Thursday, 3 May 2012

The difficulties behind chatting up a punter

Our eyes locked.  I was unable to look away.  The music melted away, a soft murmur in the background.  I felt naked. I was naked.
I realised that I hadn't taken a breath for a while. Air came into my lungs, I blinked, suddenly self-concious.
"I...." My lips parted.
His hand softly grabbed mine, and a thrill of electricity ran through me.  I could feel butterflies in my stomach, and I leant in closer, closer, wanting to kiss him.  This man, sat right in front of me.  Why did I find him so attractive, so alluring?
I remembered where I was.
I stopped myself, pulled my wits back around me like a protective security blanket, laughed nervously, and pulled myself back up. As if to break the spell, I tossed my head back and strode seductively to the other side of the booth before finishing the lapdance.

Yes, that really can happen.  I've fallen in love with customers in an instant, felt an erotic thrill whilst dancing for some of the most beautiful men I've ever met, fallen for the charms of men chatting me up over a glass of champagne, the alcohol clouding me till time rushes past in a blur.

All too often though, it doesn't work out.  Say you'd like to meet, and the guy, sensing ulterior motives, invariably asks; "How much?"
For me, this is a total passion killer.  It kills dead my schoolgirl crush.  How can I be infatuated with a man who wants to pay for my feelings - how can he not realise that my feeling are genuine?
I know I'm really, really good at making a man feel special, because that's my job - to propagate a fantasy.  I'm an exotic dancer on paper, but I am an illusionist by trade.
Then there are the times when, naturally, they don't want what I want - a date.  They want me that night - in a hotel room, back at my house (awkward journey that, as I always say I live in a totally different part of London) - back at his place, perhaps his city bolthole where his wife and kids won't see us.
This makes me feel grubby.  Sure, I've had plenty of one night stands - but they are usually after a house party, a chance meeting in a club, when I'm high, drunk and free.
So maybe you meet up and go on a date - then you have to explain all the fantasies that you span on your initial encounter at the stripclub.  No, I'd add 5 years to that age; I'm sorry, I've never really been to teh same ski resort as you; actually, I don't really live in Chelsea - haven't been there in months, but I do love the TV show....
Of course there is the presumption that you do this all the time, you must be such a slut, taking full advantage of the conveyor belt of eligible bachelors that walk into your life night after night.  You are a guarenteed shag, tons of notches on your bedpost.  You get chatted up all the time, right? (Actually, this is true - most times I leave the house I'll get admiring glasses, but that doesn't mean I follow them all through.)

So, dear readers, next time you are in a club, and that curvy beauty with chocolate eyes to die in holds your hand and whispers that she hopes you don't leave her side for a moment that evening, that she wished the night could last forever - who knows, it may be true!
Or she might just want another hour in the VIP......

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

a dancer told once told me she enjoys spending time with her and it's not about my money. I'm not a big time high roller but we chat up and hold hands during our conversations but I always and try to
see her and go vip. But she has blew me off for high rollers who drop $200-300. I usually wait two drinks
then leave.