He Has A Hole In His Wallet and Her Name Is Megan – Preamble

The idea for this has been brewing in my head for a while, I expect it may come out as a serial post instead of a big long one. The story is true, the names of course, are changed.

Before I can tell the story a bit of background is necessary, a little understanding of the game and it’s environment.

It begins in a strip club, most of you have been to one or two or more but did you ever stop to think about how it really works? Good clubs are money factories, and as such, they don’t risk the coveted liquor license by allowing the dancers ( probably also called “strippers” and “peelers” here ) to risk the operation by turning tricks inside or outside the club. All good clubs forbid the dancers to leave with a customer. The setting here is a good club. Things are run clean and above board. No drugs, no prostitution and no bullshit. Everyone there is there for one reason, to make money.

There are basically two kinds of dancers. The first is the girl who goes out on the floor and hustles. She makes her money by sitting with and talking to customers with the idea that they will take her into the “VIP room” for a more personal dance, at twenty bucks a song. The Club DJ backs this up by encouraging the customers to “head on into the VIP room and get up close and personal.” If the action starts to look slow for the dancers he may call a special “two for one” on VIP where the customer gets two songs worth of tease and the occasional grind for twenty bucks. Every stripper starts her career as this type of girl. They all make the same mistakes at first, they choose to sit with a “hot” guy who usually isn’t spending any money and at the end of the night they made twenty or thirty bucks, usually from on stage tips, not from Mister Hottie.

They learn pretty quick though, if they don’t, they starve.  If the guy isn’t spending money, move on. A peeler who learns how to work this right and learns how to read the guys quickly makes pretty good money, several hundred bucks a night, but she works for it.

Megan is not this type of stripper. She hates the cold calling aspect of working the club in this manner. She despises doing two for ones and generally makes herself scarce when the bargain pricing comes up. She doesn’t want to be picked and she knows she likely will be, not because she asks them but because they ask her.

Megan doesn’t make her money the way the aforementioned dancers do, her hustle is way different.

Megan can come into the club on the slowest of Tuesday nights and walk with more than every other dancer there combined. She makes her money off her “customers” and her hustle is pure psychology and an adept understanding of the male psyche.

She doesn’t consciously know it, but she has an understanding of body language and subtlety that is predatory. This understanding is how she survives.

Now before you go thinking I’m going to beat up on Megan here, well, think again. Megan is my friend, I love her dearly and I understand her, I understand the why, and the how.

Megan loves me too. Not that puppy kind of love but the kind that is born from respect, she knows I know the game and she knows it won’t work here, but she also knows I’m honest with her and that I respect her and what she does and the incredible subtlety with which she does it. She may not come across as the sharpest pencil in the box, but she has a Masters Degree in what she does.

Next – Megan makes a customer.