Sassy by name, Sassy by nature, I write to explode the myths which surround the lapdancing profession - standing up for the clubs, the girls and the customers. Its not always drinking champagne and playing with my tits - it can be hassle, hustling and hangovers. At heart I'm just a regular twenty-something posh cockney living in London who likes taking her clothes off...
I’m fuming. I’m lying in bed, snotty rags and mugs of lemsip surrounding me like a germy entourage. I’ve watched everything on BBC iPlayer, and all my videos. My nose is so sore it looks like I have a ten gram a day coke habit, and I swear that the rising of my chest is making my tits sag a little bit more with every raspy cough.
I just got over a cold. I felt like shit last week, as twitter followers may remember. So I recuperate, then sashay back into the club three days later, ready to take it slow and push for VIPs rather than bone shaking booty dances. And whaddya know? It was a shit Tuesday night, and I caught another fricking cold. Again! I coughed for the last hour, did the last stage show as a feverish chill ran through my body as it took off the scant nylon layers to stand butt naked in a draughty stripclub.
This cold is different from last weeks. I’m running a temperature and coughing a lot, like some sick demon is tickling my throat. I’ve also got achey muscles, especially in my lower back, which is making my bum hurt. last week was a sniffle – this one is a big nasty ickiness.
I’m fuming with the bad timing of it all. Here I am, in the run-up to Christmas, a time when I should be hustling my butt off, and all the other girls are off making money while the proverbial sun shines and I’m tucked up in bed like a fleabag broad.
Strippers catch lots of colds. Its the all-nighters we pull, the daily drinks, the proximity to hundreds of different guys every week, and the cavernous basement clubs which are freezing until the crowds fill it up. Oh yeah, and we get naked and filthy unwashed hands try and touch us – a lot. Guys and girls are always lunging in to slap my butt, brush against my thighs, play with my hair, and stroke my face. I really don’t care that customers get a little excited, I just wish that it could be handled without spreading germs all over me. It would have been nice to work the fortnight before Christmas and create a little nest egg.
Ah well, there’s always next year…. sniffle…