The first dancers I meet are Sky, Rain, Bijoux. and Candy (Pam, Kathy, Judith and Brenda). One is an ex-Mormon from Utah, two of them have kids, and one is 19. They arrive early, because if they are dressed—or rather undressed—and ready to go by 6, they get to pay a discounted house fee. A house fee is what the dancers pay the establishment for the privilege of working there. For the first few hours, hardly anyone enters. Dancers don’t even start stage shows until about nine, so until then, it’s like being in a sad, dead, neighborhood dive bar where the only patrons are women in lingerie, and if you go to the bathroom you are greeted with signs that say “Your boobs never EVER touch the customer,” all translated into Spanish, Russian, Portuguese, and Polish. This leaves plenty of time for all the moms to pull out their phones and compare baby pictures, while I die a little inside.
[ BlackBook ]