Archive for April, 2013


Posted in Customers with tags , , , , on April 30, 2013 by tiltdiary

Two Armos walk into the club. The younger one is skinny and short, the older one fat and short. I can tell they have never visited my club before. I watch them carefully taking a seat, and I can smell money on them. I rate their creep factor a high 10, but since it is a slow night, I decide to take on the challenge and talk to them.

When I introduce myself to them, they both give me fake American names and tell me they are bothers. SkinnyArmo is the younger one, and I get involved into a conversation with him. He tells me in his thick accent, “I know the owner of FullNudyClub down the street. Why don’t you dance there?” I say to him, “Oh, I heard about that club. Isn’t the owner Russian?” SkinnyArmo, “He’s Russian-Armenian, and he is a very nice guy.” Oh, yeah, I know this club very well, it’s more a brothel than a club, and I would never in hell dance there. But I tell him, “I might go check it out.” I read this guy very clearly, and he confirms my suspicion right away, “You know, we have these private parties every Thursday, and I want to invite you to join us. No sex … but …” I think, yeah right, no sex. That’s all you are looking for, to get laid. Then he says, “You know, I would do a dance with you, but I am a horny guy, and I want to touch, and I want more …” I want to vomit, but I say, since I know, I can squeeze some money out of this douche bag, “I know, but because of the alcohol license here in the club, touching is strictly prohibited, but we could still do a dance. Think about it.” Then I leave him sitting and move on to talk to his brother, FatArmo. I ask him what he does for living, and he answers very vaguely, “All kind of things!” I somehow mention his wife in our conversation, although, he doesn’t wear a wedding ring, and he is startled, “How do you know I am married.” I explain nonchalant, “I just know, I see a woman.” He lies, “I was married, not anymore.” Boooo, I hate when people lie to me. SkinnyArmo moves in to get my attention back and begs, “OK, let’s go do a dance.” I take him over to the lap dance booth and start my lap dance for him, or should I rather call it a wrestling match, him continuously telling me, “I am horny. Let’s meet later for more. I am down for it …” While I dance for SkinnyArmo, I can see in the mirrors a woman walking furiously into the club, straight to FatArmo. I know right away it’s his wife. I watch her badgering FatArmo, then she walks out of the club, comes back, badgers some more, leaves again and so on and on. Once I decide I had enough dances with SkinnyArmo, who is misbehaving the entire time, and I hate dancing for him, I tell him, “Oh look, your brother’s wife came to join you both.” He stiffens up, pays me like a nervous accountant without tipping me, and tries to hide at the bar, wanting me to stand in front of him. I tell SkinnyArmo, “Sorry, I have to go. Not interested in your brother’s wife scratching my eyes out.” In the wives eyes it’s always the fault of the dirty stripper why her husband is cheating. We are the black sheep, as if we force these guys to come into the club and look at us. I am smart enough to watch the situation from a distance not being associated with any of the ArmoBrothers.

After the woman leaves and ArmoBrothers leave, I find out from my bouncer that the devastated woman was begging her husband to come home with her. She told my bouncer, “I make over $100.000 a year, I am home, and I want him, but look he has to talk to these girls and looks at them instead of me.” Bouncer reassures her, “This is the cleanest club you will find in L. A.” And that is true. Both ArmoBrothers couldn’t find here what they were looking for, but they will eventually at another club, maybe. I feel bad for the wife, but I feel also misjudged by her, and maybe, if she wouldn’t be so close minded, she could have sat down with her husband and looked at us girls too. It would have empowered her, taken his game away, and if she would have talked to us girls, she would have had a chance to find out why her husband goes to establishments like this and that it is completely his choice. Maybe, she would have learned something about him she didn’t know yet, and it would have given her insights to make different choices about her life and relationships.

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Posted in Jones' Fantasies with tags , , , , , , on April 29, 2013 by tiltdiary

IMG356The way he looks at her body, the way he touches her, caresses her skin, whispers into her ear, the way he sees her, in his eyes she is not just a woman, she is a divine creature to him, an irresistible seductress, the angel of desire … to him her imperfections make her perfect, he loves each inch of her body, cannot get enough of her smell, her true scent, and he cannot stop desiring her. He wants her always and forever. She is his perfect fantasy, and he cannot keep her out of his reality. He fantasizes about her, the way her hair traces down his chest, the way she touches him, the way she cannot resist his scent, his true scent, the way she whispers into his ear, the way she sees his body, fantasizes about him, wants him always and forever, not able to stop seducing him.

When chemistry, destiny, and passion melt and become one, then both, the man and the woman, turn from ordinary into extraordinary.

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Posted in Customers with tags , , , , , , on April 28, 2013 by tiltdiary

Business man stumbles into the club. I know by the way he walks into the club and by his general behavior that he is from out of town, and I enjoy talking to the Out-Of-Towners, because most of the time, they surely will deliver at least one outrageous story. This one looks promising: balding, in his early fifties, with a shiny wedding ring on his finger. I can literally smell the delicious roast of stories I will devour from this one.

I take a seat right next to him while he orders his drink. He doesn’t offer to buy me a drink, so it signals me right away that he is cheap. I am in it for the story, so I don’t care. I introduce myself, and he immediately recognizes my accent and asks, “Where are you from?” Me, “Ex-Yugoslavia, Croatia!” His eyes light up, and I can see the excitement flaring through his entire body. He turns towards me and starts spilling the beans without even hesitating for a second, “I looooove Yugoslavian women. I was just in Serbia in February, and I had the time of my life.” Then he continues in Serbian, “Ja te volim, ja te volim!” which mean, ‘I love you, I love you’. “Jako si ljepa!” traslated, ‘You are gorgeous!’ I say to him, “Oh wow, you don’t just know where Yugoslavia is, you also speak some Serbian. That’s impressive. Have you ever been to Croatia?” He says, “Never been to Croatia, but I met the most wonderful women in Serbia. They have these strip clubs there, and the women are just stunning. Yeah, at this one club they got really mad at me, because I wasn’t drinking enough and didn’t buy enough drinks for the girl …” see I told you he is cheap. These girls get paid on how many drinks he buys, but Mr. SerbiaGigolo didn’t want to spend a lot of American $$$$. He continues, “And at this other club, they had these champagne rooms for $200, but I only did this once. They get you off too fast, I prefer taking the girl to my hotel. And that was great! I love that!” And his face projects a creepy smile showing his buck teeth. Then he asks, “Where do you guys do the Lap Dances here?”

I show him, and he is disappointed, of course, he is in for at least a blow job tonight, but thinks, he might be able to take me to his hotel, like he could take the Serbian prostitute, and since I am from that corner of the world, he thinks I might be willing to go to his hotel with him for maybe just a drink or two. I tell him, “Mr. SerbiaGigolo, it’s my turn to go on stage! Enjoy the show.”

He tips me $2 (yup, cheap, because I know he is loaded, just cheap), and because I am polite I thank him when I get off stage and tell him, “Let me know if you would like a private dance with me.” He answers, “Poslje!” which means ‘later’. I nod my head and walk off to my regular who just walked in, and I get lost in a conversation with him. My regulars are always my priority.

While I am called on second stage, I see how the new, blond girl is giving a lap dance to a young kid, and it’s fascinating to me. The kid’s face is contorted as if he is experiencing pain, while pretty, tall Blondy bangs her decent size derriere repeatedly against his chest. It looks more like a butt beating than a lap dance, but who knows, some guys might like a serious butt banging. You have to be wired a certain way to enjoy this type of treatment, but I am not here to judge her … I can just see the boy’s face, and I don’t think he is enjoying himself. The girl is new and guys never do more than one dance with her …. She wonders why?

About 30 minutes later, while I stand next to my regular again involved in conversation, Mr. SerbiaGigolo walks up to me and interrupts. You can see he is upset with me because I left him sitting without further attention, and he feels I cheated him out on his chance of wild Serbian sex with me at his hotel. He is obviously trying to get back at me, kind of like, see you are missing out on money and fun, when he says, “I am going to go now, but before I leave I will have a lap dance with … Blondy!”

I nod my head and say politely, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Dovidjenja. And enjoy your dance with Blondy.” While I barely manage to suppress my laugh when I see them walk off into the lap dance area. Oh, she did bang the shit out of Mr. SerbiaGigolo’s chest, and I don’t think we will see him at my club ever again.

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Posted in Adventures of Jones with tags , , , , , , on April 27, 2013 by tiltdiary

A stripper stiletto is actually a very primitive shoe made out of cheap plastic and inexpensive material. A decent pair of stilettos can range between $45 and $150. This is just a basic design without any rhinestones or other bling bling to glamor the high heel shoe. Most stilettos are made in China, and in my opinion, the true value of this type of shoe is not more the $23, and if you are a hard core stripper and pole dancer, you will need a brand new pair of stilettos at least ever 3 months if not sooner.

My favorite pair of stilettos broke on my last shift at the club, and I was desperately in need of a new pair. Although, this is a plastic shoe, I am very picky about the brand and type of shoe I buy. The stilettos I wear are made in the USA, they have to be 8 inch heels, and I prefer the clear straps over the colored ones since they seems to be more comfortable, and I wear an exact size 7. If the stiletto is too big it can be hazardous on the pole, and a too small stiletto will inflict additional pain to the pain you endure anyway by wearing a perfectly fitting shoe.

My day yesterday was swamped, and so I asked my dear friend GoodSamaritan, who always comes to my rescue and who works in Hollywood anyway, to stop by the one store that carries the type of stiletto I prefer to wear, and to pick it up for me on his way home from work. Although, he had sworn to never enter this store ever again because the two Armenian gay guys kept hitting on him so badly, he agreed once more to help me out, because he knows what a critical tool my shoes are, and how desperately I needed to go back to the club and work another night shift.

When GoodSamaritan entered the store, the two sleazy sales man attacked once more and winked at him, Sleazy1 saying, “I remember you!” while the other was grinning and playing pocket pool. GoodSamaritan stayed on task and stated clearly, “I need a size 7, 8 inch, black stiletto with clear straps by MadeInUSA brand. Sleazy1 winked at him and said, “I’ll be right back!” And he disappeared in the back of the store. GoodSamaritan tried to distract himself with the Asian girl shopping for lingerie, in order to avoid PocketMan’s stare.

Time marched on as GoodSamaritan began pacing through the store wondering what was taken Sleazy1 so long. But finally, after at least 25 minutes of waiting, Sleazy1 return with a size 7 shoe box and commented, “There is your size 7 with reinforced straps. These will last a long time.”

GoodSamaritan paid $76.00 cash for the stiletto and delivered them for me to still arrive in time to the club without paying a late fee.

In the dressing room, preparing for my first set, I slipped my foot into the brand new stiletto, and I immediately felt that the shoe is too big. I thought to myself, this is not a size 7, although, the box said that. I flipped the shoe over to look at the size that is usually stamped in a small circle on the bottom of the rubber sole, and to my amazement I discovered that the small number had been disfigured with a crude tool not allowing to read it clearly. I measured the new stiletto against my old broken one, and it confirmed that it is a size 8. Sleazy1 and PocketMan had committed stiletto fraud, but since my other pair is broken, I had to bite the bullet and dance in the size 8 risking life and limb and ruining my chance for returning the wrong size shoe. Every dedicated performer knows, the show must go on whether the stiletto fits or not.

However, I did not have the heart to tell my GoodSamaritan the reason why he had to wait so long. After all, he saved my shift.

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Posted in Stripper Secrets with tags , , , , on April 26, 2013 by tiltdiary

The devil is a squirrel, and sometimes it puts you in a situation you always imagined, and you tried to push it away not thinking about it, and sure enough — maybe because thoughts create the experience — what you fear the most is right around the corner, and you are thrown into the lions arms.

I got off stage and walked up to the young gentleman, who had tipped me very generously. He looks at me very intensely and then he says, “I feel like I know you from somewhere else.” As I look at him closer, he appears very familiar to me but I say, “Naaaa, I don’t think so. You have probably seen me dance here before. I dance at this club for over 2 years now.” He shakes his head and is convinced, “I am so sure I know you from somewhere outside this place.” It slowly drizzles in, but I act like I do not have the slightest suspicion, as  I hope he is drunk or stoned, or both, so he won’t remember. And then he says, “Oh, now I know, you are my … Yoga teacher.” I swallow hard, and I wish I could sink into the ground right here in this moment to disappear from the earth. Yes, he is my student, and the thought alone nauseates me. But I use my stripper charm and try to convince him, “Please, if corporate finds out I work here they will fire me, please, do not tell anybody …” He nods his head and says, “No problem Jones, I don’t want them to know I was here either, but… can we still do a few lap dances?”

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Posted in Customers with tags , , , , on April 25, 2013 by tiltdiary

At least that is what this guy claims. Lucky him, he is not claiming to date me, because I would turn him into a toad. He is claiming to date one of my co-strippers at my club, as well as another stripper at another club. I know for sure, both of these girls have not ever agreed to meet him outside of the club, yet in his fantasy world, he is involved with both of them. The fact that both strippers know each other and share their disappointment about his false claims, shows that the man has ruined any chance of even ever getting close to one of his dream girls. He is not just delusional, he is obviously also stupid.

Unwritten stripper rule: Even if you are dating or doing a stripper, you never ever tell. Because ruining her business is not going to win you any points.

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Posted in Adventures of Jones with tags , , , , on April 24, 2013 by tiltdiary

photo 1 (3)Correct, we were attacked again. Same scenario: My Five dogs and I peacefully walking down the quiet tree covered street, but this time two little rascals — one white cotton ball dog, and one black cotton ball dog with purple bows attached to her ears — run from across the street barking viciously towards my pack of dogs. My dogs in rage, and I quickly made the decision to let my big, black Stella go. This time, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my precious, delicate stripper body, just because the two, little dog’s owners are irresponsible and neglectful, plus I am kind of fed up taking a beating from little 10 pound dogs, while my giant dogs could take on at least 10 of those puffed up midgets.

Stella, my oldest and savviest of all dogs, immediately takes on little, white cotton ball dog, but the little, black pestilence doesn’t even twitch and keeps running furiously towards my 4 remaining dogs on leash. So within a split of a second, I decide to let my Lukas, a sheep herder, off leash, and of course, he wards off the little, black, bow wearing doggy, grabs her by the neck, shakes her like an old pillow and throws her back into her yard.

The owners of the little dogs watching in awe and shock, while my two dogs return unharmed to my pack. Now, nothing happened to the little pompous, midget dogs (they were unharmed, just shaken, literally, shaken), except that I hope the owners learned a lesson, and the little dogs realized what their true strength and ability is.

But the moral of the story is, that you cannot change your circumstances in life. There will be always irresponsible people around you, that think, they own the world, and little shits will always try to screw you over. However, you can change the way you react to repeating situations, and if you have experienced the same case scenario too many times in a row, then you can also trust your instincts (or your dog’s instincts), to treat it accordingly, with the right intensity, without harming anybody just giving them the necessary shake.

Photo by Nanette Gonzales Photography

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