When Dick had originally hired me, at the Razzle Dazzle, for my first Go Go dancer job, he had said, that I was 'the greenest thing, he ever saw, but he thought he could make a dancer out of me'! (https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2020/04/and-so-i-became-dancer-on-broadway-and.html). Now, that I was working for him, once again, at the Backdoor Lounge, I evolved so much as a dancer, and my skills improved so greatly, that I became one of the better dancers in the business, at the time. Dick would have never told me this, himself, because he always had to act so macho, as a part of his persona. But, one night, a customer, sitting with me, told me, during our conversation, that Dick had told him, I was one of the best dancers he had now; and that he thought I was extremely talented! I beamed, at hearing that, considering where I had started out from in that journey. Not to diminish my achievements, in my day, as a dancer, but now, girls can do really amazing moves--- especially, on the poles--- that I never did in my day. I did learn some basic pole work back then but we didn't even have pole dancing, at all, when I first started learning to dance this way, so it was a secondary skill for us, that we learned on our own. There was no one to really teach us, because we were all new to it when the clubs began to add these poles onto their stages. Now women that are not nightclub dancers and are never even planning to be can enroll in classes specifically to learn pole moves; even to an advanced level. Dancers can take those classes now, too, if they like, to improve on their stage skills (and therefore, also their tips), but they can still learn watching one another, on stage, at work, just as we learned, how to do the moves, on stage, in my day. Pole dancing is the skill that is truly at the forefront, of exotic dancing, now, though. (From the internet: "[pole dancing] is about sexual stimulation of men. The whole idea is for men to go into strip clubs and watch women dance and strip around a pole. The pole is a metaphor for the phallus. Essentially, the women are simulating coitus on stage for the largely male audience.") It was in the 80s and 90s that pole dancing became associated with strip clubs. I also related to the pole, in how I interacted with, and caressed it, as it being a phallic symbol.
We, also, had pull up bars, above the stage, and I was much better on those! I could hang up there, even by one arm, for most of a song (which averaged about 3 minutes), using my other arm to stroke my body, as I maneuvered myself, in various ways, while suspended, above the stage and the heads of the customers that sat right by the stage. Sometimes, Mickey, the club owner (of The Twenties, and the Razzle Dazzle), would come into the 'Showgirl' room to see how it was going, with his bar business, when I would be performing, on stage. When he saw me, hanging from the pull up bar, grinning down at him, from over the heads, of several, of his customers, who were staring up at my crotch, he would smile back at me, approvingly, since I was keeping his paying guests happy! I had one move where I would suspend myself with my legs open, 'manspread'* style, and my knees bent, right above a guy's face, and then, I would lower myself, closer and closer toward his face, until I was just a few inches, at the most, from sitting my crotch on his face. I would linger briefly, at that point; then, pull myself back up, and away. That move took confidence. Especially during my period. It was important to stay clean, fresh, and leak free, up on that stage! I admit, that I was making my money as a professional pricktease, now, but after all that men had put me through, in my life, just because they could, and get away with it, it felt good to have the power over them, for a change. One night when I worked at The Twenties a guy standing by the stage grabbed my leg and was trying to pull me down, from the pull-up bar, which would have injured me, from that height, for sure! Pissed, at his taking my safety so lightly in his determination to show what a jerk he was, I took my other leg, and with the very pointy toe of my over-the-knee boot, I kicked him hard right under his rib cage, causing him to immediately release my leg to tend to his own pain. As Stevie, I learned not to put up with idiots, jerks, or assholes; for even a second. I had NO TIME, for these fools!
I acquired not only the sexy moves, but the subtle ones; finding out that, in certain cases, and for specific songs, 'less is more', as far as my movements. The front stage, of the two, at The Backdoor, was so small. There wasn't much room, to do anything, on it. And, it didn't have the advantage of having the large wall mirror to work off of that was at the back of the main stage; behind it. Sometimes, we had both stages, to ourselves, for our dance, when it wasn't packed. But on busy nights they would have us dancing two girls to a song with one on the front stage and one on the back stage, at the same time. When two friends, were up there, like Peaches, and I, who trusted one another not to take a positional advantage, we would switch, back and forth between the two stages, during the song, in order to be accessible to the customers that wanted to tip one of us, in particular, since tables were all around the stage, on three sides, of it. That time up on stage was your chance to make your money from the room rather than just getting tipped by the customer(s) you were sitting with, in between, your dances. It could be a daunting thing to be on the front stage for your entire dance since there wasn't much space to do alot of anything, there, if you were up there with another dancer who was utilizing the back stage and mirror fully in her routine and was getting tips for all the moves she had the room to do, right behind you. Often, the girl, on the front stage, lost out, because she was so confined.
Determined to turn this disadvantage into an advantage, somehow, because it was somewhat discouraging, if not humiliating, to be onstage with another girl who was getting all the tips, for her gymnastic ability, all over the main stage just behind me, while I could barely move at all, I eventually developed this tiny little movement--- almost imperceptible--- of just one of my hips, that was like what I've heard described by men, in country or cowboy shows, who were in awe of it, as a female having 'a hitch in her get along'** (while, normally, an expression of someone having an issue with their gait while walking, when used in this way it was paying tribute to the specific way that a woman walks, which men find extremely alluring***). It was such a minute movement, that it amazed me, what an effect it had, on the men, watching this! I simply stood on the stage, smiled, and spent the entire song, basically, rotating, one hip-hitch, at a time, to the right, increment by increment, for 360 degrees. There was apparently something powerful, about that, visually, to men, because when I was stuck on the front stage, that is all I would do, while the girl on the back stage began to feel insecure, because I got 'beaucoup bucks'**** off that one very small and simple move of my hip and pelvis. There is really no explaining that. It just worked! I turned a limitation around, in my favor, so successfully that other dancers hated to land on the back stage, right behind me, because I was raking in all the money, off that one ultra-feminine little 'twitch'! It's mind-boggling to me, how little it takes, to turn men on sexually.
I made some good money, when I was a dancer, though. The best money I ever made, in my life! It was easy money, too. That money gave me financial freedom, paid the bills, and it was recession proof! I paid all my medical bills, like for doctor check ups and dental visits, in cash, at my appointments. I didn't even need to arrange payments. I was able to live in some luxury apartments and in prestigious locations. I bought lots of sexy clothes that went with my Stevie image, which I had to maintain now. Not just at work, but out and about where club customers also saw me. Especially, in the Old Market. Everyone, comes to the Old Market. It is the main 'Go To' location, in Omaha. Other men, noticed me, too, of course, and would approach me. I would then invite them to come to the club, to see me dance, which intrigued them, about me. My goal was to get them to be new club customers; and tippers! It excited me that my income had increased so much since becoming a dancer compared to what I had made as a Certified Nursing Assistant, or live-in Nanny. I had lived just barely getting by for years. Now, if I liked a pair of pants, or a top, I would buy it--- in every color! If I wanted a pair of shoes, but I couldn't decide if the 8 1/2, or 9, medium was most comfortable, because my feet bore the brunt of my being a dancer, and they tend to shrink, or swell, at times, I bought those shoes in both sizes.
Bob, the handsome, dark-haired, UPS driver on my route, when I lived in my loft apartment in the Old Market, knew my daily schedule very well, because I'd get constant catalog deliveries. He deliberately worked his delivery schedule around my daily routine in order to show up with my deliveries, at my apartment, just when it was time for my bath. Because I had to get ready for work, 6 days a week, but was still trying to fit in an actual personal life into each day, I had to stay on a very strict schedule, to be at work on time. Therefore, I was always undressing at 3 PM, to take a shower, and start getting ready for work, in order to be clean and fresh for up-close encounters, with the club customers. Because of this, Bob made all his deliveries to me then, when he knew I was going to be home for sure after my often being out and about; and while I was wearing nothing--- but a bath towel. He had it timed perfectly, after awhile, and he made it clear, with his big grin at me, that it made his day. I knew that, but it didn't even phase me, by that point. Because of being a dancer, I had become extremely comfortable, and very casual, in my own skin. I was quite used to exposing most of it! Especially, around men, from always having very little on me at work. After all, I made my living in a very scant thong bikini! Being in nothing, but a towel, to take UPS deliveries, at my apartment door, felt no different to me than how I felt on stage; only I was much more covered in the towel, than in the costumes.
I was pampered, at the salon, by my hairdresser--- a young, handsome, man, that eventually asked me out on a date, then ruined our relationship and lost me as a client, when he pitched a fit at the end of the night because I had no intention of sleeping with him. That subconscious assumption, that all dancers are promiscuous or 'hoes' isn't correct. While I did do prostitution, near the end of my dancer career, in ways and for reasons that I will eventually describe, here, in another post about this era of my life, I was completely celibate for 99.99% of the time that I was a dancer, believe it or not, which spanned a couple of decades! I sublimated my sexuality, through my dancing on stage usually six nights a week. That was my relief valve. I have never liked to have sex just for sex sake. Especially because of all my background traumas. But also because in my experience, most men do not have the talent for it, to make it worth my time! In other words, they aren't skilled enough as lovers, to do anything for me, that I can't do, myself, without them; and I am nobody's sexual sacrificial lamb. Club customers often said, whenever they would come on to me there, "I would be the BEST you EVER had!" to which I would reply, "Maybe you would, and maybe you wouldn't, but men have said THAT before, to me, and then SUCKED, in bed, so I'm not using my body to prove you right or wrong, about that! Also, some guys THINK they are good in bed when they're NOT. Only a COUPLE of men, in my entire life, have EVER been REALLY GOOD in BED. The others were average to awful! You could ALSO have some STD. You might even have AIDS, and [NOTE: back then, especially before medical advances] could KILL me, with that! NO WAY, are you talking me into having sex, with you! So, drop it. You are talking to the WRONG girl if that is your goal! I am not intrigued; or interested."
I always ate out, during these dancer years, or got it "To Go", and took it home to eat, which is much more expensive, than cooking is; because I had a fast-paced lifestyle, then. My shifts at work were 9 hours long. Sometimes longer depending on where I was dancing. Whether I was purchasing my food, or it was being bought, for me, by the various guys that I went on lunch or dinner dates with, I had no need, to keep any food, at all, in my apartment, for months on end! I, literally, had an empty refrigerator much of the time. I love to shop at arts and crafts festivals, and whenever one was approaching, I would pick up an extra shift or two at work, just to have several hundred dollars more, to spend there, buying unique artwork, jewelry, and home decor items, from there. I blew through hundreds of dollars almost every weekend, on food, fun, and entertainment. My 'weekend' was, usually, just one day off a week, as I was typically on stage, BEING the ENTERTAINMENT, for OTHERS, six nights a week. >sigh!< Sometimes, I felt a bit burned out, by it all, and longed for a 'normal' life; but not often. I was having too much fun! It was party time. I basically got myself whatever I wanted, that money could buy. Because it felt like this party would last forever I made the mistake of not seriously saving much of my money.
I lived to really regret that, later on. I kept spending money, that I should have been saving, for the, inevitable, career transition, into something else (I had NO idea WHAT, though!), when the party was over. I knew that the day had to come at some point. I also knew that nothing else, I could do, was going to pay me this much money! Even so, I continued, to live at the full extent of my dancer income, and I just kept on, spending the money. I didn't smoke, or do drugs, so it was not anything like that I was buying. I shopped alot, though! Mostly for clothing, furnishings, and makeup, to fill the emptiness in my soul. From living such a superficial lifestyle, for so long. For not feeling truly known or deeply loved by any human being on the planet. I avoided facing the reality of what was coming, for as long as I could; and then some. In the end, it was almost like I was just trying to make some kind of dismal deal with the devil and even he wouldn't help me, to stay on the stage. It is a good thing I have remained the same size 6 that I have always been, as an adult, because my closet is still full, of the stacks of jeans, tops, and other clothes, that I bought, back then; which, at least I can still wear, although I have 'aged out' of some of it.
On an emotional level, I refused to accept the reality that all this had to come to an end, by the time I was still on stage in my early forties. Even though I always looked younger than my age, I still looked older than the girls in their early twenties that were just starting in the business. As I'd watched other, older, girls, ahead of me in the business, age out of it, and leave--- MOST of them BEFORE it reached the point of TRUE HUMILIATION, for them--- I told myself then that I needed to do that same thing. To get out, before the clubs closed their doors, in my face, while welcoming the, much younger, faces that would fuel their bar business going forward. It was a conveyor belt, of wanting you up on their stage until your collagen started to collapse. As soon as something sagged, it was all over. We were supposed to be fantasy fodder, for men, of all ages, but we could only be that if WE looked YOUNG. I still cringe when I remember a twenty-something club customer, at Lipstix in Council Bluffs--- the very last club I danced in--- tipping me on stage, and saying, to me, "I give you PROPS, for being up THERE, at YOUR AGE!" It was, and is, a very painful reality for females on this Earth, including in businesses other than dancing. I also experienced ageism in retail sales, near the end of that career, which is what I got into when dancing was over for me. But, that is another chapter, to share in another post.
I had basically bought myself whatever I wanted. I never got love, though; the one thing that I still wanted the most; back then. I had all kinds of male attention and adoration as Stevie, but men didn't want to love me. They wanted to have me! Rather, to have Stevie. That persona, that they saw me as being. So, it just felt empty, getting all that constant focus from them, on me, as it underscored my heartache, hidden beneath the sequins and fringe, on stage, that I wasn't loved. They would give me their money, but not their heart. There came a saturation point from all this lust of theirs that just left me feeling a void inside. I remember many nights that I would come home, from work, and sit and eat my take-out dinner, alone, about 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning by then. After that I would turn my over-the-knee, sexy vixen-style, boots upside down, if I'd worn them to dance in that night, and literally pour all the tips out of them, which I had removed from my bikini bottom and bra top, where guys had folded them in half, lengthwise, and placed them, when I was dancing on stage or sitting with them at their table. Then, I would start by sorting them into their denominations: ones in a stack, fives in a stack, tens in a stack, twenties in a stack, and on a really good night, hundred dollar bills as well. It had been an ego boost--- even a thrill-- as I became a better and better dancer in every way including how I moved on stage, and how I interacted with the guys, especially off stage. My tips increased, as a result of that. But, I couldn't remember, what a sincere hug even felt like. Just an ass grab. One customer I'd never met before even grabbed my crotch, as I'd walked up to his table, and I slapped him. Hard. He actually apologized to me when I came back out from the dressing room, after that, where I had immediately gone, to pound on the wall, with my fists, and scream, out of the rage that I felt, about that. The music was so extremely loud, in these nightclubs, that no one could hear me doing that. I had to do it, to keep myself from crying, as I do when I'm very angry, because I wore alot of makeup to work, and I didn't want to ruin all that, by my crying, just because of some asshole. I had to look good, for the crowd.
That original costume I bought, that Lee had made for me, when I was just starting out, in the business, at the Razzle, cost about $15.00, and was so plain, and unappealing, that it wasn't even worth that! I'd simply had to have something, to wear, on stage, though, so I took what I could get, back then. Lee was new to the business, sewing costumes for the dancers, when I was just becoming a Go Go girl. And, just as I did, she also grew, in her skills, to become an amazing seamstress. She created elegant and expensive dancer outfits that were well worth whatever they cost! Eventually, I was able to buy costumes, from her, that cost up to several hundred dollars, apiece, that had padded push up bras, stitched right into them (I was only a 34B), and intricate beading, sequins, or fringe; and, included the thong bikini, a sexy, ruched, dress cover up, and gloves, that matched. On one phone call with her I ordered costumes in every color, that I did not yet have, because she knew my measurements by heart, by now. I could afford to do that, then. I still have several of those costumes, stored away. I sold some when I got out of the business, but I kept some. Perhaps, as a reality check, since looking at those, touching their fabric, and holding them, assures me that those years weren't a dream, but that I actually did become Stevie, one of the best dancers, in Omaha, at the height of my career, and that I had been part of the live entertainment on the stages in several nightclubs, from the near-dives, to the classiest ones around. Sometimes, it can all just seem to me like more of a fantasy, than a memory. Especially, since I am (mostly!) back to living as Deborah, since then, although, I still let Stevie out, to speak her mind, when I feel fed up with peoples' bull crap. There is both good and bad to being either one. Deborah or Stevie. A blend's best.
I also was getting 'regulars' now, who came in just to see, and sit with, me. There were some colorful characters! I hadn't really had any, at the Razzle Dazzle. I started getting them at the Backdoor, though. One was a short, heavyset, black guy, who wore a fedora and sunglasses (in this near-pitch dark bar!) with gold chains around his neck, and a suit on. He looked for all the world like some stereotypical pimp. He was a perfect gentleman to me; never trying to do more than put his hand on my leg (and I wore pantyhose rolled down at the waist and pinned into my my costume bottoms, so he was really just touching nylon. Not skin). The whole time we sat together, he kept folding one dollar after another, of a stack, he brought in with him, to come see me, and placing them one at a time, inside my costume top and bottom waistband. When there would be no more room for any more and/or I had to get up to do my next dance, I had to pull all those out, and lock them in my locker, in the dressing room; then, he would fill my costume up, again! I don't really know what his deal was. Maybe he just wanted the other guys in there to think that he was some high roller, or big shot. As I've said in a previous post about my dancer days, everyone--- and I mean everyone--- who was in those bars had some angle, they wanted to bring to its best conclusion, if they could. Whatever it was, for them. At The Twenties, one big, protective, giant, of a guy, who went by the name, 'Snake' (hopefully, just a nickname, and not what was on his birth certificate, from his parents!), was my regular, for awhile. He was covered, in tattoos, from head to foot. As much, as I could see, outside of his biker outfit. He was a perfect gentleman toward me, too. I felt safe, with him--- something that did not happen for me, with men, very often!--- and I loved to be able to actually relax, at work, by leaning myself back, against his chest, and just feeling his big, strong, arms, around me, as we watched the show on stage. He never tried to make a grab for me. Not even once.
He brought me a very confusing gift one night, though. Sometimes guys would give me actual presents. One had even brought me a turtleneck sweater from the Victoria's Secret catalog at Christmastime. A practical gift, to be sure, which I actually still have and wear, to this day. But, such an unusual present, to choose for a dancer. From that seller, especially! Perhaps he was just a very practical person and seeing me sitting in the club wearing only a very skimpy thong bikini, when there was snow piling up outside, caused him concern, that I might be cold (LOL). Anyway, 'Snake' brought me a Mickey Mouse watch, one evening! I truly did not know HOW to TAKE that gift! 'Snake' was SO SWEET, AND SO GENTLE, despite EVERYTHING, about his APPEARANCE (and, his NAME), but I just couldn't get past all that, and when I had to tell him that (as gently as I could, to try to let him down easy, rather than lead him on which he did not deserve from me), I never saw him again. Regulars, usually were regulars for a reason--- they REALLY like you and want a RELATIONSHIP with you; of some sort. Whenever the day came that, they felt, they had invested enough, of their time, tips, and tokens, trying, to win you over, they would make it clear to you exactly what their end game was. For me, since I still believed in love, and wanted that for myself, and didn't feel that, toward any of them, this usually was a conversation that led to their letdown, after which, I would never see them in the club again. I was genuinely fond of some of these men I met in the nightclubs, though, and I did miss them, when they were gone. I just couldn't give them something with me, that I didn't feel, with them; and I respected them too much to play games with their head or heart by leading them on with false hope. I tried, to handle their hearts as carefully as I would want someone to handle mine, but it was difficult to do. There were so many men, and so few of us dancers, and the pressure on us could feel overwhelming as we sat with one guy after another that each, and all, wanted to get into our actual private lives, for whatever reason. It was easy, to tell those, that were just really jerks, to "Fuck off!", and be done with them, on the spot; but the nicer guys, that were so deeply appreciated, and cared about, by us dancers, because they treated us well, and did us no wrong, were alot harder to handle, because we had actually become really fond of them on some level. We just did not love them, or want them, or intend to sleep with them. Sometimes, trying to 'let them down easy', was impossible, to do! Hurt was going to happen. To good guys.
Every kind of man that you can imagine came in those clubs. Judges, lawyers, businessmen, cops--- both undercover, and off duty. College students, pimps, drug dealers, gang members, newspaper reporters, TV and radio news anchors, Hollywood movie stars, bankers, dentists, pastors (Yes, ministers!). Shy, and awkward. Outgoing, and rambunctious. Quiet guys, and talkative guys. Handsome men. Homely men. Tall. Short. Older, younger. Single; and married. Civilian. Military. White, Black, Latino, Asian, Indian. Any, and all, males, that you can think of! Some were horny. Some, were lonely. Some were misogynists. Some, thought women were actual goddesses, on Earth. Some were bitter. Some were sad. Some, were grown ups, while others, were extremely immature. Some were stoned. Some were sober. Some smoked and some drank. Some, did both, while others, didn't do either. Some were polite, and some were rude. Some were alot of fun, and some were really boring. Some were so sweet! Some, were game players, liars, or real assholes. Some were sane but some were most definitely not! As dancers, we had to go up to any and every guy, that came in to these clubs, and try to sit and talk with them, to sell drinks for the bar and try to show them a fun evening in the club so they would want to be regular customers. That is why, I have said, after logging so many hours, of conversations, and interactions, with this vast array of men, who covered the entire spectrum of male personality types, and behaviors, that I earned my unofficial PhD in Male Psychology. However, whenever I encountered a guy, that turned out to, truly, not be sane, it really scared me! Some of the men that came into the nightclubs were definitely mentally ill, which could be dangerous. I even ended up marrying one of those! I refer to him as a Son of Satan. There is, still, a great deal more, to tell, here in my blog, about my years, and experiences, as a dancer.
* Manspread - Manspreading definition is the act or practice by a man of sitting with the legs spread wide apart. "What does it mean when a man spreads his legs? Leg spreading, according to human behaviour expert Vanessa Van Edwards: any time a man tries to spread himself out to make room for their genitalia he's giving you the come on. ..."
** Hitch has several meanings. However, in the expression: “hitch in your get-along” Or “hitch in your gitalong” Or “hitch in your giddyup” (note, these mean the same thing.) “hitch” = a problem, an obstacle, an impediment, something that gets in your way. The expression comes from way back in the 1800’s, and was used in Western shows. When used about a woman's walk, however, it can often be a compliment, referring to the specific allure, of the way that a woman moves her body, as opposed to a man.
*** alluring - powerfully and mysteriously attractive or fascinating; seductive.
**** (US, informal) Much, many, a lot of. Example: That costs beaucoup bucks!
Additional Background Information About Becoming/Being An Exotic Dancer In The Nightclubs:
Cristina Villegas: Showing how to audition at a strip club (11:05 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGJNWmsJAWw
A dancer posted an accurate VLOG "A Night With Me At The Strip Club", showing exactly what a dancer's life is like, including going to work, preparing to go on stage in the dressing room, being on stage, how dancers interact with one another, and more. This is the real deal. This is what it is like behind the scenes. (26:04 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MIhwl59OwY
Liv posted a VLOG showing what it's like behind the scenes including footage in the dressing room, a peek at the club DJ, dancer's counting their tips, etc. JUST HOW IT IS. (19:44 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrELrrMGV08
Bella describes what goes on when there's a slow night (= bad-to-no tips), an on-the-job injury, and other things about what life is like for a dancer, behind the scenes, who is really just a regular girl, with a life that is very separate from her job as a dancer in the bars. (9:08 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7emfLb1i-g
This video shows "Freestyle pole/floor work dance at strip club" and is the closest to exactly how the nightclubs looked (lighting, stage, and such) that I worked in as a dancer. It also shows a real interaction between the dancer on stage and a customer tipping her, who eventually slips the (typical, folded in half lengthwise) tip into her costume bottom. IMO she worked WAY too hard for that tip (should've gotten it from him sooner, and moved on for more tips). I HOPE it wasn't a ONE DOLLAR BILL after she put in TOO MUCH EFFORT to GET that tip. Sometimes, though, if it's a really slow night, in the club, this guy MIGHT be the ONLY CUSTOMER THERE. THEN, THIS makes sense, doing your whole dance, for him, because he might tip MORE, and he might ask you to come sit with him, when you come down from the stage, and buy drinks (dancers usually have to sell a nightly quota, of those), and possibly--- hopefully!--- TIP EVEN MORE, sitting with you at the table. Other girls are working, too, so if you can keep him interested in you, his wallet empties into your costume bottom, not into theirs. In some ways, it IS a COMPETITION. You're in there to MAKE YOUR LIVING, make some money, after all. It is what it is. (2:46 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfCWc8bzhGc
Lucia Lazebnaya is doing a pole dance, while wearing a costume very much like one I wore, including the over the knee, spike-heeled, boots (my boots did not have the large platform sole, though, that her boots do, which the vast majority of dancers now consider to be required dancer footwear. I wore basic heels, partly for better balance = for safety reasons. Platform shoes can be much more unsteady, especially when the heel is also very small, tall, and spiked.) She does some (but not all) of the moves that I did on stage, and her size/body shape are very similar to mine, also. This video is a very close approximation, on the whole, to what I looked like, up on stage. (4:05 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IT4WEFw72Qc
This 'Pole & Exotic Dance Freestyle' to "Voodoo" by Godsmack shows Heather West doing the exact style of dancing that the girls did in the clubs that I worked in. Of course, there were variations, to this, depending on each girl's personality (some were more shy, more sensuous, more subdued, more of an uninhibited exhibitionist, etc.), and her self-expression, creativity, talent, or skill, and even athletic ability. The costume bottoms, we wore, in the Omaha area nightclubs, were thongs, though, so both of our butt cheeks were completely visible, just not the butt crack itself, in between them. (4:54 Minutes Long)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AaQ2pL7CyDM&has_verified=1
While I didn't travel the world as a Go Go Dancer, and some of these descriptions aren't exactly what dancing was like, for me, there are enough generalities, to how it was, that I wanted to include this article: "10 Things Go Go Dancers and Performers Want You to Know". From the article: " . . . they do their best to bring a sense of fantasy and awe through visual entertainment. . . . While we may have things that we complain about, at the end of the night we get paid good money to do what we love." (http://thedepartmentofdance.com/2018/02/10-things-gogo-dancers-and-performers-want-you-to-know/)
