Dr. Frankenfurter and The Real Rocky Horror Show

Meeting eclectic, odd, often-times bizarre people is an occupational hazard for a stripper.  Meeting someone named “Dr. Frankenfurter” (who I will refer to as the “Doc”) certainly met all of the aforementioned criteria, and then some. (For more info. On the doc, read my earlier posts Making a Stripper 1&2). Warning: This one is not for the prudes, so Mom, love you, but stop right here.

The most interesting about the Doc was this “show” about which he kept telling me I had to see.  Intrigued, I called my good friend and fellow erotic arts dancer, Tatiana. I trusted Tatiana. She was the yin to my yang. I saw a lot of myself in Tatiana. Like me, she wasn’t into much of the extracurricular activities in which many of the other girls engaged.

I told Tatiana I met the Doc. Her response: “OMG, we have to see ‘the Show’ together!”  Clearly Tatiana had gone to the show, was still alive, and had both kidneys. Therefore, how bad could it be?

Fast forward a few days later, at approximately 11:00 p.m., I pulled up to bachelor style house occupied by a guy named Rocky. Rocky had photos of he and his girlfriend displayed in the house. There was no way she lived there, the house was clearly decorated by Rocky. In other words, there was no décor.

Dr. Frankenfurter stood there near the couch with a wine glass. “You’re going to need a drink, Melrose.” he said looking at Tatiana. She smiled at me. Oh boy- I thought, simultaneously grabbing the bottle and glass from his hands to pour my own drink—inspecting the glass for any chemicals that could knock me out (as if I even knew what I was looking for). After small talk (ugh), Dr. Frankenfurter said he was going to go change. Change? Change into what??? At this point, I had combined visions of Dexter. Hostel and Eyes Wide Shut running through my brain all at once.

After about 10 minutes, the Doc yells “I’m ready!” I walked into the hallway and there was the Doc, dressed in a black lacy nighty and stiletos. I did not know whether to laugh or run for the front door. While still stunned at the nighty and stilettos, I immediately imagined the Doc grabbing an axe and charging at me. This was the end for me. I was victim to some sick homoerotic sex fantasy between these people! I was lured here to my death!

Snap back to reality, there was no axe. Instead, I was left with the Doc dressed in drag doing a catwalk strut right in front of me, with the same sadistic smile he had painted on his face at the club. He was proud of himself! I could hear Tatiana rooting him on from the living room. I stood there frozen. Why is this happening? From what I knew this man is married and a lawyer. Lawyers don’t do this kind of shit! (For the record, lawyers engage in all sorts of demented sexual antics, so I’ve found. Of all occupations lawyers are among the highest in terms of sociopathy)

All the while, Tatiana was in her glory! She was dancing in the living room right along with Doc and Rocky, who was also thrilled with the mini erotic, drag queen show that was taking place. Once I processed what was happening, I was able to calm down and walk back into the living room. Eventually, the Doc summoned me to the bedroom where what happened next was beyond anything I could have imagined before arriving there.

Once in the bedroom, Tatiana and I sat in chairs and shared WTF glances back and forth.  The Doc and Rocky were putting on a drag queen show for us! I remember telling them to do things to each other and laughing hysterically. They weren’t comfortable with EVERYTHING, so don’t think I’m sitting there drinking wine watching these two dudes go at it, that wasn’t the case.

That said, I did take polaroids of them simulating sex positions, and I remember Rocky’s closing trick of ejaculating in his own mouth. Yes. That’s what I said… I’d never seen anything like this. This was a SHOW! A show I was paid to see and would forever be outlined, not exactly engrained for PTSD purposes, in my hippocampus.

Once Rocky ejaculated in his own mouth, there really wasn’t much else they could do. The Doc and Rocky wanted to perform for all of our friends. In fact, the Doc told me his dream was to perform in front of a group of 20-30 women. Ultimately, these were just two straight guys that liked to “perform” with each other and be laughed at by women. This is a thing.

The Doc and I developed a friendship. The Doc lives a double life, trapped between what society wants him to do, and what he really wants to do. There was a sadness to him. Don’t get me wrong, this was a mutually beneficial friendship. I would bring my friends for a set fee, and he would fulfill his fantasies of being made fun of and bossed around in front of a group of women wearing women’s clothing. The strippers I brought treated this like a simple business transaction. My non-stripper friends, however, had a great time and wanted to get involved in the show! The Doc is a respected member of his community, and of you met him in the “real world”, you’d never know he liked to dress in women’s clothing and perform for other women, A person’s job title and place in the community means nothing. If they’re a freak.. They’re a FREAK! #NOWTHATSTHEFUCKINGTEA

*Ryan this one is for you… I know it’s your favorite in my vault.

Making a Stripper-Part 2

I suppose there are worse things you can be addicted to. My instant addiction to the nightlife and cash was better than being a drug addict bum without a job, right? At least that is how I saw it. I had cash on hand anytime I needed it. I could go anywhere, I could do anything I wanted and I didn’t have to depend on anyone for shit. But there was always “society’s fave” question: “What do you do?” I used to cringe when people asked me this. Not that I really fucking cared what “Joe” or “Barbara” thought about me working the pole for more money in one night than they made in a week, but it just got old after awhile. “I’m a dancer.” I would say. Some people would just leave it at that, others just had to know what kind… “TAP, JAZZ, BALLET?? “No, bro. Not that kind of dance.” Then there are the girls that say “I would never do that, I have too much respect for myself.” Yet, they’re the first one’s jumping in the car after last call to get plowed by “Brad”. Rolling with a 50/50 of getting herpes, not making a dollar, or even getting a call back. OOOOKKKKKRRRR. (Love Cardi B by the way). That was my logic anyway.  Here’s the tea…

I was working 6-7 days a week. LOL! I had a nice car, bought a computer, a dog (ZsaZsa, a Pomeranian), nice bags, cute clothes. I had everything that any 21 year old could want! I wanted to get back into school and start working on my degree. It was starting to bother me that I wasn’t in school trying to build something better for myself. Don’t get me wrong I have met some amazing, intelligent, ambitious women in the strip club, but a majority of the women were on drugs and had legit fucking problems. I gave myself a cut off date of 25 to be done. I wanted X amount of money saved and I wanted to at least be done with my associate’s degree.  I was still living with my parents and not considered an independent student yet. My parents combined income was to high for me to get any kind of financial assistance, so it was going to be up to me to foot the bill. I made a foolish mistake and procrastinated. I’ll be 24 soon enough, I thought. I needed money for the important things in life like vacations, clothes, and hair extensions. DUH! I also wanted to move out. I made enough money to afford my own place and I was getting tired of lying to my mother as to why my thongs and costumes she found in the dryer were so skimpy for my waitressing job. “You wear this at work?” she’d ask, thinking I was cocktail serving at a bar– holding up a romper or a dress so short you could see half my ass and staring at it confused. LOL! Bless my mom’s pure heart of gold.

I was 21 thinking I knew everything there was to know about life. No one could tell me anything. I was working on a Monday or Tuesday I can’t remember, but it was a slower day. In walks this man dressed professionally with a smile like the joker smeared across his face. I should have known from his smile that this guy was out of his fucking mind, but I spoke to him anyway. “Hi, I’m “Dr. Frankenfurter”, he said. In brief he told me he was a lawyer and he was in a hurry so we’d better have a dance right away. My kind of customer! After the dance he paid me and slipped me his business card. “Call me, all the girls know me! Ask Tatiana about me!” he said. “I’d like you to come to one of my shows.” he said. Shows? WTF. Like a trial or something? Whatever… I thanked him and went to put the money in my purse. I had to call Tatiana at once! What were these shows???…… #nowthatsthefuckingtea Add on insta @keepingitrealwithkash

Friends up North: Is your Face Dry?

Fuck yeah it is… You’re on month 7 of winter. January 74th. This enzyme mask is legit! We used Image skin care products at the esthetician school I went to in Miami. Vital C was my favorite line! This is an excellent mask for rehydrating! Be sure to exfoliate first, leave the mask on for 10 minutes and let work it’s magic! You can thank me later! Click picture link below!

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I’m New, Want a Dance?- Making a Stripper

At the age of two I was reciting the Gettysburg Address by memory. At the age of seven I was telling my mother’s friends that complained of back pain that they “should really look into posturepedic support.” At the age of thirteen I was a 3 sport athlete on the honor roll with dreams to go to Purdue or UConn to play one of the sports I loved. At the age of seventeen I was working in a tanning salon rocking a “Snookie” Jersey Shore poof with my girl JEN WHAAAT! By the age of 19—I was a stripper.  I am not quite sure what happened in that 17 year gap, but somehow, I ended up in a strip club. I’ll try it once I thought. I had friends that were doing amateur nights and winning. The Heavenly Bodies commercial was always on the radio… “Bills piling up, creditors on your back… Ladies we can change all thaaat!” If you’re from Chicago you’ve definitely heard it. Besides money, those were the two motivators for me to give it a try. After contemplating it for a few weeks I decided to go audition somewhere far away to cut out the chances of running into anyone I knew. Scrolling through the strip club list I saw Diamonds, NOPE—to close. Crazy Rock, might as well invite my high school to my audition.. 390… Hm. What is this? Chicago Heights- never even heard of it! Perfect! Off I go! Here’s the tea…

It was a girl that auditioned me, so automatically I felt more comfortable. I got hired wearing a black crop button down top and booty shorts with a diamond choker necklace. I looked more like a lawyer with no pants on than a stripper. LOL! “Can you start tonight?” she asked. Without hesitation I said, “Yes!” She led me into the dressing room, went over rules and told me I could go out whenever I was ready. My heart was beating out of my chest. Am I really here? I walked out of the dressing room and walked up to the first person I saw. “I’m new, want a dance?” I said. “Yeah, I saw you audition. Sure, let’s go.” he said. Okay that was easy, but then it occurred to me I have no clue how to even give a dance. I started to panic. The new song started… Oh well here goes! Long story short, he must have liked my topless (it’s a full nude club) jerky motion, unconfident as fuck dance because he gave me $150 for 4 dances which was $120. “I’ll come back and see you!” he said. Me—I didn’t say anything because I was mesmerized by the fact he just handed me $150 after 12 minutes of awful dancing. I’m sure I eventually said thank you, but that was it. I wanted more! “I’m new, want a dance?” I do not even think I actually spoke to anyone.  I was like a lunatic in this club just going from person to person asking if they wanted a dance. At the end of the night the manager told me to go change and meet her in the office. I changed and counted my money, a little over $500. I could feel the wires in my brain reconnecting. I WAS RICH! $500 DOLLARS IN FIVE HOURS! I barely made that in a week! I could do this everyday I said to myself. I shoved the money in my bag and burst through the door. Jumped in my car and took my “rich ass” home. I’m going to be a millionaire if I do this everyday and save my money. Who needs school?! I made it home safely and couldn’t wait to go back tomorrow!

The next night I walked in the manager seemed surprised to see me. “We thought you quit, you just left and didn’t pay tip out or anything.” she said.  WHOOPS! I honestly didn’t know I had to. Then I remembered she told me to meet her in the office. I apologized and because I was new she said she’d waive the house fees for a week, but I had to double up on my tip out tonight. I agreed, changed, and repeated my whole routine from last night. “I’m new, want a dance.” I said and continued to say probably until after 2 months of working there.  You have to go with what works, right?

Night two was over, I made a little less- $450. I walked into the office and sat down across from the manager. “You owe $175.” she said. $175, that’s almost half of my money. WTF? I must’ve looked very confused because she then started to breakdown what I owed for.. house mom, dj, dances, tip out tonight and last nights…My head started to hurt. I looked down at my money, that leaves me with $275. I handed her the money and just walked out BEYOND PISSED. How can they just take my money like that? Now I have to go back tomorrow and get that $175. I did not want to work. I wanted to go out with my girlfriends, but I needed to make that money they just took from me back! How unfair! I’ll come back tomorrow, I told myself. And so it goes, TRUE LIFE: I’m addicted to fast money. TO BE CONTINUED… #nowthatstherealfuckingtea

Sidechick Culture

30715432_10211726017723029_1962471897295749120_nWhat makes someone take the backseat as a side chick? I have a few theories on sidechick culture. I think there are some women out there that just want what someone else has. They can’t go out and find their own man. They see what someone else has and they want it. Then there are the women that don’t want a relationship, so being in a relationship with a man who is married or in a serious relationship saves them from having to commit. They may do it subconsciously or knowingly do it. But why are we as women making this okay? It’s actually pretty disturbing the amount of women that are just fine with taking a back seat to another woman. I tried it and it literally drove me insane. Maybe I’m just old fashioned in that sense. That is probably why I just stay single because I do not want to deal with the bullshit. It is an epidemic! Here’s the tea…

When I say I tried it to be a sidechick I count the time as dating Shwolf as that time. If you’re dating a married man you are most definitely a ‘sidechick’ even if you’re living together. I tried not to let it bother me, but the fact there was another woman blowing up his phone for a divorce every other month and then disappearing for awhile kind of got a little old. It bothered me. So naturally I do not understand how women can just be okay with this. This man could potentially have kids and you’re just there on the outside looking in. What makes someone okay with this? Is this a person who has just given up on men? Like, fuck it! Is this a person who is too insecure to go and find their own man that they’d rather have someone else’s? If I’m the wife or the girlfriend on the other end I’m saying BYE! to that man unless he’s a millionaire with a 10 inch dong– NO man is worth all those problems! LOL! If I could get inside the head of a sidechick that takes pride in herself I’d spill all the answers, but unfortunately I’m a trash ass ho with a conscience. Spill the tea, proud sidechicks? What’s your deal? #nowthatsthefuckingtea Follow on insta: @keepingitrealwithkash #datingculturesucks