Note: do not read the back of this book or any descriptions;
just buy it, read it, and enjoy it.
I give this warning because I found that the back of the
book referenced situations in the novel that didn't happen
until much later in the work, so those situations lost their
element of surprise.
Our stalwart heroine, Audra, decides to audition to work at
a strip club with hysterical results; it turns out she needs
to take a remedial stripping class on pole work in order to
succeed. After a while, she gets used to how to handle the
pole, her customers, and her coworkers. Despite a "don't
date the customers" rule, she decides to date a
customer!
After a tumultuous night out, Audra (stage name: Claudia,
like from INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE) has to start learning to
function in the world in which she's been deposited with few
instructions and little understanding. Later, she has to
decide if its better to be with someone elegant and
tyrannical or with someone sweet and goofy who has a lot of
problems related to his anti-social habits and diet. Oh,
yeah, and she really has to deal with a possible
vampire/werewolf war.
DIARY OF A VAMPIRE STRIPPER is funny in the same ways that
the movies BUFFY
THE VAMPIRE SLAYER, MY BEST FRIEND IS A VAMPIRE, and I
KISSED A VAMPIRE are funny: they're campy, but they're campy
with heart. Audra's internal monologue is hysterical, and
the set up for future books makes you want to know if and
how her situation is going to work out.
Trying to juggle college tuition and rent, young Audra
Perez seeks a fast fix to her financial woes by auditioning
as a stripper for the Hoochie Coochie Club. What she didn't
expect was to actually be chosen. Barely a few months into
her new job, she becomes acquainted with a mysterious,
distinguished gentleman by the name of Darren Von Eldon,
and they secretly begin dating against club rules. Then one
passionate night at his beach house changes Audra's life
forever.
Now as a newly-awakened vampire, this only
adds to her day-to-day mundane burdens.
Refusing to drain humans, she hunts birds for nourishment,
and finagles a way to avoid going to classes during the
day. But bigger problems loom ahead. Radical cops that know
about her kind roam the night, seeking to destroy any and
all ‘monsters', and her best friend's family has a bone to
pick with Audra's. Headless human bodies are turning up on
vamp and were turf, each side blaming the other for the
murders. It's up to Audra and her friend Lu to figure out
who's doing the killings before an all-out war
happens between their families, their search leading them
beneath the city streets to encounter an abomination
neither one of them will ever forget.
And the relationship issues? Well, it's not easy
dealing with a boyfriend and a vampire husband, so let's
not even go there...
Excerpt
I can definitely tell you I\'ve had some real jackasses
for boyfriends. In my newfound profession, that situation
got a bit worse. But I\'ll digress for now.
I call myself Claudia, after that cute, little kid
in the Interview with the Vampire movie. It\'s my stage
name, complete with that same kind of persona for my
character –– for that\'s exactly what I portray
when I\'m out on the stage, and ironically, keeps my secret
well hidden. Plus, the guys seem to love it.
My boss strongly advised against us girls dating
the clientele. Most of us do it anyway, and if our boss
catches on, we either get a warning or fired. I never quite
understood his policy, but thinking from a boss\'s point of
view, it kinda made sense. If the relationship ended badly,
it meant a loss of customers, a.k.a. revenue. Loose lips
sink ships, and word of mouth still travels faster than any
kind of online social networking. A bad date or
relationship gone wrong with a stripper from the Hoochie
Coochie Club would make the entire venue look bad.
Are you laughing at the name? I don\'t blame you; I
share your sentiments. I hated the name of that place... it
sounded so stupid. I would have loved to have known who
made up that moniker just so I could slap them silly.
I was never big on dating; the young college guys
who often came in the club were pretty stupid and easy to
manipulate. They came to have their fantasies fulfilled,
nothing more. But every now and then, there was some moron
with an even bigger fantasy tumbling around in his twisted
brain, and that\'s when the troubles would start. Some of
the girls actually believed the guys were truly in love
with them –or vice versa, which would spark a relationship
in the first place. But I\'m guessing that once the guys
saw
that their stripper girlfriends were actually human, things
went downhill. What, did you think that we\'re not supposed
to eat, poop or pee? That those dark, lush,
extra–long eyelashes, wild eye colors and hair
extensions are actually real? That we pranced around
wearing corsets, garters, G–strings and stilettos
24–7? Hate to burst your bubble, guys. We exist as
your temporary escape only. Key word... temporary. Engrave
that on your brain with a hot poker so you don\'t forget,
please.
So, I\'m guessing you want to know more about me.
I\'m your average Jane, honest. Well, at least I was. This
stripper gig is just a means to fund my way through college
and pay the rent. I take evening classes now, naturally. I
don\'t miss the daylight much, but I wouldn\'t be able to
stay up to see the sun even if I tried. The moment those
first rays of light hit the horizon, I simply drop like a
puppet whose strings have been cut. My only saving grace is
when there\'s an overcast or rainy morning, so I look
forward to those days.
I didn\'t really think I\'d fall headfirst into the
nighttime lifestyle. I loved the darkness, but being a
creature of one I did not foresee. I chose the stripper gig
out of sheer desperation, trying out for the hell of it. I
didn\'t know Jack or Squat about wrapping my legs around a
pole, and the cattle call for ‘new blood\' was the absolute
worst. Just waiting for my turn made me want to crawl away
in embarrassment. Our tryouts involved dancing in front of
an actual crowd, and whoever got the loudest–sounding
claps would be chosen. There were seven of us that
particular night, including one tranny who knew exactly
what the hell he was doing, too. But, as this was a club
for ‘normies\', the fact that he was on a more alternative
level already exed him out. But no matter where he went
afterwards, I was sure an LBGT venue would snatch him up in
a heartbeat.
At six feet tall with mocha colored skin and
sporting a blonde, bobbed–cut wig, he wore a white
bra with matching panties, garters, stockings and heels. He
had a dancer\'s body; wiry and muscular. I watched him work
the pole as if he\'d been doing it all his life, and envied
him. It amazed me how anybody could climb up those things
and twist and contort themselves around it as fluidly as a
snake, with such grace and sensuality, not to mention total
confidence. Already, I was feeling inadequate, and prayed
someone else was inept as me.
I performed a few dinky moves, my sexuality having
taken a backseat. I was wearing a two–piece, black,
lace negligee with black heels that I was dying to take off
after fifteen minutes. Why in hell did I try out for this
crap? Oh yeah, I needed the money for school.
Ever see a kid swing themselves around a pole with
one arm until they got themselves dizzy? That\'s pretty
much
what I did, minus the getting dizzy part. I focused more on
doing what I considered sexy moves without the use of a
pole. And thank goodness there were two others that
followed my lead. I didn\'t feel as bad.
As we waited around for the other girls to finish
with their auditions, I looked around the darkened
warehouse–turned–strip joint, slash dive bar.
Disco lights, mirror balls, multi–colored spotlights,
and all the typical club junk was everywhere. The only
difference was that there were tables all over the place
for the patrons to sit at and watch the show. The stage had
a catwalk, and the pole itself was at the end of it. Most
of the tables surrounded the catwalk, and I got the
creepy–crawlies knowing that so many eyes were on me.
You can kinda ignore it, or not, depending on how nervous
you actually are. I\'m always nervous before I get on a
stage, but once I\'m on it, I ignore everything and focus
on
what I\'m doing. At least the stuff I learned in
high–school drama club was good for something.
I almost gawked at one chick that had a little
extra meat on her bones, shaking her ass at the guys, who
whistled and made lewd calls at her. Her dress was skin
tight and completely sheer, and I wondered where in hell
she found that outfit. When she squatted and spread her
legs, the dress raised itself up over her butt. Not only
was she not wearing underwear, but she hadn\'t shaved down
there, either. She\'d put Sasquatch to shame with that
matted muff. Hello, ever heard of a razor? Nair?
Electrolysis? Something?! Naturally, the guys whooped and
hollered again. How guys could love a
crotch–tarantula was beyond my comprehension.
Oh dear Lord, remind me again... what the hell am I
doing in here? That\'s right. School. Need the money for
school...
When it was all over, I was among the ones not
chosen, of course. In a way, I was glad, but again, I was
screwed out of fast cash. We all were given
twenty–five bucks apiece, so I surmised it was some
sort of stipend for performing that night. Whatever. It
would buy me dinner, probably for two nights, depending on
where I went, so it wasn\'t a total loss.
Back in the dressing room, I couldn\'t change into
my street clothes fast enough. Feeling like a piece a meat
for eight hours a night I could do without. When I passed
by the office of this hole–in–the–wall, I
noticed Little Miss Hairy Cooch sitting in the office
talking to the bossman, along with the others that were
picked by the crowd. Funny, but I knew she wasn\'t one of
the ‘official\' chosen. Oh well, not my concern. She
glanced
at me as I kept going. As I left out of a side entrance and
headed for the bus stop...
\"Hey, wait a sec,\" a skinny, middle–aged
woman called to me, trotting up to the stop. \"Cal wants to
see you.\"
I raised my eyebrow. Cal was the proprietor of the
HCC. The woman, whose name I had forgotten five minutes
after she first mentioned it, was like his
second–in–command, or secretary, or whatever.
\"Ohhhkay...\" I started, looking unsure.
\"C\'mon.\" She waved me back, so reluctantly, I
followed. Did I really need the money that badly?
Back in the office, I noticed the girls were now
gone.
\"Here she is,\" the woman said to Cal with a
half–smile.
He folded his hands on his desk, resting them on
top of my application. I swallowed. \"Why\'d you run off?\"
he
asked me.
I tightened my grip on my messenger bag. \"The
auditions were over, and I knew I wasn\'t picked. No sense
in hanging around, right?\" I didn\'t need to be bounced
out
of there by a, well... bouncer. I noticed that they quickly
escorted one girl out after she started whining and
complaining about why she wasn\'t chosen. I didn\'t need
that
to be me as well.
He grinned. \"Well, despite not being chosen, I see
some potential in you. You have a nice figure, not too much
here.\" He patted his hips and I raised my eyebrow again.
That totally contradicted the fact that Little Miss Hairy
Cooch was in this same office not too long ago, but I
didn\'t pry. Again, none of my business. \"But... don\'t
gain
any more weight,\" he continued. If there was a glass of
water on his desk, I might have thrown it in his face and
ran the hell out of there. Damn society to hell with
their ‘everyone–should–be–skinny–as&
ndash;a–stick\' warning they constantly shoved down
the public\'s throat. Body–image freaks. Didn\'t young
girls have enough problems concerning that as it was?!
\"You could take pole dancing classes, and be up to
standard in a couple of weeks. What do you say?\" Cal gave
me a bit of an oily grin.
I almost laughed out loud. They actually had pole
dancing classes? Well, I guess you had to learn somewhere...
My attitude became stoic. \"I don\'t have the extra
money to pay for––\"
\"You can take classes right here, taught by one of
our retired dancers. It\'s what Maggie does for a living
now. If you take the gig, your classes will be free.\"
I paused. My sub–conscious was screaming at
me in my head to just walk out anyway, but my logical
(albeit somewhat desperate) side was thinking that this was
probably some twisted blessing in disguise.
I took a deep breath before nodding. \"Alright.\"
Cal extended his hand, so I shook it. \"Great.
We\'ll
see you back here on Thursday at noon, and we\'ll finish up
with the paperwork.\"
\"Okay,\" I mumbled, feeling far away. I had
officially stepped into the Devil\'s den.
On the bus ride home, I was seriously conflicted
about this new job. One thing was for sure, I\'d never do
something ‘just for the hell of it\' again. I tried to
think
about the positives. One, I wouldn\'t have to get up at the
butt–crack of dawn to rush to some zombified
corporate job that would bore the hell out of me forty
hours a week. Two, the pay was awesome. I\'d make three to
four times as much here in a day than I would a week at a
corporate job. Three, I wouldn\'t have to worry about money
for school. I tried hard to think of a fourth, and
couldn\'t. Then my mind immediately thought of the
negatives.
Guys would stare at me every night, some of them
one can short of a six–pack. I still wasn\'t
comfortable with being half–naked on a stage,
showcased like a ham in a butcher\'s window. This was a job
that had to be done at night, and I\'d get home around two
in the morning. Who knew what kinds of wackos were
wandering around during that time? Maybe I\'d have to start
carrying a knife with me. Or pepper spray. Or a gun. I
didn\'t like guns. Never fired one, never held one. Also,
I\'d need some skanky outfits, so that meant having to shop
around in the red light district, which already looked like
skid row as it was. Hmm, I\'d be checking out Frederick\'s
or
Victoria\'s Secret online instead. It\'d be a hell of a lot
safer.
I sighed. I knew the cons would outweigh the
pros....
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