For my English class, I chose to feature my experience of stepping into a strip club for the first time. Enjoy. :)
~*~
I gazed up to the bright lights above my head, its red luminescence spelling out the familiar name that revealed itself to me from some hidden part of my consciousness: Athena. With the drizzle gradually turning into a downpour, I stepped through the glass doors, passing the beer-bellied man that seemed to guard the entrance, and into what seemed like a lounge area. I took a deep breath and walked in deeper into the enclosed space. I was there simply because of what I had to do: immerse myself into a world I never thought I would ever step into— a world in which I thought myself as a virgin to.1
A gruff middle-aged man was situated behind a podium near me, scrutinizing my every move. I simply smiled to hide my apprehension and pretended to fumble with my pen and paper to keep me distracted from his piercing stare. While waiting for somebody to attend to me, I scanned the area and forced my photographic memory to remember each detail I saw. Above my head was a tiny chandelier, its crystals bouncing off the dull yellowish light that illuminated the room. On my left was a large cabinet made of glass and inside was an array of different liquors and cigars. My eyes set back to the couches across me and there sat two old ladies who were obviously contemplating on the reason why I was idly standing there.2
My head turned to the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor, each click resonating louder with every step. The sound of her approach averted my attention from the sensual beats that bounced off the speakers. A woman bearing an olive green ensemble emerged out of a large doorway not very far from where I stood, her smile melting away the anxiety that washed over me a few moments ago. Being a woman around the age of fifty or more, her silver-grey hair and the lines on her face reminded me of my grandmother. I returned her silent greeting with ease and walked towards her, my hand extended to readily introduce myself.3
“I’m Mama Elena,” she replied after telling her my name. Before I could tell her my reason for being there, she asked, “Are you here to apply?” I shook my head vigorously and let out an awkward laugh. I explained to her my simple wanting of exposing myself into the real world, and in the end, write about what I have seen and experienced. She nodded her head in comprehension and asked, “Do you have any questions about the place?” 4
I first inquired about the room I was currently standing in. It was a waiting room, according to her, where managers and assisting managers would wait on incoming customers to guide them inside the dining area to get them settled in. I did not see any scantily clad girls loitering there as I expected them to be.5
She then lead me to the doorway where she came in, unfolding to me a great expanse of space that was twenty times the size of the waiting room just behind me. I stood in awe at what was before me, a thousand thoughts clouding my senses, until Mama Elena’s soothing voice reeled me back to reality.6
“This is the dining area,” she told me, gesturing towards the tables, chairs and couches that were arranged accordingly. I padded deeper into the heart of Athena which looked like a large rectangular pit divided into two sections. To my very right, near the stage, were low glass coffee tables surrounded by long plush couches. The tables were practically sticking to the front of the stage, connoting that these spots were for the men who wanted a bit of hands-on activity with the girls performing on stage.7
Right behind these couches were the iron chair and tables, fit for those who preferred having a hearty dinner first before moving to the couches to unwind and have a beer. I checked my watch and saw that it was only nine in the evening and realized that there were hardly any customers filling up the seats.8
“The place opens at seven thirty in the evening, but the programs start at nine,” said Mama Elena. “The people usually come at this time, but the peak hours of this place are from one in the morning until closing time which is at four. During weeknights, Athena would not even be half full. Although, when the weekends roll in, that’s when the peak hours are really at its peak. Right now, though, we’re not really thriving because the foreigners haven’t been coming in lately. since our country’s issues have been broadcasted over the world via media, foreigners aren’t very keen on visiting these kinds of places anymore, let alone any other part of the Philippines. When it would be tourist season, we would earn as much as eighty thousand a night. Right now, our earnings don’t even reach twenty thousand.”9
I placed my eyes towards the stage, the lights from above filling the space with a bright shade pink which mixed with a vibrant green, fiery red, and a sunny yellow. A girl about the age of twenty emerged from the corner; her exposed breasts catching the cold air and making her nipples harden. I stifled a gasp as she danced engagingly towards the edge of the stage where around a group of ten men lounged on the couch smugly, their eyes fixed on the bosoms of the performer as she touched them seductively. A smile did not grace her lips, but a frown that was far from making an attempt to lure her customers into a subtle sexual drive. The men did not notice her despondency, but simply clapped and hooted at the minx bearing nothing but a pair of black glossy shorts and high cut boots to match.10
“Of course, they don’t want this job,” said Mama Elena. “They do it because they need the money in order to keep their family alive. If ever they would be offered another job that didn’t require them to take their clothes off, they would still continue to work here because money came in easily.” Her answer was just as what I expected. It was the same old answer that could be found over the internet if one tried researching on this career path, but to see those words over the web etched on the features of someone near my age, someone who should be stressing over papers in college, someone who should be going through almost exactly what I’m going through, was a sight I knew would haunt some nights before I could submit myself to a heavy sleep.11
The program, according to my so-called aging tour guide, consisted of a little modeling, and a lot of dancing. Dancing, of course, was the main attraction in Athena. At one point when the girls are already tired, they hold a one hour intermission called Disco Time, where the costumers are invited to dance on stage. Mama Elena shook her head when I asked if there were was stand-up comedy in any part of the program. It really was essentially a pack of girls dancing in their bikinis and some wearing nothing at all. 12
For some special events, such as their Christmas parties and Big Night Celebrations, the normal program would follow but some sexy stars such as Ynez Veneracion and the Viva Hot Babes would come to liven up they party even more. 13
On my very left, right behind the iron tables and chairs I mentioned earlier, were a series of doors lined up, both in the first and second floor. The windows were tainted an onyx hue, obscuring the view of the onlooker from afar. At a close vantage point though, a dark image of the other side of the glass can be made out. 14
I made my way through the red velvet carpet and into one of the rooms that were available. Some of the rooms had plastic door signs that said, OCCUPIED, in red and bold capital letters; I shook my mind of any thought that I would rather not entertain.15
The KTV Room, as it was commonly called, consisted of couches that could seat about 16-20 people with a karaoke machine situated in one of the corners of the area. These rooms could be reserved by costumers and are most preferably used by them rather than staying outside in the dining area. “Kissing is allowed, but sexual intercourse is prohibited here,” replied Mama Elena when I asked if any “action” happens in these places. “If ever they do have sex with the costumers outside of Athena (because costumers are allowed to take them out), they have check- ups every Friday to ensure us that they are free from STD’s.” Without anything left to see, I stepped out of the room and allowed Mama Elena to guide me to what seemed like the last stop of my entire tour.16
“Through this door is The Showroom,” she explained as her fingers tightened on the brass knob. “This is where we keep all the girls.” With a turn of her wrist, she swung the door open. It took a while for me to get accustomed to the bright pink and baby blue lights that flashed before my eyes. After blinking a few times, I squinted and saw a clear glass materialize not very far from where I stood, and behind it was red curtain that hindered me from seeing what was beyond it. Before I could ask her to draw them aside, she started to speak once more.17
“This is where managers and assisting managers like me take the customers. Aside from helping them in their seats in the dining area, we also bring them here should they want to table a girl—or girls— to sit with them.” 18
A pair of voices behind us disrupted our discussion and we looked back to see the source of this interference. Two plump Japanese men came bustling into the room, their faces flooded with excitement. The assisting manager who brought them there drew the curtains back and revealed what was on the other side of the glass. 19
More than twenty girls sitting on the wooden bleachers placed their eyes on me. Scantily clad in bikinis and short silky evening sleeping gowns, each of them played on a happy disposition. As I scanned each of them, refusing to make my eyes meet theirs, I realized that their body types were very different from each other: voluptuous, skinny, chubby, and even model-worthy frames were exposed to me. It was far from what I saw in the movies, where girls like them had their skins airbrushed to a bronzy perfection, their hair gently tousled and their figures chiseled to the ever desirable hourglass frame.20
“We don’t get minors. We usually hire girls ages nineteen to twenty four. Because diverse pools of foreigners come to visit this place, we’re not very keen on the body type as each foreigner has a specific taste: tall, dark and skinny for the Americans and Europeans, petite and skinny frames for the Japanese and Koreans, and chubby figures for the Arabs.”21
Some of the young women waved at the two Japanese men who boisterously discussed who they were planning to table. Finally decided, they pulled out the one with the skinny figure, her skin a dark shade of brown. Her buttocks peeked out through her lacey underwear as she emerged from a pathway that led her to where we stood from the opposite side of the glass. Without any preamble, the two men pulled her out the door, her giggles leaving a haunting echo in my ear as she made her way out.22
“Sometimes, they get more than one girl,” Mama Elena finally said, as if nothing so seemingly diabolic just happened. “When foreigners come in groups, they table a lot of them. When they just come here alone, they table about one or two.” I silently took in a few deep breaths to calm myself from the shock that had rendered my body rigid. Not sensing the trepidation that shook my body, she continued on. “They each cost nine hundred Pesos per hour. If they get tips from their customers, we get ten percent of it. The Japanese are very generous. They give as much as five hundred Pesos in tips.”23
Knowing that it was already the end of my little tour, I thanked her as she led me back into the waiting room. A sudden sorrow overlapped the tension that hid within me as I tucked my pen and paper snuggly into my bag. I wasn’t quite sure about the kind of sadness that seemed to embrace me— if it was a sadness for the Mama Elenas who worked late at night, if it was for the girls around my age who sold themselves to buy food for their family, if it was for the Athena itself, where behind its pure name cloaked the many impurities that the night seemed to have a role in.24
I came out of Athena enlightened as the dark, empty road lay ahead before me, the rain splashing against the pavement even stronger than when I had gone inside.
~*~
I gazed up to the bright lights above my head, its red luminescence spelling out the familiar name that revealed itself to me from some hidden part of my consciousness: Athena. With the drizzle gradually turning into a downpour, I stepped through the glass doors, passing the beer-bellied man that seemed to guard the entrance, and into what seemed like a lounge area. I took a deep breath and walked in deeper into the enclosed space. I was there simply because of what I had to do: immerse myself into a world I never thought I would ever step into— a world in which I thought myself as a virgin to.1
A gruff middle-aged man was situated behind a podium near me, scrutinizing my every move. I simply smiled to hide my apprehension and pretended to fumble with my pen and paper to keep me distracted from his piercing stare. While waiting for somebody to attend to me, I scanned the area and forced my photographic memory to remember each detail I saw. Above my head was a tiny chandelier, its crystals bouncing off the dull yellowish light that illuminated the room. On my left was a large cabinet made of glass and inside was an array of different liquors and cigars. My eyes set back to the couches across me and there sat two old ladies who were obviously contemplating on the reason why I was idly standing there.2
My head turned to the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor, each click resonating louder with every step. The sound of her approach averted my attention from the sensual beats that bounced off the speakers. A woman bearing an olive green ensemble emerged out of a large doorway not very far from where I stood, her smile melting away the anxiety that washed over me a few moments ago. Being a woman around the age of fifty or more, her silver-grey hair and the lines on her face reminded me of my grandmother. I returned her silent greeting with ease and walked towards her, my hand extended to readily introduce myself.3
“I’m Mama Elena,” she replied after telling her my name. Before I could tell her my reason for being there, she asked, “Are you here to apply?” I shook my head vigorously and let out an awkward laugh. I explained to her my simple wanting of exposing myself into the real world, and in the end, write about what I have seen and experienced. She nodded her head in comprehension and asked, “Do you have any questions about the place?” 4
I first inquired about the room I was currently standing in. It was a waiting room, according to her, where managers and assisting managers would wait on incoming customers to guide them inside the dining area to get them settled in. I did not see any scantily clad girls loitering there as I expected them to be.5
She then lead me to the doorway where she came in, unfolding to me a great expanse of space that was twenty times the size of the waiting room just behind me. I stood in awe at what was before me, a thousand thoughts clouding my senses, until Mama Elena’s soothing voice reeled me back to reality.6
“This is the dining area,” she told me, gesturing towards the tables, chairs and couches that were arranged accordingly. I padded deeper into the heart of Athena which looked like a large rectangular pit divided into two sections. To my very right, near the stage, were low glass coffee tables surrounded by long plush couches. The tables were practically sticking to the front of the stage, connoting that these spots were for the men who wanted a bit of hands-on activity with the girls performing on stage.7
Right behind these couches were the iron chair and tables, fit for those who preferred having a hearty dinner first before moving to the couches to unwind and have a beer. I checked my watch and saw that it was only nine in the evening and realized that there were hardly any customers filling up the seats.8
“The place opens at seven thirty in the evening, but the programs start at nine,” said Mama Elena. “The people usually come at this time, but the peak hours of this place are from one in the morning until closing time which is at four. During weeknights, Athena would not even be half full. Although, when the weekends roll in, that’s when the peak hours are really at its peak. Right now, though, we’re not really thriving because the foreigners haven’t been coming in lately. since our country’s issues have been broadcasted over the world via media, foreigners aren’t very keen on visiting these kinds of places anymore, let alone any other part of the Philippines. When it would be tourist season, we would earn as much as eighty thousand a night. Right now, our earnings don’t even reach twenty thousand.”9
I placed my eyes towards the stage, the lights from above filling the space with a bright shade pink which mixed with a vibrant green, fiery red, and a sunny yellow. A girl about the age of twenty emerged from the corner; her exposed breasts catching the cold air and making her nipples harden. I stifled a gasp as she danced engagingly towards the edge of the stage where around a group of ten men lounged on the couch smugly, their eyes fixed on the bosoms of the performer as she touched them seductively. A smile did not grace her lips, but a frown that was far from making an attempt to lure her customers into a subtle sexual drive. The men did not notice her despondency, but simply clapped and hooted at the minx bearing nothing but a pair of black glossy shorts and high cut boots to match.10
“Of course, they don’t want this job,” said Mama Elena. “They do it because they need the money in order to keep their family alive. If ever they would be offered another job that didn’t require them to take their clothes off, they would still continue to work here because money came in easily.” Her answer was just as what I expected. It was the same old answer that could be found over the internet if one tried researching on this career path, but to see those words over the web etched on the features of someone near my age, someone who should be stressing over papers in college, someone who should be going through almost exactly what I’m going through, was a sight I knew would haunt some nights before I could submit myself to a heavy sleep.11
The program, according to my so-called aging tour guide, consisted of a little modeling, and a lot of dancing. Dancing, of course, was the main attraction in Athena. At one point when the girls are already tired, they hold a one hour intermission called Disco Time, where the costumers are invited to dance on stage. Mama Elena shook her head when I asked if there were was stand-up comedy in any part of the program. It really was essentially a pack of girls dancing in their bikinis and some wearing nothing at all. 12
For some special events, such as their Christmas parties and Big Night Celebrations, the normal program would follow but some sexy stars such as Ynez Veneracion and the Viva Hot Babes would come to liven up they party even more. 13
On my very left, right behind the iron tables and chairs I mentioned earlier, were a series of doors lined up, both in the first and second floor. The windows were tainted an onyx hue, obscuring the view of the onlooker from afar. At a close vantage point though, a dark image of the other side of the glass can be made out. 14
I made my way through the red velvet carpet and into one of the rooms that were available. Some of the rooms had plastic door signs that said, OCCUPIED, in red and bold capital letters; I shook my mind of any thought that I would rather not entertain.15
The KTV Room, as it was commonly called, consisted of couches that could seat about 16-20 people with a karaoke machine situated in one of the corners of the area. These rooms could be reserved by costumers and are most preferably used by them rather than staying outside in the dining area. “Kissing is allowed, but sexual intercourse is prohibited here,” replied Mama Elena when I asked if any “action” happens in these places. “If ever they do have sex with the costumers outside of Athena (because costumers are allowed to take them out), they have check- ups every Friday to ensure us that they are free from STD’s.” Without anything left to see, I stepped out of the room and allowed Mama Elena to guide me to what seemed like the last stop of my entire tour.16
“Through this door is The Showroom,” she explained as her fingers tightened on the brass knob. “This is where we keep all the girls.” With a turn of her wrist, she swung the door open. It took a while for me to get accustomed to the bright pink and baby blue lights that flashed before my eyes. After blinking a few times, I squinted and saw a clear glass materialize not very far from where I stood, and behind it was red curtain that hindered me from seeing what was beyond it. Before I could ask her to draw them aside, she started to speak once more.17
“This is where managers and assisting managers like me take the customers. Aside from helping them in their seats in the dining area, we also bring them here should they want to table a girl—or girls— to sit with them.” 18
A pair of voices behind us disrupted our discussion and we looked back to see the source of this interference. Two plump Japanese men came bustling into the room, their faces flooded with excitement. The assisting manager who brought them there drew the curtains back and revealed what was on the other side of the glass. 19
More than twenty girls sitting on the wooden bleachers placed their eyes on me. Scantily clad in bikinis and short silky evening sleeping gowns, each of them played on a happy disposition. As I scanned each of them, refusing to make my eyes meet theirs, I realized that their body types were very different from each other: voluptuous, skinny, chubby, and even model-worthy frames were exposed to me. It was far from what I saw in the movies, where girls like them had their skins airbrushed to a bronzy perfection, their hair gently tousled and their figures chiseled to the ever desirable hourglass frame.20
“We don’t get minors. We usually hire girls ages nineteen to twenty four. Because diverse pools of foreigners come to visit this place, we’re not very keen on the body type as each foreigner has a specific taste: tall, dark and skinny for the Americans and Europeans, petite and skinny frames for the Japanese and Koreans, and chubby figures for the Arabs.”21
Some of the young women waved at the two Japanese men who boisterously discussed who they were planning to table. Finally decided, they pulled out the one with the skinny figure, her skin a dark shade of brown. Her buttocks peeked out through her lacey underwear as she emerged from a pathway that led her to where we stood from the opposite side of the glass. Without any preamble, the two men pulled her out the door, her giggles leaving a haunting echo in my ear as she made her way out.22
“Sometimes, they get more than one girl,” Mama Elena finally said, as if nothing so seemingly diabolic just happened. “When foreigners come in groups, they table a lot of them. When they just come here alone, they table about one or two.” I silently took in a few deep breaths to calm myself from the shock that had rendered my body rigid. Not sensing the trepidation that shook my body, she continued on. “They each cost nine hundred Pesos per hour. If they get tips from their customers, we get ten percent of it. The Japanese are very generous. They give as much as five hundred Pesos in tips.”23
Knowing that it was already the end of my little tour, I thanked her as she led me back into the waiting room. A sudden sorrow overlapped the tension that hid within me as I tucked my pen and paper snuggly into my bag. I wasn’t quite sure about the kind of sadness that seemed to embrace me— if it was a sadness for the Mama Elenas who worked late at night, if it was for the girls around my age who sold themselves to buy food for their family, if it was for the Athena itself, where behind its pure name cloaked the many impurities that the night seemed to have a role in.24
I came out of Athena enlightened as the dark, empty road lay ahead before me, the rain splashing against the pavement even stronger than when I had gone inside.
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