The Zeal of the New Girl

There is nothing like a girl dancing for the first time.  Usually she is terrified.  She stands in shoes she can’t quite walk in yet, shaking a little bit, her body language defensive.  She looks at the stage like she might never return from it.  She has no idea what to do.

Usually, in small, cozy clubs the vets of the club will take the new girl under their wing and show her some moves, give her basic tips.  Rarely will a vet dancer give up all her tricks of her trade, because she doesn’t want the competition, but we all remember what it was like to be knock-kneed in far-too-little clothing.  Some, like myself, didn’t have the privilege of having someone take pity on you and show you a few pointers, so we often reach out to the girls trembling at the bar.

We got a new girl.  She was friends with a girl that has been at my club for some time now.   Like a lot of women in this business, she desperately needed money.  She had a little girl and the dad was nowhere in the picture, vanishing along with all the child support he was supposed to pay.  She came in, awkwardly auditioned, and was loaned a pair of old shoes and a mini-dress.  She was supposed to get on stage shortly.

I was talking with the bouncer when the bartender came over and handed him about four dollars and told him to go tip the new girl.  She was dancing for the first time very shortly and he wanted to help her out a bit, make her more comfortable.  The bouncer split it with me and we sat at the stage.

New girls go either two ways when on stage for the first time.  Either they barely move and are terrified to approach customers at the rail, or they go all out.  New Girl was the latter.  I was rather impressed.  She was quick on her feet, klutzy in a cute way.  She even attempted a pole trick, including one that made me raise my eyebrows in surprise, hopping up on the pole and performing an invert.  She made a killing.  The entire bar came over to support her.  She moved with an energy that only new girls have.  It was contagious.

She made a killing on stage, and off of stage too.  She didn’t know how to hustle, so her friend walked with her and practically shoved the poor new girl into guys laps.  She made a ton in sales that night.  She was heady from it all, flushed from the power and realization of how much money she was making.

Later, after the lights went up and we were all waiting to tip out, she emerged from the dressing room looking absolutely beat.  I was kind of amused.  I remember being that tired.  I told her she would never enjoy sleep so much, and a hot bath would be her friend in the morning.  I paused and thought a minute.

“So, honey, now that you’ve made more in a night than many women at your age and in your situation make in a week and a half.  What will you do with it now?”  I posed this question like those reporters pose that question to guys who just won the Super Bowl.  She stopped, and dropped her head.  Her shoulders quivered, and i heard her sniffle.

“I’m going to buy my baby some toys.  She hasn’t had new toys in a while.”

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