Chapter 6
I remember that cold November night very well. After the driver, Ari’s father’s friend Sam, picked up all the girls from Brooklyn and me from Staten Island, we made a stop at the gas station somewhere in New Jersey to switch girls from van to van, according to which club they were heading to. Both drivers, Sam and Alex, were calling out girls’ names according to the lists given to them by agents, the so-called “middle men” between the girls and different clubs. Sam told me to go to the van that was taking ten other girls to the South Jersey. He also introduced me to one of the girls and asked her to look after me and to explain me everything. Her name was Lana, she was very pretty, with long dark hair and beautiful, a little bit Arabic eyes.
- Don’t even worry about a thing, - she was telling me while we were making our way to the club on a dark, deserted road. – The managers are very nice there, and so are the customers.
I wasn’t really worrying. Surprisingly, I was very calm and at peace, maybe because I didn’t believe it was all happening to me, maybe because I was wondering where it will all bring me. I wasn’t worrying when we started changing at the small dressing room and Lana ripped the label off her new G-string and put on her plastic shoes. I changed into my swim suit and my regular high heel shoes. I was putting make up on while Lana was explaining me the rules.
- Always mind the time. They have timers on three different walls, so it’s hard to miss your stage. Now about the stage time: if the manager told you your stage time is 15, it means you have to go on stage every hour at 15 minutes, for example 8.15, 9.15 and so on. Got it?
- Yeah…I guess so. It sounds pretty easy.
- It is, - Lana smiles. – You’re gonna like it. Dance slowly, very erotic, try to move sensual, you know? They like it.
- Ok, I’ll try, - I smile at her, still amused by the fact that in fifteen minutes I am actually going to dance in my bikini in front of the full bar of guys.
- About the tips. You get off stage when your time is up, so it’s gonna be 8.30, and then you go around the bar and collect your tips. We normally do it twice, it’s allowed in this club.
- Oh, that’s nice.
- Yes, it is, - Lana puts more lip gloss on, - and after you’re done just go and talk to them and ask if they want to do a dance with you. Dance is twenty dollars and lasts one song; after the time is up, you can ask them if they want to do more. That’s how you make money here, by doing dances, not from the stage, so the more you do, the better.
We hear the DJ calling several girls on stage, including Lana, who uses stage name Arianna. I didn’t know anything about stage names and told DJ my real name, Mila.
- Oh shit, it’s 8.05 already! – Lana quickly fixes her hair and smiles at me before rushing out of the door. – Good luck! See you on stage!
And here I am, alone in the dressing room, in my bikini and high heels, still not afraid. Millions of questions going through my mind though: how shall I move on stage? How do I talk to the customers? How do I even come up to a customer? How do I ask them about dances? How do I dance at all? What if they don’t like it?
But then I think about my abusive aunt and my male whore cousin and come to the conclusion that I’m better off doing what I’m doing here, the further from them the better, and who knows, maybe the whole club experience will eventually get me out of the misery I was in.
8.10. Five minutes before I go on stage, I decided to come out of the dressing room and take a look at what was going on in the club. Four girls were dancing on stage, some of them smiling at the customers, some just doing their thing; some girls were circling inside the bar, getting single dollar bills from guys sitting there. Some girls were enjoying drinks with their customers, some were leading them to the lap dance room.
8.12. I can do this. I can totally do this. These girls don’t look miserable or unhappy and in the van they were talking about the recent shopping they did and the resorts they were going to. I couldn’t remember when was the last time I bought something and couldn’t even dream about a vacation. My vacation was a Saturday afternoon, when my aunt would go over to her friends’ house and I would be left alone in peace. So yes, this doesn’t look too bad after all.
8.14. I’m getting closer to the bar. It’s almost time. I’m not nervous at all. I used to dance ballet back in Russia since I was 3 and never had a stage fright. And this is just a different form of dancing. Of course I can come up to a customer and talk to him. I used to play in a theatre in my school and know how to act. If you don’t feel confident, just act confident. Pretend that it’s all just a movie and you’re a leading actress playing your part.
8.15. And here we go. Camera. Lights. Action!
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I did pretty well that night. Sleepy and a little bit tired I was nodding off in the van, thinking of how easy it was making money this way. After I did my first stage and collected the tips from the guys behind the bar, I was laughing in the dressing room counting singles. All I had to do was just come out on the stage in my bikini and dance for fifteen minutes, and the amount of money I made was equivalent to what I would make after the whole day work at the cosmetics store. I knew after that first stage that I was not going back to the store anymore.
I don’t remember the very first customer I came up to. I don’t remember my very first lap dance. But I remember well the twenties that I was counting standing next to the big black bouncer in the lap dance room.
- You’re gonna do great here, - he smiled at me, - you’re a very pretty girl. They all love you.
- Thank you, - I smiled back at him and tied the money up with the rubber band. – I’ll do my best.
I suddenly felt very free. I realized that this job was my light at the end of the tunnel. I knew that my life will change to the best since now on. I was at the very bottom for so long and now I finally did my very first, very little baby step back to the top. Everything will change very soon.
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My new career was taking off very fast. In a month I paid off everything I owed to aunt Anna, who, inspired by the new money flow, became nice to me again. I went shopping to TJ Max and got several sets of sexy lingerie (I realized pretty fast that dancing in my bikini won’t get me too many lap dances), some stockings, garter belts and also a set of fine real hair extensions. Good girl Mila was fully replaced by the hot Milana – the stage name I took, - who now looked more like a Victoria’s Secret model than like a faculty of foreign languages graduate.
My agent Tasha advised me from the very beginning to try different go-go bars all over New Jersey to find the perfect one for me. Some of them were nice, some were pretty shitty, and that’s how I crossed out “The Stable” from my list forever. It was an interesting experience though; unlike all other New Jersey clubs, the manager was collecting the house fee at the beginning of the shift, and besides that the fee was much higher than in other clubs. I still have no idea what was the reason, maybe some girls didn’t mind making a couple of extra bucks doing things in the room; maybe some of them liked doing coke with the owner (I’m surprised how he still hasn’t died from the overdose), but I, who didn’t even drink alcohol at work, couldn’t possibly find it all attractive.
The public was mixed at “The Stable”: unlike the very first club where I worked, the all-Spanish “Rocket”, here I found a couple of decent customers who I made pretty good money from that night.
I already had the whole story made up and learned by heart, since the questions they were asking were always the same: where are you from? Where do you live? Are you a J-1? Are you going to school? What do you want to be when you grow up? “Thank you, honey, I only drink Red Bull... Yes, I am older than 21… Because I want to be sober to make more money… I’m an F-1 student, I study business… I’m dancing because I have to pay my tuition and also save money for the future… I live with my family here… Yes, they know I’m a dancer. Speaking of dancing, would you like to go for a dance?”
I also had the whole set of questions ready for them and had it all down to the science. “Hi, honey (charming smile and my hand on his shoulder), how are you tonight? I’m doing fantastic, thank you (I’m sitting down next to him). What’s your name? Milana, very nice to meet you. Of course it’s a real name, it’s quite a regular Russian name (another charming smile). I’m from Moscow. Have you ever been there? You definitely should go! Oh, it’s beautiful, but go during the summer when the weather is nice and all girls are wearing high heels and short skirts. So you basically get to see go-go girls like these everywhere you go! (sexy laughter) You know, I’m so glad to finally meet a nice guy like you here! You know, most of the customers are dirty perverts here, but I could tell right away that you are a real gentleman (this easy trick would always work like a charm with every single one of them: it would make them understand that I’m not going to do anything nasty in the room and at the same time would make them feel good about themselves – they are better than the rest of the customers and so they will have to act this way). Oh, you’re a doctor? That’s so great, my grandma is a doctor, I love medicine so much! So how do you like the club? How often do you come here? What other clubs do you go to? Do you like sports? (every heterosexual man loves sports and they love talking to a girl who follows the games, and I knew the score of every team of every kind of sports, - watching TV was my only entertainment while dancing on stage).
Soon the customer would be so happy to find such a beautiful, smart and well-spoken girl who also knows the sports that he would ask me for several dances himself. The doctor that night, however, got so intimidated by my “smarts and perfectness” that he couldn’t even go dance with me, but instead was giving me money showers every time I got on stage.
The bartenders in “The Stable” were very rude and would easily get annoyed by the dancers collecting the tips behind the bar as they were getting in their way. I found Lana talking to the owner and after a minute came to the conclusion that I’ve never seen a bigger coke-head and a retard. One of the dancers in the dressing room who had both her nipples pierced and God knows what else, was complaining that she scratched one of them while giving a lap dance (how???). One of the customers who I was dancing for, tried to get into my panties and after I said that I don’t do stuff like that “because I’ll get in trouble”, tried to reassure me that it’s ok because he knows the owner. Well honey, you may know the President of the United States and you still won’t get anything from me. Now it’s most likely clear why I put “The Stable” in my black list and forgot it like a bad dream, forever.
Chapter 7
Since I liked my new income and didn’t really have any personal life, I started working 4 or 5 nights a week. Soon I became a pretty experienced dancer and could tell right away if the customer was worth something or if I shouldn’t even bother wasting my time. I also found out that those “worthy” customers were mainly stopping by two “higher level” clubs, in which only the best and the prettiest girls were working. Mastering my skills at the different clubs I soon knew that I was ready for an audition in both of the clubs, “Cigar Room” and “Exotics”. My agent Tasha, very happy with such a hard working girl like me, was more than ready to help. Shall I say, I passed both the auditions easily and soon was considered one of the best Tasha’s assets, one of the “higher level” girls. That felt good.
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They say when something has to go wrong, everything will go wrong. The same law however works the other way round too, and when my new job finally started to put my life back together piece by piece, my personal life also started to change for the best.
One Saturday morning, when I was having breakfast with my “happy family”, Ari suddenly suggested something:
- Mila, do you want to meet a nice guy?
By then I completely got over Ari, so I just smiled.
- What guy?
- He’s a good friend of mine, just came back from Moscow, he was visiting his father. That’s really sad, the whole family is here, but his father owns a chain of supermarkets in Russia or something and comes to New York only couple of times a year and my friend doesn’t really see him. But he studies a lot anyway. Decent guy. He’s renting an apartment in the city, along with his younger brother. So he told me he can’t date American girls, that’s why he asked me to find him a good Russian girl.
- But I’m not a good girl though, - I grin at Ari. – Don’t you think he will mind my career of choice?
- I think you’re very pretty and smart. And I also think that he’ll fall in love with you right away and wouldn’t care less if you are a dancer. He knows it’s just to pay your bills.
- Oh, so he already knows about me, huh? – Ari is so easy to catch. He never had enough smarts to cover things up…how could I even fall in love with him in the first place?
- He does, - Ari moves his mug closer to aunt Anna so she could pour more water into his tea. A typical spoiled Jewish son. Thank God things didn’t work out between us! I would’ve have to become his second mom and take care of him instead of my aunt. Thank God again! – I told him I have a very pretty cousin who just came from Moscow and living with us. I even showed him your picture and now he can’t wait to take you out.
Aunt Anna is feeding Tonya from the table again. And after that she’s complaining that the dog is spoiled and doesn’t listen to anyone. She listens to me though after I gave her a nice beating for biting me! Since then our relationship changed greatly and now we have a mutual understanding that I’m the boss in the house and she’s just a frigging dog, so she has to listen to everything I say.
- I guess I don’t have a choice now, - I reach for my phone. – Is he pretty at least?
- Oh yeah, good looking guy!
- Who, Michael? – aunt is finally done with the dog feeding. – Oh, such a nice boy! And he’s Jewish too!
- My grandpa’s name was Michael. Ok, I guess it’s a fate. – I smile and shrug. – Give me his number.
Later that day I called Michael and we set a date for Monday. I never worked Mondays as those were the dead days in all clubs. And whether he wants it or not, he will have to work with my schedule, not vice versa. I decided to make it clear from the very beginning: my job comes first, because I simply refuse to be miserable, ever again.
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Michael met me at one of the hot sushi spots in Manhattan and looked nothing like I expected him to look. Instead of snobbish, arrogant, rich daddy’s son with the silver spoon up his ass, I met a young, shy Jewish boy with big and sad puppy eyes. He was an absolute gentleman and nothing like a Russian guy (and I can’t stand Russian men for all the gold in the world). At my “sorry, I’m 30 minutes late” he only smiled and politely answered that such a beautiful young lady is worth several hours of waiting. I liked that.
I felt on the same page with Michael right away: we both liked classic Russian ballet, sushi and New York. We ordered some specials and hot sake, which I tried for the first time in my life trusting my charming date and found it pretty good. We were talking about Moscow and New York and shared the same love for the latter, even though Michael was born here and visited Moscow only from time to time.
- So what exactly are you studying? – I started to feel that sake and caught myself smiling silly at him. Not a good thing.
- I’m studying finances. But it’s pretty boring and you said that you didn’t like math, so I’m not going to torture you with stories about my school.
“Pretty eyes you have…”
- Do you have pets, Michael?
- No, unfortunately I don’t. Benjie, my brother, is allergic to cats and dogs hair. That’s actually a sad story, our parents gave us a puppy several years ago for Christmas and when we found out that Benjie’s allergic, we had to give it away…
- Oh no! I can’t imagine giving my dog away! I would have been heartbroken!
- I didn’t know you had a dog, - Michael pours more sake to my glass. If he’s trying to get me drunk, than he’s doing a pretty good job.
- Not here, back in Russia, it’s a little Chihuahua and her name is Ava. Ari has a dog though, her name is Tonya, it’s a mastiff and she’s as stupid as she can be.
- Why? – Michael smiles.
“He has such a cute smile… I’m drunk”.
- Did I tell you how she bit me and I chased her all over the house and then beat the shit out of her with a plunger?
Michael laughs.
- A plunger?
- Yep. Don’t mess with me, it’s my secret weapon!
“Oh yes, I’m drunk!”
The rest of the evening I am totally lost in the pretty puppy eyes, forgot all about going back to work tomorrow, and forgot that I used to be in love with Ari… I am drunk, warm and very comfortable with Michael and I’m ready to open my heart again, and I hope I won’t regret it this time. But how can such a sweet boy hurt me? Little did I know back then, little did I know!
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I was making crazy money at work the following weeks; my sparkling eyes, cat walk and the whole aura of a girl in love was driving guys in the club nuts. I had a line of customers asking me to do a dance with them. My feet were killing me, but I didn’t care. Tonight will be all over soon and I’ll leave all these idiots broke and go back to my sweet Michael.
He had an apartment on the 34th floor of a high rise building in Manhattan and on my nights off we would drink champagne and eat potato chips admiring the view of our favorite city. My favorite city that I could finally share with someone. When I wasn’t working, Michael would never be busy: all his projects were always up to date, all the presentations were taken care of so he would spend every minute of his free time with me. We were taking silly pictures at the movies and tag each other on Facebook; we would go to the galleries and museums and share our thoughts on paintings and art objects; we would go to the nightclubs with his friends and dance like the night will never end. We were very happy together.
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It felt really good to get messages from my boyfriend while Ari wasn’t seeing anyone. His latest girlfriend cheated on him and he was very surprised that someone could actually do something like that to him. “What goes around, comes around”, I thought with a mean grin and it was Milana in me. Mila, with butterflies in her stomach and brain vacationing in Hawaii, didn’t want to hold a grudge and just wanted everybody to be a part of her perfect, pink world.
- Are you sure you don’t want her back? – I asked Ari at the dinner. Aunt Anna was working late and we ordered Chinese.
- She won’t come back anyway. Besides I think she’s happy with that guy. It’s been on and off relationship between them, you know? And I was just a phase.
- I’m sorry, Ari.
- That’s ok. I’ll find somebody else.
- Oh, sure you will! – I smirk.
- Shut up! – Ari laughs and then asks. – How are the things with Michael?
- Oh, great! – I can’t help my silly smile. – He’s really sweet with me. He wants me to meet his father next time he comes to New York.
- Wow! Things are going really fast with you two! – Ari laughs. – But seriously, he’s a nice guy. And he’s crazy about you.
- How do you know?
- He told me himself when I saw him with Isaac last Friday.
- Where did you see him?
- They just left the gym and were going for a bite.
- Oh, ok.
Gym? Ari and Isaac only go to a certain gym in Brooklyn. Why would Michael go to the Brooklyn gym? With Isaac? He has a gym in his building! But that wasn’t the question that was bothering me. Michael told me that Friday he was staying home all day to prepare the presentation for his school. Some unpleasant chills went down my spine.
- Are you ok? – Ari brought me back to reality.
- Yeah… I just forgot to call the club to confirm my booking for tomorrow. I gotta go.
- Cool.
Back in my room I’m dialing Michael’s number and my hands are cold. Finally he picks up.
- Hi, baby.
- Hi, sweetie. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you while you’re preparing for your test…
- That’s ok, baby. – He’s all courtesy and care. – You never bother me. I missed hearing your voice.
- I missed you too baby. Just wanted to ask how did your presentation go? It was today, right?
- It went great! I was working on it all weekend. Had to keep myself busy while you weren’t with me. Too bad I couldn’t see you today, sweetie, one last stupid exam tomorrow and I’m all yours. You know how Christmas time tough at schools here…
I know. I understand. He talks so sweet…he really cares about me! He’s not Ari, he wouldn’t do anything bad!
- Ok, my baby. Well, you keep preparing for your test and call me when you go to bed, ok? Say hi to Benjie from me.
- I will, baby. He’s watching TV in the living room, that asshole! And I have to study! – Michael laughs…and suddenly I hear a car loudly honking right in my ear. On the 34th floor???
- What was that, Michael? A car beeping? – My hands get colder and sweatier.
- It’s the TV, baby, I have to tell Benjie to make it quiet. Ok, baby, I gotta go, love you, bye! – He quickly hangs up.
- Bye, - I whisper to the dead phone. There’s no way I could step on the same rake twice. And how stupid am I if I really did?
Chapter 8
To make a long story short, Michael started cheating on me at the first month of our dating. And after I caught him red-handed several times, there was a very long talk and a lot of tears and promises. I said the only way for me to take him back would be the ring on my finger. This way it would be the proof that he really means what he says, otherwise it’s all just all the same bullshit that I’ve heard before. To be honest, I just wanted to break up with Michael and my sparkler demand was the perfect solution as I thought (I mean, really, who’s going to propose to a girl after only couple of month dating?). My grandpa proposed to my grandma after only three days since he met her though, and they lived happily ever after till he died from cancer at the age of 72. But it’s a completely different story and a completely different Michael.
I actually think that my mother failed at choosing a husband just because my grandfather was such a perfect husband and father that she mistakenly thought that all men were the same way. As for me, on one hand I had a pretty traumatic experience with my father and on the other hand I had the greatest father figure I could wish for in the face of my grandpa, that I became even more messed up than my mom. It looks like I know that all men are cheating, lying and indifferent jerk offs, but at the same time fall desperately in love with them just because deep inside I want to believe that they aren’t. Go figure.
Anyway, by Christmas I got a little red box from Cartier. There was a ring inside. I was officially engaged to Michael Govoryan.
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As I’ve already said before, it’s going to be a very short chapter, just as short as my engagement was. I didn’t quit my job even though my new fiancé was begging me to. His father was coming to New York soon and Michael asked me to lie that I was a medical student and to never mention my job to his family. The condition was that right after the wedding I quit my job and we never speak about it again. They say there’s only one step from love to hatred and despite the ring on my finger, after all he’s done, I was half way there, so I just shrugged and thought: “Can I mention all the girls you slept with while we were dating? I’m sure your father would love that!”
In the meantime I started working in the new club that not too many girls would go to. When I asked why, they couldn’t even give me an answer, they were just saying that it was a different place, and it was harder to work there. But since I always loved challenges, I called Tasha and asked her to put me on schedule in “Velvet”.
The club turned out to be a very beautiful, exquisite place, with a lot of red drapes and mirrors. I liked it right away and now was wondering even more why the other girls were finding it challenging to make money here. Seemed very nice to me…
By the end of the night I solved that mystery: the other girls couldn’t work in “Velvet” just because customers there loved to talk. And not just a regular five minute chit-chat, but they would go on and on discussing politics and recession as if they were on some political talk show. But the great thing is, after all the talking is done, instead of a $20 lap dance, they would take you to the Champagne or VIP Room, the prices for which were much higher. Shall I say, I decided that “Velvet” was my kind of place right after my first night there. The customers were mostly all white collar white Americans, very educated, very polite and I also liked the fact that I could actually talk to some normal people, who knew why they were here, unlike customers in other clubs, who were almost all brain damaged. Just couple of weeks ago a customer in “Cigar Room” asked me how he can find out if the dancer from the club likes him because of his personality or if she’s only pretending to get to his wallet. Hello! We are all working here! And it’s our job to pretend to like you, you stupid degenerate! We pretend to like you, you pay us, it’s that simple, like in the supermarket. Or you seriously think that strippers do what they because they enjoy it???
“Velvet” customers, mostly family men, stopped by just to relax, they weren’t looking for anything dirty or for a new girlfriend; all they wanted was a couple of hours in private with a beautiful girl. They are nice, they talk to you about economics and whatever elections were going on, toast champagne with you and rub your back. And at the end they tip you a nice couple of hundreds. So when at the end of the night, when the house mom, a very pretty Jewish lady Sophie, asked me if she shall put me on schedule for the next week, I very enthusiastically agreed.
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My fiancé was so stupid that it was making me laugh. In the following three months I was catching him so easily, that I started wondering, how could he make it in his school having such a tiny brain? He was lying and forgetting the details later. His friends were tagging him in their Facebook pictures from the nightclubs they went to on nights when he was supposed “to study”. He would leave his iPhone face up and I would see all the popping messages like: “Baby?”, “Where R U, munchkin?” and “Can’t wait to see U tom”.
Milana in me fell out of love with Michael long time ago, right after his first romantic encounter, and the only reason why she decided to say yes to Michael’s proposal was revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge. Let me marry this asshole and make his life a living hell. Let me get my papers done and divorce his sorry ass! After all, he deserved it all!
And here I am, three months later, sitting at the bar next to Michael’s building, finishing my third apple martini and thinking if I’m doing everything right. I can become a citizen in less than six month… I can go to school and get a nice job. I will be living in Manhattan with Michael. So what that he’ll keep on whoring around? I don’t know if I’m getting sick of martinis or the thought of us living together as husband and wife. On the other hand I can keep my life as it is and be my own boss and be absolutely independent from anybody. The easy way or the right way? I looked at my Cartier sparkler one more time, paid my bill and went to Michael’s. I made up my mind.
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Michael opens the door and looks surprised.
- Hi, sweetie… I didn’t expect you so late actually…
- I’m not gonna take much time, Michael. – I take the red box out of my bag and give it to my now ex-fiancé. – I just wanted you to take it back.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I won’t let him.
- No more talking, baby, talking is over. Take back this ring and I hope you will find happiness with one of your girlfriends, and I wish you all the luck in the world with every one of them, and hope you will die of AIDS one day. Bye!
There! I’m proudly turning around and starting to walk to the elevator.
- Mila, wait! You’re drunk, honey, you don’t know what you are doing! Come back here and let’s talk! You hear me? We can work it all out, don’t do it, don’t walk out on me! Baby!
Luckily, the elevator is still here and right before I walk inside, just like Andy in “Devil Wears Prada”, I give him the last look and say:
- I’m not your baby.
The mirror doors close with the final bling and I’m proud of how cool and movie-like I broke up with him. So what the tears are filling up my eyes? I press the ground floor button and wipe them off. Ok, maybe it was harder than I thought, but it’s over now. And even though I’m trying to persuade myself that I’m crying over my citizenship and beautiful life, in fact I’m crying over the idea of a broken marriage, the family that I wanted so bad, the summer house in Hamptons with our kids playing outside. And now there will be no family, no house and no kids. I’m a single stripper in New York City. Again.