Hey Girl,

I used to be so jealous of you. How did you do it? I would watch you stride through the club, so confident, the wad of cash strapped to your leg growing, like stripping is the easiest job in the world. Someone always wanted a dance from you. You made it look so easy. I thought you were brilliance walking.

Sure, the other girls whispered. There were rumors. I thought they were just jealous, I thought they were threatened. But I was in denial.

You are the Extras Girl: hated by your colleagues, but loved by men. You fuck and suck, blow and go.

Private dancing, though? Not really.

I’m sure you’ve heard what the other girls said. She’s a hooker. She has no morals. She’s dirty.

You know what? I think those are weak arguments. I think everyone reading Tits and Sass agrees that there’s nothing wrong with hooking and that there’s not some great moral chasm between simulating sex (what strippers do) and having sex (what hookers do).

Girl, none of us are innocent. Once, I tried to fuck my best stripper friend. On stage. In front of my boyfriend.

We’re all human.

I’ll be honest, though. Sometimes, you, the Extras Girl, make my night at work a little harder. Sometimes, I just wish you would go away. Sometimes, I even poke my voodoo doll of you with needles.