I wasn’t always as one client put it, the “Goddess of Erotica”. It took some time, hard mental gymnastics and hefty dose of disassociation. At first I was doing it solely for the money. My first show was at Seascape. In one of those big houses, it was a gated community. Jim came with me as my driver, and a guy in his mid 50‘s opened the door. He walked me up the stairs to his bedroom (one of five) and Jim waited down stairs. At this time my rules had not been established yet. He laid down on his bed and I started my music. He said that wasn't necessary. I was confused. Well if I wasn't going to dance what, was, I going to do? I thought. He reached for my breasts, and asked me for a hand job. I refused. Trying to skirt the issue I said I would prefer to dance, and turned on the music. In the end he ended up fondling me for the better part of the hour and then I finally gave in and gave him what he wanted. At least for a little while. Finally the hour was up and I gathered my things and went back down stairs. He showed us to the door and said good night . When we got back to the car I told Jim that that guy didn't even tip me and I even gave him a hand job. Jim looked shocked, he said “you did what?”. “I thought thats what I was supposed to do” I said. He was flabbergasted. Apparently there was some sort of misunderstanding. I interpreted the polices incorrectly, and he actually, really didn't want me doing that stuff. Well phew, that was a relief. After that experience I could tell I needed a lot more training in the field. I inquired to Jim about what I was supposed to do, and he was useless. I had to learn the ropes myself. The building of Felicia was one of trail and error. What it took for me to have guy after guy lick whipped cream off my boobs, is absolutely boggling to me now. But it was only a matter of time, before it became about as personal to me, as shaking hands. Bitter sweet. These days when I fall in love with a particularly awesome song, I miss that time in my life. Sometimes I just miss using dance to expel my shadow spirits. I miss being idolized. I realize now that those men became just as captivated by me, as I had once, been captivated by Kim. It was a very powerful feeling. Being powerful, was especially healing. I was in charge, and they looked at me like I was to good to be true, and in their minds I was.
After a couple of two girl shows and acquiring a little more confidence, I began learning tricks to make more money, become less self-conscious, and make sure I left with a smile on my face. I discovered what kind of props I needed to accomplish this. I was shlepping a huge duffle bag with a cd player, whipped cream, lotion, baby-wipes, chocolate syrup, a multitude of outfits, extra shoes, prosthetic penis, vibrator, a strobe light, candles (mexican in glass) and a sheet to every show. I would often frequent the Safeway across the street from my house, 3 times during the weekend to restock my whipped cream. I’m sure at some point they began to wonder what I was using it for.
Remembering those songs, how I moved. Feeling like my movement was finally revealing a space for me to breathe, beneath the the pounds of emotions that kept me buried for my whole life. I loved to dance. Not the kinda dancing you do with friends, the interruptive kind unobstructed, unadulterated dance. I loved to let my self hang on the the notes, to emphasize where the next move was going. I could get lost in the momentum and let go a any self-criticism. Dancing was saving my soul. Little by little, the child in me was being protected by this new found warrior I possessed, named Felicia. But as Felicia became stronger the child inside just got more timid, as now she had someone to shelter her.
I ofter referred to it as interactive movement because most of the time I was straddling or about to straddle a guy sitting on a chair, laying on the floor, or laying in a bed. I could do backwards summersaults off their laps, and suspend in mid- air with just my feet hooked on their chair. I would walk around them and they became somewhat of a center piece or a focal point of my dance. The music I picked was completely representational of my art. My audience didn't care what kind of music it was, as long as it was genuine. It was beautiful. I think thats what the guys liked about me. I meant it. I know it sounds like Im just trying to desexualize what most people consider to be equitable to prostitution, but its true. Once I got in the zone, the only thing that I cared about was captivating their attention and being compensated for my efforts.
One trick was having chocolate syrup races. I would lay on the floor naked and draw two lines from my toes up to my nipples, then two guys one on each side of me on their knees, would race liking off the syrup until one reached the top. Whoever won got to race the next guy free, and the new contestant would pay $20 to participate. That was the trick, to keep the money flowing like some kind of indecent pulley system. I did it with lap dances too. I would tell the first guy that some one had anonymously bought him a lap dance, and when it was over suggest he buy one for someone else. Peer pressure was one of my greatest tools. If problems arose with one of the guys, all I had to do was make him look like he was cheep, disrespectful or a party-pooper in-front of his friends, and he would always fall back into line. These mind tricks were like some form of brainwashing, where everybody won. I would leave the show feeling like super-woman. I experienced a sense of fullness and it appealed to my extreme nature. I would work super hard for hours starting at seven pm and sometimes not get home till 3am of for or, even as the sun was coming up. I could pull in $1000 in one night. Typical Saturdays were $400 -$800 dollars. And then a few shows during the week nights for spending money. I was ALWAYS on call. But it was feast or famine. Summers were often the busy season, with most people getting married in the summer. Holidays were often a buzz kill for most people. as they spent them with family. The winter was considered the off season.
I needed to find the balance between what I was comfortable giving up, and what I kept to myself. For me my neck was the sacred space. No neck kissing touching or licking ...ever. That place was saved for me. My feet, legs, butt, thighs, stomach, ribs, boobs, chest, arms, head, shoulders, knees and toes were all fair game, as long as they made a payment. Thats usually why I brought a driver to the bigger parties. I needed someone I could trust who could be my banker and keep track of my money.
I had would state the rules and once every one was clear. My bouncer would turn off the lights. The strobe light made every motion look dramatic and overstated. Often the guys would just stare in awe. I would often walk with pride and strength like I was puffing out my feathers to show them my confidence. I approached the bachelor crossing one leg over the other until I reached his knees. Just at the right moment I would jump onto the bachelors lap straddling him slowly going up and down. I then would wrap my arms around his neck, lean back and circle right up to his face. Step off, straddle them backwards and somersault off their lapp. The first 3 songs were all about the bachelor, he got every thing free. Although, I would, try to convince his friends to stuff bills in his pants, shirt, socks, whatever.
There was a couple of times Garp came with me, when I went to dance. Once he came in and another time he waited outside. He was pretty concerned about me going alone, so he said he would go with me if I ever needed it. I had other drivers as well, but there were often times the calls came in late at night and on short notice, so if it was just a single guy or a small number I would usually go on my own.
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