Now ZBone makes it pretty clear you should always call to confirm the amateur nights (schedules can change, you know), so I did just that, hoping I might glean further details from the club as to what exactly happens at one of these events. Elan's alter ego is a very meticulous, in-control, know-all-the-details kind of gal, but details were not exactly forthcoming from the guy who answered the phone at Bob's. It was amusing to say the least.

"Bob's Classy Lady," said the gruff male voice on the other end of the line.
"Um, hi! I'm calling to get some information please," I said, in the most ridiculously timid, but trying to sound in control tone.
"You want what?" he asked.
"Some information please. I understand you have amateur night on Wednesday. Is that happening tonight?"
"Yeah, sure. At 9:00."
"Oh, okay. Can you tell me about it?"
"Well, are you 18?"
"Yes."
"Then just show up about 8:00."
"Is there anything I should bring or anything like that?"
"Just your ID."
"Oh. What about music? Should I bring some CDs?"
"Yeah, you can bring some CDs honey."
"Okay, well, I'll see you later then."
"Yup."
"Bye!"
Click.

And so I was left staring at the receiver wondering, "Jeez, what am I getting myself into?!"

I packed my overnight bag and headed to Eric's place to get ready. No way was I doing this alone if he was anywhere within the state of California! As I showered at Eric's, he offered to help by getting my CDs for me, so I told him where my CD case was and asked him to grab the Melissa Etheridge disk. It was at this point that we discovered I had apparently put my CD's back in the CD changer of my other car - the one that was 80 miles away back in Orange County. SHIT! Now what do I do? Damn it! All that time I had spent listening to music, worrying, fussing, and picking songs! Argh! I can't go without music!! "Eric," I yelped trying to keep the soap out my eyes. "What do I have left in that CD case?!" "Well, you've got some Kathy Mattea... um, The Best of Sam Cooke,..." I groaned. Enjoyable music, but not the kind by which you try to seduce men. Oh no. I'm f***ed, I thought.

"Okay, keep going. There must be something I can work with there," I said resolutely, trying to focus on the task of shaving my legs. "There's Dwight Yoakum." "Okay, there might be something there. Let's hear that 'Fast As You' song and that 'Wild Ride' song. How long are they? Too long! Well, the DJ will cut them if we ask, right?" Yeah, shows what I knew about dancing! Three minutes, Love; three minutes! Doesn't matter if the song is a 20 minute piece off a Pink Floyd disk. A song is three minutes, unless...well, nevermind that. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Trying to concentrate on putting on my make-up while listening to songs and imagining if they would "work" or not was driving me nuts. I was pissed off at myself for forgetting about the CD changer and it was all I could do to keep from jabbing myself in the eye with my own eye pencil. Damn it, where's that box of tissues when I need it? I threw on a normal looking sundress, stuffed a pair of black thong underwear and a bra in my bag with my black high heels, some make-up for touch-ups, my perfume, some body lotion, a wash cloth to handle any of the dreaded glow-in-the-dark white paper lint I was warned could show up on my private parts at the least opportune times, and my one CD. Oh yeah, I was ready. Sure. About as ready as a half-baked loaf of bread!

We rushed off to the club fearing that I would be late (8:15) and not be allowed to enter. Boy, once again have I got a lot to learn. These things don't ever really start on time. We got to the door at which point I signed in, Eric paid his cover, I went to the door on the left, and he to the door on the right. I had no idea what would happen next. Luckily, the first person I came across was a security guy who pointed me to the manager's office where another girl and I filled out various forms and read the rules for the contest. There weren't many - rules, that is. I nervously joked with the other girl, but apparently it wasn't very funny. I guess I must have seemed like a total idiot. And right about then I was thinking I truly was.

Forms filled out, we were led to the guest dancers dressing room. It was just a 10x10 room with one mirror, a small vanity counter, a few chairs, and some space to hang clothes. There wasn't a door, but I realized pretty quickly that doors and privacy were not going to be needed. There was already one other girl there and she was obviously a pro. She had the tan, the body, the whole thing down pat, and she knew what she was doing. I kept to myself, afraid to say anything for fear I would look like an idiot again, and read the posted rules of conduct. Using the little golf pencils they gave us, I sat and filled out the bio form they use for introducing the dancers. I had no clue what to say about myself, but that turned out to be a moot point anyway. I decided not to change clothes until I had given my music and bio to the DJ, so I went down the hall to the DJ booth. The DJ booth at Bob's is on a raised platform and has all kinds of sound equipment, monitors, controls for lighting and just generally a lot of intimidating high-tech DJ stuff that looked like the cockpit of a DC-10 from my vantage point below. There I stood, looking up at this longhaired guy in black Levis, and black leather vest over a white shirt, wondering if this was Mr. Talkative from the phone call earlier.

All at once, he turned, looked at me, smiled, and said, "Well, hello! Are you here for the contest?" Relief! Thank you, God; he speaks more than 3 words at a time and he smiles too.

"Yeah." I managed. "They told me to bring you my music and this bio form." I said apprehensively. As I handed him my CD and the little slip of paper, my up-stretched arm practically quivering in fear, I felt somewhat like Oliver in the musical as flashbacks of "Please sir, may I have some more?" ran through my head. Oh this is pathetic, I thought. I'm a grown woman for Christ's sake!

"What's your name?" he asked kindly. And of course I forget who I am and stammer out half of the wrong name! ARGH!!! Luckily for me Julian is not only a sweetheart, but intelligent too and could see I was about on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He smiled reassuringly, asked me about myself, looked at my music selection, and told me not to worry. He asked my permission to get a little imaginative with my bio/introduction, so I told him to do whatever he thought was best, so long as he didn't tell my real name! DJ's are pretty busy between setting up songs, announcing dancers, and keeping the crowd pumped, but Julian did something I never expected. He just talked to me. He kept up with what he needed to do, but he just talked to me. I do believe for the rest of my life I will remember his name, his sweet smile, and how he did everything he could to make a scared sh**less girl more comfortable.

Breathing again, I headed back to the dressing room and put on my stage outfit, which consisted of a see-through lace top over a black bra, a black thong, and my black high heels. Julian had told me I had plenty of time so I could relax in the dressing room, watch the dancers, or even go next door to the bar and get a drink if I wanted to! While the latter sounded tempting (sure, I need a glass of wine please.... no, better make it two), I had visions of me falling off the stage and landing flat on my face, so I thought better of it and decided to watch the dancers with Eric. Stopping by Julian on the way out to the floor, he introduced me to a couple of dancers. When I told them I was there with my boyfriend, they commented, "Oh yeah, we met him! He's so sweet! He is totally rooting for you out there." That was a good feeling. I told them to make sure they cajole him into a dance or two, but they said he had already declined and was only there for the amateur contest.

We sat and drank Cokes while watching the dancers on stage. I felt conspicuously unclothed, but set my mind to ignoring it and focused on the stagework. I watched the dancers and their pole work and wondered how some of them did it. We discussed the various techniques and I hoped I might be able to pull off a few cool moves.

As time got nearer for the contest, I made my way backstage. It was interesting to know I could go somewhere the other customers couldn't go, like a secret pass to the normally off-limits, behind the scenes area. Back in the dressing room, more girls were congregating. At least 3 girls there were dancers by trade, either actively dancing at other clubs, or semi-retired but there for the lure of the prize money and the ability to work the floor for the night. Discussion turned to what we were all wearing. Then something that really surprised me happened. One of the real amateurs was wearing a pair of pastel green panties that didn't exactly scream seduction. When the one pro, the really tanned one I had seen when I came into the dressing room earlier, saw the green panties she said, "No, you've got to look cuter than that. Here. Where this," she said reaching into her duffel bag and pulling out a cute little skirt, "and lose the panties." The other girl was shocked. "You're going to let me wear your clothes?" she asked amazed. "Sure." I looked in the mirror, suddenly doubting my choice in attire. "Am I 'cute' enough?" I wondered. I looked at the pro and said, "This is what my boyfriend suggested. Will it work?" She scanned me, reached in her bag, and handed me a long silver sarong to wrap around my waist like a skirt. She then looked me over again and pulled off the lace top leaving me in the sarong, black thong, and black bra. At this point, she declared me suitable for the stage. Now I was shocked. I never expected anyone to lend me clothing and I thought it was really sweet of her. I had to agree with her; it looked better. "Okay, but now you guys have got to clap for me on stage then, okay?" she said. No problem there. As far as I was concerned, she was eligible for a standing ovation at that point.

There were 8 girls in the contest total. There would have been 10, but they booted 2 girls that were there for a bachelorette party for being too drunk. I sort of felt sorry for the bride-to-be because some of the comments she was making really indicated she shouldn't be getting married, but how do you tell a drunk stranger you just met 3 minutes ago that you think she is making a huge mistake? You don't. You keep your mouth shut, lest she put her inebriated fist in it (and rightfully so!) and cause you severe pain. Actually, I'm glad they removed her from the contest because it saved her from the embarrassment she would have made of herself on stage. She kept saying, "Well, I can't go totally naked! I mean, I just can't!" All I could think was, "Then why are you entering the contest? You knew this place was full nude."

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally had us draw numbers from a hat for the order of appearance. I was 6th. I had no idea if that was good or bad, but going out near the end seemed like a better place to be, all things considered. We were allowed to watch the other dancers from the floor if we wanted to so I went back out near the DJ booth to watch the competition. As promised, I applauded for the pro after each of her two songs along with almost everyone else in the place. In fact I was so genuinely impressed by her pole work that I walked to the stage and placed a dollar on the rail. I watched the other dancers and made mental notes of the things I thought I should do differently.

When it was finally my turn to be introduced, I stood backstage listening to Julian's very creative bio on me and how I supposedly came to be in the contest. Apparently, unbeknownst to me of course, I had been caught in the ladies room getting it on with some other girl and was going to be thrown out, but Julian convinced them to spare me if only I would enter the contest. I laughed and awaited the announcement of my stage name. As I prepared to step out on the stage, I solemnly promised myself I would do my best. Unfortunately, the second I emerged from behind the curtains I immediately forgot all my mental notes and was scared to death I would fall on my butt in front of all these people. I forgot to keep my head up, barely remembered to smile, and my floor work was terrible. But the music was fine and Eric smiled, hooted and hollered, and tipped me like the ardent fan he is.

Quite frankly, I don't even remember most of what happened on stage. It all just blew by me in a blur of nervousness. I know I tried to dance for each customer at the rail, but I was so afraid of falling I never got close enough for them to see anything of any consequence. The hips that I know can swivel right up there with the best of hips, probably never went to even 60% of their true potential. When I left the stage I knew I had not done all I could have.

Sitting out in the audience, almost as if by telepathy, Eric knew I would see this as a challenge and I would dance again if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I could do a whole lot better. He was right.

Backstage I found one of the other amateurs named Nadjya and complimented her on her dance. She really was impressive for a girl who had never danced before. She honestly was enjoying herself and the crowd could see it. What she lacked in skill - and she didn't lack much there either, she made up for in pure enthusiasm. She was really a sweet girl too. She probably still dances at Bob's as I write this. If they didn't hire her on the spot, I would be surprised.

I was disappointed in myself but decided to call it a success since I didn't fall down and no one booed. But then again, no one got booed! About this time, they herded all the amateurs back into the dressing room while Julian tried to have some fun with the bachelorette on stage. We all fidgeted and waited nervously, as if there was any question who was going to win. They then called us all back out for one final dance all together on stage full nude - "nothing but your shoes," we were told. Surprisingly, I had no problem just dropping my clothes and I wasn't self-conscious anymore, although I'm not sure if I should be proud or ashamed of that ability! We all went out on the stage and danced together and then it was time to narrow down the finalists. They had each girl parade down to the other end of the stage while the audience voted by applause. Here's a little hint if you ever decide to enter an applause-decided contest: bring lots of friends! They narrowed us down and I survived the first cut. Phwew! But I didn't hold out much hope to make the top 3. I was right. The professional amateur with the incredible pole work won, Nadjya took second, and a girl who had many very exuberant girlfriends in the crowd took third.

Okay folks, here's where I depart momentarily from my usual stance of "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." The girl who took third was a prime example of what stacking the audience can do for you in an amateur contest. As I write this, Eric is making comments to the effect of, "I'd gnaw my right arm off before waking up something that looked like that the next morning." Since I never go to bed with anyone looking like that, I wouldn't say such a thing. However, I would say that a Jenny Craig membership and a razor would be wonderful Christmas presents for her. Now after being incredibly awful and rude, I must qualify my statements by acknowledging the level of courage she had for even getting on the stage in the first place, setting her sights on the goal, and achieving it by whatever means it took. And that's more than I was able to accomplish!

Alright, I survived my first night on stage and went back to chat with Eric. "Why don't you see if you can get a lap dance from someone?" he suggested. I pondered it and figured this was as good a time as any, so I did. Not being a very astute saleswoman, it took me awhile. I finally had a gentleman begin chatting with me about the contest. I told him I enjoyed it, but definitely had a lot to learn. After some small talk, I asked him if he wanted to be my first customer for a lap dance. He decided it was worth the risk and I gave my first topless dance at Bob's (or any club for that matter!). I led him to the private dance area where I did my best novice bump and grind. At the end of the dance he paid me, smiled, and said, "You've definitely got what it takes, girl," then headed for the door. I was puzzled as to why he left so quickly, but I have since been told that it's common for a guy to do that if he is satisfied with the performance and wants to end the night on an "up" note.

It was getting late so Eric and I decided I should gather my belongings and we should go. Before leaving, I cashed out with the house and stopped by Julian to give him the DJ pay-out. He asked me to stay and chat a few minutes, which I did. Truly, Julian is quite a guy and I suggest anyone who happens to be at Bob's on a night he is DJ-ing to say "Hi" and send him a Coke. We exchanged email addresses and I like to stay in contact with him.

The only thing Julian did wrong (as if this was his fault), is he let me get out of the club without my danged CD! Ack! We got 10 minutes away on the freeway before I realized my stupidity and had to go back. On the road again, we talked about the night and mused over all the backstage details. And Eric told me how it all looked from his vantage point as well. We laughed and talked as I pleaded with Eric to stop at the 24-hour Taco Bell. I had been so nervous earlier that I couldn't eat, so now I was famished at 1am. To top off an unbelievable night we happened across one of the funniest and most intelligent drive-thru attendants I have ever met and then headed on home. As I finished the burrito, we talked more about the night, and particularly my lap dance. Eric was very proud of me. In fact, he was just, um, "bursting" with pride and so the night ended once again with some pretty darned amazing sex and we both drifted off to sleep thoroughly pleased with ourselves.

Going over it all again in my mind the next morning, I took stock of what I needed to do and what should come next. I needed a tan and some practice, but the practice was simply something that would have to come in time. I contemplated going to the local kids' playground where I could practice on the main pole of the jungle gym, but decided I would probably break my neck and the kids would think I was crazy. I can see it now: "Mommy, what is that lady doing over there?" "Um, I'm really not sure honey. Maybe she's just playing like you."

I made up my mind that maintaining my 4.0 GPA and continuing the hunt for the perfect IS day job somewhere closer to Eric (the reasons why I had just recently left my full-time clerical job) should remain the priority, but I was definitely going to pursue part-time dancing. Why not live the dream while I can? What a perfect opportunity! So now I needed to go audition at Ecstasy, the nearest full nude club to where I live in Orange County.

Next Installment: Exposed: The Audition!

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