I wasn't sure where I was, last thing I can remember is walking home from work, heels broken- tear stained face. Work that night was awful. I worked as a part time stripper to dance for men and work itself wasn't bad. But afterwards you feel dirty. At least I did. The feeling that all you'll ever be is someone to be gawked at, but not respected.
However at just age 16 I had ran away from home and stayed at a dirty apartment building that costed too much for me to stay working at a coffee shop. It was late at work when a producer from the club next door, vigilant, came up to me and offered me his card for tryouts. That card sat in my car for a week.
I didn't like the idea of becoming a stripper which is why when I was cleaning my car I almost threw his card away. I'm not sure what consumed me to keep it. But I did.
The following Saturday I went over to vigilant to audition clad in my nicest lingerie set.
I got the part on the spot before the music had even ended, the producer shook hands with me and I was on my way to quit my job at the coffee shop. Within my first week working at a stripper I had made enough to cover the next months rent. That's when I decided to really give stripping a shot.
It didn't take me long to gather regulars. Some were married, others just looking for a good way to spend extra cash.
It was a good job money wise if you didn't let the other parts get to you. Some nights I did let it, others I just drank some wine and went to sleep to forget. Don't ask me how I got my hands on alcohol at 18.
My life was going. Not well, but going.
Work on the night of Friday, April 21st, was hell. Money was great but I had been groped and whistled at whilst working the vip section which was not allowed. I angrily left the club just in a long T shirt and jeans trying to get just a block away to my apartment so I could drink and forget about everything.
This is where things got blurry. And I wish I could tell you I made it home safely.
But I didn't.