“Going to jail for trafficking cocaine actually made me a happier person. I was way angrier before that happened. I didn’t like people. I didn’t want people talking to me. I didn’t want people touching me. Inside jail I learned that you don’t have family and you don’t have real friends because none of them is ever going to be there for you.”

Hardly a day goes by without someone asking me how much money the strippers make. The whole subject of stripper money takes on myth-like proportions reaching the urban legend category.

Some strip clubs know how to create a platform to maximize a girls’ earning potential. What you are about to learn can run contrary to what some other club owners believe. Nevertheless, my feeling is that the more a stripper takes home the better. Sure, it’s great for the dancer but it’s even better for the club owner simply because it brings popular and satisfied entertainers back into the club night after night.

There are as many different formulas for extracting money from the dancers as there are strip clubs. Every club owner has his own notion of what works best for his business. One thing that most strip club owners have in common is their belief that each dancer should pay her own way by compensating the club for the business opportunity. That is, no stripper leaves the premises without devoting a portion of the money she picks up to the strip club. After all, most owners agree, the strippers will not have a forum on which they can preach if not for the strip clubs.

First, the owner provides a safe and secure location at which a stripper can ply her trade. He offers a steady and reliable venue for patrons to visit and therefore brings together both the buyer and seller in a trustworthy business environment; something very similar to what the Internet giant, eBay, does for its’ trading customers.

EBay certainly deserves some income for setting up and maintaining a worldwide trading place. Yet, seldom does a week go by without me personally listening to a stripper rant and rave about the injustice of strip clubs retaining a portion of their money.

I never hear a mature, experienced, professional stripper complain about the club taking a small portion of her nightly earnings. The skilled girls clearly understand the partnership concept and even though they may be reluctant to give up a percentage of their earnings, they go along with the program without protest.

It’s usually the younger, more beautiful strippers taking home thousands of dollars nightly who register their annoyance with me. It never fails to amaze me when a very young girl without any formal training or education, unable to earn much more than minimum wage in any other job, will complain about paying a relatively small fee to the business that creates the opportunity for her to take home that thousands of dollars night after night.

Over the years, I’ve experimented

Any woman exuding sexiness combined with only a measly amount of brains and common sense can have the world by the proverbial tail. There’s no shortage of women but good-looking girls are in demand in every nook and cranny of every city of America. It’s exactly why beautiful strip club entertainers are a rarity. So, when you do come across a dancer here and there who has the physical qualities to grace some area other than a man’s crotch; you better ask yourself which of her dysfunctions you’re willing to suffer.

When my pals and I walk into any shopping mall, inevitably, I’m able to point out the topless dancers with uncanny certainty. Typically, my buddies will elbow me when they spot a good-looking girl prancing through the mall with “She’s a stripper, isn’t she?”  They’re almost always wrong. Most guys interpret the blond bombshell with hyper-inflated boobs, and a tight ass; outfitted in the “too-short” top and “body-hugging” shorts while bouncing on five-inch heels as a nighttime pole dancer. Not so, say I. First of all, most strippers know better than to brazenly identify themselves to the straight community as sex workers. There are zero benefits to being stared at as the center act of a shopping mall freak show.

Second, today’s and even yesteryear’s strippers are basically plain looking with very average readings on the attractiveness scale. My educated guess is that eighty percent of strip club dancers rate no more than a six on the beauty bar. Of the remaining twenty percent, virtually all of them hover between two and three, meaning you will hope they pass you by whether you’re in a strip club or a public restaurant. The remaining tiny portion, the one half of one percent of all entertainers are attractive enough to do most anything it wishes.

The drop-dead gorgeous pole dancers know from their own personal experience to dress down when going out in public. Over-sized sweats or frumpy pants and large hats are the costumes of the day for these Princesses of the Poles. The last thing these girls want is more attention.

After a full night of idolization and applause by salivating

Beautiful, even attractive, young girls are in demand in every job type and all professions regardless whether the girl has any attributes qualifying for the job, other than her good looks. I’m not charting any new ground here by recognizing that female beauty and sexuality sell everything from breakfast cereal to dump trucks.

The media exploit a woman’s sexuality because consumers notice. The sight of a beautiful woman in advertising electrifies the shoppers antennae and the more eyeballs an advertiser can attract, the more sales, more business, and more profits. Frankly, and to the point, it’s the shapely curvature of a woman that makes the advertising world go round.

Any woman exuding sexiness combined with only a measly amount

“Whatever the guy wants, you know, and if I feel comfortable and if I wanna do it and if the price is right then I’ll do it. I know it’s not legal. It’s not legal anywhere in the country but it’s behind closed doors. Also, I don’t give blowjobs because I hate them. And I don’t kiss. I’ve never used a condom. I get tested all the time. I have big concerns.”

Alex

Hometown: Spokane, Washington       Age: 25

Height: 5’6”        Weight: 120

Measurements: Bust: 34, Waist: 25, Hips: 34

In the meantime, I have begun to date Ivy. She is young, still only a teenager, and decades younger than me, but I am totally infatuated with her. Ivy understands that the way to my wallet is through my heart. So, with Ivy’s kiss here and a stroke there it seems like the most natural thing in the world for me to not only to rent a luxurious apartment for her, but to furnish it completely as well; not just the sofas, tables and chairs, but the towels, appliances, and dishes too.

I enjoy spending a quiet evening with Ivy. Her apartment is comfortable and she makes me feel right at home. One night while we’re lounging, watching TV, I notice a heavy object sitting inside the open top drawer of her bedside table. A closer look reveals that she’s packing a pistol. “Hey Ivy,” I ask, “what’s up with the gun?” I don’t remember or didn’t quite decipher her answer but she promises to get rid of the weapon the next day.

About a week later, I drive over to Las Vegas’ McCarran Airport, just a five-minute jaunt from my home, to pick up two of my Los Angeles bankers who are considering lending me some millions of dollars to expand my casino operations. They’re in town to complete their due diligence inspection of my properties and to develop a personal opinion of me and my lifestyle. As bankers and financial people have told me many times, “Money is loaned to a person as much to a business. The honesty and integrity of the individual means as much or more to us as do the financial statements of the business.”

At curbside, the older of the executive lenders, the Senior Vice President, gets into the front and his younger assistant seats himself in the rear of my Mercedes Sedan. While driving them to their rooms at Caesars Palace, the Vice-President in the rear, picks up one of Ivy’s misplaced possessions; her fully loaded 9mm semi-automatic handgun and says to me “Say, Herb, must be one of your kids toys. Sure looks real.”

 “Oh my God,” I scream,

Trouble brews early but I’m not aware of Ivy’s penchant for criminal activity until a couple months after her arrival. Within hours of first planting her feet on my Las Vegas stage, Ivy whisks a high roller into the darkened VIP room and smothers him under her ethereal love, using the capable assistance of a few bottles of Dom Perignon. When the high roller runs out of cash, Ivy persuades her customer to charge some Dancing Dollars, our in-house currency, to his Platinum American Express credit card.

The tipsy and lusting gentleman readily gives Ivy his personal password and the “OK” to charge $2000 to his credit card. Ivy, however, charges $12,000, ten thousand dollars more than her customer authorizes. Then, without her customer’s knowledge, Ivy pockets the entire twelve grand; two thousand he’s gifting to her for whatever favors she’s bestowing on him and the ten thousand dollars she gifting to herself.

A customer’s denial of a particular charge to his credit card

Her real name is Ivy. Her dancing name is Innocent. I call her Incorrigible. Everyone has a soft spot for someone who doesn’t deserve it. For better or worse my heart melts for Ivy. In this case, it is for the worse.

Ivy’s family is composed of true southern crackers from a small Kentucky town. Ivy herself is the fourth of seven children born to a dirt-poor coal-mining mom and dad. Ivy will agree that only half of that statement is true. Dirt poor is a right-on description but neither her father nor two uncles have mined any coal in years.

She escaped her destiny of an early marriage and a passel of kids by sneaking away from home at age fourteen to a life of go-go dancing and stripping at some of the sleaziest, god-awful clubs ever perpetrated on the Southern male.  Yet, Ivy’s natural effervescence, her love of life and living in the moment overcame the filthy, backwoods bars. Her beauty and personality are infectious. Everyone around Ivy naturally hops on her bandwagon.

When she pops into Las Vegas

The more difficult problems concern the dancers very private lives. I know from my own five years of therapy always to act as the dancer’s advocate, and to help her make her own decisions regarding her family and love situations. Whether a pregnant stripper should have an abortion seems to be a common problem. Whether to leave the good-for-nothing husband or super jealous boyfriend who is beating the dancer regularly is an issue shared by too many of the girls.

A somewhat common and very consequential stripper problem focuses on whether the dancer should give up custody of their children to the father or grandparents who are outraged by the dancer’s vocation. The dancers themselves may be caring and responsible single moms but, regardless, the relatives usually feel that no stripper can properly care for a child. More times than not, the dancers chose to stay in stripping and fight the legal battles, which many eventually lose.

As the owner of strip clubs on the East Coast and West, I have known thousands of topless dancers on a much more intimate level than a typical employer will come to know his or her employees. Understandably, when a girl takes her clothes off in front of another person night after night, when she stands naked before her boss, it’s not just her body that is exposed, she bares her emotions as well and, her whole psychological being opens up. She has less to hide and, therefore, in thousands of cases I have become the stripper’s confident and one of the most trusted persons in my employee’s life.

Every night of the week, I’ll hear scores of questions like “Herb, can I talk with you privately?” or “Herbie, dear, can you help me with this little problem?”  For more than fifteen years. I’ve been assisting thousands of dancers with whatever bothers them at the moment. To this day, years later, I’m receiving emails and phone calls from many girls I haven’t seen in ages but who are still asking for advice and help of some kind.

The easiest problems to resolve center on money. The complexities …

Every night of the week, I’ll hear scores of questions like “Herb, can I talk with you privately?” or “Herbie, dear, can you help me with this little problem?”  For more than fifteen years. I’ve been assisting thousands of dancers with whatever bothers them at the moment. To this day, years later, I’m receiving emails and phone calls from many girls I haven’t seen in ages but who are still asking for advice and help of some kind.

The easiest problems to resolve center on money. The complexities of housing, transportation, child care and health insurance are excruciating survival issues for young girls who tend to take home substantial cash each night but who have little or no experience in handling or budgeting money. Whether it’s lending a dancer taxi fare so she can get to work, advancing funds for her monthly car or house payment or delivering the cash to bail the dancer or her boyfriend out of jail; it’s all part of my job description.

My Business Rule #1…Keep the dancers dancing…keep the strippers stripping…