For as long as I can remember I have had an exibitionist streak. When I was in highschool I wanted to be a stripper because I loved the idea of men watching me dance naked and take my clothes off, and the fact that I could make a lot of money on top of that was like a dream come true to me. And if it matters to you, I grew up in upper-middle class suburbia, I was not hurting for money or wanting for anything. I got straight A’s, was in Advanced Placement classes, and was going to the University of California, Santa Barbara after graduation. I did not need to strip to survive, it was purely the thrill of it that enticed me. As soon as I turned 18 I cut class and drove up to San Francisco and went to one of the nude strip clubs on Broadway called Centerfolds and went inside and asked them what I had to do to start dancing there. They said I’d need to come in and audition on amateur night (I came to find out later that “auditioning” at a strip club is a joke, they never turn girls away, at least not to my knowledge). At this point, I really couldn’t have realistically worked at a strip club, I was living with my parents, who were pretty strict, there was no way I’d be able to pull off three nights a week at a strip club, but I was just scratching an itch by going in there and inquiring.