Several years ago, I was sitting my car eating a candy bar for breakfast before my 8 am English comp course when I heard something interesting on the radio. It was something about strippers and ovulation. I bit into the chocolate and turned up the volume.
Sometime, somewhere, a study was done that concluded that strippers earn more money during the time when they ovulate. The announcer also stated that the study found that strippers who are on the pill make less money across the boards.
Wow! That was so interesting to me. I had read that women who spend a lot of time together tend to get their periods around the same time because of the pheromones we release that unknowingly make our cycles sync up. I wondered if it was for a similar reason.
“So what does that mean?” The guy I was dating at the time asked when I shared the tidbit.
“I dunno. I guess you guys can smell our eggs”.
“Maybe”. He laughed a little. “I don’t think I know the difference, though.”
I soon forgot about that useful piece of information as life’s daily happenings….well, happened.
Years later, as a stripper, I wondered if it was true. Having been on the pill for the first year that I danced, I had no way of knowing.
Then one day, I discovered a book called “Take Charge of Your Fertility” on the sale rack of a closing bookstore. For fifty percent off its original price, I bought it.
I learned a lot about women’s menstrual cycles, including how to track fertility based on the subtle changes in our bodies. This can be used to avoid pregnancy, to achieve pregnancy, or simply to understand one’s own body. As a woman, there is power in understanding your own menstrual cycle.
After going off the pill, I started keeping track of my cycle. After a few months, I had a pretty good idea when I was ovulating. Aside from the changes in my own body, I noticed that I do, in fact, on average, make more money when I’m fertile. People think I’m crazy when I say this, but I swear by it.
Just the other night, my friend sent me a picture of a stripper getting dollar bills rained upon her. The caption read, “Studies show that strippers earn more money in tips when they are ovulating.”
“Did you know?” my friend asked me.
“Yes!” was my immediate response. “It’s true!”
“But how?” he asked. “It’s not like you girls wear signs on your heads when you ovulate.”
“True” I replied. “But I believe it’s more of a subconscious thing. Very primal and subconscious.” We are simply more desirable to men when we are fertile. I think it’s due to the pheromones our bodies release during our fertile times.
I have a big package of ovulation test strips that I bought on Amazon about six months ago. I got a 50 pack for $22.00. I peed on these tests regularly, cycle after cycle. I noticed that on the days when I got a positive result, my mood tended to be better, my mind sharper, and men were drawn to me like magnets. I’d like to flatter myself and say it’s a result of my magnetic personality, but I think it is something more primal than that.
In my fertile phase, men who never go for dances with me go for dances. As those little follicles in my ovaries mature, guys sit at the bar waiting for me to approach them. As I pass, they look at me with hungry eyes, willing me to come to them. And of course, my ex boyfriends resurface out of nowhere.
Two months ago, in the days when my ovulation tests were coming up positive, I was surprised to see my ex-boyfriend sitting at the bar when I came back from doing a dance. “What’s up?” I asked him.
“Not much. Was just in the area and figured I’d stop by.”
Oh yeah? I wondered. Lie! He just smelled my egg from miles away.
The best thing about it is, it seems to push everyone over the edge. I enjoy my own sexuality more than ever during this time, and guys seem to notice. Customers tend to fall under my spell more easily, and they often turn into helpless, sex-crazed animals at my mercy. I’d be lying if I said I don’t love it.
Stripping used to be a job where everyone made money for being beautiful, minimally clothed, and just there. Today, the money doesn’t flow quite as easily. So, I’ll take any advantage I can get, and ovulation is surely one I jump on.
This means that whatever my two most fertile days are, I make sure I go to work. Even if it’s Monday and Tuesday, I make sure I’m there to reap all the financial benefits.
You might wonder how this can possibly be true, but I swear that it is. But don’t just take my word for it. Tell me what you think.
This past cycle, my fertile phase began on a Wednesday. It was one of those summer days when it’s so hot and humid outside that even with the air conditioning running on high power, there was little relief from the warm, thick air. For my outfit, I chose a yellow bra, green panties, and a long, white, flowing skirt. I looked like I was half bride, half stripper, but it had to do because it was way too hot for a full gown.
As the club started filling up, I looked around the bar at my potential customers while chatting with a friend. He comes in regularly to have a bottle of water and watch the ladies dance. I offered him a dance, but he politely told me he wasn’t ready and asked me to come back later.
Before I could walk away and approach someone else, a gentlemen pulled me aside and asked for a dance. This guy frequents the establishment fairly often as well but he NEVER goes for dances with me. However, on this particular night, he put a forty dollar tip into the palm of my hand and asked me for a dance.
As I was dancing in his lap, he asked me something about whether I had a boyfriend or something like that. I replied, “I suck at relationships.”
He looked me in the eyes and said, “Want some blow?”
I love how guys ask me this all the time. “Want some blow?” As if blow were the solution to every problem in the world. I could have said anything and his response still would have been, “Want some blow?”
“No, I’m ok. Thank you anyway, though.”
“Let’s hang out after you’re done tonight. I’ll get you anything you need.”
“Maybe some other time. I have to get up early tomorrow to go to the dentist.” That line usually kills the mood a little, so when necessary, I use it.
After our dances were over, I walked around the bar, mingling with the gentlemen. The entire time I sat talking with one guy, another’s eyes followed me and stared. I didn’t make it very far before finding a new lap dancee.
For the next hour, making money was easy. I was in and out of the couch room and champagne room with no time to spare in between.
I emerged from the couch room after every dance, glancing around the bar for my next customer.
I recognized one of the attentive patrons at the bar. I had met him before, one slow Saturday, when he told me all about his job selling windows. I had teased him that night, saying, “I’m a great saleswoman. You should hire me to work for you. I’ll double your window sales.”
I knew that Mr. Window salesman would not likely get any dances so I decided I’d go talk with him after I got a few dances under my belt.
I approached a man of trim build, who looked about thirty-five. He could have been handsome if not for the way his green eyes seemed wired open as if by electrical charge. I introduced myself.
“Do I know you?”
“I think we had a one night stand before…”
“You think?” I humored him.
“Yes. I think you sucked my dick before.”
“Was I any good?”
He shook his head. “I can’t remember.”
“Then I must not have been very good at it if you forgot about it already.”
“I’m just kidding. You didn’t suck my dick. But you can anytime.” He smiled a half smile, his eyes still like a rabid animal.
I laughed it off and said, “Thanks. That’s good to know… So…want to do a dance?”
On the way to the couch room, the man put his arms up and proudly showed off the tent he was making in his pants. He didn’t seem to mind that the couch room attendant was right there.
As soon as we began our dance, he asked me if I’d go back to his hotel with him later. “I dunno if I can tonight…” I said coyly.
He let out a breath of pleasure as I danced in his lap. “You can do coke off my hard dick” he attempted to bribe me.
“I’ve never done coke.”
“Yes you have.”
“No I haven’t.”
“Well what do ya do?” he asked.
“What do you do?” I turned the question back on him.
“I’ve been in five different countries this week.”
“Ya know… Moving stuff around…” He readjusted his package with his hand. “I’ve been doing Turkish Viagra all week.”
“Oh. What’s wrong with American Viagra?”
“The Turkish stuff is way more potent.”
When Mr. Turkish Viagra guy and I were finished with our dances, I went back on the floor and made my way back to the bar.
Eyes were instantly upon me.
The window sales guy held his gaze on me, calling me over with his eyes.
I had one more customer waiting for me so I took him back first. I’d met this guy before, the week prior. He was fairly young, his hair was slicked back nicely and he wore a dark collared shirt. He was wearing a wedding band but in one couch dance, he was convinced that I was his soul mate and it was pertinent that we exchange numbers and get to know each other. Something about him gave me a creepy vibe so I turned him down. “Sorry. I’m married.” I lied.
He continued to try to earn my affection so I pointed to his left hand. “So are you.”
That night, he had tried everything he could to get my number. He told me he was a photographer and he wanted to take pictures of me. I took his number on a napkin but never called.
On this particular night, I would have walked right past him, but I’d already made eye contact with him and the man he was sitting with was handing me money to take the guy for a dance. I didn’t want to be a jerk so I took him to the couch room.
He played the same game this time around, too. One couch dance, and I was the one for him. “Can I please get your number? Give me a chance. I want to know you.”
“I’m very sorry, but I can’t. I’m married. So are you.”
I left him at the end of the hallway, his eyes still sad and longing, his arms still reaching out to me. I had to look away and keep walking.
I finally approached Mr. Window salesman and he greeted me happily. “I can’t believe you made it to this side of the bar! I didn’t think you would.”
“I was coming for you. I was just a little busy.”
“A little busy? They were all lined up here waiting for you. I was watching.”
I acted modest. “I dunno about that…. It’s just a good night. It’s not always like this. Sometimes I sit here with nothing to do.”
“What’s your secret?” He asked.
“Yeah. What do you say to them? What do you do different than everybody else?”
I carefully thought about what to say. “I dunno. I just treat them like people, not like money. I treat them how I want to be treated. Eye contact on stage helps too.”
“As we say in sales, you have a very high closing rate.” the man replied. I smiled bashfully.
“You sell windows, right?” I asked.
“Yes. Go on.”
“But do you ever just sell a window? You don’t. You sell quality, you sell efficiency, you sell safety, and you sell resale value. Right?”
“Yes, yes, you’re right.”
“I told you that you should have hired me to sell windows for your company.” The man laughed and handed me ten singles. I patted him on the back gave him a kiss on the cheek. I was starting to walk away when I turned back to him and whispered in his ear, “And ovulation.” I volunteered.
“I’m ovulating. It’s my best secret stripper tool ever. I’m irresistible when I ovulate.”
My newfound pal laughed and nodded his head.
On my way out that day, I realized I had to get gas. I try to make it a habit to always get gas on the way to work instead of on the way home, because you never know who you’ll run into at a gas station near a strip club at 2:30 in the morning. But of course, I had left the house with absolutely no money, like we strippers are known to do. So… I had to fuel up on the way home.
I noticed a truck following me so I passed the first gas station and headed for the one down the road, hoping he’d turn off somewhere. He didn’t. But I really needed gas, so I pulled in.
As I was waiting for my car to fill up, I sat in my car with the windows rolled up and the doors locked. Who do you think walked up to my window?
The young, married gentlemen stood outside my window making puppy dog eyes at me. I rolled my window down slightly and said, “Why are you here? You need to go.”
“He shrugged. “I need to see you.”
“No, you need to go. You just followed me out of a strip club parking lot. That’s not ok. It’s creepy.” I tried to reason with him.
He shrugged his shoulders again and cocked his head to the side as if to say, I know I just did something super stalkery and all, but I’m really a good guy you can trust…
“You need to get out of here” I repeated. The guy didn’t move.
“Please. I need to know the person you are.” he pleaded.
I momentarily wondered how this guy could possibly have thought that I’d change my mind and go home with him after he followed me out of the club like a creep. What did he think I was going to say? “Yeah, sure! Get in!”?
In the rear view mirror, I could see Mr. Turkish Viagra guy standing in the middle of the parking lot cramming a hot dog into his mouth. His wide eyes were locked upon me. I peeled out of the gas station parking lot as fast as I could. As I drove out, Mr. Turkish Viagra guy looked at me from across the lot, his arms up in the air, as if to ask me, where ya goin’?
My eggs aren’t safe here! I said to myself as I drove home with my bag full of cash. Crumbled up ones billowed over the top of the bulging purse. The night had been a success, which I attribute largely to the fact that I was ovulating, although I can’t prove it.
I can, however, say that over the months that I’ve carefully kept track of my cycle and the money I’ve made, I definitely see a pattern. I make more money when I ovulate. But some nights are also just good nights, and some nights are just bad ones. If there’s nobody sitting at the bar, it doesn’t matter what you’ve got going on. This night is going to be a bust.
When you work in this business, you can’t count on anything. You can make a thousand dollars on one random Monday night and then leave with ten bucks every subsequent night that week.
Because of how unpredictable a stripper’s income is, ovulation is a little thing that strippers who aren’t using birth control can take advantage of in hopes of making some extra cash.
On my way home that night, I felt stupid for having broken my own rule and not getting gas before work. I’ve been doing this long enough to know better. But overall I was happy because I’d made money and I was thoroughly entertained for most of the evening.
Some nights, I go to work and make money. Other nights, I leave with very little money but a good story to tell. (The nights when I leave with neither suck the most.) This night was great because not only did I make a good amount of money, I left with a story or two to tell. There’s really nothing more awesome than leaving work with a good story.