Another Day...!

Sometimes I really, really wish I was a lesbian. Seriously! Or at least a hard-core bisexual. Because I’ve decided once and for all that I absolutely hate men (visitors to this site excluded, of course!).

Before I get into that, let me give you a quickie update on what’s been going on since my last “proper” diary entry here (the one from 25 September!). First of all, yes, my little business is still going strong. Well, that’s an exaggeration… it’s going *sorta* strong! At first I was getting lucky with how many parties I could schedule. My system (to screen clients over the phone and then via a one-on-one meeting) was working well, and until about the end of October, I had solid bookings for practically every Friday and Saturday night (with only a couple of last minute cancellations, which wasn’t all that bad because I at least kept the deposit). But at the end of October (starting about three weeks ago) the well suddenly dried up!

For instance, I have no appointments scheduled for this weekend. Didn’t have one last night, and I don’t have one for tonight! And last weekend I only did a Saturday night gig (which, thankfully, paid pretty well—an all nighter!). The weekend before that I didn’t have anything, either.

So what’s happened? I honestly don’t know. When I started doing this it got to the point that I wished there was more than one of me because I was actually getting over-booked. I don’t know what’s changed. I have some theories, though:

1.) There’s new competition I’m not aware of. I keep my eye on the weekly rag I put my ad in, and the number of ads for women offering similar services hasn’t changed. However, what if strip-clubs are advertising their girls for private parties now, or some company (or individuals like me) is advertising somewhere I’m not aware of? Who knows?

2.) November is just a slow month for this type of thing. I guess that’s possible, huh? Most of my parties are for bachelor parties. Maybe there aren’t many weddings in November? If so, I doubt things will pick up quickly again until Spring. That sucks!

Those are actually my only two theories. Can anyone offer anymore?

In any event, I guess it’s no biggie! I have one appointment for next weekend already, and it’s really not that expensive for me to keep the ad in the paper and my prepaid phone charged with minutes. If this ends up being a once-in-a-blue-moon deal, that’s okay. It still supplements my “day-job” a lot!!!

(Okay, I can tell now this is going to be a long update… I’m sort of wired b/c I never slept last night… sorry!!)

Before I move on I *have* to tell you about the funniest “party” I did a few weeks ago! Okay, let me set this up. I had met the guy who claimed he was throwing a bachelor party for his friend at a restaurant that was convenient for both of us. We met in the evening—he bought me dinner, seemed like a normal-if-geeky kind of guy, etc. He in his early 30’s, a little standoffish, but otherwise not very remarkable. The only thing that really struck me about him was how he answered my questions—for instance, when I asked if he “liked what he saw” he got kind of shy and just mumbled things like, “Yeah, sure, it’s fine”. Usually the guy will get very flirty at that point, or ask to see “more” of me, etc. This guy said he liked me, but it was almost as thought that didn’t even matter.

(Quick aside: one time the guy I met did the exact opposite: he said he was disappointed with what he saw. He asked me how I could be a stripper with such small breasts. Though I was offended I tried to assure him that my clients were never unhappy—but eventually he said I wasn’t what he was looking for and he left. Now THAT was a blow to the ego… only time it’s happened so far, but I felt really, really stupid. Rejection sucks!)

Okay, so the dinner went fine and we agree on a date and time. A week and a half later I pull up in front of the house—everything seemed normal at this point. The driveway was full of cars, I had to park in the street, I could hear voices from within. But then I realized as I got closer to the door that I was only hearing voices. No music, no rowdiness, just normal, conversational voices. Sort of strange. Then I enter the house, and guess what?

It was definitely not a bachelor party. There were three men and four women gathered around in the front living room, all of whom were dressed prim-and-proper and definitely not the partying type.

Turns out they were members of some Pentecostal church! They invited me to stay and guaranteed I’d be paid my normal wages but I would be getting paid to listen to them, not dance or anything like that. I was really creeped out. They told me that their church used donations to pay for things like this, and that they did it about once a month for people ranging from drug-addicts they found on the streets, strippers in club, escorts, and girls like me—basically they tried to bring the “good news” to “lost souls” such as myself. It was really eeiry and at first I was angry at the deception, but after a minute or two I decided I might as well stay as long as they’d have me and get paid.

I ended up staying there almost three hours. And let me tell you, it was grueling. First they explained to me (as though I was a baby, btw!) the story about Jesus, blah blah blah. Then they told me about some “book of life” and how my name wasn’t in it yet, and if it wasn’t in it when I died I’d end up going to Hell. They asked if I wanted to be “saved” and I resisted every temptation to just laugh or yell or leave. Instead I asked general questions to drag-out the time.

It was absolutely awful. These people KNOW how to pressure a person. The way they sort of surrounded me, the way they talked, the questions they asked. I kept my answers short for the most part but boy did they try and pry things out of me, mostly things I’d be ashamed of, you know?

At the three hour mark I told them I would think a lot about what they’d said and asked for my money. Before they paid me, though, they asked me to pray with them—when I said I wouldn’t they instead formed a circle around me and did this group prayer thing asking God to save my soul, etc. Then they finally paid me, gave me a bunch of pamphlets about Jesus and their Church, a Holy Bible, and sent me on my way.

Those people are crazy. They paid me a lot of money to preach at me for three hours! All I can think is that it must have worked for them in the past or something. No way it’s working for me, though… I know *plenty* about Christianity and I want nothing to do with it.

Anyway! Sorry for that… I just thought that was so fucking funny I just had to share! Okay, let me catch you up on some other things. First of all, I’ll finally explain to you what happened with my housemates and why I ended up getting kicked out (sort of). This story sort of ties in to my opening paragraph so pay attention!

Two of my roommates have been dating for a long time. I didn’t know either of them that well, only that the guy was way out of the girl’s league (she’s sort of short and chubby and bitchy, he’s very, very cute!). At the end of August she went to Wyoming for a week to visit family, and that’s when he (I’ll call him Rick) and started sleeping together.

It happened really suddenly, and I really did feel bad about it at first. It was a Monday night and it was just me and him in the house, and for some reason I decided to join him and watch TV in the main room (I usually always stayed in my own room except to use the kitchen). One thing led to another and we ended up making out. It had been a while since I’d gotten any so I was sorta… aggressive! So I ended up fucking him, in my room, and that was that. The next day he told me we couldn’t do that again, blah blah blah. I said fine—I really did feel bad about it!

Then that very night, I had just showered and was in my bathrobe about to go to bed, when he knocked on my door. I invited him in, he wanted to talk because he and the bitch-girlfriend had gotten into a huge fight and he was upset, etc. So we ended up sleeping together again.

Basically we had sex every night that entire week. By Friday he was saying that he was going to break up with her as soon as she got back. I told him he should be careful about that, make sure he really wanted to do it, etc. I told him I liked him and I’d loved our week together (I really had!) but that I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship. We ended up fucking for our fifth and final time early Saturday morning (I went to his bedroom at about 3am after returning from one of my “parties”).

So then Saturday bitch-girl returns. Suddenly Rick is her pocket again, and shows no signs of breaking up with her. It didn’t really bother me, except that for the first few days after she got back he tried putting the moves on me when she wasn’t around. I told him straight-up that while she was gone it was easy for me to pretend he wasn’t with someone, but now that she was back I felt like crap about what we’d done (I really did) and didn’t want to do it anymore. He seemed okay with that. At first.

Well, you probably know how this story ends. He ended up confessing all to the bitch-girl. Somehow, though, he managed to convince her it was all my fault, not his. So she turned her wrath at me, got the other two roommates to side with her, and basically made everything so shitty and uncomfortable for me that I moved out after only a few days of that shit. The good news? I didn’t have to move far, and the place I moved to is actually better! A little bit more expensive and the house is smaller, but I have an entire floor to myself! My own bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, and living room. It’s basically a house that’s been converted into three apartments… I have the one on the top floor. Nice!

So my bad experience with Rick explains part of the reason why I wish I were a lesbian. The other reason involves last night (actually only a few hours ago!).

I’ll try to make this really short since this entry is going WAY longer than I thought it would! Okay. A few months ago I went out with a bunch of people from my work one night to celebrate someone’s birthday. We went to a bar and I ended up having a few drinks, but I didn’t get hammered or anything. This was before I had my car, though, so I begged a ride from this guy I’ll call Pete. Pete works with me, but I don’t see him much because he’s in a different department. Anyway, he drove me home, and I got stupid and asked if he wanted to come in with me. Of course, he did, and we ended up sleeping together. Not a good idea, I know, but I was being dumb!!!

Thankfully he swore he wouldn’t tell anyone at work about it, and even seemed to keep his word. After a few weeks it got easy to pretend it had never happened—especially since no one ever snickered when I walked by, I didn’t hear any rumors about it, and Pete seemed genuinely professional about the whole affair.

Then last night. Again, I went out with a bunch of people from work, this time to celebrate one of my co-worker’s promotion. She wanted to go to a club, so we did, and though I’d PROMISED myself not to drink too much I ended up getting pretty drunk. By 11pm (and after making a fool of myself dancing with everyone, too!) I realized I needed to go home. But I couldn’t drive, not in that state, so I was going to call a taxi. When I was explaining this to a new-hire I’ll call Brad, though, he offered to drive me home instead.

We got back to my place at about 11:30. Of course, even though he’s totally not my type and he’s sort of annoying, I invited him in. I was feeling really drunk and horny (I hadn’t had sex since my week-long affair with Rick!) and it didn’t take long before Brad and I were going at it. He actually surprised me, btw: he’s an older guy, probably pushing 35, not very fit, and really over-the-top annoying a lot of the time. But he was actually really good in the sack! I swear he lasted almost an hour, and it was really easy for me to “do my thing” with him: I began by sucking him for a little bit before he asked me to get on all fours (and you know I love being told what to do!) so he could fuck me from behind; then he got on his back and I did some reverse-cowgirl-action (always a ton of fun!) for most of the rest of the time until he threw me onto my back and fucked me missionary until he came. When he was done I was smiling from ear-to-ear, drunk and exhausted, and ready to pass out.

But then I said to him, “That was great!”

And he replied, “Yeah, definitely, definitely. Can I ask you something?”

I smiled and said, “Anything.”

“Was I better than Pete?”

Okay, that flipped me out. I made him tell me how he—who’s only worked at the company for about a month—could know about Pete and I from months ago. He just shrugged and said everyone knew. I could not fucking believe it.

Basically, this whole time I’d thought Pete was a nice, honest guy who had kept his promise not to tell anyone else about what we’d done together. Turns out he did tell people, and according to Brad “everyone” at my work knows.

And here’s the thing that really sucks! If I’d known that everyone knew there is NO WAY I would have fucked Brad tonight (last night, whatever)! Because now, if Brad tells people, I go from being a girl who had a little fling with someone to the company-slut who sleeps around with everybody! I begged Brad not to tell anyone about us and he swore up and down he wouldn’t, but how can I believe him?

After we had this long, drunken (on my part) and panicked (ditto) conversation, Brad left me about… six, six-and-half hours ago. Since then I’ve been unable to sleep because I’ve been so worried about going to work on Monday.

Right now, though, I feel a lot more relaxed. I’m sort of thinking: So the fuck what if everyone at work starts to think I’m some slut? I’m awesome at my job and I get along with everyone and if that’s not enough to earn their respect, fuck them! Right?

Ahhh… I sobered up a while ago and now I’m running on caffeine (thank God for Red Bull and coffee!). Sorry for this lengthy post… I always try to keep them short but once I start typing it’s like I have so much to say I just can’t help myself, you know? Thanks for reading, see you later!

-shannon-