Sunday, 9 October 2011

I turn smokin' hot for Chicago

Drinking is the norm in UK stripclubs - this is one way that we are ahead of the States, as we allow full nudity flashing and gallons of booze in our tittie bars....
So there I was in a VIP a few days back - before I caught the stripper flu which has plagued me all week - with a couple of guys who were over from Chicago, USA, and two hot Eastern europeans.  We were discussing the differences between US and UK stripclubs, and how this one in London compared in particular.  The general consensus from the Americans was that the girls were hotter here, the club looked a lot nicer than some of the dives they'd been to in the US, although there were similar palaces of pussy plushness in the big cities, and finally, the UK was a lot stricter when it came to touching, and laxer when it came to drinking.

Now us girls are pro's, and whilst we are happy to discuss the differences, we are not going to concentrate on the bad points like 'no-touching-at-least-not-that-much-and-definately-not-my-bits-mister'.  So we all started praising about the drinks on the table and the drinks available and the Eastern European girls, true to form, started to yell for something stronger - shots in fact.

A round of shots, nice and clear in their little fluted shot glasses, appear  as if by magic and are shoved on to the table in between the champagne bucket and assorted glasses, packets of fags (smoked outside only), mood-light lamp and a rogue G-string.

The two Eastern-Euro's take charge.  Now these girls resemble the Tsar's sister's, with long straight sweeps of dark chocolate hair, Pocahonta's style, and big dark almond eyes - they look like a pair of beautiful slim Russian ballerina's, although I recall they were from one of the satellite's - Estonia, or Lithuania.  But don't be fooled by their dainty frame - these girl's can knock back the hard stuff, as they were eager to demonstrate.

"Letch drink wiv no hands, yezzz?!?" said the first prima-ballerina.

The Chicago guys whooped and hollered as she artfully pulled her long tresses out of the way, crossed her hands behind her, and gracefully bent down - no crouching here - and grabbed the glass in her mouth, pulling herself back up in a graceful flick as she knocked the shot back.

"Ummm, yummy" squealed the first prima ballerina in pleasure.

"Ohh, yez, itz my turn, yez?!?" said the second prima ballerina in her husky accent, and she was the epitome of grace as her long lean body leant down and gobbled up the shot, all legs and no-hands, flashing a dazzling smile in the lamplight as she did so.

The Chicago guys were very impressed - hell, so was I - and whooped and hollered for me to perform a similar trick myself.  The two prima ballerina's had made it look so easy that I was sure I could also drink a shot with both hands behind my back, so I bent over, lowered myself onto the shot glass, grabbed it with my teeth, and knocked it back..... Ta Da!!!!

However, as I came back up the two prima's were screaming and the Chicago guys were whooping and hollering and now waving their arms in the air and I could smell burning .... burning hair in fact.....

My hair!

As I'd leant down over the table my uber-flammable bleached tresses had got too close to the lamp, which unbeknownst to me hid a lit candle.  Whoosh! Like a tinderbox bits of blonde went up in Elnett flames.

One of the guys grabbed the cloth wrapped around the champagne bottle and doused it in the ice before applying it to my head.  Luckily it smelt worse than it was, and only a relatively tiny strand of clip-in extensions had been set alight, so my real hair was un-touched.

After thanking everyone, who were all in fits of giggles at my klutziness, I scuttled backstage and cut out the offending extensions, which stank of champagne and burnt hair.  Once these were gone & I'd sprayed some perfume on I was thankfully back to normal, and rejoined the merry party in the VIP booth, where we all got another few hours!  Hurrah!

I'm glad that I fucked up and maimed my fake hair in front of American's, who always have a good sense of humour for incidents like this, but I've learnt my lesson - don't enter into a space-race with Russian stripper's - I've got too much to lose, not least my fake blonde tresses! 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh you dippy dame!! I can so imagine you doing that! DS