Sunday did not start well. Two young guys came in and one wanted me. We did the tour, we went in my room and spoke. He wanted 30 minutes of sex for $100. Not going to happen. Hell, I was giving him a deal with my counter offer, not that the dumbass was capable of realizing this. He claimed someone had done this deal for him before at this place. (This is possible, itâ€™s also possible she lied to him about the 30 minutes to take his money, but it leaves idiots like him thinking he can get away with this shit all the time. Again, the whole â€œnegotiate downâ€ thing endemic to this brothel is not really in our best interests.)
I left him sitting at the bar.
Later that day, I had a guy choose me and I booked him. I had gone through a couple lineups by this point and the young guy Iâ€™d turned down had taken to making remarks under his breath while I was in the bar. After I processed the payment, the bartender started my clock. Itâ€™s unclear what happened after this.
One theory is that she simply set the wrong time. The bartender believes the boy got behind the counter (while she was elsewhere) and messed with my timer (no final word from the security camera check the next day â€“ so I donâ€™t know). At any rate, Iâ€™m a professional and have a clock in my head, so I was out when I was supposed to be out. But when the bartender figured out what happened, she did not kick the boys out. In a strip club, theyâ€™d be long gone. Sheâ€™s small and soft-spoken. They did not leave.
I started feeling unsafe.
They spent all day drinking. They even spent some time in the parking lot, harassing one girl who checked on her car. They werenâ€™t thrown out, even though by this time theyâ€™d taken a tour and been turned down by every girl in the place.
I was so glad when they finally left without causing more trouble. I really hate guys under 30 (sorry, boys).
Then it was discovered that $400 was missing from the register. Chaos.
Another bartender comes in, drunk (it was supposed to be her night off). We get talked to, the cash register is gone over again and again. There is more drinking. Weâ€™re all lined up in the bar and a customer buys drinks. I sip on a glass of wine; others are less restrained.
A customer calls and the bartender scares him off. Another one comes in, we get the lineup bell, but the lineup never happens. He leaves and we get talked to. More drunkenness ensues.
Iâ€™m scared. My life is in these peopleâ€™s hands. The brothel is locked down; if something bad happens I canâ€™t get out besides the front door (my window opens into an inner courtyard with a padlocked gate). The situation feels wildly out of control and there is nothing I can do, not even leave â€“ which is the one thing I really want to do.
I say nothing, drink my drink and go to my room. Lock the door. Try to sleep. Hope no one else comes in.
Drunk people with issues is one of the reasons I burned out on stripping. This is even scarier to me because the system has forced me to depend on these people for my safety. There is no safety if their minds are altered. There is no such thing as a bouncer in this brothel. I wish there were.
And Iâ€™m just embarrassed when customers come in and can hear yelling and drama in the bar or in the parlor just beyond it. No way to run a business of seduction.
This was a real wake-up call for me. The frailties of the brothel system are clearly exposed.
PS: It turns out no money was missing from the register. Someone just miscounted some receipts or something. We didnâ€™t find this out till Monday morning.