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Behind-the-scenes scenes best left untold

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Justice

“Where does the sex happen?” I jokingly asked the owner of a club I will call StripMart while he gave me and my pretty friend, a non-stripper, a tour.

It was less of a tour and more of a herding of chicks to a small, private party in a back room. I had been on the main floor for a party and I was off-duty. I was a mere spectator in civilian clothing when a man in a suit said, “Ladies, come with me,” as he was walking toward the back of the club. Who am I to argue with that? I was curious. I kept my eyes peeled for the sex as I followed the owner, whose fake name is Dirk Diggler, through the black glass doors with a glowing blue “VIP room” sign above it.

We walked past rows of red, velvet booths deep enough to keep my sex-hungry eyes from seeing anything concrete. The booths were barely lit by more than a flicker of a single lit candle on the cocktail table in front of them. They could potentially hide the sex there, though I’ve heard they might keep it upstairs. The small party was complete with karaoke, tone-deaf strippers and a stripper pole.

Mr. Diggler was a douchebag in a suit. He was youngish, slimy and friendly with a let's-get-this-party-started attitude. His demeanor changed as I jokingly asked about the serious issue of the illegal events at StripMart. His answer to my quest for the sex was that it happens at other clubs. The question clearly irritated him and he would barely acknowledge me again. He took a liking to my friend’s blue eyes and her naivety to the strip club world that could not be faked. She expressed interest in learning the ropes. He hired us. With that same paperwork, she had the license to work at any other club if she so desired. I am already licensed but now I have fresh toilet paper.

I’ve heard many unprovoked stories of solicitation and actual sex happening at StripMart. I hear that management is well paid for its blind eye to the sex and that it happens on a regular basis. It is allegedly so common there that the earning potential of clean dancers is severely hindered. A customer told me he was sitting in a chair at StripMart and an Asian stripper with a thick accent came over, sat on his lap and started rubbing his groin. He said she immediately made an offer for sex and kept pushing the issue. He had a New York accent and imitated her Asian one. I’m amused by this melting pot you call a country.

While I was working at another strip club a customer asked me about our VIP room. He wanted to know “what happens in there?” and how much it costs. He told me that he had gone with his brother to StripMart the night before, and two strippers charged the brother a crazy $2,000 for sex in the VIP room. I said, “Sex with two hot strippers for two grand? That’s a bargain, don't you think?”

He did end up taking me into the VIP room. What happened there stays in Vegas.

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