Extra, Extra read all about it!
Oooh look what happens when Tesco and WHsmith clap their hands and say they didnt like the old yellow shoe cover either. Yep it has changed, funny that.
Penguin wll not listen to me but will listen to the buyers.. ummmm
I am trying not to be all smug, honest (not that anyone would hear me say 'I told you so' here)
Big huge kiss to people at Tesco and WH Smith xxx
I better get cracking and get my second book finished for them now.
Cripes! as the deadline has gone. Naughty me!
I am in so much troubble, now if I could just get men to put me down for a few days I might be able to finish it.
The Second book picks up from where the first one left off with me moveing to London and is about what happened when I got there.
From book 1:
Well, the grand total at the end of the night said it all really.
I earned ￡50. I got to keep all of it because it was my first day, but I hated every moment of it.
What’s the point in teasing men?
Taking their money and then not being able to have my wicked way with them?
I went back to the hotel room to shower and scrub myself. I felt dirty and cheap, and my mind was buzzing. I didn’t know how the girls on stage did it . . . hats off to them . . . or should that be pants off?
Definitely not my kind of thing, and there was so much bitching.
Maybe it was just that club? Maybe a bit more of an upmarket one would be better? Whatever the set-up elsewhere, I decided stripping would be deeply frustrating.
I had hoped I’d earn enough to cover what I would have missd out earning at the house in my absence, the cost of a cab home and still make a profit, but no such luck.
I returned the following night to see if it would be any better, but it wasn’t. I earned ￡80, good for a new girl, so I am told, but the house took ￡40 and my parking cost ￡20, so I felt even worse.
But it was decision time – should I stay at the house and work full-time now my course was finished and hope the situation improved and that my regs kept me ticking over until business picked up again, or should I take this way out and a chance to move to London for more adventure?
I opted for London and a fresh start and called up the manageress at the strip club to say I’d take the job, but I needed to sort out somewhere to stay in London first.
She gave me the phone number of one of her dancers, Claudia, as she had a room to let in Holborn, fairly near the club. I arranged to go and meet Claudia one afternoon in London so I could see the flat. She seemed a bit aloof, but her English was quite bad so it was hard to judge.
The flat was in a red-bricked council block close to Oxford Street, small and bare, but OK. My proposed room was poky, with a mattress on the floor and not much else, but I could move in two weeks’ time. Claudia was a tall, skinny, brunette ex-model (or so she said) from Russia, with a real attitude. She was here to learn English and was ‘just dancing’ at the club (I was snootily informed) to pay her way, but I got the impression there was a sugar daddy floating around in the background.
The flat was immaculate, although there wasn’t any stuff around to make it untidy. The windows in the lounge didn’t even have curtains, and a bare light bulb hung from every ceiling, but that could all be fixed. I shook her bony hand and said I would take it. It felt like the right thing to do for the short term, even though the weekly rent was more than I paid per month with Layla and Sanita....(To be Continued in Extra Confessions of a Working Girl)
Penguin wll not listen to me but will listen to the buyers.. ummmm
I am trying not to be all smug, honest (not that anyone would hear me say 'I told you so' here)
Big huge kiss to people at Tesco and WH Smith xxx
I better get cracking and get my second book finished for them now.
Cripes! as the deadline has gone. Naughty me!
I am in so much troubble, now if I could just get men to put me down for a few days I might be able to finish it.
The Second book picks up from where the first one left off with me moveing to London and is about what happened when I got there.
From book 1:
Well, the grand total at the end of the night said it all really.
I earned ￡50. I got to keep all of it because it was my first day, but I hated every moment of it.
What’s the point in teasing men?
Taking their money and then not being able to have my wicked way with them?
I went back to the hotel room to shower and scrub myself. I felt dirty and cheap, and my mind was buzzing. I didn’t know how the girls on stage did it . . . hats off to them . . . or should that be pants off?
Definitely not my kind of thing, and there was so much bitching.
Maybe it was just that club? Maybe a bit more of an upmarket one would be better? Whatever the set-up elsewhere, I decided stripping would be deeply frustrating.
I had hoped I’d earn enough to cover what I would have missd out earning at the house in my absence, the cost of a cab home and still make a profit, but no such luck.
I returned the following night to see if it would be any better, but it wasn’t. I earned ￡80, good for a new girl, so I am told, but the house took ￡40 and my parking cost ￡20, so I felt even worse.
But it was decision time – should I stay at the house and work full-time now my course was finished and hope the situation improved and that my regs kept me ticking over until business picked up again, or should I take this way out and a chance to move to London for more adventure?
I opted for London and a fresh start and called up the manageress at the strip club to say I’d take the job, but I needed to sort out somewhere to stay in London first.
She gave me the phone number of one of her dancers, Claudia, as she had a room to let in Holborn, fairly near the club. I arranged to go and meet Claudia one afternoon in London so I could see the flat. She seemed a bit aloof, but her English was quite bad so it was hard to judge.
The flat was in a red-bricked council block close to Oxford Street, small and bare, but OK. My proposed room was poky, with a mattress on the floor and not much else, but I could move in two weeks’ time. Claudia was a tall, skinny, brunette ex-model (or so she said) from Russia, with a real attitude. She was here to learn English and was ‘just dancing’ at the club (I was snootily informed) to pay her way, but I got the impression there was a sugar daddy floating around in the background.
The flat was immaculate, although there wasn’t any stuff around to make it untidy. The windows in the lounge didn’t even have curtains, and a bare light bulb hung from every ceiling, but that could all be fixed. I shook her bony hand and said I would take it. It felt like the right thing to do for the short term, even though the weekly rent was more than I paid per month with Layla and Sanita....(To be Continued in Extra Confessions of a Working Girl)
posted by Miss S at
00:49
