Electrical tape is the poor girls pasties.

Cherri is totally working it for me in this video. She’s totally thinking about my vagina.

Today is seriously like Christmas! Gifts in the mail, my copy of the Lyfe came and now this!

During my first stint as a stripper I went by the name Lola partially after my favorite classic rock song from being a kid. Most people misheard me and called me Lala.  Now every time I hear the song all I can think of is people stuffing my underwear with money, the asian businessman who visited everyday for me and wanted to buy my art work he had never seen, putting thirty minutes of makeup on while girls argued over mirror space and pretzels. I miss the scary stairs I climbed in 6inch acrylic platforms. I miss the young woman who was so good on pole and wore this all white gown…she looked like an angel of sex.

In some weird perverse way…I kind of miss it.

The club is still there but things changed. Things are changing.

Portland, Oregon - the strip club capital of the great western world and now also home to the stripper Olympics. I would of loved to be there to witness this but the NY Times just didn’t think they could afford to fly me out due to the crumbling economy. Thankfully my new friend, photographer and co-owner of Sugar Gallery in Portland, Michael J. Demeo was there to catch all the action.

The prizes were not medals but cash(ranging from $200 - $500) because well strippers like their awards in paper not medal…duh!

The first event was the wet t-shirt hula hoop challenge:

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I shot three sets of Cherri while she was at my apartment. She’s launching her own pay site in the future and is gathering content. This post is previews of the first two. I shot Cherri in my smut closet and than on Frogs “closet.”

You can read Cherris blog here. She’s a dancer, porn star and pole dance instructor so she’s a fun read. She also hula hoops and plays with fire which kind of scares me.

First I shot Cherri in my closet of smut.

After the jump lots more free pictures!

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 I deleted this due to legal reasons but you know what fuck it, here it is. This is MY experiance and I’m not hiding it.

My old strip club got raided - read about it in EVERY MAJOR NYC PAPER.

Read about it in the NY DAILY NEWS.

Read about it in the NY POST.

Read about it in the NY TIMES.

This is a long post. Not for the tldr; crowd.

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My loyal readers, I love you all, but alas, I feel like I’ve be holding out on you.

I’ve never publicly discussed my brief stripping career.

In January of 2006 I had just moved to Brooklyn and wrapped up my freshman semester at FIT. I had very very few friends in nyc and had distanced myself from my friends in upstate nyc. I lived in a studio apartment in a neighborhood overrunn by children with nannies. I was lonely.

But most of all I was Bored.

At the suggestion of my friend Oly, I auditioned for a job at Stiletto in Times Square. I brought a pair of seven inch clear plastic heels as we didn’t have time to shop around so I had to grab the first pair that fit on St Marks. Nobody ever checked my id or even asked for a SS, they looked me up and down like the piece of meat you are as a stripper and approved me.

I took the name Lola from the book Lolita and the Kinks song that sings “she walks like a woman and talks like a man”, this probably wasn’t the wisest move as A. Lola is hard for men to understand in a noisy club…people think you’re name is Lala, B. Stripper names should not come from songs about drag queens. Or maybe they should? C. Strip club patrons do not pick up on references to classic literature.

Stripping turned out to be a great way to spend Winter break. I slept till late afternoon everyday, waking up to leisurely put on makeup, eat and read before heading to work.

Work although frustrating[January is a notiriously bad time for strippers] was kind of fun. I enjoyed learning to pole dance, observing the different dynamics between strippers, performing on stage …

The money was great and since I was working so much I barely even spent it. I had cash lying all over my apartment.

Of course all great things come to an end. Management was shady at best, even if you made $20 you still had to pay a tip out of over a $100… Towards the end of the month I was told that while in school I would have to continue working 5 nights a week. I decided to wait to make my decision regarding this even though I knew right there and than that I would stop working once classes started up.

Towards the end of my run I came to work one night feeling horribly sick and nauseous. I asked to leave but was denied. I was doing a lap dance and felt cold and sweaty, and that urge to throw up got stronger and stronger till finally I collected my money and bolted for the dressing room. I puked and than begged to go home and was denied again.

There was no way I could leave through the front door. There were cameras everywhere and my boss was watching, if I decided to walk through the floor in street clothes I would of been stoped.

Frustrated I took manners into my own hands. I got dressed, dumped all the contents of my locker into my bag and ran out the back door. The back was fenced off to separate itself from a parking lot so I climbed the fence and ran thought the parking lot out on to the street.
That was the last I ever saw of Stiletto.

COMING SOON: My life as a stripper: Part Two!