Top Ten Percent

It was a very slow night.  There weren’t many customers.  I chalked it up to the season and just decided to at least try to make it work but not get upset about it if it didn’t.

Then the “out-of-towners” came in.  They were a group of white guys over thirty but under fifty.  They weren’t clear with me as to what they were doing here.  One guy said they were here working a construction job, while another said it was a golf tournament.  They looked more like golfers than construction workers and their hands were far too soft.  I went with golf tripGood, I thought.  (Guys will spend more money when they are here on a pleasure trip than if they’re here working.)

“Out-of-towners” are usually easy prey for a few reasons.  They’re usually away for work or visiting relatives, both of which one might need a break from.  Most often, they have allowed themselves a spending budget for their trip anyway so they will spend the money.  Most importantly, though, their wives are home taking care of their kids or sewing their trousers in another state, perhaps a plane ride’s distance away.

But these guys weren’t an easy bunch.

Every state in this country has its own laws that govern the operation of strip clubs.  The rules vary from place to place.  Some counties and states allow full nudity and the sale of alcohol.  Others only allow the entertainers to be topless.  The rules for “table dances” or “couch dances” vary as well.  Some jurisdictions call for couch dances that require there to be three feet of space between dancer and patron while others allow full contact dances.

Without giving away my exact location, I will say that the area I live in does not allow nudity with the sale of alcoholic beverages.  It does, however, allow for full contact lap dances.

These guys were disappointed about the no-nudity-thing.  They were sarcastic and had wise remarks about everything I said.  They decided that this club was not really a strip club since it wasn’t as “great” as the ones back home.

Now, I kept this to myself, but I know the truth about those clubs back home.  The problem with those clubs is that their wives live within a twenty five minute drive from them.

Our club here might not be nude, but it is far, far away from the wives these guys left behind.

I spoke to them carefully and considered every word before saying it.  I knew they were laughing and making fun of me although it was disguised as plain guy’s night out banter.

I have good social skills because of all the years I’ve worked as a stripper.  But they’re not superior.  I didn’t quite understand the jokes they were making but I knew I was the butt of them.

In grade school I was picked on so badly that although I may not hear the words or understand the jokes, I’ll never forget what it feels like to be the one in the room that everyone is laughing at.

Back then, it got to me.  I didn’t even like to think about going to school the next day once it was over.  But not now.

I know who I am.  I know what I am capable of.  I don’t need to gain acceptance from these guys to know that I’m awesome.

I let them continue with their obnoxious teasing, knowing that they wouldn’t win.

If you come into my place of employment and try to put me down or make me feel bad about the fact that I’m a stripper…  I’m just going to mind-fuck you ‘til you give me your money. 

I kept quiet.  I stood tall and remained poised, graceful, and confident.  I waited for the next sardonic comment to come out of one their mouths.

“You’re definitely one of the best looking girls here but I’m not hearing anything that makes me think top 10%.”

I shrugged my shoulders and looked at the girl on stage.

“Tell me what makes you the top 10%” he continued.

“I don’t need to convince you.” was my chosen reply.

“Tell me.  I wanna see something top ten.”

I looked at him and said, “Are you hoping to see me stick my fist up my ass for you or something?”

“No, just something that makes you top ten.”

I walked away.  I’d already gotten one of their bunch to do a champagne room with me.  I knew that if I let them get a little drunker I could get at least one more.

By the time I came back to them, they had already pissed off a couple other dancers.  One girl sat by herself in the sitting area at the back of the club.  One of the guys kept motioning over to her, saying, “What did I do?  Why you so disinterested?”

The girl shook her head and said, “You know what you did.”  She remained calm and civil but refused to go back and mingle with them.  The guy was ready to do champagne room with the two of us but the young lady wanted nothing to do with it.

I was proud of her for standing up for what matters to her.  But the man had been no more or less insulting than his friends were and I figured I might as well make money off of them.

We did a private room in which he gently pulled my hair and told me that he was “the worst”.  He wasn’t grabby or obnoxious, just drunk and goofy.

I don’t think he chose me because he found me superior to the other dancers.  I think he chose me because I was simply there at the right time.  I knew when to walk away and when to return.  Knowing little things like that is just part of being a good stripper.

As the night came to a close, Mr. “Top Ten Percent Guy” pointed to the dancer on stage and said, “She’s top ten percent.  Look at how she moves.  She didn’t know what I was talking about when I asked her but that thing she does with her butt…  That’s top ten percent.”

“I agree.” I replied.

“I wanted you to come back at me and say,, ‘this is why I’m top ten percent!’ and tell me something.  But you didn’t say anything.”

“I just don’t feel I need to convince you.  I think I’m a fun girl to hang out with but I’m not gonna stand here and try to convince you”.

“Yeah, I understand.” the man said.

I thought about his question on my way to the dressing room and while I got dressed.  What makes me top ten percent?  Well I’d say that there are plenty of things.  One being the fact that I spent only a little bit of time with them at the bar but ended up making $220 off of the group.  AND, I don’t even think they liked me.  How’s that for top ten percent?

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