and weekends are not ours to run free. In turn, Sundays are sacred. 

It took me some time truly cherish my Sundays.

Sunday is the universal day of rest. Even God rested on Sunday after having spent the week creating our world. Sundays are made to indulge in brunches, movie binging, nursing hangovers and preparing ourselves for the start of a fresh new week ahead.

But then who will be doing the entertaining at the strip club for Sunday night Football? Sunday shifts are typically not as busy compared to a Friday or Saturday night. Many girls opt to have Sundays off since they have gone ham the past couple of nights. You can always tell who has worked all weekend by the condition the girls are in on a Sunday. Talk about hot messes. It would be their last push for a long and lucrative weekend.

Sundays can be a blessing and be quite profitable. Although, it may not be as busy as a Friday or Saturday evening, it has its own regulars and fans. Sport event gatherings, long holiday weekend, veterans, patrons en route home, and the guys that are there purely out of boredom and loneliness.

In my 20 years of dancing, I have learned that my time and attention is the true value. Sundays are great days to set appointments to see a top reoccurring customer. On this day, you can work more at a leisured pace and block off times with your guests versus a crazy busy weekend where you don’t even have a moment to sit because you are bombarded with requested to perform and work thru a lively crowd.

I understand that some gals wants to keep it moving and may not like to carry on long conversations one on one. These gals may be more suited for the groups of sport fans and teams that congregate there on Sundays. They come in wearing sports gear representing  their team, beers all around and they would occupy the stage and be your typical male chauvinists that’ll try to flick crumpled dollar in between your legs as if trying to score a goal. 

If your lucky you can find a bookie or a sport gambler. They definitely know how to spend money. If they win, you win. Maybe you are his Lady Luck.

Sometime you may catch a Sunday during a long holiday weekend. It’s expected to be busier on these Sundays due to the the following Monday being a holiday. You can be sinful on this particular Sunday and rest tommorow. Veterans like to come on these Sundays because it’s usually a federal holiday the following day. 

I have had my share of weekends where I’m junk by Sunday, where my energy has been drained, and my mind is still asleep. We’ve all been there. Over exhaustion, hung-over, dehydration, nauseousness. If your real lucky, “Flo” just arrived bearing cramps and additional symptoms. On occasion, I would find myself waking up at another dancer’s house because I was too intoxicated to make the drive home. Whatever my condition, wherever I may be, the show must go on, I must find my way back to the club. I have guests waiting to pay me money for my undivided time and wakeful attention. This is when I must muster up all my energy and apply my skills of acting along with hospitality, salesmanship, sportsmanship, all while containing my nausea.

Only a few clubs I have worked at served food.  I have tried a short stint in a strip club that served sushi, however, that is a story for another time. The term “legs and eggs” means to see some “legs” til the late morning hours then get out for “eggs” (a late-night breakfast at a Denny’s or IHOP.) It can also mean to catch the day shift gals while they serve a complimentary lunch buffet. 20 years ago, I worked at a club that served a full buffet.

Some Sundays I might try to combat a hangover with more drinks, mimosas and bloody Maries. However it doesn’t remove the exhaustion and delirium. There are times where I have snuck micro naps in the dressing room in between stage sets. I am guilty. Sometime, you go so hard, you must do whatever it takes. This is why many dancer drink Red Bull’s and seek out amphetamines. There is definitely a type of endurance and stamina that dancer must possess as an entertainer. 

Now, 20 years into dancing, I find myself dreaming about enjoying my Sundays else where. The experience has truly gotten me to cherish my Sundays. Sundays are sacred. When you can rest on a Sunday, that is the ultimate blessing.

I can imagine this 2020 pandemic has everybody shaggy and unkept like old man Rumplestiltskin. It’s a nice break from the constant efforts to be presentable and impressionable. 

Over-processed hair, heavy nail acrylics, daily razor burns, and thickly made-up faces can all take a back seat. It’s good to give your body a break from all those harsh undertakings. Find your inner hippie. 

With that being said, it has me thinking about my times in the dressing rooms. You would think exotic dancers would have exceptional hygiene. I, myself, was surprised to learn, for some, this is far from the truth. 

I understand that people may have busy days juggling school, work, kids, gym, and whatnot, however, you don’t want others smelling that! Being in such close quarters, I would think that this is a big turn off for men, but on the contrary, I have heard different opinions. I can only reason that these men are lacking sensory glands. 

Vagjayjays, Nether regions, Hoo-haws, Muff, Fortune cookie, whatever you call it, wash it! As an entertainer, the odor is offensive, even toward co-workers. I make it a ritual to showering prior to every shift, but that’s just me. Maybe that is their calling card, walking by a person wafting their scent around like the fumes resonating from Pepe Le Pew. I understand the dynamic of pheromones, but yikes!

If these girls don’t wash up here, I wonder if their new quarantine life is having them even more lackadaisical. 

Some girls do well at covering themself up with strong fragrances, so it becomes odor a lá swampy box and Coco Chanel. Does this affect the money? I don’t think so. Men will pin their nose for girls they know can cop a cheap feel. I would think, especially these girls, getting close and personal, would want to “freshen up” but then again, why would they think there is anything amiss if nobody has mentioned it and they are making money? 

How do I tell another dancer that she needs some deodorant? How about a breath mint? I wanted to say so many times. However, it’s a delicate topic. I always carry a box of Altoids and would offer them frequently, however resonating BO is a whole another story. I wouldn’t want to affect anybody’s self-esteem in any way, even towards the toughest bully. It is sometimes better to just keep a distance, literary.

How about during menstruation? Once a month, the girl’s cycle would start to oscillate with one another. I would hear girls advertise how it’s their most lucrative time, is during their “time of the month.” “They can smell it.” The girls would proclaim. I do not share the same monthly issues. Therefore I can not confirm if this is true. However, it is a consensus amongst the ladies.

Although I may not share menstrual stories with the other gals, I have learned about its process in my 20 years. Thank God for the man who created tampons. “The show must go on!” All they have to do is stick a tampon way up there, tuck the string, and off you go. Sometimes, the string is left hanging out like a fluorescent thread, bouncing around with her dance moves, enticing the men like a kitty and a ball of yarn. These girls may have forgotten or in fear of having it stuck up there! I’ve encountered many makeshift gyno exams and procedures held in that dressing room where one needs help in removing a lodge tampon that is too far for one to grab herself. Things happen and accidents occur. Big tip: don’t wear white g-strings on these days. 

Finally, during this quarantine, I’m sure the bushes down there are closer to being back to the ’80s, wild and untamed. I’ve yet to see a wild forest accentuated on stage in the strip clubs during my time. Only featured porn stars have dared to add it to their ensemble. Keeping our cookies baby smooth results in irritated daily razor burns. I would often see newbies (the new girls to the industry) would quickly try to seek out a remedy for this, something only a veteran dancer would know.

If you are a feet man, you will likely encounter stinky feet inside a strip club. Dancers work hard and long hours in them heels. It’s understandable that their shoes may smell over-time. Sweat, grime, and spilled drinks partake in musty mold growth. Heels should be replaced every so often. Dancers also make the mistake of storing their stinky heel with their clothes. Not a good idea.

Swampy box stench, B.O., layered with perfumes and scents, bad breath, stinky feet and musty clothes, sounds sexy right? Maybe it’s a good thing that we are all in quarantine and relearning to have basic healthy hygiene.

Disclaimer:

Optional masking does not mean we are in the clear of the Corona virus. The reopening of strip club establishments does not mean the pandemic is over. Please instill protection when confined in small unventilated areas and continue to practice social distancing. This is our new world.

I was excited to hear of a local strip club had reopened for business. I wanted to scope out the new processes, grab a mid-afternoon drink, and for some entertainment. I was all gun-hoe until I got there. As I pulled into the parking lot with a bearly noticeable shabby building, all of a sudden, I got nervous, “What am I thinking?” I’m about to enter the dungeon of darkness and God only knows what’s inside has not seen a ray of light. 

It was a major decision. I have been so careful and not have been to any establishments, let alone a strip club. We are not living in the same kind of safe world pre-2020. I was interested to know the changes, so I walked in, masked on, & not knowing what to expect.  

There were not many people in the place, 15 people, which included the entertainers, staff, and patron. Currently, establishments are to be filled at only 25% max capacity to follow state guidelines for specific stages of business reopening. There were three tables occupied and were spread far apart from one another. The bar had about five people congrating around each other as normal, where social distancing was not observed. I selected a table farthest back to sit and watch what has changed and what is the same.

After being seated, I was greeted by the waitress. She has her mask on. She told me now that I am seated at a table, I can remove my mask.  Ugh, well, I prefer to continue wearing my mask. I felt more comfortable with my mask on than off.  To my surprise, that is what made others feel uncomfortable with my choice to continue wearing my mask inside the club.  I was told twice that I didn’t have to wear my mask while inside. This brings me back to the club rules pre-2020, no hoods or hats inside the club. I have seen patrons get into arguments with security and staff over the removal of their headgear. “It’s policy” the bouncers would say to enforce. Is this what’s happening?

The reason for this rule is for surveillance. The establishment wants to be able to see your face in case of any incident. Some places may apply facial recognition technology as soon as you walk in the door. You are captured upon entering the building, follows your every movement. You will be seen buying drinks, the kind of drinks, your entire party will be filmed, and all of whom you engaged with. Hardcore evidence of all your encounters and transactions. 

Needless to say, there have been a number of men that wake up the next morning and regret what they have spent in their evening escapade. It would usually start off them contacting their credit card company and telling them that their card was lost or stolen and that it was not them having a good time at the strip club. Well, the cameras never lie. 

Wearing a mask can definitely interfere with face recognition procedures. However, at this time it is for health safety reasons. The staff wearing masks were only the bartender, waitress, and security guy who has to roam around and serve every patron.

One girl approached my table to introduce herself, said “Hello” and as it was in slow motion, I saw her stretch her hand towards me for an expected handshake. Yikes! Quickly, what do I do? I was uncomfortable, however, I didn’t want to be rude, so I reach out and gave her a reluctant weak, limp, barely-there handshake. I immediately grabbed hand sanitizer from the table and doused my hands. I like the fact that 2 bottles of hand sanitizers were placed at every table and all at arms reach. I really think girls should try to refrain from handshakes. I prefer the elbow knock these days.

It is definately a new world! Handshakes and hugs are taboo these days, but the dirty dollars are still handled here. “Would you like any dollars bills?” I was asked by the waitress. So it is still possible to “make it rain” in 2020. Would I even want to do that to the girls? I know how much fun it is to play in the rain, especially when its raining moolah. But the virus! I no longer have an interest in the showmanship of fluttering entertainers with dirty, infected cash. And now, it will be sad to see the girls still being subject to this. At least make it rain with Andrew Jackets and Benjamin Franklins!

I was the only patron still wearing my mask. Maybe that was enough to relay a message that I am actively practicing social distancing. Maybe they watched me get skeeved out with the handshake. As I watch the girls sit at the other tables, social distancing slowly diminished the more alcohol is consumed. They still sat close enough to coo and whisper sweet nothings into the guy’s ear, under the table “knee rubs,” and not long they disappear into the back where they will get more than a handshake.

So what does this mean for one’s fantasy of being showered with large sums of money fluttering upon them? The term is called “making it rain.” Most dancers have been rain upon and it always add for a great performance. The COVID pandemic of 2020 changed many views of things, just about overnight.

One change we have all have learned is to sterilize and sanitize everything! Bottles of disinfectants, alcohol and  hand sanitizer bought off the shelf faster than it can get restocked. This virus is growing exponentially on everything!

One of the dirtiest thing on this planet is money. I’m not speaking metaphorically about dirty cash that are washed and laundered. I’m talking about the physical money we handle that is virtually a Petri dish. 

Particularly them dollar bills. George Washingtons have traveled far and wide between hands of shoppers to bums, drug dealers to drug users, and eventually finds its way into the strip clubs. By the time it gets here, it’s crumpled up, washed up, ripped up, taped up, sticky, and wet all at the same time. Smeared with food, dirt, snot, drugs, and assorted spilled liquids, a tour bus for viruses, and bacteria.

Before the pandemic, it was ok to want to be showered with money. Dancing is one of the only jobs where this kind of showmanship is a reality. I now fear the “rain.”

What if it was showering hundred dollar bills? Does that make a difference? I think so. Our minds will tell us that Benjamin Franklin is not so dirty. Seeing it rain Benjamin Franklins is a rare sight, although I have seen it rain Andrew Jacksons a few times.

I have been showered with falling U.S currency represented as rain droplets countless times during my 20 year of exotic dancing. I’m sure everyone have had dreams of this. I lived it. It’s not what’s it’s all cracked up to be. The aftermath of money falling everywhere is having to collect it. It is not very sexy to be seen on your knees trying to collect what has been thrown & rained upon you. A broom and bucket is required to collect it all. I can see how this may seem degrading to some. As a dancer, I can tell you that it never bothered me, but only empowered me, especially having counted the total precipitation. Present day, we have to worry about the tranferable deadly contagions that may spread through paper currency.

What is going to happen after this new found virus? Will it ever rain again? Is cash money now taboo? Will we be left to utilize cash apps on our phones? Maybe carry a Square Reader? Credit Cards use only? Cash Advances in exchange for ‘Club Cash’ or ‘Diamond Dollars’? IOU’s? Maybe there will special bands marking sanitized stacks. How about a money gun equipped with an interior UVC light.

In this unsure, and ever changing world, anything can happen and all seems possible.

Today, many states in the U.S. began to reopen businesses that were shut down due to the COVID pandemic of 2020. Specific businesses will be re-opened in stages, giving a few weeks to each stage to assure there is no spike in the COVID statistics.

Everybody has been cooped up for several months now. Before anybody goes back to work and back in society, grooming is a must. It is no surprise that personal care business such as hair salons, nail salons, barber shops, and even pet grooming is in Stage 1.

As a dancer, appearances are the most important first impression. Similar to any other kind of artistry and entertainment industry. We are performers. We need our hair done, manicure and pedicure on fleek, tanning, facials, med-spas, all to provide the society of our best assets.

As a whole, we endure these changes together. We find ourselves shaggy-haired, with over-grown manicures and pedicures, pale from being trapped in our homes and weight gain from our preventative over-stocked fridge. This is not the first time I have yo-yo-ed in weight. Feeling your best is most important especially if you are entertaining in the buff amongst other beauties.

After 20 years of dancing, do I want to go back? That is my dilemma. When dancing you always think about quitting and moving on to do other things. Dancing is supposed to be a “stepping stone.” As for many, I like it too much to quit. I compare it to mom’s house. You can always go back when you need a little boost in life. There you can seek money, attention, other resources, and a flexible schedule in which I soon find that I was flexible for the club’s schedule.

Strips clubs are the last type of business to be reopened, during Stage 4. What will it be like? I picture sneeze glasses around the stage and bar, possibly masked and gloved. I remember when I started dancing, 20 years ago, there was a practice of social distancing-The three feet rule. 2 out of the 3 clubs I have worked at, in my entirety, had this 3 feet rule. As I look back, for me, being a dancer meant you were a visual performer, in today’s age, not so much. Maybe this will cause a reset.

I worked in a non-contact club for a total of 13 years ( 18-31 years old), where social distancing dances did exist. The “bad girl” would try to break the club rules, by acting more salacious, lude, and seducing closeness. As a newbie, I had to abide by their restrictions, which I didn’t mind. I was terrified of closeness as a dancer.

This caused me to become a “snob stripper” of sorts. As I continue to dance and strongly follow the restrictive rules, I excelled while upholding its policies. I started to enjoy it more and more. I grew accustom to being seen and not touched. I truly felt “untouchable.”

As time moved on, I would meet newcomers, other dancers, from all over, and to my surprise most did not know how to entertain from afar. The opposite kind of stage freight, a difference from what I feared. I have heard of these clubs, where the dancers would dance on your lap, if you can call that “dancing.”

I mean there are other noticeable changes in exotic dancing through the years. Did you know twerking is a recently new dance move? I do not remember of the booty bouncing in my hay days. This is definitely a new concept influenced by music videos and youtube tutorials. Thank you Miley Cyrus for perfecting this for us.

Pole dancing extended into its own sport. It a great talent to have as a dancer. I did not pursue much pole work. I became more of a Pepe Le Pew kind of seductress. I learned that my best asset is my smile, believe it or not. A smile, a good attitude, and the gift of gab can be the best form of foreplay and salesmanship.

In the past 7 years, the nude club I’ve been working at, prior to the COVID shutdown, is a more contact kind of club. I suppose it always optional, nudity however is not. Can you imagine what it’s like to be told to take off your g-string no matter if there are paying patrons? Needless to say, it’s an uncomfortable office meeting. Nude means naked, not just topless.

Exotic dancing can be a very empowering role. Yes, there are moments of degradation, and fears that we all have to overcome but in the end, it can make one stronger.

As we are all getting groomed to head back, I can’t help but wonder, how different will the strip clubs be after COVID 2020.

There is a new type of club surfacing, drive-thru strip club. This place provides a meal and a strip show. The Lucky Devil Lounge is located in Oregon where dancers deliver food with a show. No contact, strict sanitary guidelines, mask, gloves, and temperature checks. Read more about it here.

The places I have worked at does not serve food, only drinks and nudity.

I started dancing in the year 2,000 in a small town gentlemen’s club. From the outside, the building looked like a big red barn, in which I found out later, it was a horse stable. The barn had blackout windows so you can not peek to see what’s inside. As I stepped into the barn, I was met with lights and music like an amusement park. The interior of the club looked liked time warp from the ’80s. It had a big large open space with rows of tables where stark nude ladies danced at. They had three catwalk style stages. The brass pole would be on each stage placed somewhere in the center of the stage and not very high. I never attempted to do any pole tricks due to my thoughts of embarrassment.

The “Queen B’s” there were all tall and bodacious. They all remind me of Kelly LeBrock stepping out of the 1985 John Huges movie, “Weird Science.” They towered over me with their big hair, big breasts, and high stilettos. The Queen, “Benz” was draped in gold medallions of various sized Mercedes symbols. There would be no mistaking who she was. She did not bully anyone and carried herself gracefully, and confidently as the H.B.I.C. (Head Bitch In Charge.)

I was quite the opposite. How did I even get hired? I was petite, short & a “newbie.” This was the beginning of my 20 years. I was 18 years old, inexperienced with a virginal mind. This did not help my self-confidence. In addition, I was being bullied by the “house girls” who made it uncomfortable and their antics continued to diminish my self-esteem. 

I endured 2 years there at that particular club until I surprisingly got scouted to open up a brand new establishment in a bustling metropolis. How can this be? The Queens did not get scouted? Nor did my bullies? I would think the more experienced house girls would be better suited to be part of a major grand opening. 

On my first day at this new establishment, I walk into a pristine new club. This club was not as large as the “barn” but went up with multiple floors. A first floor, a second-level mezzanine, and a third-level floor above the mezzanine, which is the VIP. Their stage had a set of stairs that brings you down to a high pedestal stage where the center pole stretched to the ceiling of the mezzanine. The dressing room was no longer a small shabby horse stable but a super clean, brightly lit, untouched backstage. The club was so upscale, it provided us with our own beauty crew, a make-up artist, seamstress, and runner ready to glam us up. The club clienteles were expected to celebrities, athletes, other club owners, and predominantly corporate white collars.

As I enter the dressing room for the first time, to join my new associates, some faces I recognized & some I did not. There were fifteen of us gals selected from various clubs to be the opening acts. Apparently the new theme here is BLONDES. Short, tall, petite statured, blondes with big boobs. I am for sure not this either. 

I am of Asian descent. It seemed to me that Asians were not sought out much at that time. There are not many Asian dancers or black dancers that I have worked with. I have previously worked with only one or two other Asians and a few black girls. I have never danced down south, where it may be different. I hear it’s predominantly black women dancers if you go more southern down the states. Most times I have been the only Asian performer working in the establishments. Dancing with other Asians are so competitive that we don’t make alliances inside or outside of the club. (More on that later.)

So here I was, natural boobs, short, Asian, & inexperienced, amongst a sea of seductive endow blondes in a high-end establishment that expected you to be one of the best.

Needless to say I cried a lot. 

I compared my earnings, my body, my hair, my skin color and felt like nobody wanted to talk to me. I was too young to drink alcohol, and I didn’t have much life experience to talk about and I have yet learned the art of salesmanship.

When I had some downtime in the club (in which I did frequently) I would send the runner out and buy numerous fortunate cookies, like 50 of them! Good thing we were close to many Chinese food restaurants. I would sulk in between my stage sets in the back and stuff my face with fortune cookies because I was depressed, doubting every fortune I read. The make-up artist would get annoyed due to the cook wrappers and fortunes strewn all over the dressing room, continuously hearing me sob, and because she frequently had to fix my runny make-up. 

Something had to give…

Thank Heavens for the release of the 2003 “Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle.” Lucy Liu saved me and my career! The movie was a hit and Asians were hot again. This was my first observation of society following trends. Trends definitely influence clientele preferences.

Lucy Liu single handedly popularized asians again as a sex symbol (Read More).

Not long after, I became the poster girl for the club with my picture plastered all over the city in advertisement and metros. Eventually, the entire city knew who I was. It was the best revenge for my bullies, for they had to see my face everywhere.

Soon, I notice others follow suit. J Lo excited the city with exotic Latinas, and Shakira highlighted festive Caraval culture with her sexy belly dancing hip that influenced the new wave of Brazilians dancers to be highly sought out. Nikki Manaj and Kim K popularized big lips and big butts and soon the sport of twerking emerged.

This morning I woke up to the news of riots all over the United States. It’s not from the recent isolation of people due to the COVID pandemic, but back to the issue of racism. As I wait to see when the night club industry reopens, I can not help but be saddened to see what has happened to our cities. This might affect our re-opening dates.

This brings me to the Tuesday I woke up on September 11, 2001. I was confused when I witnessed the 2nd plane crash into the second building of the World Trade Center in New York. I thought maybe it was a movie that was being played. I quickly found out that it was no movie. I did not work in New York at the time, so it was work, as usual, that evening.

I was 19 years old. I have already been dancing for a few years, although still a mere amateur. As I entered the club that day, there is an unusual hum of what transpired. Patrons, staff, and ladies huddled around the TV screen to keep an eye on the tragic event.

I remember hearing patrons talking about how it could’ve been them on those flights. A lot of close call stories and stories of whom they know or connected to in this event. Firefighters and first responders became highly regarded for their heroism. The “house girls” know to head straight for them to help relieve their stresses. I was still considered an amateur so my opportunity to approach them comes after the house girls.

There is a system of hierarchy in the strip clubs. “House girls” are dancers that have worked in a particular club for more than 3 years. Don’t get it mixed up with the “Queen B’s.” There may be only 1 “Queen” but usually their a few “Queen B’s” in every club. You don’t normally see them often due to them having set clienteles and everybody else comes to seek them out. They are usually occupied, always busy or you never see them due to them not having to be at work as much. Queen B’s are highly requested and you can always feel her presence, even when they are not working.

I always thought the Queen B’s carried themselves with such poise. They are usually the one that carries much sophistication and confidence. The house girls would be the ones that tend to be bullies towards amateurs and newbies.

Yes, I was bullied during this time. There are all kinds of things that can happen inside a club. There are catfights, large brawls, theft, robbery, stabbings, and shootings. Sometimes, inside the club can be hostile, just as it is outside the club. The club always finds a way to reopen and soon we are back to dancing nude, mending hearts, boosting morale, and earning beaucoup cash. In a way, we heal society. One patron at a time.

After such global devastation of 2020, I don’t know if the clubs will ever re-open. The strip club industry may have been changed forever. All I can do is share what it was like.

As we all know, the COVID pandemic of 2020 has effected everything especially the exotic night club industry. Duh, it is a place where one can pay for the closest thing next to intimacy. There was no practice of “social distancing,” at least not in my most recent years. I’ve been dancing for 20 years. A lot has happened in this time, not only Birthdays and Bachelor parties, but also historic events, extreme weather, economical crashes, recessions, and even political divides. None of these have yet to shut down the industry. Sure, we have had slow nights, however this pandemic has been most successful at shutting us down. This use to be a “watering hole” for an array of men and women from all over who retreats into a dark club seeking refuge away from the darkness of reality. 

So what now? Where can dancers go? Where, how will they get their income now? Some can claim unemployment, while others can not. There are many different situations here and all walks of life. This is only part-time work for most, claiming unemployment just might not work or be enough. I heard some girls continue their entertainment virtually online and learning their new role as cam girls. Others migrate to where they hold a new age drive-thru strip show to continue making income. Good thing the rest of the world is on pause, it helps a little to alleviate the shock of the clubs being shut down.

I find myself thinking a lot about my past and my future and how much the exotic dancing industry has been a massive part of my life, 20 years. I have yet to write my final chapters as a dancer. This blog will be walking down memory lane, comparing my thought then to my thoughts now and how different it has become all within the walls of a strip club.