Grounding Exercise

Sometimes I forget I have interests beyond sex-work and that I am indeed a dynamic human being that doesn't have to be serious all the time. This is my 5 year old selves's grounding exercise. Apologies for sharing with you.

My name is *Sandy*. I have a pet tortoise names Tuga, enough dresses to clothe a drag football team, and brown eyes. My favorite foods are lasagna and pickles. And if I'm in a Thai restaurant I only order one thing: pad see ew with tofu.

I can't go anywhere near a pole - vertical water pipe, overhang support - without forgetting where I am, clinging to it, and dancing like I'm at work. Inappropriate, I know.

My partner is a math major and I can never decipher the complicated squiggles on his white board. Regardless of my lack of understanding I like to show off his work to anyone that comes to my apartment. Visitors have learned to tolerate this proud partner tendency.

I like to make crap out of other crap and I have more DIY craft sites saved in my bookmarks than anything else. Gluten-free baking sites are a close second.

These boob cakes were not gluten-free:

But these cupcakes were:

When I am not working I am reading: when my partner leaves my side to go to the bathroom, during movie previews, and sometimes even while walking. Its a terrible habit I've had since the tender age of 4.

I've come to grips with the fact that playing dress-up is not something I do just to make money or an indulgence for important holidays like Halloween and Rosh Hashanah, but is truly a way of life. (Enter cheese-ball claims about how looking good makes me feel good etc etc.) Coordinating a hiking costume or "studying at the cafe" outfit, complete with sweater-vest and red think-rimmed non-prescription glasses, has become my reality.

When I was a child I collected rocks, Barbies, and stamps. As an adult I've moved onto scary-looking antique medical supplies, vintage hats, and sex-toys. Tom-Ay-toe - Tom-ahh-toe.

I used to have favorite colors, but I've learned over the years its rude to be discriminatory.

Grievances

Some may call me a sexual health hypochondriac. Others may label me paranoid as every single bump in the night leads to me frantically calling the nurse's hotline in the morning and running to my local gyno office. I, however, think of it as necessary maintenance for my lifestyles as both a proud slut and sex-worker. My doctors, products of a private health care system, don't quite know what to do with an anomaly such as me.

Some of the time I get helpful, genuine responses from nurses and physicians. Most of the time my candidness about my sexual status is responded to with facts and care dished with a side of awkwardness (apparently they don't prepare interns to actually hear the truth about their patients in med school.) Every now and then I confront a medical professional who goes above and beyond their duty to answer medical questions and to treat ailments, choosing to (obviously) let their personal opinions creep into my health care.

The last chapter in this saga was just last week (this may very well be tmi. By all means skip ahead if you'd like to not hear about the health of my cooch.) when I called the Kaiser Permanente advice nurse to ask about a prescription for a normal bacterial or yeast infection, things most women regardless of profession and relationship status get all the time. At first she was friendly and patient then (thinking, like always, it is best to divulge as much information about myself so I can get the best health care I can) I told her my sexual history (including the fact that I use condoms and gloves regularly) and got erratic, unsettling behavior. She swore I had herpes and probably some other STIs too and that I was jeopardizing the health of my future babies by my actions, making me an appointment for my gyno the next morning.

(Let me pause here: this is ANOTHER big thing that is crappy about dealing with health care providers. They assume since I have a uterus I want and will have children. Big news for you KP: I don't want any, nor do I plan on having any so you can please take your patriarchal head out of my ovaries.)

I went to my appointment a nervous wreck, knowing that I had been treated poorly, but actually convinced that I needed to seek medical attention. My doctor took a quick look between my legs and said no one in their right mind would have diagnosed me as having herpes or any other STI, though she did a full screening just to pacify my still worried and confused expressions. Owning my original concerns to regular female biochemistry (what I had thought in the first place!) she inferred again that had the advice nurse actually listened to me the night before the appointment and my night of worrying about my life choices would have been avoided entirely.

In the past I have swept such negative interactions under the rug, whining and woe-ing to friends and co-workers about the BS sex-workers and sluts have to go through dealing with doctors and nurses while never actually doing anything about it. I'm tired of whining to the choir and listening to others preach about how they've had terrible experiences with their doctors and their nurses too. This time I'm going to do more than whine -- I'm going to encourage others to whine too. AND to whine loudly.

Do you have stories to share? Please do!

Do you have resources for others to submit grievances and feedback to health care providers? Please share!

What You Need to Know About Auditions

Weeks leading to an audition I receive a mountain of applications, emails and phone from prospect auditionees. Monthly this tends to be around 30 people. About 10 (give or take a few) actually show up for the audition. To keep the scheduling balance (to not take away shifts from tenured dancers, but have enough as back up) we hire about 3-4 of these auditionees, keeping in mind that some may change their minds about sex-work or will quit for some other reason, max out on points, or will have to be fired for being crazy/solicitation etc etc. Fortunately, we have been able to keep the vast majority of the newly hired babes the last few rounds and will be accepting some as co-op members in the very near future, which is, of course, one of the best parts of working at the Lusty Lady.

Ladies we decide to hire are judged upon the following things:

-appearance (are they/will they femme up? do they have a look our patrons will like? are they energetic and flirty? etc *Note this does NOT mean weight/height/ethnicity/sexual-orientation/experience-level specifications. We have dancers of all makes and models.)

-performance (do they dance well/can they learn quickly to dance better? are they having a positive experience? are they afraid to approach the windows? etc)

-availability (do they have an availability that match our needs as a business? are they auditioning for props in a women's studies class (ie only want 1 shift a week)? If not available Fri/Sat night and on-call forget it)

-interview (are they easy to get along with? are they interested in the co-op/union? are they easy to communicate with?)

As everyone can imagine making decisions about auditions is not easy and as a madam team we cannot and we do not let our personal feelings about an individual or a group of people get ahead of what we feel is right for our business. Whether the auditionee is a friend/relative/partner of one of us or of a co-op member we judge everyone equally.

If you are interested in auditioning at the Lusty Lady here are some tips:

-Study for your test! Your most important resource is the live show, both Private Pleasures and the main stage, and talking with the girls (please understand you are taking their time and focus so please tip accordingly.) Supplementary study material can include porn, our documentary Live Nude Girls Unite, and Lusty Lady events outside of our Kearny address.

-Practice! Put on your tallest heels, strip down to your birthday suit and dance like you've got a room full of happy customers watching.

-Have fun playing dress-up! Remember you want to bring a make-up and hairspray enhanced fierce and sexy you to the audition. The stage lights tend to wash us out so don't be afraid to go a little heavier with the make-up and to try new things like false eyelashes and glitter.

-Put on a good face! Confidence is everything. Though you may be having the time of your life on stage, if we can't read sexy confidence on your face most likely our patrons can't either and that just doesn't work. No one is comfortable watching an angry/upset/on-the-verge-of-a-nervous-breakdown stripper.

-Bring us some OOOMFFF in your interview! MAKE us remember you. We will ask you general and logistical questions, but feel free to push it further. Have you been carrying around your copy of the Lusty Lady zine, reading like the Bible? Tell us! If you're obsessed with us, we will be obsessed with you.

If you've auditioned before and you didn't get a call back and you can't find a reason in the above passage feel free to ask for feedback and audition again. I, like many of our most established dancers at the Lusty, did not get hired at my first audition (believe me, I can tell you everything this hot little mess did wrong.)

All Work and No Play Makes Sandy A Very Horny Girl

I'm not sure if it is because I need to release the extra tension and stress that studying and work have caused me or if the Bay Area's Indian summer just has me in heat, but I've been watching a lot of porn lately. And I mean A LOT of porn. Like twice a day of dirty streaming alone time "must have an orgasm now" porn sessions on top of wrangling my partners into bed. While probably half of the time I can't recall what I got off to even minutes after clearing my computer's history (I think I'm part goldfish, what can I say?), I have noticed that I have a pretty wide range in porn tastes.

(Again, this is half-assed bullet time since I'm really procrastinating with my studies more than anything.)

-gay dude porn: I probably watch more dude on dude porn than anything which I attribute to the audio. Most girl/girl, girl/dude porn sounds sooooooo fake. I can't stand the exaggerated screams and "oh babys" that runneth out of the mouths of the girls in these videos, no matter how hot the action actually is. Gay porn (without music) has real grunts that always do it for me.

-throat fuck: Again, my preference goes back to the sounds. I like the choking, gagging, and gasps for air.

-arty scenes (straight and queer): As long as there is no music or too obvious plastic surgery in expensive and tastefully shot scenes I am into them. These may include: fancy backlighting, crisp-clean sheets, velvet curtains, long-caresses, and shots of couples staring into each other's eyes.

-Kink.com's Public Disgrace: Mmmm I love me some hardcore public gangbangs and humiliating BDSM.

-masturbation clips: You'd think I've be desensitized considering my current profession is to watch people jack off for a living, but I'm really into it. 

-age play (sshhhh, I haven't told my sex-partners this, but sometimes even incest play): Yup, sometimes I think the whole dirty old man neighbor spying on the young girl next door thing is hot or unsuspecting babysitter or ...

-outside amateur scenes: Did you just whip out your iphone and film your experimental little selves doing it out in the woods during your camping trip? You totally did and I totally liked it.

I'd like to think of myself as an equal opportunity viewer and, while I only listed my favorites, I think I've perused (if not whacked it to) pretty much everything from clown porn to BBW to foot fetish to masturbation instruction. 

Gym Fantasies

I can see you, you know? Swarming around me like hungry sharks after a lonely kill. Sauntering up next to me at the free weights, using the treadmill to my immediate left and right even though there are at least 20 other cardio machines not being used, adding more speed, more resistance to your contraptions so you can show off your big manly-man muscles for me. Your huffing and puffing at the gym is flattering, really, and lets loose all kinds of kinky fantasies that are trapped in my head, but perhaps you would rather not like to know about them.

Oh sure, one or two of you macho guys might be into my naughty notions momentarily, but I hardly feel that they are quite what you have in mind. It doesn't take a third eye to see what you are thinking: hot sweaty, Lycra swathed sex on top of the giant inflatable work-out ball, where we bounce and our grunts and pants ring off the cement and mirrored surfaces. Heck, I even bet you'd be into having your spot guy join in every once in a while, though if I asked you to describe your fantasy aloud you might leave that part out.

A glimmer of pride sparkles in your pretty blue eyes as I casually size you up. You're probably thinking I'm swooning over your hard pecks, your bulging arms, or taunt sinewy back, but sorry boys, what I'm really trying to figure is just how much jump rope it would take to tie you up to that smelly padded bench you're sitting on. I'm measuring you up like you do me, though in addition to imagining what you look like naked and hot out of a shower, I'm trying to figure out what amount of weight would I have to lay over your wrists and ankles to have you immobile and star-fished on that yoga mat (and if it would be possible for me to physically drag the weights from across the room to do it.)

Don't worry, I'd play with you a little bit so the whole scene isn't too homoerotic for you. Maybe I'd strip down to my sports bra and undershorts, stepping close so you can smell the pheromones I've worked up during my 3 mile stationary bike ride and 10 flights of stairs. I'd grab a spare resistance cable and play with your bits, getting your cock rigid with my plastic touch, leaving only a few lash marks across those chiseled ass cheeks.

We can play fitness trainer. You'll be outfitted only in running shoes and yellow sweat bands as I give you my version of circuit training. I'll start you on the treadmill with 5 minutes of intense jogging and masturbation. Don't you dare cum or lose that erection or its off to nipple weight jumping jacks if you do. After, it will be 100 sit-ups with me standing over you, counting the reps each time you bury your face into my crotch. Followed by me sitting on your sculpted back for 3 minutes of planks, anal plug dead-lifts, and finishing with some mellow stretches and the adoption of your new mantra "I'm a big boy now with big boy muscles." If you've done well following orders (maybe) I'll reward you with a steam room throat fuck (please don't take more than 5 minutes to cum because I truly hate the heat.)

Granted, I know better than most to judge a book by its cover or, rather, a jock by his basketball shorts, but I hardly feel like our fantasies are aligning, so please don't bother to bustle up the courage to ask me out to dinner or coffee or a casual dip in the whirlpool to play the machismo card in front of all of your tough boyfriends, disturbing me from my grueling half hour of self-care. Unless, that is, you are as much of a Eric Stanton fan as I am.

Stripper Trip Update

Homesick and sick with a cold I am back in New Mexico dancing with Crush at the club I dubbed "stripper paradise" some months ago. Busy as I have been with work and studying back in SF I couldn't stay away when Crush asked if I wanted to go back. So here I am, grinding and booty-bumping for another  week in the nicely AC'd titty bar I am slowly becoming familiar with. While some of my experiences and the characters this time around have been pretty intense (and I'd like to add unfortunately normalized in the strip club atmosphere) I have run into some positive notables as well.

(Dear readers, I apologize for the jumbled mess that is this blog. Cold meds and exhaustion aren't conducive to clear writing. Hence, bullet points.)

-"Pervert Corner," the darkest, most isolated part of the club that isn't in the VIP or champagne room, is a sure place to get money, as the inhabitants are always ready for a dancers, though dancer beware, this customer will ALWAYS be creepy, overly touchy, and mentally exhausting.

-Patrons wearing basketball shorts and sweat pants come to strip clubs for a clear purpose: to get off in their pants. Again, these guys are sure money. As sure as the cum on your thighs.

-Fake tits=more money. Asian ancestry=more money. It doesn't matter how busted the dancer looks (the fake tits can even be facing different directions) or how unengaged (erg dumb) they are.

-Guys with a "thing" may not always be big spenders, but they can awful entertaining. I wasn't able to do any dances for "fake tattoo guy," but I have a sweet dinosaur on my bicep. 

-Although dressing room relationship advice may sometimes be so-so, it al always sincere and heartfelt. 

-Phony phone numbers and false "real" names are an important part of the stripper persona. Sorry boys (and sometimes ladies), you make us do it. 

-Meeting awesome, intelligent, and cute patrons, though rare, totally happens. I am so very thankful when the happy chance occurs (and kick myself sometimes for having hard boundaries against dating them.)

-If you ask a guy what he does for work and he responds "independent contractor" it means he is a drug dealer. 

That's all I have for now! I'll add more to the list over the next few days.

Faking It

Yes boys and girls I fake it. I will deny it, and I will be so very good at denying it, but its true. I fake it all the time. Not with YOU, of course. Just with everyone else.

Don't get me wrong the sex is G-R-E-A-T and I do cum. And when I do cum I come like redwood hard, making me sweat and moan, quake and shake just like you're used to, leaving me to fight back the urge to grin like an idiot from ear to ear. Oh, I tell sweet baby Jesus, it is nearly Biblical good.

But, you know, sometimes it is so very good I hit a plateau -- not the bad kind at the bottom of some terrible cavern, but the kind nearly at the peak of some mighty mountain range and I damn near see the tippy-top of the precipice, however my mind just won't let me get pushed over the edge.

This is the juncture you, taking personal offense at potentially having me fake it on you or thinking back along your own sex track record you wonder if any other ladies and gents have given you a spectacular show, cross your arms and say that I don't have to fake it for you. Of course I know I don't have to fake it for you. If the sex was dreadful, believe me, I'd tell you. Passive and submissive as I may be, I'm still not into shutting my trap and sticking with some bad sex.

So lets steer away from the "what you could be doing better" talk and your unnecessarily hurt ego.

Call me narcissistic, but my peals of ecstasy are not to protect your feelings. Faking it is all about me: about me not being able to go over that ledge, which can certainly be frustrating sometimes, causing figurative blue balls and the desperate need for a cold shower (which, I would like to point out, sometimes happens even after the most knee-shattering of orgasms.): about me actually becoming more aroused as my fake big O sounds trick my head into releasing a real one: about me wanting to finish the grand scene with a dramatic ending for my own spank-bank: and, only once in a blue moon, about me feeling embarrassed about my own sexual inadequacy.

So I lied before, I probably have pulled a fast one on you (and everyone else) a time or two and, though I have explained myself thoroughly, you probably will still sulk and question whenever you hear those familiar "ooohs" and "ahhhhs" escape my lips. But never fear, though I may replicate Kat'z Delicatessen every once in a while, I still come back for more.

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Want to see me at the Lusty Lady?
This Wednesday 8/3 I will be in Private Pleasures 11am to 1245pm and on stage 1 to 3pm
Thursday 8/4 I will be on stage until 230pm and having some double trouble action with newbie Tania in Private Pleasures 3 to 445pm!!