The Land of Always-Night

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Photo: mel-nik - Getty Images

Pole dancer

“There’s uncapped earning potential as a dancer, but the money is wasted on the stupid lifestyle that comes with it; expensive clothes, hair, nails, makeup, and worst of all, the drugs. At the end of their career, too many dancers are left holding a pair of worn-out stilettos, a funky old G-string, and an empty wallet.”

-Marti, retired performer

On a small stage three feet above the floor, a young woman, nude except for a tiny bikini bottom, pantomimes sex with a classic AC/DC song blasting over the club’s sound system. She moves to some men sitting in front of the stage and drops to her knees. Slipping her arms around one of the men’s necks, she pushes his head between her breasts until he tucks a $10 bill in her thong. As AC/DC fades out, the dancer leaves the stage for her “tip walk.” Working her way through the venue, she solicits a few dollars from each patron. If she spots a large bill in a customer’s hand, she’ll flirt a bit until it’s hers. At times she may negotiate a price to sit in his lap or put her privates in his face. The cost for this personal service starts at $50. 

“A dancer is a role player,” says Iris, 40, who performed in exotic lounges for 10 years. “I sold sex fantasies to the guy who wanted to get away from his wife, the kids, whatever. It was my job to make him forget all that.” Even though her performances were sexual, Iris says she was not aroused. “It was terrifying to go up there,” she says. “Some of us daydreamed during the routine. Others did drugs to get through it.”

Like most of her peers, Iris didn’t plan to earn a living as a dancer. But out of a job and $2,000 in debt, she answered an ad for a downtown gentlemen’s club “It wasn’t much of an interview,” she says with a laugh. “The owner looked at my tits and ass and told me to get on the stage.” Iris says she closed her eyes and swayed along with the blaring rock music. Suddenly it was time to take off her clothes.

“Someone in the crowd shouted he’d give me $100 if I climbed the pole,” she says. “I was scared out of my wits, but I did it, and everyone started throwing money. There was, like, $300 at my feet”. That night, Iris became a professional dancer.  “Hell, I was 20, guys kept telling me I had a great body,” she says. “And I loved the ego boost that came with all those ‘you're so beautiful’, ‘love your eyes’, ‘great ass’ compliments”.  Now, she says, she doesn’t care if a man thinks she’s beautiful. “I’d rather they tell me I’m smart.” 

Many women who work as dancers are insecure, says Toni, who left the profession a several years ago. “We act supremely confident onstage, because that’s what’s expected,” she says. “When the lights go on, you say to yourself, ‘It’s showtime’ and use your sexuality to take advantage of the customers.” Toni was a bartender in a men’s club when she began performing. “The dancers were making 10 times what I was making, and I thought, ‘Yeah, I can do that.’”  

Fantasy Ends

She says it’s no secret that some performers augment their incomes with prostitution. “That’s a shortcut that ultimately doesn’t pay off,” she says. “Once a dancer puts out, the fantasy is over.” She says dancers who act professionally can build up a clientele of men who will come to see them again and again. “In a way, a good dancer isn’t all that different than a therapist or a marriage counselor,” Toni says.  “If a guy started bitching about his wife, I told him to treat her the same way he treats me. It’s common sense, but it works!” 

She says that most men who frequent the lounges treat the dancers with respect. “They’re just coming in for a little fun,” she says. “They don’t expect the dancer to have sex with them.” Toni saved her tips, so she’d have money when her dancing days were over. “Lots of women ended badly in this business, and I wasn’t going to be one of them.” She used her savings to open a dance and exercise studio. “Teaching women how to do exotic dancing for their partner has become very popular,” she says. “I always have women who want to take that class.” 

But Marti, who performed in several of the city’s clubs, said men were often intoxicated and rude to the dancers.  “They expected you to shake your behind 25,000 times before they’d give you a dollar,” she says.  “They touched your private parts and wanted hand jobs under the table.” Marti also saw dancers leave the club with customers. “That was stupid and dangerous,” she says. “Bad decisions halted careers, she says. It was common for performers to smoke a joint, do some Ecstasy, or down a few shots of booze before going onstage, she says. “They usually got addicted to whatever made them comfortable up there.” More than a few performers Marti knew fell to the bottom of the business without knowing how they got there.  “If you start getting sloppy drunk or if you break the rules and leave the club with a customer, it will catch up with you,” Marti says. “If you want to work where the real money is, you need to walk the straight and narrow.”

At one of the suburban clubs, a dancer sits at the bar after completing her tip walk. It’s 7 p.m. on a Wednesday evening, and with less than a dozen patrons in the house, things are quiet. “I’ve been on since 4,” she says, sipping a glass of sparkling water. The 20-something performer pulls a wad of crumpled bills from a small, beaded handbag. “I’ve got close to $150 so far,” she says. Her plan is to work for a few more hours before heading home to tuck her nine-year-old son in bed. Until then, she eases off the barstool and goes back to work in the Land of Always-Night.