Continuing My Description Of How Being A Dancer Could Be Dangerous, Or Deadly

In my previous post [https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2020/08/being-dancer-in-nightclubs-could-be.html], about this specific subject, it may have seemed that I had totally left the recounting of how the Mafia started coming after me. However, all of the things I was describing about Faith, Pam, and Erin--- the instigator, who set that whole thing in motion, is actually a part of the explanation about the Mob deciding to pay me a visit--- rather, a few of them actually. (It was a tense time for me for awhile because of this. Neil was laying as low as he could too, and probably regretting being my best friend, about this time.) The next morning, after that night that Faith had beaten me up, so badly, I made an emergency appointment with my dentist. Faith had grabbed, punched, and kicked me, not only in the gut but in my teeth, as well, when I had finally sunk to the floor of the ladies room, in real pain. Because of that attack on me my teeth felt numb to the point that I couldn't bite down to eat anything. My bruised and blackened gums were in bad shape too. It truly felt like my teeth were going to actually fall out of my mouth, and I was terrified, about that! I had endured wearing braces, as a teenager, just to end up with a pretty set of straight, white, healthy, teeth; and now, I was horrified to hear my dentist tell me after the x-rays and examination that he, too, was very concerned that my teeth might indeed begin to die at the roots and be lost due to this bad beating that I had taken from Faith. I got really mad about it, 'Mickey's Girl' or not, then. So, I took photos of my injuries, that she had inflicted on me, because I decided to file an assault complaint against her at the court house. Then, I called The Twenties, later, that day, to tell the manager, Denny, that I quit; and I told him as much. He said, "Stevie, DON'T do THAT! Don't QUIT. We need you, here. This will blow over with Faith, eventually. Mickey still wants you here; he told me." However, nothing he could say, now, would make me ever feel safe working in that bar again. I wouldn't feel safe in the dressing room, the ladies room, or anywhere else. Also, Faith was the head bartender. So, she made almost every drink that I ingested. For all I knew, she could have even been spitting in my drinks, or something else, after Pam went home, early, in tears, because I'd commented on her complete lack of rhythm to other girls, in the dressing room. Faith was a drug user. She could easily have drugged my drinks. Any time. Any drink. That was a terrifying thought, to me.

It was bad enough that there were reports back then of men spiking dancers' drinks with drops that knocked the girl unconscious and/or paralyzed her body so that even if she were aware of what was happening to her, during or after that, she was unable to move, to escape her fate--- whatever that was; whether rape, or murder, or both. I took the risk, of some guy doing that, to me, every single night I worked as a dancer, because I had to sell drinks and drink them, often sitting with guys that I didn't know or know well, and at times, depending on when the waitress brought the drinks to our table, my drink was left, sitting there, with the guy, unwatched, while I had to go up on stage to dance. The clubs required that we dancers have a drink to be able to sit there, with any guy. The guy usually wanted us drinking alcohol--- even if he wasn't himself, because he wanted to try to get us drunk, and vulnerable, in the hope that he might 'get lucky', and have sex with us, after closing time, while we weren't thinking clearly, or were passed out, and less able to fend them off. Some customers complained about the high drink prices, even though the club was providing a variety of dancers for their viewing pleasure which needed to be paid for that service. Those, guys, just didn't have realistic expectations regarding dancers. Men can be extremely self-centered about such things. Some guys would ask, "What are you drinking?", then add, indignantly, "It'd BETTER be ALCOHOL for the PRICE that I PAID for it!" Jerks! They had an attractive, scantily-clad, girl, sitting right beside them, well within touching distance, talking, with them, and THAT was what THEY wanted to COMPLAIN about. >sigh!< As a dancer, I had to try to satisfy BOTH, the CLUB rules AND the CUSTOMER expectations. However, I ALSO HAD A SAY in what went into MY body, and I was NOT going to age quickly OR become an alcoholic for ANYBODY! Not for a BAR. Not for a MAN. NO WAY! So, to keep EVERYBODY INVOLVED as HAPPY as POSSIBLE, my telling them, if they asked, that I was drinking alcohol, when it was most often not, was the compromise I made, as a dancer. It was my JOB to follow the rule, that these men were only allowed to have my company, in the club, for the price of a dancer's drink(s), during that time. The clubs simply had a policy of charging higher drink prices than regular bars--- mostly due to having to pay base wages to the line-up of live entertainment, along with bartenders, wait staff, bouncers, management; and owner of the establishment, as well. Some men, that came in these places, wanted ALOT for a LITTLE.

The closest I ever came, personally, to being drugged, when I was a dancer, as far as I know, also happened to be at The Twenties nightclub. I was sitting with a handsome young guy at a table, one night, whom I had just met. He looked very 'clean cut', too. The waitress had taken our drink orders. I was drinking only orange juice, that evening, although I had to order it as a screwdriver. [For full disclosure, I would discuss with the waitress in advance, before the shift began, if I would ever actually be drinking alcohol. My having anything other than fruit juice or  a soft drink was so rare, for me, that on a night I would tell the waitress that I wanted to drink alcohol, they usually looked quite shocked, and would say, "REALLY Stevie? Are you SURE? Well, I'm telling the bartender to make them light for you since you aren't used to it. It's a long night." They were usually so surprised, because I rarely drank during the many years I was a dancer. I saw that the girls that drank regularly, and especially those that drank hard, aged so quickly. I was trying to proactively protect myself, from that happening to me. I loved dancing! Expressing myself with my body, on stage. Interpreting the music with my moves. I wanted to put off having to retire, from it, for as long as possible. I knew, all too well, that loomed ahead of me, on this career path. It was a fact which was always in the back of my mind, as soon as my early thirties, although I was able to dance, on stage, until my early forties, before I finally had to retire. I took good care of myself, and I looked younger than my age. Retiring from the business became a forced issue, whenever a girl's looks finally began to fade, especially due to an aging appearance. So, it wasn't from any desire to scam the customer, when they most often were paying for virgin drinks for me, but, I would tell them there was alcohol in it, if they questioned, or complained about it; making it an issue. I wasn't trying to cheat the customers. Most of them really enjoyed sitting, and interacting, with me, as we had a fun evening, talking together, regardless of what I was drinking or not drinking. I was simply between a rock and a hard place, at times, with this issue of what I drank.] So, anyway, the ONLY time that I KNOW of that I had my drink drugged, but--- I WILL SAY IT!--- by the GRACE of GOD, I avoided that affecting me, was this one night, at The Twenties, when the waitress brought the drinks to the table while I was performing up on the stage. It was a weekend night. The Showgirl room was small but, being popular, was packed with people, so there was alot of body heat, in the room. After just dancing, very vigorously, to a fast song, I was a bit sweaty, now, and really thirsty for a cool sip of my drink, that was waiting for me, at the table; which unbeknown to the customer was only orange juice. I grabbed my glass as soon as I sat back down. As this very 'clean cut' guy and I both looked toward the stage, to watch the girl, who went up there after me, my lips started to close over the straw, as I prepared to slurp that drink down, to cool myself off some.

Right at that moment, he said something, to me, in my ear, that I just could not hear, over that extremely loud music. (I also danced with ear plugs in, which were hidden under my long hair, to try to save my hearing, because of the extreme level of decibels in those nightclubs.) I was SO thirsty! ALL I wanted to do, in THAT moment, was slurp that cool liquid, right down, my dry throat. My mouth was already poised around the end of the straw, when he spoke, and in one small second I could have had a long drink from that glass. I'd almost decided to sip, and then respond to him. Instead, I chose to first ask him what he had said to me, though, because that seemed to be the most polite thing to do. So, bringing the glass down from my mouth, I turned to him, and said, "WHAT? I COULDN'T HEAR YOU, OVER THE MUSIC! What did you SAY?" He told me again, but I STILL could NOT hear him. Wanting to get this little interaction behind us, so I could cool down, with my drink, I leaned in, with my ear right by his mouth, and I said, again, "I'm sorry. I really cannot hear what you're SAYING to me, in here, right now, so, would you repeat it, ONE more time?" I was so glad that he did not get discouraged, or just dropped it, because, this time, I HEARD HIM. With a big smile on his face, which was meant to convey his 'party' mentality, and his, self-perceived, generosity, toward me (which was based, in large part, on the stereotype that men often have of dancers) he happily bragged to me,"I gave you a hit of acid!", to which I said, "WHAT?!?" Apparently thinking that I still could not hear him, he replied, again, "I put a hit of acid, in your drink! Enjoy!" My eyes grew wide, with horror. I have NEVER done ANY drugs, including, while I was a dancer, except for trying pot, briefly, which I didn't care for; and, that had been many years earlier, when I was in my early twenties, with a couple of male acquaintances that I did not really ever become friends with. I immediately sat the glass down on the table, and fled into the dressing room, very shaken up by the fact that I was ONLY ONE SMALL SECOND AWAY from BEING DRUGGED, by this guy! Only because he happened to STEREOTYPE dancers, as being drug-using-party-girls, so he was therefore trying to gain favor, with me, by providing a me with a drug he thought I would want--- making sure to BRAG TO ME, about that 'gift' from him--- did I manage to avoid that happening to me. LSD, AKA 'acid', is a hallucinogenic drug. Having long-lasting effects. ANYTHING, could have HAPPENED to me, had I ingested that substance into my body; which very nearly happened!

I had loved working as a dancer at The Twenties nightclub! It was the best, of the best, of the Go Go bars, in the Omaha area. But I was truly concerned for my personal safety there; after that problem had flared up with Faith, especially, but for some other reasons, as well. Mickey once told me, himself, at the end of a meeting he had with the dancers, when the others had left the room, that they would not speak up, in front of me, because I was so 'clean', they felt uncomfortable that I might actually be an undercover cop. He even admitted, he'd wondered that, about me, at times, too. It concerned me alot when I heard that, because suspicions, of me, made me a target to the people there even if only for that unfounded reason alone. Who knows? It may have even been an underlying, contributing, factor, that caused Erin to create this huge incident, about Pam, with Faith, that led to my being badly beaten. [Note: I did end  up working undercover, with the Omaha police, when I went back to working at the Backdoor Lounge, at one point, in later years, fairly close to the end of my dancing career; but that was never about 'snitching' on whatever was going on in the club, or with its employees. It was to help them catch a killer, that had been a customer there, which I will explain in another post.] Because I didn't smoke, do drugs, or prostitution (at that point), and, most of the time, I didn't drink, either, despite working in a bar, all that made me kind of a 'freak of nature', to the other people, in this type of environment, setting some against me, even if only subconsciously. No one ever overtly confronted me about it to my face, though some still, wrongly, suspected that of me. Not just when I worked at The Twenties, but throughout my entire dancing career. That fact even actually ties in to why I did some limited prostitution later on (when I started working undercover with the cops), but this post is already too lengthy, to start discussing all that here.

It probably didn't help, any, with that perception, of me, when I did decide to go ahead and file the legal complaint, against Faith, for assault. Although Denny, the manager, at The Twenties, had begged me not to quit when I called him on the phone and did so, the day after Faith had brutally attacked me, in the ladies room (as what, she had felt, was the appropriate 'pay back' for Pam crying, after Erin told her I said she didn't have rhythm, when she danced), I realized that I was way too vulnerable, now, to be able to stay there safely. 'Mickey's Girl' had an issue with me. That was the biggest target I could have on me, there. Besides my real concern over my drink safety going forward since Faith was the main bartender, I was well aware that other things, could be done, to me, as well. As a matter of fact, when I finally came out of the ladies room, staggering, from the beating, the club, had closed, for the night, and only 'Schulte', who was a fairly new assistant manager, at the time, was left, in the main room. When he saw me, he was very concerned. I told him what happened and he said that I needed to make a police report. He, very likely, took things at face value, there, being new, to this type of bar business, and very naive, about it; as I once was too, when I was new to it. I protested, at first, when he suggested that, because by now, I knew full well about the 'politics' of things, at The Twenties and the implication of what calling the cops would mean; especially, because it was 'Mickey's Girl', Faith, that was involved. I tried to tell him I didn't think that was a good idea, but he went to the phone and called the cops, himself, and told me to go get dressed because they would be coming, soon. I sat in the police cruiser, that showed up, answering the officer's questions, as he filled out the report. I was in alot of physical pain, including my mouth, making that very difficult. There were problems, finishing the report, though. I didn't know, Faith's last name, or her home address, or other things, that the officer asked me. He said he would submit it, and someone from the department would follow up, to try, to get that information, so she could be arrested. 'Schulte' had insisted that in this case I absolutely should make a police report, and after he called them, I did. But, when I called, to quit, Denny asked me, why I called the cops, because he'd seen me, sitting in the cruiser, in front of the club. I answered him honestly that 'Schulte' had called them to help me. I was not going to and had told 'Schulte' that, so I didn't want to take the blame. Especially, not with suspected Mob affiliates, like Mickey, and Denny.

As soon as I was healed, enough, of my injuries from the beating, I went back to work, but at the Backdoor Lounge, who rehired me over the phone, simply from my making a quick call to ask them if I could return. I was a good enough dancer to be in fairly high demand by then so getting work was easy. Staying alive seemed to be harder, for me, at the moment. There was  a gossip grapevine, going between all these Go Go bars, in the area. So, not long after that, I heard that 'Schulte' had been arrested and sentenced on a serious drug possession charge. I tracked him down, where he was serving time for that, and we exchanged mailing addresses. Through those letters he told me what happened. He had no prior criminal record but he also had no prior experience working in the 'stripper bar' business. He had naively taken things at face value; which they NEVER ARE, in those places. So, after being told to run an errand, for Mickey, which, unknown to him, was transporting those drugs, 'Schulte' was caught in the act and arrested. He told me the police had been tipped off, about that delivery, by someone that worked for Mickey. I got chills. I also, felt really sorry for him. He often wrote me lonely letters, from jail, that always started with "Day 20", "Day 42", "Day 67" and so on which I had learned inmates are prone to do, while they are locked away. He was a good guy; but in way over his head, when he began working in this bar business. He was so trusting and so gullible he was probably only hired, in the first place, as a handy stooge, to be exploited. Until this happened  to him 'Schulte' had always been a stand up guy that just wanted to be decent, caring and do the right thing; including help me, after I was brutally attacked by Faith. It was a sad situation.

It also wasn't long before I realized that I did indeed have valid reasons, of my own, to be very concerned that Mickey was not done yet dealing street justice, in the form of a Mafia payback, for Faith being prosecuted for her assault on me. At first, the case against her was dead in the water because the prosecutors office at the courthouse told me, when I contacted them to ask about the status of my police report, as the officer had told me to do, that they couldn't get any cooperation from anyone, at The Twenties, with the follow-up investigation, to be able to serve Faith with an arrest warrant. When they had gone to the nightclub, to get the information, they needed to proceed, Denny had told them that Faith did not work there anymore; when she did. When I insisted that she was, absolutely, still working there (which I knew full well, because of the gossip grapevine) and showed them the photos of my injuries from the beating which they then attached to my complaint for the case against her, they sent investigators back who tried to get a last name and address on her, but again they had no cooperation at the club. Without those things, they said, she could not be served. I prayed, about it, because the dentist said it would be touch and go for quite a while as to whether I would lose any of my permanent teeth because, as he explained it, they could slowly be dying from the roots up due to the trauma to them, which may not necessarily show outwardly, right away. All the bruises, on my body, had healed, but I was extremely stressed for quite a while about this other, very real, concern, due to its impact on and implications for my life. Teeth are needed for eating, for smiling and more.

One night, as Luck would have it, I sat with a customer, at the Backdoor, for the very first time, who said, he recognized me, from when I worked at The Twenties. It was the more prestigious of the two nightclubs so he asked me why I was no longer working there. When I told him what had happened, he said that he had dated Faith, at one time, and that frankly she'd been a real bitch toward him. He not only knew her full name, but he knew her actual address as well, and he provided both of those things to me. I got those pieces of information to the courthouse and when they saw, that I was, very, serious, about wanting my case, against her, to move forward, they got behind it, and made it happen. The police officer that knew my case took it from there, and told me how they were able to go to the door of her house, to follow up, after finally finding her, and how shocked she had looked, that they were standing there. On her doorstep! Mickey and Denny had been protecting her from prosecution, by lying and being uncooperative, at the club. They had felt sure, that I would never be able to get that needed information, about Faith, to bring her to COURT justice, after her STREET justice, against me! Now, both she, and they, realized that I was not dropping it, and she was going to have to fight this case in court. I think they knew she couldn't win it, because of how badly she beat me up. At this point, I was doing this as much for what they had done to punish 'Schulte', for his caring enough, about right and wrong, and about me, to call the cops on my behalf, after Faith had done that to me. He was a good and caring man, and he did not deserve what they did to him to discredit him, give him a felony record, and get him well out of the way, behind bars, in order to mute him, in this matter.

I believe that the only reason Denny had not wanted me to quit, even though I had been one of the best dancers in the line-up at The Twenties, at the time, was to keep me under their thumb; to either, control me, by intimidation, into silence, or actually have me killed, in some way, to be rid of the issue, about 'Mickey's Girl', Faith, being taken to court, by me. If I had proceeded with the case against her, while I was still working there, I have NO DOUBT that I would either have mysteriously turned up dead--- probably, made to look, like some customer did that, to me--- or they would have prevented me from showing up, for the court date, after pretending to support me, as well as Faith, by drugging my drinks, or doing something else which would incapacitate me. If I wasn't in court, the case would automatically be dropped, I was told, because they had too many pending cases, to prosecute, to try the case, on someone's behalf, that wasn't in it to win it, with their support. It was what it was. Now, that I worked at a different club, they couldn't really personally pressure me to try to get me to drop the case, without that being real obvious, real fast.They also saw that their level of non-cooperation and intimidation hadn't been enough to deter me. So, they sent the Kansas City Mob after me, to pay me a few visits. They came to talk with me at the Backdoor Lounge, to try to scare me into silence; or something even worse. What I'm saying may sound overly dramatic to those who have never actually experienced any of this dark underbelly of how things really are versus how they tend to seem, in the Go Go bar business. I assure you, that everything I'm saying about my life here in this blog is true, though, whether you believe it, or not, and whether others want you to believe it, or not, who may have a stake in you not believing me for whatever reason. This is MY LIFE, and this is THE TRUTH. 

My best friend, Neil, was the sound man for a band which was booked to play at The Twenties, at times, so he was still around there, after I was no longer working there. He had let me know Faith was still working there, which was no surprise at all, to me, given her special significance to Mickey. Neil also told me that he would try to find some things out while he was in there. But since he was known as being my close friend he got pulled into this mess with the Mafia along with me. Apparently, the Mob assumed that I might actually drop my case against Faith, if Neil was put in danger, from them, in some way. Because they could get easy access, to him, right on their own turf, at The Twenties, Neil started getting pressured by these people, to get me to drop my case against Faith. He began to get really nervous, about it; as was I. Neither one, of us, had ever experienced anything like this, in our lives, before, and we weren't real sure what to do about it. Going to the police, about this, wouldn't really help, and would probably manage to only make things worse, at this point. These men had only been talking with us anyway; not breaking our bones or anything injurious. We realized that if the Mob decided to take us out of the picture, that the Omaha police would not be able to protect us, 24/7, from that. When I first began getting visits from men, at the Backdoor Lounge, that I had never seen before, who had a much different look, than any of the local thugs had, I believed them, when they informed me that they were sent by the Mafia, to get me to drop this case. They were just a couple of minor errand boys, for the Mob; nobody notorious or high up, in that Kansas City-based crime family. Perhaps, because of that, perhaps, because they still had a shred of humanity in them; maybe even because, I am a praying person, and God, has protected me, at times, and from things, I believe no one else could have or would have, they finally backed off, and surprisingly allowed me to prosecute my case, against Faith . . . and to LIVE. But, not before there had been some innuendo, in our conversations, about Neil and I possibly being found floating in the (Missouri) river if I didn't back down. It was unnerving and not something that I ever wanted to go through.

They might have even decided to let it go because I was working for Dick McGinnis, again, at the Backdoor Lounge, and he was probably the scariest, local, thug in the strip club business, here in Omaha. Dick was certainly notorious, in his own right; and much more, than just some low-level Mafia errand boy. He also used to work for Mickey as club manager before they split from one another for whatever reason. When Dick became the manager at the Backdoor, that made them rivals, in the strip club business. (Dick eventually went to prison, for felonies, he'd committed; but he was the one that had hired me at Mickey's Razzle Dazzle in Council Bluffs, Iowa, for my first Go Go dancer gig, giving me my start in the business. So I owed that career, that I really enjoyed, to him. He also, for whatever reason, was always really there, for me, as  a protector-figure, which I really needed, at times; especially, during those years I danced. He was definitely not the NURTURER type, but, HE HAD MY BACK, and he never made a move, on me, or anything inappropriate, like some of my club bosses did, or encouraged, or allowed, to happen to me.) Dick was, more than, tough enough, to get the Mafia to back off, of me, and leave me alone! He knew, as well as I did, who they were, when they were coming, to see me, in the Backdoor; and he was sitting right there in the club, watching. It was a strange situation. This, Mafia involvement, in MY life! One that I will never have all the answers about. That may be a good thing. I was scared enough about it, at the time, to prepare myself for the possibility of sudden or painful death at their hands. I got all of my personal papers in order, with 'in case of emergency' information included, in those; and I even called my mother, to try, to explain to her, what was happening, with all this. She simply laughed it off, as if she didn't believe me, or didn't care. It was hard for me to tell where she was coming from, when I'd try to tell her about the things that were important in my life and she just dismissed them as literally being nothing.

I was a very sincere and straightforward person, in my conversations with the Mafiosi visitors, I got at the Backdoor. They could tell, I was no fool, but they also saw that I was not giving them an attitude, at all. I described how worried I was about the possibility of losing all my teeth, and asked them, how they would feel, if that happened to them. I explained to them, what relatively small thing, had caused Faith to brutally attack me, in that way. Maybe, so many people, in this bar business, believing that I was, actually, some undercover cop, caused some contemplation about what, could be, unleashed, if I were 'dealt with', by them, over this. Maybe, they had told Mickey they would get me to back off, FOR HIM, if he did something THEY wanted done in the Omaha area of their Mafia territory. Maybe HE disappointed THEM, in some way. Maybe Faith had slept with these guys, or been her bitch self, to them, pissing them off at her. Even though she was known as 'Mickey's Girl', she had a very active sex life, with alot, of players, both men and women. Mickey was an older man. Maybe he couldn't even get it up anymore, but wanted Faith on his arm, at his beck and call, as a status symbol, due to her attractiveness. I can only speculate about such things. Maybe the Mafia just finally relented and let the court date come about because they knew the legal system really well, and knew that Faith would never do jail time. Sure enough, because she was a single mother with a young daughter at home and she had no prior record, to speak of, she was found guilty, when I finally faced off with her in court, that day, but she was only ordered to pay me damages, and, not a whole lot, at that. I was still glad that she saw that I didn't just let it slide though. She didn't act so tough, in that courtroom. I looked over, at her, as she fidgeted nervously, looking very uncertain, of her own future, now.

I would have dropped it, actually, from the very start, knowing the Go Go bar business as I did, by then, although, I still would have quit working at The Twenties, after 'Mickey's Girl' attacked me; for safety reasons. But 'Schulte' had cared enough about me to call the cops. Because he was unfairly framed, by Mickey and Denny, to punish him, for that, which got him put away, for a long time, only because he had done the decent thing, to try to help me, I wasn't going to let them get away with it. Not, if I lived, to tell it; which I did. In court. On the record. Leaving Faith with a, criminal, record, of her own, then, for the first time in her life and just maybe a little less arrogance about administering an excessive amount of street justice to someone the next time some new girl, that couldn't dance worth a damn, got her feelings hurt and cried. I hadn't even said that to Pam's face. Erin had caused all this, over something so small. Some people really believe in Karma. I am one who hopes that happens, in some cases; to some people, anyway, that seem particularly deserving, of reaping, what they have sown, into the lives of others. But, I believe in God; and in both His justice and His mercy. Somewhere along the way in her life, I pray, He taught a lesson to Erin, about why she should not start drama, in other peoples' lives, just because, she has a cold, callous, sense of humor, and, wants to amuse herself, with what unfolds, from her doing that. It had, real, consequences at the time she did it to me. Except for her. So, I hope she 'got hers', some way, in her life; to teach her not to do that to people again.

Years later, a brand new club opened, in Omaha, called Ziegfeld's (or, Ziegfield's; I can't recall the exact spelling of the name, now; and when researching it, online, for this post, the internet seems to be strangely scrubbed, of ANY information, about this place--- almost as if it NEVER EXISTED, although it did). It may very well have been one of the worst decisions I ever made, but I took a job, as a dancer, there, simply because it was closest, to where I lived, at the time. Ziegfeld's was in downtown Omaha, making it an easy commute for me, after I'd moved down to Bellevue, for awhile. That is a smaller city, considered part of the Omaha metro area. There were no Go Go bars there, though, which was strange, considering it hosts the Air Force base in this area which is full of military men. Working in this bar may have been 'Ziegfeld's FOLLY' for me because this nightclub was both owned and managed directly by the Kansas City Mob. Medium-level Mafia members had been sent as actual transplants to establish their presence, more directly, and strongly, in the Omaha bar scene. For me, to cross paths, with them, again, now, and even ask them for a job, . . . I admit, was not exercising very good judgement on my part, to say the least! I just loved being a nightclub dancer, that much, though; and, this was a glamorous, sophisticated, brand new Go Go bar, now coming to our part of the country. It was a cut above, what the, usual, Omaha bars looked like. It looked Big Time, in a whole new way.

When I applied, for the job, I talked to these two mobsters, in private, about the past situation, because I needed to know, up front, if they held a grudge against me going forward. I couldn't have just changed my stage name, to try, to hide my identity, from them. The Twenties, which had Mafia ties, with this very crime family, already had my stage name and my real name, for their payroll records and customers in the Omaha area had now known me for over a decade as Stevie. It was all something that was not a secret to the Mafia, or anything I could even try to hide, from them. They absolutely knew, who I was, it turned out, which wasn't surprising, to me. But, their only interest, they claimed, was in getting all of the dancing girls they could hire, from the available pool, of talent, in Omaha, so they could to fill a line-up, for a two-shift-show. Some, of the Go Go bars, were only opened evenings, starting in late afternoon, and ran one, long, shift. Other places started around noon, and ran two shifts of dancers, to stay open from noon until 1 AM, in Omaha, or 'til 2 AM, in Council Bluffs, Iowa. It took alot of girls, to keep that going, and have enough entertainers available to keep the customers interested and engaged. So, after asking them about my working there, I felt fairly sure, they needed my body alive and well and dancing on their stage rather than floating in the river. I was a good dancer, and fairly attractive, so I was more asset than liability for them with this new expansion of their influence.

I took the risk, and started working, for them, on the day shift, because that was harder to fill in the Go Go business, since girls made more money in tips working nights. At least it earned me some points, with these guys. I was hoping that it would make me a valuable enough asset, to keep me from any harm, from them, frankly. Many dancers, did not like dancing in the daytime, so those slots were always much harder to fill than those on the night shift. There were usually less customers which, most often, meant less tips, but it was also boring, whenever there were so few customers to interact with. We still had drink quotas, too, which were harder to fulfill, on the day shift. Sometimes we even had to buy our own drinks just to meet that number, to show our support for the establishment, and stay in good standing with this club, that was employing us. >sigh!<  All things considered, it just wasn't as fun. Ziegfeld's had a great plus, on day shift, though. Every weekday, they would set out a big lunch buffet for the customers to come spend their lunch hour watching dancers perform live; as they ate their food. It was good, too! We got to eat it, also, with customers buying our lunches, along with their own, including drinks. It was easy to get hungry working in these clubs, due to dancing long hours, usually with no available food during the shift. To keep my energy up for all that exertion as a performer, I brought a few candy bars or cookies, to keep me going. This spread, Ziegfeld's provided, was so much nicer!

I continued to keep my guard up, though, because, I could not really be expected to 'take their word', that they had 'let bygones be bygones', regarding the situation with me taking 'Mickey's Girl', Faith, to court, years before. Mafiosi tend to have exceptionally long memories, and hold exceptionally deep grudges; if they so choose. Their claiming they didn't have one toward me, was small comfort, if any. I was, very, careful to watch, when my drinks were prepared, and to stay sober, and alert, at all times. I heard through the gossip grapevine, they committed arson by torching their club back in Kansas City, for some reason, to get the insurance money. Then they'd invested it in this place in Omaha when the arson charge couldn't be definitively proved against them. That was probably because there was much less, local, suspicion of them, here in Omaha where they aren't as prominent, which meant there was less heat on them than had been emanating, from the legal authorities, back in Missouri. The Omaha City Council is strict, in their demands of bar owners here, though, and they have been pretty successful at running any questionable, shady, or problematic bars, that open here, out of business. I wonder if they ever went after Ziegfeld's, especially due to the Mafia ownership; to stop, Mob presence, from taking hold, in Omaha, and becoming a big problem, for this, generally, fairly conservative city. After all, the local laws in Omaha, when I was a dancer, at least, did not allow topless or nude dancing, and our bikini-style costumes, which were to be worn, at all times, could only include the thong-type bottom, showing just butt cheeks. Pretty tame stuff. Compared to many places.

It was going along okay, for me, working for them at Ziegfeld's, when one day, some guy came in that seemed to be a personal buddy of these two thugs which were running the place for the Mob. It appeared that he had driven up from Kansas City to pay them a visit and check out the new bar, so they wanted to show him a good time. Unfortunately, this visiting thug-friend of the Mafiosi managers of the club took a liking to ME. He sat with his face hanging over the floor of the stage, intently watching my every move, up there, and then he wanted me to come sit with him. He was just the most unsavory character. He kept asking me to KISS him, while I was up on stage, and I refused. I tried, unsuccessfully, to sidestep him, and his advances, while trying, to be polite. He was extremely determined and persistent. Nothing was deterring him. To make matters worse, my Mafia bosses seemed to be encouraging him to keep after me for whatever reason, rather than introducing their friend to some other, perhaps more amenable, dancers. I was trying as hard as I could to delay the seemingly inevitable of my having to go sit with him, because I felt he was too pushy; and grabby. I also thought he would try to force his spittle on my mouth in some sloppy kiss, because he had already tried to kiss me, when he tipped me. I even feared my Mafia bosses might try to ORDER ME to 'make his day' in some way or other, that I HAD NO INTENTION OF DOING, with him. It was a bad situation, and I still didn't really trust these Mob guys, or know where I really stood, with them, and what they might do, to me. 

I kept trying to avoid him, so I told him after my dance that I was going to the dressing room, to change my costume. It was located back behind the stage in a dark, isolated, hallway; as were the restrooms. I went to the ladies room, first, though, and he must have followed me, because he came in there! While I was in there--- alone, except for him! This was a very isolated part of the bar, and the music was so loud that no one would even hear me, if I started to scream. The only reason I even KNEW that he had come in there--- by all appearances LOOKING FOR ME (since it was CLEARLY marked LADIES room)--- was because I did something, that day, that I almost never do, when I use the toilet, in a public ladies room. I sat down on the toilet, with the stall door left open. I don't even know why I did that then, but I was sure glad that I did! I would not have known he had come in there. He had been a constant problem, for me, ever since he got there, that day. But, I never thought, that he would go this far. Now, as I saw him enter, the ladies room, by his reflection in the mirror, I sat there, on the toilet, with my pants down, not at all sure HOW MUCH FARTHER he planned on going. But I strongly felt that I was about to be RAPED, and I HAD ALREADY HAD THAT HAPPEN to me; and by a man that was as much a stranger to me as he was. I was determined, I never would again, if I could possibly prevent it.

This bar had previously existed as a regular nightclub, with DJs, and couples' dancing, before it went out of business, and the Mob had bought it, making it into a Go Go bar. Because of its original design, the ladies room was huge, with about 30 stalls in it, and a very long mirror, all along the wall, across from the stalls. I had gone to the stall at the very farthest end, for more privacy, in case some other girl came in, while I was in there. I knew from my years in the bar business, that, most likely, no other dancers would go that far down the row, to pick a stall, to use, with so many, to choose from. I hadn't even had a chance, to pee, yet, but I was seated, with my costume bottom down, around my knees, when I tried, my best, not to gasp out loud, from shock, and fear, as I saw him, in the mirror, as he walked in, with a grin on his face, and he started coming down the row of stalls, looking in each one; most likely, FOR ME. Quietly, I quickly pulled up my thong-bikini bottom, although the ties at the waist were still undone, and hanging down, as I watched him in the mirror getting closer and closer, to where I was, as he searched, each stall. Where I now stood, in this last stall, of the row, was the most vulnerable place in the room because I was the farthest I could be from the door for me to try to get past him, to escape his intentions toward me. It was also why I was even less likely to be heard if I tried to scream for help. Based on all his actions, toward me, since he had arrived at the club, that day, it was obvious, that he wanted to do more, than just sit, and talk, with me. It had also appeared that those two thugs, who were my bosses, had told him to go after me, specifically, based upon their conversations, and gestures, that I had seen them doing, with him, upon his arrival. I just wasn't sure whether that was some supposed 'compliment' to me, or some harm, they meant to allow or even facilitate to happen, toward me. They didn't even use bouncers in this place. At least, not on the day shift, if at all; which was scary, in itself, in this kind of a club.

I knew that I had one chance to keep this guy from grabbing me, and to prevent whatever else he would, likely, try to do, to me, after getting his hands on me. When he was about eight stalls away from me, and he still had not given up searching each stall (which I was hoping he would do, after checking so many of them; due to assuming that I wasn't even in there, at some point, in his search), I watched him, in the mirror, as he stuck his head into the next one, he checked, in the row, and in that split second, I literally ran for my life! Thanks to the element of surprise, I got past him, and out into the hall, starting to scream as soon as I got out there. I was shocked, then, but not surprised, to see one of the two Mafia managers, standing out in that hall, looking toward the ladies room door. He looked as if he had been standing guard; but, apparently NOT to protect ME, from his buddy, but to try to keep other people away from that area so his friend could find me, and get away with, whatever he (or, they!) were planning, to do, to me. I just ran past him, too, as I realized that this was some kind of set-up that I was being victimized by and that was all I needed to know! Thankfully, a regular club customer, whom I knew, came into the hallway, right at that moment, on his way, to the men's room, which was further down, that hall. I ran right into his arms and breathlessly told him about the guy in the ladies room, so that now someone else knew, which also helped to protect me. He looked down, at my costume bottom, sitting askew, on my hips, not quite pulled all the way up, and into place, with the waist ties still hanging down on both sides, and he could see from that, and the sheer terror on my face, that something had definitely just happened to me, back in that hallway, that clearly shouldn't have.

Of course, I quit there. I asked him to stand guard in the hall outside the dressing room, while I got my things, to leave. I never even got my final paycheck from there, because they claimed I had to come in, to pick it up from them, in person. They wouldn't just mail it to me. I didn't trust them AT ALL, anymore, in ANY way, so I refused to do that. There was no way, that I was ever going back in there again! I filed a complaint, about never getting my last paycheck from them, though. Believe it or not! So, that was investigated. But, I was eventually told, they went out of business (although, that was not from them torching the place; this time), and that no one was able to even determine, or locate, whom to contact, about the money, that they still owed me. I was told that there were some other girls who had worked there who had also complained that they ended up not being paid. The official investigation, into our unpaid wages, also confirmed the information, that I had heard, about the arson these guys were suspected of doing, to their Kansas City club; which was never definitively proven, and prosecuted. Mobsters are adept at 'bucking the system', and keeping out of the clutches of the law. So, call me crazy, for going to work directly for the Kansas City crime family, after what I had already gone through with them when I took 'Mickey's Girl', Faith, to court for her assault on me. But since I'm obviously writing this post, perhaps 30 years later, I lived to tell it. My misadventures with the mafia. . . . TWICE!

So, being a dancer could, definitely, be dangerous, and even potentially deadly, whether those things came from club customers, your co-worker(s), your employer, or even the Mafia. During my dancer career, I had a mentally ill, and obsessed, customer, pin me, to the wall, of the club, with his hand clenching me by the throat, screaming at me that I ruined his whole life, when he barely even knew me! I had a co-worker, beat the crap, out of me, because I simply stated that it would be nice, if the new girl, would pay some attention to matching her moves to the beat of the songs, when she was up on stage; which nearly cost me my permanent teeth. When Mafia got involved, it could have cost me my very life, as well, at some point, during my taking her to court for that assault. It seemed that I was almost raped, again(!), just going to the ladies room to pee. (Come to think of it, since I was badly beaten, in the ladies room, at one nightclub, and nearly sexually assaulted, in the ladies room, at another nightclub, I would have probably been safer, while working as a dancer, in these places, if I had just, stayed out, of the ladies rooms!) My drinks could be drugged, either by other employees, or by customers; which did happen, to me. But, by the Grace of God, I, just barely, avoided, drinking that drug down. God only knows what would have happened, to me, if I had! I married TWO DIFFERENT CLUB CUSTOMERS, and, BOTH of them, were very abusive, toward me, in different ways; but the last one, of them, was like the son of Satan toward me! But, we haven't even gotten to that part, of the story, yet, since there, has been, and, continues to be, so much to cover, about the years I was a dancer. All these things, that I have talked about in this post, and in the previous post, about the safety issues involved in being a dancer in these 'strip clubs', are just a few representative examples, out of all the things, that happened to me, during my career, as an exotic dancer. Despite their outward appearance, those nightclubs could, definitely, be dangerous. In many different ways.

The following is information which was referenced in this blog post: 

Kansas City Crime Family:

Founding location Kansas City, Missouri, United States

Years active 1912–present

Territory Kansas City metropolitan area and the entire states of Missouri, and Nebraska, as well as Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Oklahoma and Washington, D.C.

The Kansas City mob still has some gambling and loansharking with some extortion involving drugs and the strip club industry'  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kansas_City_crime_family

Being A Dancer, In Nightclubs, Could Be Dangerous, Or Deadly; Including For Me

Regardless, of which aspects I am trying to describe, of my having been a dancer on stage in nightclubs, which was an extensive chapter in my life, there's so many layers, nuances, twists and turns, and all kinds of characters involved in the picture of what life was like for me during those years. That has made it extremely challenging, for me, to find the most cohesive way to tell all these things. My being 'Stevie' had really been gaining traction, now, in this new career field. I was making the best money I ever made, most of which came from male admirers who tipped me in the nightclubs that I worked in. I also got a weekly paycheck from the club. I was strong, toned, sexy, and turning heads, wherever I went. I received much more male attention than I ever wanted to have, actually. It often just felt like an intrusion in my life. An unwelcome amount of pressure on me, from these males. It got downright oppressive, after awhile. It was something I could never escape from, even when I was off work and away from the club that I danced in, when I was just trying to relax, somewhere, or have some much-needed 'me' time.  I had learned to interact with the customers at the club much better, which had been the most difficult thing for me to learn, about this job, when I got into the business, because (1) I had to be able to talk to every kind of guy imaginable, which was a challenge in itself, and (2) I'd had to 'dumb down', alot, to be able to speak to the majority of them on a level that I wasn't talking over their heads, completely, or intimidating them, because of my being a fairly intelligent and very cerebral woman. This line of work can also be quite dangerous for a dancer. You have to be extremely careful about letting it spill over into your private life. I learned that the hard way.

At work, it was my turn, now, to be in the dressing room, changing costumes, and have some other girl come back there to tell me, "Stevie, one of your regulars just came in and is waiting for you!", to which, I could now honestly reply, "Which one?" Then, "Tell him I'll be right out." I may not be loved, I told myself, but being desirable and in demand is at least kind of fun--- as long as it pays in good tips, anyway. I had no use for male sentimentality toward me anymore.  I had nothing, in my life, to show for that, except disappointment, disillusionment, and despair.  I stopped wearing my heart on my sleeve and wore my tips in my garter. My naivete vanished much more quickly now, getting replaced by some savvy Street Smarts. I liked my Stevie self! She was a strong woman, who was sure of herself, and lived in the real world now rather than in Deborah's Disney-like daydreams. Stevie, was not going to be someone so loyal and loving that she ended up making herself a doormat to some guy who just took her for granted, in her faithfulness, and didn't cherish the depth of her love, which were traits that were very much at the forefront, of my Deborah self. Frankly, after all the heartbreak, it was just really nice to not give a damn for a change. Quality was so lacking in love that I settled for quantity in admirers. Now my mindset was like: Give me something, I need, now, for a change, or I will move on to someone who will. I wasn't on a sentimental journey anymore, with the male sex. I told myself  I didn't need love, because it seemed hopeless by this point to keep expecting that to happen.

There were quite a few men that claimed to love me, during those years, and many, who said they wanted me. I even married two different club customers, both, of which, became abusive toward me in various ways, with the last one being the very worst of all to the point that I refer to him as a Son of Satan. When I had married each of them, God had told me not to; but I did anyway, because I fully believed that no one better would ever come along, for me, now. That this would be as good as it was ever going to get, for me, for the rest of my life. God loves us, so much, though, that His saying "No" to us, about people or things, is His trying to protect us from others, and sometimes, even from ourselves. When humans are in pain, especially from the heartache, of lovelessness, they can become very self-destructive, in ways. Including me. With both of these marriages, I knew that I was settling, for someone, and something, that my heart was not in. But I didn't realize, until I was working on the, several, blog posts about him, that the only man I have ever loved was my second husband, Jim. When I gave him my heart, it must have really been for forever, because it would seem that I've never really had it back in my own possession, to be able to give to anyone else, ever since then. Or, really, even before, I loved him! He was just THE ONE that MY heart TRULY loved. As for the last two (of my four) husbands, I plan to describe them in much greater detail, in later posts. There were other men I met in these clubs who were also a danger to me, though. Not just those I married from there.

At the Backdoor, there was a guy, that was a regular, of Kristal's. She was one of the dancer's that made most of her money outside the club, booking club customers, as her clients, for her own Call Girl gig, where she preferred to give them 'The Girlfriend Experience', as her form of prostitution. After years of her living this lifestyle, though, she wanted out. She wanted the real thing. To be one man's real girlfriend, and then wife; and she wanted to have kids before it got too late, for her, to do that. She, like all of us did, really, deep down, wanted to finally find love. She told me her knees were giving out on her, also, from all the strain on them due to the way that she danced. She had been a classy Call Girl, as far as that went. I knew some of Kristal's club customers who were also her Call Girl clients from them coming into the club and despite their illicit sex life from hiring her as a prostitute they were considered to be successful men in society, with good-paying careers. This regular customer, of hers, named Don, while he had a good job and seemed to be a nice, and stable, man, on the surface, turned out to be seriously, even, dangerously, mentally, and emotionally, unbalanced! Don was a construction supervisor. He was an average-looking, middle-aged, man. Nothing seemed ominous about him, at all, as he came in to the Backdoor Lounge fairly often wearing his jeans and muddy work boots, from the construction site he worked at, to sit with Kristal. As she began to exit the dancer scene, in Omaha, for a chance at a real life as Karen (her real name), somewhere far enough away that her reputation did not, and could not, precede her, and hopefully not follow her, her regulars at the Backdoor were just left hanging, since they came to see her, there. I noticed, that Don was coming into the bar and sitting at a table all by himself as he waited for her time after time, and eventually leaving in silence while looking quite lonely, when she never showed up, to join him. None of us other girls had ever approached him to sit with him because any dancer sitting with someone else's regulars was considered a bitch and was usually dealt with in some less-than-happy way, by the dancer these guys 'belonged to', even though the club management always maintained that all customers were theirs, and therefore, fair game, to whichever dancer could sell drinks for them, by sitting at that table; regardless of which dancer the guy usually sat with.

[I had sat with a dancer's regular, when I was brand new to working at the Bittersweet, without knowing that he was one, because he didn't tell me that he was actually waiting for her when I approached him! Usually, those guys, that are a dancer's regulars, will give you a heads up by saying, "Thanks, but I am waiting for so-and-so", so you know, to leave them alone; he's hers. After all, we were required to go up to guys that entered these clubs, to talk to them and try to get them to buy us drinks, for the business.  Dancers were expected to sell our specified drink quota every shift, by these clubs.  It was money that also paid our hourly wages, among other things. Being the new girl at the Bittersweet, then, I was just trying to do a good job, with what was required of me. When I approached this man, there, he had invited me to sit with him and didn't tell me he was actually waiting for the other dancer to come out of the dressing room, to join him. So, I had no idea, until I felt several, long, sharp, talon-like fingernails digging into my flesh and scratching me from my shoulder down my back stinging my skin as they drew blood, and I turned, and saw her standing there, furious at me for sitting with HER regular! It was just TABOO, to DO, between dancers, that were not bitches; leaving her to assume that this NEW girl, ME, was a BITCH, which she dealt with according to her misunderstanding of the scene. I immediately excused myself from the customer, leaving him to her, and went to wash wounds, wishing the guy had just told me instead of putting me in that position with my new co-worker.]

So, I continued to see Don come in to the Backdoor, time after time, sitting all alone, watching the dancers, take their turns, on stage; never saying a word, to any of us, or vice versa. When he asked the waitress bringing him his drinks, about Kristal, they would only tell him each time that she was out of town, right now. It got to the point, that I felt sorry for him, because he was being strung along, by the waitress, who didn't want to risk losing her tips, from him, by telling him, that Kristal was actually in an elaborate, extended, process of trying to start a whole new life somewhere else entirely, so she could leave this one behind her--- which included him. As this went on for awhile, I felt it just wasn't right, that he didn't know that Kristal wasn't planning on ever really coming back, if she could help it, so I went over to his table and asked if I could sit with him. He seemed so lonely! Without explaining anything, about where Kristal had gone, or what she was doing (since if she'd wanted HIM to KNOW, SHE would've told him), I let him know that she might not be coming back. I offered to keep him company, in there, but with the mutual understanding that I would only sit with him until, or unless, she returned. (I knew, that she was trying to start a whole new life, in another state, but it was too soon to know, even for her, if she would actually be able to pull that off or whether she would decide to return to work at the club in Omaha. She'd left her options open.) I explained that if/when she did come back that I would, of course, immediately defer, to her, sitting with him, again. He knew, that he was her regular so he hadn't even tried to sit with any of us all those times that she was gone, and he understood that out of respect for his and Kristal's longtime bond that I would not be willing to intrude on that if she were there. He was fine with that, he said, and grateful for someone to talk to, now. Alot of times, the guys that came in were trying to distract themselves from things in their real lives that were not going well for them. These clubs were like their fantasy escape, from whatever that was. I felt sorry for him. I learned two very important things about men, the hard way, while I was a dancer: NEVER involve yourself with a man, on ANY LEVEL, because you FEEL SORRY FOR HIM, whether that comes from pity or compassion for them. I promise you, you will have cause to REALLY REGRET that decision. You WILL only end up BEARING THE BRUNT, of their ISSUES, and DYSFUNCTION, if you do that! And DON'T allow any man into your personal life that you REALLY DON'T WANT THERE. It will NOT GO WELL for YOU.

One evening as Don and I were sitting and talking in the bar between my dance sets on stage, he asked me what I was doing on my day off, and, feeling comfortable with him, at that point, I mentioned that I was going shopping, the next day, to try to find and buy a cookie press. Then, Don offered to take me, to do that, and would not take no for an answer. That, was ANOTHER thing I learned, the HARD way: NEVER TO GIVE IN to men, when they attempt to OVERRIDE MY TRUE WISHES; ESPECIALLY about MY OWN LIFE! I really didn't WANT to spend my day off with a CLUB CUSTOMER. That felt like STILL BEING AT WORK, for me. I was required, to talk to men, at WORK, ALL the time, so, when I was OFF work, I wanted, and needed, a break from that. A man's expectations from us can put a real burden on us. We DO have OUR OWN NEEDS, to attend to, as women! Men are so often TAKERS, much more, than GIVERS, which can feel like their presence, in our lives, is SUCKING THE  LIFE OUT OF US! He had seemed 'normal', still, at THAT point; just really lonely. I was trying to be a friend to him, without leading him on at all. I wasn't trying to seduce him or anything like that at all. I was completely celibate almost all of the time, all those years that I was a dancer, believe it or not, and I was no longer looking for love, in my life. I was still, always, in love with Jim Carlin, from the time that we met at Keesler Air Force Base, only I was not CONSCIOUSLY aware of that, AT ALL, until I started processing my thoughts, and emotions, about my life, and, the people in it, by writing this blog. Even though, I was not aware of that, subconsciously it was affecting my decisions about, and feelings toward, other men, and holding me back from really getting deeply involved with them.

Because Don was absolutely insistent on taking me shopping, even though I really didn't want to do that, with him, I made the grave mistake, of letting him pick me up, where I lived. He had SEEMED like such a nice guy, that I felt safe with him; and at that point we had only talked, as friends, in the bar. He had never come on to me, at all. That day, of shopping, he also seemed very sane and like he just wanted to be helpful. He was kind of annoying though; like having a puppy, always at my heels, wanting my attention, when I, really, needed some 'me' time. I was shocked and scared though the very next day, when I opened my shades, and saw him sitting outside, in his car, instead of being at work, looking up at the windows, to try to see which one was mine! Realizing THIS man was NOW a BIG problem, for me, even for this reason alone, I quickly moved away from the window, before he could see me, got dressed, and went outside, to ask him what he was doing, there! Why wasn't he at work? He said he took the day off, and wanted to spend it with me. UH OH! I was getting REALLY SCARED, now, as well as PISSED OFF. I had made no such plans with this guy. First he had not respected my wishes, about our not going on the shopping trip together, on my day off, pressuring me into it, against my better instincts, and now he clearly wasn't respecting my boundaries, regarding my private life. I also had to work later that night, and I needed SOME time to MYSELF, because this club customer had taken up my whole day off, the day before this. Don, had gotten his foot in the door, of my PRIVATE LIFE, and, was NOW trying to RAM HIMSELF into it--- and I didn't WANT him there!  I told him that I could not spend the day with him, and that he could see me in the CLUB, later.

I was REALLY starting to DREAD dealing with THIS guy, now. But, I HAD to go to WORK; and sure enough, he came in there, later that evening, with a card for me that, ironically, due to my analogy about him from our shopping trip, had a drawing of a lovesick puppy on it, in which he had written that HE LOVED ME! OMG! This guy was REALLY SCARING ME, now! He did not even really know ME! We had only talked together, in the club, except for the one, unfortunate, shopping trip. The two of us DID NOT HAVE a personal, or ROMANTIC relationship, together!  I would have HAD A SAY, in that, and I would have made my part of that obvious, and clear, to him. Only IT DIDN'T EXIST BETWEEN US! We had never held hands, hugged, looked deeply into each other's eyes, dated, NOTHING, to either create, or indicate, a LOVE CONNECTION was developing, or existing, between us. When I pointed all that out, to him, thinking rationally that SURELY, he would ACKNOWLEDGE, this FACT, he literally started SCREAMING AT ME, in full-on ANGER, right in the club, in front of everybody! He was heard screaming at me even over the very loud music, by everyone in the bar, who turned to look at the over-the-top scene he was creating. I was frozen, in fear, from this guy! I got mad, then, because I was so scared by him. We had bouncers in these bars too. I told him, in NO UNCERTAIN TERMS, that I had only started sitting with him to TRY to be NICE, because I had felt bad for him, that Kristal had left town and not even told him that; and that I had NO INTENTION, OR DESIRE, to start ANY personal, or permanent, relationship with him outside of this bar! NOR DID I OWE HIM THAT! He got even angrier at me, for that. But, I alerted the bouncer to the situation and Don backed down and left. As far as I was concerned, I was well RID of him! We had not even been sitting together, at the club, all that long, before this happened, with him. I also had never flirted, with him, or come on to him, or led him on. I hadn't wanted him getting too attached to me, in case Kristal ended up changing her mind, about moving away, for good, and came back, to work at the club. I'd been very careful, with this guy, because of that. I had only tried to be nice to him!

A couple of years later, when I was working at The Twenties, I was sitting alone on a bar stool waiting for customers, to come in, for us to have to start dancing for. Whenever, there weren't, any, which wasn't often, we either gave our high-heeled feet a much-appreciated break, or we would get up on stage and practice some new moves so that we could hopefully perfect those enough, to add to our routines, in the hope that they would get us more tips! On this particular day, the club was just opening, so it was now just after 4 o'clock in the afternoon as we began a shift which would go until 1 AM. The bouncer was nowhere in sight, at the time, because we didn't have any customers yet, for him to need to keep an eye on. Suddenly, the door opened very quickly, and in walked Don, the club customer from the Backdoor Lounge. I had not seen or spoken with him, since I told him to stay away from me, years before. He had really shaken me up back then because we had really only interacted with one another on a fairly superficial level, and for a relatively short amount of time, before he had tried to stake some, crazy, claim on some very personal, romantic, relationship, with me, that was NEVER THERE, BETWEEN US! I had only been friendly and kind, toward this man. I hadn't come on to him, or led him on, or ever hugged, kissed, or done anything sexual, at all, to give him any reason or right to have that impression, in his, definitely deluded, mind. That had been bizarre, back then!  But, it was ABOUT to get EVEN MORE SO, as he spotted where I was sitting, and walked right up to me.

He very well may have known that I worked there, at The Twenties, now, before he even came in to the club, that day, because there was a large, full-color, photo, of me on stage, along with the photos of some of the other dancers, under protective glass, on both sides of the entrance, as enticements, to draw customers in, to this nightclub; presented for all to see, right out in the open under the banner of 'LIVE ENTERTAINMENT'. There was also a gossip grapevine going between all the Go Go bars in the area, because dancers would quit or be fired from one club, and go to work at another club, and word would get back to former co-workers and customers, where they had gone. Either way, as soon as Don entered the Showgirl room, where I danced at The Twenties, he had looked right at ME. His jaw was set, and his eyes were filled with fury. Then, without hesitation, he walked up to me, knocked me right off of my bar stool, with a very scornful shove, and pushed me, against the wall, pinning me, there, with his hands around my throat. As he started to choke me he was looking right into my terrified eyes, spitting his words at me, through his unbridled, out of control, RAGE! Through a tightly clenched jaw he growled at me, "YOU! RUINED! MY! LIFE! I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU, and YOU REJECTED ME! I WENT INTO A MENTAL HOSPITAL-- FOR SIX MONTHS!-- AFTER THAT! I LOST MY JOB, OVER IT, TOO! YOU. DID THAT. TO ME!" I couldn't speak from fearing for my life as I felt his hands tightening around my neck. I could only look at him helplessly as he started to squeeze my throat with his hostile hands. Knowing that I couldn't have caused all that, didn't help, now.

One of the other dancers had gone to find the bouncer, as soon as she saw Don start shoving me around, so violently, and when he got back there, Don let go of me, and left, after sneering at me, contemptuously, "You're NOT EVEN WORTH IT!"  His hand marks stayed, on my neck, that shift, becoming bruising.  I was extremely shaken up, by all of it! He was banned, from the bar, for that, but I knew, he could always wait outside, in the dark of night, for when I came out of the club at closing time. I was very concerned that he was so out of touch with reality, as he was! So volatile!  And, so emotionally unstable! Now that this physical attack, on me, from him, had come out-of-the-blue, after I hadn't even seen him anywhere around for a couple of years, at that point, I wasn't sure what else he was capable of doing to me. He had behaved in a very irrational manner, toward me, ever since his 'declaration of love', two years earlier, followed by his angry outburst, at me, back then, when I had rebuffed him, for it, which had also been very unsettling. Because he had built up some fantasy relationship with me, in his obviously deeply troubled mind, he was carrying an enormous grudge, against me; apparently for YEARS now!  I hadn't allowed him to force his fantasy into my reality, and he didn't seem to comprehend, at all, that I had any choice or say in the matter. Even when men do not react this extremely to a woman's rejection of their intentions, toward them, many men feel entitled to have whatever it is they want, with women! They see us as being on this Earth merely as objects, often of their desire, that are therefore supposed to yield ourselves, to their whims, and wishes, rather than be free to express ourselves, as the, fully human, beings that we actually are, with minds and hearts of our own, to make choices and decisions, about our lives, independently of whatever these men may want, with us, or from us. That mindset, is the same one that is behind acts of pedophilia, rape, domestic violence, murder, and, all, of the other forms, of abuse, of females!

Luckily, I had moved, to another apartment building, in the years since I had last encountered Don's wrath toward me, at the Backdoor Lounge. So, unless he followed me home after work, at The Twenties, he would not know where I lived now. I was very jumpy for quite awhile after this incident with him. This man was CLEARLY MENTALLY UNSTABLE, and had ATTACHED HIS VOLATILE AND VICIOUS EMOTIONS to ME, making me a Scapegoat to blame for all of his unhappiness in life, which actually had little of anything, at all, to do with me! I was SURE that he hadn't even known me long enough or well enough, for ME to TRULY be the cause of THAT MUCH RAGE AND ANGUISH. He had to have made, some sort of, TRANSFERENCE, onto me; making me his sex-object-scapegoat, for whatever he felt was wrong in his life. That Scapegoat Syndrome* had also happened to me with my own family starting when I was very young, and continuing into my adult life. It would happen to me again with my last husband, a club customer from the Backdoor Lounge, who then began to treat me this way that Don was: First, transference, and then, abuse; making me suffer, as their Scapegoat, for how this world, and their lives, had let them down, or failed them, in some way, with no thought or care, about how unfair, that was, to do, to me, and how frightening, their physical rage, aimed at me, was. Dancers in these clubs have even turned up dead, after being killed, by such men as these.**

I was also at risk of harm, or worse, from the Kansas City mafia***. Twice, even; in my dancer career! Along with my best friend, Neil; the first time, it happened. Neil was the sound guy, for one of the local bands, that was sometimes booked to perform, in the large main room of The Twenties nightclub, where I was dancing, on stage, in the back, in the, smaller, more intimate, feeling, Showgirl room. That was how that nightclub was set up at the time. I remember trying to tell my mother, on a phone call, that Neil and I could, very possibly, end up dead. Be found floating in the Missouri River at the hands of the mafia. Because, at the time it seemed a very real possibility. But, she just dismissed it, like she always did, with, virtually, everything else, I tried, to talk to her about, regarding my life. My narcissistic mother would, typically, do one, of two, things, whenever (against my better instincts, since I well knew how she was toward me)  I would continue trying to have an interactive relationship, with her, in spite of it all. She would either discredit me, or dismiss whatever it was, I was saying to her, as being of no concern, to her, for her to even try to hear me out, or show any care, concern, or compassion, toward me. The mafia involvement, during my dancer career, was luckily short-lived, though; and actually, they handled it really well, the FIRST time. Even kind of classy, considering how it could have gone otherwise. I both appreciated, and respected, that, coming from them. Their showing up in my life was actually related to another assault, on me, that also happened at The Twenties.

Dancers always say things, about other dancers, to other dancers. Especially, if the dancer is getting on their nerves for some reason, on any particular night. Usually, back in the dressing room, when a couple to a few of the girls would end up there at the same time, at some point during the evening. For some reason, which I have never been able to understand, about my life, though, co-workers of mine and others I've known have always held me, individually, to a higher standard than they even hold themselves; and have caused trouble for me, if I 'slip off' that imposed 'paragon of virtue' pedestal which they perched me up on, even ONCE, and say or do anything less than they expect of me. In fact, whenever I fail, to maintain that lofty pose, either accidentally or on purpose, because I'm human just like they are, the retribution toward me--- comparatively speaking--- is usually TWICE as SEVERE for my behaving only HALF as wrongly as THEY typically would, or do, behave THEMSELVES. These same people, that DO THIS, TO ME, know damn well that they don't live up to anything CLOSE to that standard that THEY have set for ME. That doesn't stop them, from doing it, though, which I have both really noticed, and deeply resented, in my life. So, one night, I came in the dressing room and ALL I said, was that I wish the new girl, Pam, would pay some attention to the ACTUAL BEAT of the songs, she was dancing to, so her MOVEMENTS, on stage, would at least line up, with THAT.  I admit, I felt resentful, toward her, because management had put me, personally, and directly, in charge of taking her under my wing, so to speak, and teaching her the business, when they hired her. So now, her progress or lack of it reflected on me in that way. But she was just very inept, as a dancer. Also, she did something, when she was off stage, that put all of our jobs in jeopardy, which had become maddening, to me, too; because, no matter what I said, about it, she continually allowed customers to touch her, when she was sitting at the tables, with them, in ways that could have gotten the liquor license pulled by the liquor commission and our club closed down by the cops and then the city, which would cost all of us our jobs and our money we made there. Still, despite how stressed Pam caused me to feel, about her presence there, the comment I made about her lack of rhythm was ALL that I said, though. All in all, it was the most innocuous observation ANY dancer had EVER been overheard to say about ANOTHER.

Even so, one of the dancers, that was in the dressing room, at the time, in this group of about four of us, Erin, who was also kind of the prankster, and, generally, the jerk, in this group, just couldn't wait to run tell Pam that Stevie said that about her. Whatever she told Pam about it--- which may, or may not, have been exaggerated, or even lied about, by her--- caused the girl's feelings to be hurt, so deeply, apparently, that she went to Faith, the bartender, in tears, about it; then actually left work, for the rest of the shift. No other dancer had ever done that before in similar circumstances. >sigh!< It was what it was, now. Faith, happened to be one of Mickey's original club dancers at 'Mickey's', his first Go Go bar, in downtown Omaha (which was where my husband Jim had taken me on one of our nights out several years earlier when I was very pregnant, with our son, Jay. I recalled seeing Faith dancing there, after I met her, later, at The Twenties, only I didn't actually know her, back when she danced). When she felt that she had aged out of dancing, she had started bartending for Mickey, instead (after he closed Mickey's downtown; although he still had the Razzle Dazzle in Council Bluffs, Iowa, and The Twenties, in Omaha). She still wasn't old, by any means, though. Faith was a well-built, and fairly pretty, woman. She was also, widely known, as being, "Mickey's girl". His favorite, who 'had his ear', and, most likely, at least one or two more of his body parts, than that, according to the gossip.

Faith was no saint, herself, to be sure. I hesitate to diverge too deeply, here, into any detailed description, of her, because the thing that I am trying to explain right now is how it came to be that I got onto the radar, of actual mafia members, who came after me, for a short time, which was extremely anxiety-producing for both me and Neil, who was only included because of his 'guilt by association', by the mafia, simply because HE was MY BEST FRIEND, back then. To give you some idea, of who Faith was, as a person, though, so you can see better, who I was dealing with in this situation, that developed between the two of us (over Pam, that Erin set in motion) I will give you one example of how Faith's mind computed decisions that she made--- one of which I became a victim of; in this instance I am telling you about, regarding the mafia: Faith had gotten pregnant by one of the men she slept with, and didn't want the baby. So, her solution to this problem was to keep snorting so much Cocaine, that she would cause herself to miscarry the baby, which is exactly what happened. She told me this herself; very casually, and without compunction. Before I ever even knew she had been pregnant, though, I used to see her, and her co-bartender, on the busy weekend nights, divide the Cocaine into two lines, right out in the open, on the back counter of the bar, and bend over and quickly snort that into their nostrils. I even saw Denny, Mickey's manager at The Twenties, do a line with them once. One night, he was screaming, at them, after the club closed, accusing them both, of being so high, that they were barely functioning in their bartending duties. I recall wondering, as I went, from the ladies room, to the dressing room, to get dressed to go home, that night, and walked past them, while they all three slurred and snarled at one another, behind the bar, why people describe doing drugs as getting a great high that feels really good, to them, when these three, who did drugs, all, sounded so angry, and unhappy, while under the influence, of the Cocaine.

So, this same Faith, had now turned on me, because of that one comment I had made, in the dressing room, about Pam's lack of rhythm, when she danced; which Erin repeated. Because Pam got her feelings hurt, and cried, when Erin told her whatever she told her, that I had said, about moving her body to the actual beat of the songs she danced to, on stage, Faith had put me into the BITCH category now (even though she was one herself) which in her mind meant that some kind of repercussions needed to be dealt out to me according to the 'Street Justice' mentality, that bar folks often adhered to, due to their skewed moral sensibilities. Out of all the dancer comments I EVER heard MADE about one dancer by another dancer, that was on the negative, critical, side, my comment was MUCH GENTLER than ANY or ALL, of those others! There wasn't even any NAME CALLING in it. Still, the new girl, Pam, had cried to Faith about it, and then left work early that night, with most of the shift still to go, in a pity party pout about it. So, now, Faith was determined to deal with me, on Pam's behalf. Near the end of the night, during the last song, I decided to go to the ladies room. I recall, that I didn't really have to pee, that badly, but for some reason, I just decided to still go ahead and do it. I felt vaguely uneasy, simply from knowing Faith was not speaking to me anymore, when we had always conversed together, prior to this, current, situation regarding Pam. I couldn't get a feel for whatever it was that was coming, from that, although I sensed that something surely was. I had seen how this stuff went down, in these bars. Pam wasn't there, to settle it with, and I didn't really think I had done anything really wrong. I had made one accurate observation about Pam's complete lack of rhythm. It wasn't even a criticism as much as it was just an honest observation that anyone in the Showgirl room of The Twenties might well have made, about her. Yes, I said it, out loud, to other girls, in the dressing room. Just like other comments had been made about every one of us, in there, at times. But MINE, about Pam, was as TAME, a comment, as any dancer had ever made, about another, including what was said to, and about, me, when I was the new girl and learning the ropes at the Razzle. I had also spent several weeks, by that point, personally doing everything, that I could, to help Pam learn and adjust to the business, because Mickey's mother, Angie, had tasked me with that direct responsibility when Pam was hired. No one else. Just ME. Now, ONE statement, about her lack of beat-keeping movements, on stage, and ALL that was, completely, ignored by her, and Faith. I was some BITCH, now, to be dealt with for it.

The ladies room in the Showgirl was right off the room where the stage was. It was very small, and only had one toilet and sink, so we tended not to lock the door, because other girls, many of whom were drunk, would just start pounding on it trying to get in, even though they couldn't even use the toilet while someone else was still sitting on it. They would, usually, just stand by the sink, and chat about how the night was going. I had just gone in, and was starting to cover the toilet seat with paper, to prepare to sit on it, when I heard the door open behind me. I said, "You can go first if you have to go badly!", to whoever it was, that had just come in there, right after I did, but there was no answer from them, so I turned and looked behind me, to see who  it was. It was Faith. We had always gotten along before this incident with Pam and I had been blown up into something way out of proportion, by Erin, who was always the one that seemed friendly enough to your face, but in reality was often just looking for some way to start trouble, just because, she was bored, and drama really amused her. Because Pam had cried, about it, Faith had made it clear, that she was mad at me, for that, although I had hoped she would get past it because what I had said was critique, more than criticism. But she didn't. She'd walked in to the ladies room right behind me, after she had apparently been watching and waiting, for this moment with me, when she could come out, from behind the bar, and confront me one on one. We were all alone in this room, just the two of us, with the extremely loud music booming just outside the door. The door, that she was blocking, now, when she grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head down toward the toilet first. I managed to 'keep my head above water', as they say, so she then tried to hit my head against the wall. All I could think of was, DO NOT FIGHT BACK! DO NOT HIT HER, OR LEAVE A MARK, ON HER! PRAY THAT SHE DOESN'T CUT, OR BRUISE, HER HAND, AS SHE BEATS THE CRAP OUT, OF YOU, BECAUSE THIS HAS NO WITNESSES! SHE, COULD SAY THAT YOU, STARTED IT, WITH HER! THIS--- IS-- MICKEY'S--- GIRL!!! DO NOT TOUCH HER, AT ALL, IN  FEAR  OF  YOUR  LIFE! So, as she then began punching me in the gut, I still did not do one thing, to fight back. I didn't even cry. I just took the beating, from her, as best I could, knowing that, because, it was Faith, and I also worked for Mickey, I really had no choice. Dancers, got into 'slap downs', with one another, at times, in these clubs, and there were even some physical attacks on one another, every once in a while, especially where egos, drinking, and drugs were involved, but it was almost always at least a fair fight, where they both, threw their punches, and had their say, and that was that. But, THIS, was NOT THAT! THIS was FAITH--- 'MICKEY'S GIRL'! So I DARE NOT touch her!

It had long been rumored, that Mickey not only had mob connections, but that he had actually murdered his own wife to get himself free of his marital relationship and responsibilities, when he stopped coaching, kids' sports, and got into the Go Go bar business. I had even heard that he had promised his son alot of money, to take the fall, for the murder of his mother, and go to prison, in his father's place. How much of that was TRUE, of those whispers that I had always heard, about Mickey, I had NO IDEA. But, I wasn't going to risk harming 'Mickey's Girl' in ANY way, especially because of those rumors, and because I worked for him, too. So, I stood, and took it, as Faith beat the crap out of me, in the ladies room, that night, until I finally sank to the floor, so beaten up by her that I thought I would pass out, from the pain. Once I went down, to the floor, she started kicking me, with her sharp, pointy, high-heeled shoes. Again, and, again, and, again. She kicked me in the abdomen, and finally, in the teeth. After saying to me, with a self-satisfied sneer, "That is for PAM", she left me, lying on the bathroom floor, and went back out. Struggling to get onto my knees, I weakly pushed the ladies room door open, and the first face I saw was Erin's, who had caused the situation, and this beating by Faith, that I just took, by running to tell Pam, what I'd said, about her needing to try to focus on the beat of the song, when she danced--- or perhaps, even something, way worse, sounding, that she embellished, for effect--- making Pam cry, which made Faith come after me. As our eyes met, Erin saw me kneeling, on the floor, with blood coming from my nose, and mouth, and barely the strength in me to push open the door, as I said, weakly, to her, "Help me!", but she just stayed where she was, sitting at a table, with a smug smile on her face when she saw me. She might have even chosen that spot to sit in to have a ringside seat, to what Faith went into the ladies room to do to me. Even so, believe it or not, Erin was never an enemy to me, personally, in any way. She just didn't give a damn, about anyone else, and she loved to stir up drama, any time, any way, and with anyone, that she could; just to watch the crap that unfolded, from that, and know that she had instigated it all. She genuinely enjoyed doing that! It made her day. Some people, are like that. I have NO idea WHY; what makes them like that. Perhaps Erin was a narcissist. God knows, I seem to get victimized by those, in my life. The bottom line though, with her, was that SHE JUST LIKED TO START TROUBLE. Whether that was from her own insecurities, or from her just being a bitch, or whatever, I can't say, for sure. She just did that. Whenever she could. She once tried to pull a long wig, I wore one night, right off my head just before I was going up on stage to dance, as she sat at a nearby table with some guy, behind where I was standing. I heard her say, to him, "Watch this!", and then I felt a hard tug, on my wig. Luckily, I had pinned it securely to my hair so that it didn't budge. Erin was simply an opportunistic JERK. If she saw a chance to trip someone, ANYONE, just to cause them to fall, she was that kind of person, for whatever reason. And now, because of that, I was left to slowly struggle, to pull myself up from off the floor; badly beaten, and bloody, and she was thrilled, she had created this much drama.

[NOTE: This, August, post is Part One of a Two Part post that I have written for this blog on this specific subject matter, about the dangers of being a dancer. This post is twenty paragraphs long, and I have an equal number of paragraphs for the post next month, in September, in order to fully finish covering this one particular aspect of my dancer experience. By no means have I--- even yet, after several posts, now--- covered all there is for me to say and share, here, about those years that I worked in the nightclubs, and how that career affected my life! Therefore, I will continue on with this, in the next post. Thank you, for taking this journey, with me, through my life and all its memorable experiences. I am glad you are here with me! Please feel free to Comment under any posts that you may wish to. I would love to know your thoughts, or about some of your experiences, that may be similar, or even different. I have readers in 33 countries now, and as I see you are reading what I have written about my life, here in my blog, I often wonder what your lives have been like. Especially, during this worldwide pandemic that is affecting all of us on this Earth. God bless you! - Love, Deb]

* Scapegoating is the practice of singling out a person or group for unmerited blame and consequent negative treatment.

** This is just one example, from many, sadly, of what I am referring to: "Lakewood man charged with killing strip club dancer found dead in motel bathroom - Investigators first considered Hector’s death suspicious, but an initial autopsy couldn’t determine the cause of her death. The medical examiner found faint abrasions on her neck, but couldn’t confirm if she had been strangled. There were no signs of a struggle and Hector was found naked, according to the autopsy report. Later tests confirm that she had been strangled."  https://www.denverpost.com/2019/04/24/lakewood-homicide-strip-club/

*** Kansas City Crime Family:
Founding location Kansas City, Missouri, United States
Years active 1912–present
Territory Kansas City metropolitan area and the entire states of Missouri, and Nebraska, as well as Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Oklahoma and Washington, D.C.
The Kansas City mob still has some gambling and loansharking with some extortion involving drugs and the strip club industry'  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kansas_City_crime_family

My Evolution, Or Devolution, Into 'Stevie'

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/)