The dressing room for my club is fairly small. The walls are painted a purplish pink with dark plum star appliqués, a look we all voted for a few years ago when they were remodeling it. Before that it was a sickly taupe-yellow. The lights are fluorescent and harsh, making an even make up job very difficult. I’ve seen clubs with vanity lighting and booths for the girls, but this club is ghetto so you have to deal with what you get. A line of lockers spans the middle of the room with benches in front of them, and large mirrors and a counter line the wall.
Space is limited, and chairs are even more limited. Most of them are broken plastic lawn chairs that leave lines imprinted on your ass, and some are the nice velvet ones that are leftover from the floor. A nice chair and a good spot on the counter are valuable commodities.
I arrived fairly early to secure my spot at the mirror. I like to be right in the corner near the door, allowing me to spread out more and hear the DJ announce my stage. If you leave your spot you leave your clothes on the chair and bag on the counter so people won’t take the spot.
I sat in my corner, curling my hair under the annoying lights. The dressing room was quite full, and there was very little room left. A new girl walked it, knocked a girls clothes off of her chair, and took her spot.
I didn’t say anything, but I smirked a little. Strippers are fucking crazy, and this would probably start a fight. The new girl was being dangerously cocky, she knew what she was doing. Breaking the stripper code, we’re very possessive of our shit.
Suzie, one of the clubs veterans and the owner of that chair, walked in a few minutes later. Messing with a veteran is a stupid idea, because if she gets in a fight every single other girl at the club would be there to back her up.
She walked up to the new girl…
Suzie: that’s my chair.
New Girl: I don’t see your name on it.
(Suzie kicked at her clothes on the floor)
Suzie: no but you saw my shit on it.
Suzie pulled the chair out from under the girl, sending her sprawling on the floor. New Girl sprang right back up, and pushed Suzie into the lockers.
New Girl: cunt!
Suzie threw the new girl into the counter, and New Girl took a wild swing at her face. Within seconds three other girls were on top of her, throwing punches like the seasoned fighters strippers tend to be. It lasted a few seconds, and New Girl stood up crying with a bloody nose. She threw on her clothes and ran out of the club… Never to be seen again.
Ah, strippers. The ultimate in volatile cat fighters.