Guest post by “Le Tigre”

Because the fact of the matter is, I didn’t just get off the fuckin’ boat.

I have been an English teacher at an Eikaiwa (english conversation school…vomit).
I have been a bartender at a foreign ‘ladies’ bar.
I have been a hostess at clubs ranging from ‘nice,’ to places were I felt like I was actually hired to be a hooker.
I am a professional kickboxer, seriously.
I am an ALT (Assistant Language Teacher) at a public elementary school.

I have lived in….
Okazaki, Aichi for 2 months
Ginza, Tokyo for 3 months
Fuda, Chofu for 2 months (living with my coach’s friend)
Ikebukuro, Tokyo for 1 month (living with Hannah Hypnotic)
Asagaya, Tokyo for 4 months
Saginomiya, Tokyo for 3 months
and currently Shin-Nakano, Tokyo for 2 months…so far.

With men…
I have lost a boyfriend from back home after 1.5 months of being in Japan, lets not talk about this.
I have slept with a host (These are Host types).
I have slept with a young, Japanese guy(19yo)…possibly taking his virginity.
I have had a pure sexual lust for a man over the last year. But it’s someone who I can never have, and have accepted that never going there with him is for the best.
I have been on a really awful date with a Japanese guy who got wasted after buying drinks he didn’t have money for and made me pay. Then, he followed that class act up by asking me the same stupid questions over and over and over in rapidly deteriorating slurred speech.

Let’s explore some of these experiences….

Hostess clubs.

August 2009 was when I first actually work in a real hostess club. I was introduced to the manager by a girl I had met a couple of times. This girl was from Spain, and a bit crazy. She had to have been at least 6′ tall, had dyed her hair that bright, fake looking red color, had color contacts, a lip ring and always wore corsets, thigh-highs, and knee-high boots. She was always nice to me, but I could never stand to talk to her for long periods of time, as our conversations always would go something like this…

Me ‘Hey, how’s it going?’

Her ‘ OH MY GOD! I need to get fucked!!! I am supposed to meet this one guy after work, but I don’t know if he’s going to show up…he’s kind of like an ikemen, oh my god he’s so fucking hot! I met him one night at…blah, blah, blah.’ (this sometimes continued on for a lengthy period of time.)

Me ‘Oh, sounds fun. How’s school?’

Her ‘What? Oh, it’s ok…OH MY FUCKING GOD!! You won’t believe this guy that I fucked 2 days ago…blah, blah, blah.’

Anyhow, she worked at a hostess club in Ikebukuro owned by some Nigerians. I know, a hostess club in Ikebukuro owned by some Nigerians, the ultimate location to climb that corporate ladder and secure a bright future, right?

I was living in Ikebukuro at the time and was completely fucked for money as I hadn’t had a job in 2-3 months, so I gave it a try.

My first day…
The owners were seemingly nice, and the other girls were being friendly. Okay, so far so good.
One thing I noticed right away was the stripper pole in the middle of the room and the black lights that lit the room. I soon found out that yes, there was a stripper, but no we (the hostesses) were not expected to take our clothes off. Phew.
There was one stripper a night, who usually performed once or twice depending on how busy it was. All together there were 3 strippers, all Japanese girls. There were about 8-10 hostesses that were all foreigners. It was mostly Philippino women, with the whacky Spanish girl, a French girl, a Brazilian woman….and me. The club had a ‘no touching’ policy, but it was considered a cheap, lower-class club, so many of the customers would ignore that policy and try to grab the girls. I saw most of the girls get grabbed/groped quite a bit. But I was pretty good at dodging and blocking their quick hands while laughing it off. Plus, I usually made it a point to mention to every customer that I was a professional kickboxer. Sometimes it seemed to ward off potential attacks. Cop a feel, lose some teeth.  It was an unspoken agreement between the customers and I.

The paycheck was once every 2 weeks. However, your first month there you had to wait until your 4th week to get paid. So I had made it 3.5 weeks, we were getting paid in literally 3 or 4 days…when the club got closed down. They had apparently not paid the rent in quite some time. There was a big fiasco regarding whether they were going to pay us or not.
One of the owners knew how broke I was and suggested that I work for his friend’s club in Shinjuku. They paid ¥12,000/night ($120) in cash. Not having the option of getting a better job and having to wait another month to get paid, I decided to check it out.

This is worst place I have ever worked….

There was still no concrete answer on whether I was going to get the ¥50,000 ($500) they owed me, so I went to work at the other club. (I never did get that money.)
This place was in the middle of Kabuki Chou, an area known for its high population of Yakuza and sex clubs, not so much for its pristine parks and Virgins. It was on level B1 of some random building. The place was real small, probably only able to hold about 10-15 customers at a time. It was even darker, with even more black lights than the last club. There were 2-3 tv’s posted on the walls, all usually playing a dvd of those 90s style, rap/porn videos. There were about 6 girls, the main girl was from Ethiopia, a French girl who was black, the old Brazilian woman from the last club, and a couple other older, less attractive women that I can’t remember. Helluva line up.
I worked there for 3 days.

Day 1

I’m told to dress sexy. I’m the only young, white girl there, and get requested right off the bat. The customer a young’er’ Indian guy who was visiting Tokyo. He orders some drinks for us and we start talking. After a few minutes he asked me how much the handjob was going to cost.

…come again….?

I didn’t say anything for a moment as I tried getting my thoughts together. I finally managed to blurt out that it was my first day and I wasn’t aware this was part of my job description. Thankfully, he was a descent guy and apologized for making me uncomfortable and said that the owner had told him I would give him this ‘service.’
I apologized and asked if he wanted to speak to another girl. So I called over the Ethiopian girl, told her the situation, and she confirmed that no, we don’t ‘usually’ do that.
He left.
After that, I sat on the couch thinking about the situation I was in. I thought about getting up and leaving right then. Then I realized….I don’t even have enough money for the train ticket home. So I stayed.
The rest of the night was slow and uneventful. Then, I got paid.

Day 2

I went back, only thinking about the money at the end of the night. The second night started off pretty normal. Then I was sat a table with a Japanese man and the Ethiopian girl. He bought us drinks, and apparently that means that he could now grope us. First he turned to me and asked in that sickening, drunk Japanese way,


I smiled, shrunk back and politely explained I don’t feel comfortable with that. The Ethiopian girl injected her self into things at this point and told him that he could touch her. Then I witnessed something that will probably be burned into my memory for a long time…He aggressively and hurriedly slid his hand right down the top of her dress. He rubbed her breasts in big, circular motions while she just sat there smiling and drinking. I was just sitting there watching, with a feeling of not really being there at all. It seemed like forever, but he finally left.

I was still living with my friend Hannah at the time and had mentioned the name of the club to her, it had no meaning to her at first. But I was sitting on the couch later that night, waiting and hoping there would be no more customers, when I got a text message from her. It urgently read something like, ”GET OUT of there! I told the name of the bar to my friend, and she used to work there and said it’s the place where customers get mad if you don’t let them touch you and will hit you!”

I sighed heavily and thought to myself, ‘This can’t be happening.’

And yet, I decided to stay. I had already made it through most of the night and I knew there would be money soon. However, since this night had been ‘slow’ they only paid us half, and said the rest would come tomorrow.
Which leads me to my last day….

Day 3

By this time I knew I would not be continuing this job much longer. I know, who would have guessed it? I knew that it would only be a matter of time before I got a customer who wouldn’t take ‘No’ for an answer. And in this situation I was scared to think of what would happen.
Two things happened during this night that were the final deal breakers. First, we had a Japanese man come in. He sat with the Ethiopian and the Brazilian. I didn’t have a customer so I was able to witness them being heavily groped as the drinks kept flowing. He became really drunk and for god only knows why, the Ethiopian chick started rubbing in between his legs. He got excited and of course, in clear sight for me, he wipped out his cock. It wasn’t like he pulled it out a little, he fully unzipped and slightly pulled down his pants and presented his already hard cock….laughing and trying to get them to touch it more. I then drifted back to that not really being there feeling. I was at that moment being traumatized and I KNEW it. A bizarre and sickening feeling. God knows when the Ethiopian girl or the burnt out Brazilian woman first felt this way.

Finally they got his pants on and he left.

I had a customer that night, but he was an American on a business trip and just wanted to speak English to someone. I was not really sure how true that was, but thankfully he never tried anything funny.
Next, another Japanese man came in. He got the Ethiopian girl and now the French girl. Again, the drinks were flowing, the groping was hardcore, and he was getting wasted out of his mind, he was having trouble getting the rim of the glass to his mouth. This time, the Ethiopian girl took advantage of the situation, grabbing his wallet out of his pants and ‘buying’ them more bottles of wine. He ran out of money and the owner and the girls got him to go to his ATM to get more money. Not sure what happened when they were out, but when they all came back something had made the guy mad, and they had a conversation in the front hallway for 20 minutes. I didn’t understand what was being said, as it was all in Japanese. But apparently they were trying to make him happy.

I happened to look over…
To my left was a single stall bathroom. The door was open, I could see the owner and the customer standing in the bathroom together, the customer’s back was facing me. I wasn’t sure why they were in the bathroom together for a while…until I saw the Ethiopian girl stand up in front of him. She was facing me and I saw her wipe her mouth off with the back of her hand, a neutral, bored look on her face, nothing at all in her eyes.

Holy shit…is that what I think…did that just happen?

At this point I felt sick to my stomach and a bit light headed. The Japanese customer was now happy as ever and he left all smiles.
The owner walked past me, and must have noticed that I was sitting stiffly on the couch looking pale, and asked if I was okay while he chuckled a bit. I forced a smile and said I was fine.
Soon after, I made my way into the bathroom, everything moved in semi slow motion as I took in the scene, the moist and humid smell of piss and bodies, the alcohol, lingering vomit and I turned to look in the mirror, my reflection somebody else, someone I didn’t know. When I looked down to turn on the water in order to wash my hands my whole body froze in place. There was cum shot across the front edge of the sink. I blinked a few times, turned around and walked back to my sofa. I got the rest of my money that night and never went back.

The last hostess club I worked at.

After the place in Kabuki-cho I had already started working as an ALT part-time. So I was able to eventually move back into a private apartment in Asagaya. However, money was still really tight since it was just a part-time job. So I decided to give hostessing one last chance, as I knew that if you got into a nice, expensive club the circumstances were much better. So I got a job at a club in Ginza, and it was nice. The customers were mostly businessmen and the ‘no touching’ policy was actually followed for the most part.
There isn’t anything too exciting about this club, so I’ll keep it short.
This was the last club I worked at for a few reasons..
First, I realized I was walking around absolutely hating and despising any Japanese man who I saw, especially salarymen. Working in those conditions and seeing what I was seeing, even at the more upscale clubs, I couldn’t help this.
Second, I obviously don’t enjoy being talked down to like I’m some idiot and sex-object by a complete asshole, egocentric men.
Third, and the reason I got fired from this last place, I just can’t pretend that I am in love with, or want to have sex with these men. Which, even though you aren’t expected to have sex, is what this kind of job is really all about.
The illusion that young, beautiful women want old, ugly men.

I am now a full-time English teacher and I am training for a kickboxing fight in September. And even though I have a hard time with certain teachers I work with, or troubling classes, after writing this and remembering my experiences, I realize the job I have now is the-fucking-shit compared to being a hostess.

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