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And this is the part where you go, “Oh Mary, I thought you were getting better, going to do something useful in life now.” You hang your head and let out a sigh, shamed for me and my entire life even though it’s not yours and most of you have no right to.

Straight fact no bullshit truth of the matter is; I have twenty dollars to my name. Twenty. I can’t pay my coming electric bill, water bill, or even turn on my fucking gas. I’m fucked, with a capital F.

So Nicole takes me looking for a waitress job. Try two clubs, not hiring waitresses. I get it, the summer is kind of slow. Most cliental consists of stupid little college boys who don’t even have their daddy’s credit card to make up for their epic money making failure. So me and Nicole go into this other club called “Dollhouse.” It’s not really ritzy, its very laid back but not ghetto, that’s the kind of club I like. Reminded me of a cross of Baby Dolls and Lipstick in Dallas. Plus, “Dollhouse”? Come on. Everyone knows Mary and her fandom obsessions…

Not hiring waitresses, but the manager is trying to convince me to dance. Which, I expected. However, once getting to talk to him I find out just to get a license in Atlanta it’s $370. So I was like okay, I can’t strip, I need to waitress. And he said no, everywhere in Atlanta, anyone working in a strip club needs to get that, even down to the bathroom attendant. So fuck it, I need money immediately. There is no question about that, and if I’m gonna pay an assload of money to waitress, I might as well dance.

Nicole’s not happy, but she wants to get paid back. She’s fronting me the money for my license, getting it tomorrow. Come Friday, Mary’s back on the pole.

Now I know I’m going to get disappointed DMs, IMs, Emails and the like from some of you. All I can do is apologize, I tried, but I’m in a shithole. I seriously can not do anything else.

The manager asked me why I didn’t strip anymore. I told him I had a meth problem, but now I’m clean and have gained almost twenty pounds. I’m self conscious about it. I’m gonna have to borrow money from Nicole to squeeze my ass into a corset. But he was a really friendly guy, the girls didn’t seem like complete wankers, so I’m gonna do it.

And to be honest, as much as I should feel bad about it… I’m excited. None of you understand how sexually driven I am as a person, and I don’t even mean about sex. I don’t enjoy sex so much as I enjoy the flirtation, the manipulation, being someone else, having power, and talking anyone into doing anything. I’m so good at it, but only when I’m … well, I’m not going to be “Faith” anymore. I turned that name to shit, lots of bad memories… so I have a new name, which I found out is available. Guess what it is, I’m sure everyone will know lol.

I want to get pretty again. I want to look at myself in the mirror and have that condidence of I’m the shit, I’m gonna make money. Because I can, and I will. And it’s fully nude, which I miss SO MUCH, and I know that’s probably strange for a lot of you. But I do, I miss dancing nude.

The hair, the makeup, the outfits… I miss it all.

And most of all, I miss the money. Though, Atlantas a little cheap ass. $10 lap dances everywhere in Atlanta. The VIP room is $200 for a half an hour, which I can sell like cake, so it shouldn’t be a problem. If I can convince guys to buy a $300 bottle of non alcoholic champagne bottle (that I get no money from by the way) just to get off stage all night, then I can sell myself for $200. Really really isn’t hard.

I’m the stripper your surprised by, the complete honest shit that comes out of my mouth. I talk very freely about fetishes, I geek out about my fandoms, I order your ass around and for some reason… you like it. I’m like bondage Barbie with a touch in insanity, it either intrigues or scares, and even if your scared you still end up turned on by it.

And I just MISS IT.

So fuck it, I do what I do, I do what I know how to do. I have another job and that’s all fine and dandy even though I’m not getting paid for it anymore since I got paid upfront for a bit, but hell, I enjoy it so it’s all cake. Everything is fucking cake.

I just want to be that other side of myself again. I need to feel the power and the control. God… I’m just… I need it. And I’m gonna get it back.

Labels: strip clubs, strippers, stripping

And this is the part where you go, “Oh Mary, I thought you were getting better, going to do something useful in life now.” You hang your head and let out a sigh, shamed for me and my entire life even though it’s not yours and most of you have no right to.

Straight fact no bullshit truth of the matter is; I have twenty dollars to my name. Twenty. I can’t pay my coming electric bill, water bill, or even turn on my fucking gas. I’m fucked, with a capital F.

So Nicole takes me looking for a waitress job. Try two clubs, not hiring waitresses. I get it, the summer is kind of slow. Most cliental consists of stupid little college boys who don’t even have their daddy’s credit card to make up for their epic money making failure. So me and Nicole go into this other club called “Dollhouse.” It’s not really ritzy, its very laid back but not ghetto, that’s the kind of club I like. Reminded me of a cross of Baby Dolls and Lipstick in Dallas. Plus, “Dollhouse”? Come on. Everyone knows Mary and her fandom obsessions…

Not hiring waitresses, but the manager is trying to convince me to dance. Which, I expected. However, once getting to talk to him I find out just to get a license in Atlanta it’s $370. So I was like okay, I can’t strip, I need to waitress. And he said no, everywhere in Atlanta, anyone working in a strip club needs to get that, even down to the bathroom attendant. So fuck it, I need money immediately. There is no question about that, and if I’m gonna pay an assload of money to waitress, I might as well dance.

Nicole’s not happy, but she wants to get paid back. She’s fronting me the money for my license, getting it tomorrow. Come Friday, Mary’s back on the pole.

Now I know I’m going to get disappointed DMs, IMs, Emails and the like from some of you. All I can do is apologize, I tried, but I’m in a shithole. I seriously can not do anything else.

The manager asked me why I didn’t strip anymore. I told him I had a meth problem, but now I’m clean and have gained almost twenty pounds. I’m self conscious about it. I’m gonna have to borrow money from Nicole to squeeze my ass into a corset. But he was a really friendly guy, the girls didn’t seem like complete wankers, so I’m gonna do it.

And to be honest, as much as I should feel bad about it… I’m excited. None of you understand how sexually driven I am as a person, and I don’t even mean about sex. I don’t enjoy sex so much as I enjoy the flirtation, the manipulation, being someone else, having power, and talking anyone into doing anything. I’m so good at it, but only when I’m … well, I’m not going to be “Faith” anymore. I turned that name to shit, lots of bad memories… so I have a new name, which I found out is available. Guess what it is, I’m sure everyone will know lol.

I want to get pretty again. I want to look at myself in the mirror and have that condidence of I’m the shit, I’m gonna make money. Because I can, and I will. And it’s fully nude, which I miss SO MUCH, and I know that’s probably strange for a lot of you. But I do, I miss dancing nude.

The hair, the makeup, the outfits… I miss it all.

And most of all, I miss the money. Though, Atlantas a little cheap ass. $10 lap dances everywhere in Atlanta. The VIP room is $200 for a half an hour, which I can sell like cake, so it shouldn’t be a problem. If I can convince guys to buy a $300 bottle of non alcoholic champagne bottle (that I get no money from by the way) just to get off stage all night, then I can sell myself for $200. Really really isn’t hard.

I’m the stripper your surprised by, the complete honest shit that comes out of my mouth. I talk very freely about fetishes, I geek out about my fandoms, I order your ass around and for some reason… you like it. I’m like bondage Barbie with a touch in insanity, it either intrigues or scares, and even if your scared you still end up turned on by it.

And I just MISS IT.

So fuck it, I do what I do, I do what I know how to do. I have another job and that’s all fine and dandy even though I’m not getting paid for it anymore since I got paid upfront for a bit, but hell, I enjoy it so it’s all cake. Everything is fucking cake.

I just want to be that other side of myself again. I need to feel the power and the control. God… I’m just… I need it. And I’m gonna get it back.

Labels: strip clubs, strippers, stripping

My name is Mary. I'm a 24 year old creative mess. I like to tell stories in anyway that I can, though mostly through visual artwork. I enjoy film editing, writing, modeling, photography, dancing, and website design. I'm a lesbian. I'm bipolar. I'm stronger than I usually give myself credit for. I'm a recovering drug addict. I'm passionate as all hell. I'm a beautiful disaster. I want to be free. I want to fly.

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