Best lapdance of the week

Hello jolly readers!

After a spate of 'How to....'s" last month, as I explored the dating scene and lapdancing, I feel it's time to dish the dirt again on what has been happening in my booths this week.  I've decided that it would be fun to highlight my best - and potentially the worst - lapdances I take part in as a weekly series.  Hell, why not?

So look out for the label's; 'best lapdance' and 'worst lapdance', which should begin to appear on my label cloud on the sidebar.  Unfortunately I don't seem to have a search feature on my blogger, and can't be asked to install one right now, if one even exists, as I'm too tired and hungover after a hard night's graft.
And you'll never guess what happened....

"Best Lapdance of the week! Award" goes to Josh, an American suit that chose to celebrate his last night in London with me and a Czech girl.  He win's hands down because he had such a good body.
You could just about make out the thick muscles in his biceps that strained ever so slightly against the fabric of his well cut designer suit, but I gave him a squeeze just to make sure. Yep, those were some muscles alright, I smiled as he flexed them for the benefit of the cooing strippers around him.
He was HOT, and RICH, and HE KNEW IT!!!
I jumped for joy when he picked me to dance for him as it was a) a total confidence boost and b) made all the other girls jealous.
Actually he picked two of us girls to play with him as he was a greedy, fun loving sod - but I love threesomes and the three of us practically skipped towards the lapdance area.
He drawled oodles of compliments about the Czech girls flat stomach and my jiggling bottom in a sensual American accent for a couple of songs, but it was when some American Rock came on that he really came into his element.

As Def Leppard called for some sugar to be poured on him, Josh leapt up and began to thrust his crotch with a rocker's rhythm.
Whilst Def began to get hot, sticky and sweet, Josh began to under the buttons on his shirt, one by one, in time to the pounding drum beat.
Us two girls screamed like schoolgirls, ostensibly to make Josh feel like a real life rockstar, but there was passion behind my screams, because Josh revealed something very, very tasty under his suit.
A tanned and rippling six pack with just about the right amount of soft chest hair that called out for me to sink my fingers into.
So I did.
Well, we had to check out his chest didn't we?
"No touching the dancers allowed!" Josh joked, and we giggled right back.

How to give a lapdance

Possibly the most important skill in a lapdancer's arsenal, or possibly the most over-rated.

Lapdancing = dancing whilst removing items of clothing, usually with at least one person watching.

It's the stuff of nightmares for many, but for born exhibitionists like me, it's the stuff of dreams...

But how do you strip like an exotic dancer?  Here are some tips on giving a lapdance

1. Eye contact   Look deeply into the eyes of your audience. Wink a little, flirt coquettishly with fluttering lashes.  Single one man out and look directly at him.  Make them feel like they are the only man, woman, or perve in the room. Back away a little if you please, so he can see all of you, and look back into those beautiful baby blues.  But please remember this isn't a staring match, so don't freak onlookers out with a beady eyed stare of death....
2. Bent knees   Keeping your knees bent is crucial when giving a lapdance, as it brings your jiggling booty to his crotch ie: you are on his lap.  It also makes your bottom stick out more, increases the freedom of movement, and hell, you can always just pretend you are at Carnival.
3. Forget the fastenings   Don't sweat the bra-straps, zips, knicker elastics and ribbon ties of this world.  Yes, they will get caught, stuck, and prove damn fiddly just when you least expect it.  If you can, ask your audience for help - most will be happy to oblige, and it will create a rapport and waste time (hurrah!)  Or else flop a breast out, shove your tits in his face, and whilst he is distracted, you are free to sort the offending fastening out. 
4. Breathe, Smile, Think SEX!     It will show in your lapdance if you are fantasising about Brad Pitt going down on you whilst you are fed chocolate covered strawberries by Orlando Bloom. If you want to dance sexy, you have to think sexy.  And please don't get so nervous that you stop breathing, begin to shake and burst into tears.  I've seen it happen with the new girls.  Just think Hollywood heart throb, and not 'does he like me, how big is my bum?'
5. Slow Down... Slow, sensual movements are great.  Pretend the chair is an ardous mountain, not a jungle-monkey climbing frame. Go slowly, not jerky. (unless we are talking bum wiggling, in which case you can go like the clappers!)

So, I hope you like my top 5 tips for giving a guy a lapdance.  Follow these tips and you could be wearing a binbag and he'll like it.  Aww, bless.  Men.  They can be so simple sometimes, hey?     

Bucket List no.72: Get a lapdance

Call me a sassy Samaritan, but I made a girls deams come true last night.
I gave her a hot lapdance, the first in her life & the only one of the night, and possibly ever again.
I made her bucket list dream come true.

For those unfamiliar with a bucket list, it's the kind of list you write on a rainy day, when you dream of all the things you want to do before you die.  A list of wacky, crazy acheivements, you could say.

Typical bucket list;

• Visit the ruins of Machu Picchu in Peru
• Drive a sports car round a track
• Have a threesome
• Go scuba-diving
• Have a super-hot lapdance from a hottie like me!

(Well, it was on this ladies bucket list anyway.)

Ricky Gervais' show, 'The Idiot Abroad', actually had his hapless pal, Karl Pilkington, performing items of his bucket list.  I remember seeing the bungee jumping show and Karl going down Route 66, but I don't remember him visiting any stripclubs.  That's a damn shame, as I'm sure one of the stripping sorority sisters could put a big slime on that glib, bewildered face of his.  Ricky, if you're listening....????

The lady and her friend LOVED the dance and said I was like a white Rihanna, and I rode high on the coat-tails of that compliment for the rest of the evening!!!

My 2012 New Year's Stripper Resolutions

New Year 2012 - auspicious to all, special to Londoner's.
Resolution's - when one makes a series of promises to oneself, in order that they can become a better person.

I have two sets of new Year's resolutions this year.  Real life and Lap-dancer life.  Guess which life these are for;

1. flexibility!   I feel like a creaking, crunking, calamity-waiting-to-happen.  I totally ignored any fitness regime last winter, figuring that if I danced enough shifts in the run-up to Christmas I'd stay in shape.  Of course I did - my tummy stayed nice and flat, and the orange peel stayed on the log fire, not my thighs.  But it does mean that you are only flexing certain parts, so they get tired, whilst the rest of you seizes up.  Sure I am a teeny weeny size 8, but I can't touch my toes anymore or spread my legs wide enough to look like I'm showing off.  I'm going to hit yoga until I can once again lick my own leg.  Lick it!  
2. Whiten those teeth!  For an English chick, my teeth aren't too bad.  Year's of wearing traintracks in high school have left them nice and straight.  But the years since then haven't been quite so kind.  I smoke (especially when pissed), I've been on more 3 day benders than I can possibly remember, & I have a 5 bottles a week red wine habit. My pearly-whites ain't so pearly anymore.  I need to channel the Pearl-ay Queen's orf Sarf n East End Lunden, innit, for super shiny gnasher's.  This is the year when I bleach my teeth as well as my hair....

thanks to adrian, acediscovery at Flickr

                 3.  Hustle 4 times a week.  I'm a pretty lazy lapdancer.  I prefer to call myself chilled out, hippy child, eschewing the rat race.  But essentially my daily routine boils down to - "shall I go into work tonight - or not?"   So even a 4 night week can be difficult sometimes.  Consider the maths.  I go in on Monday & Tuesday, full of good intentions.  But getting home at 6am tires me out, I'm hungover to shit, so I take Wednesday off.  Thursday I wake up sober and full of beans, so run lots of errands, then eat a fat dinner, then pass out till it's too late.  A stripper in London needs to be getting ready and eating dinner by 7pm, so she can leave the house at 8.  As a general rule, most clubs like you in the changing room by 8:30, perhaps 9, so the house mum can whine endlessly about getting on the floor, so the management will get off her back.  Anyway's, Friday usually has something going on, Saturday always has something going on, so before you know it a full week has passed and I have done 2 or 3 shifts.  WELL NOT THIS YEAR!!!  I'm sticking to a 4 day week...every week.

              4.   Scribble.....  When I first started this blog, I wasn't expecting much.  I'd had a blog a few years before - the stripper bride - which had about 3 hits a month.  I'm not surprised, because I moan and rant a lot on the few entires that I have made.  But when I started writing this one, a curious thing happened.  I began to read and write about not only my personal experiences, but on the experiences of lapdancing that I found all around me.  Stripper's in the media, in books, in fashion - fellow lap dancers and sex workers who were also blogging, being activists, juggling cam shows with university.  It's a fantastic rich world out there, and I prefer it if these pages aren't just about me, me, me, and how my day went.  It's much more fun to explore, to laugh at, to see the absurdity in situations, rather than moan..... so my final resolution as Sassylapdancer is to continue writing, read tons, keep it funny, and make this blog as broad and fascinating as possible.  

I'm Sassy, I'm a Londoner, I'm a stripper, and I'm proud to be all three.

P.S.  If I can keep these resolutions going past march, I'll eat my pants.

Hitting a lap dance HOME RUN!!!!!

Tonight all the stars aligned and I got squillions of VIPs in half hourly increments and then hustled myself up a VIP room full of beautiful people and galloons of booze.

• Both the customers I was dancing for and my fellow dancers were seriously off the scale of hotness. Tall 6"foot men from Viking country. Check.  Super sexy teeny weeny swishy haired curvy sexkittens from Romania, Bulgaria and any country in eastern Europe ending in  -ia.....Check.
• Free flowing super chilled booze on tap.  Check.
• Good hair day, no bloat, fresh clean underwear.  Check.
• Great times with no leching, touching or aggro.  Check.
• Made oodles of money very, very easily.  CHECK.

i just wanted to show off a little folks. Its the last few nights in the run-up to Christmas, and I had the night of my dreams..... Charlie Sheen would be proud... 

Stripped - too right there!

So I've been pouring over the recent book by `Jennifer Hayashi Dann & Sandrine Levique'
on the UK lapdancing industry- and its ties with the sex industry in the UK in general.
As I mentioned a few posts ago, I was worried it may be harrowing stuff which put me off my profession, and you know what? It is.

Score of women have rolled up to give their two bob bit and I empathise with so many elements of their problems its scary. I'll be posting a review later this week, but so far? It's scarily food for thought....
I already feel worried enough turning up to strip - what if a manager or co-worker found out I had this blog? Would I be seen as a bad influence - a whistle blower? Would I get sacked? I don't know if I am prepared to lose my job for a few scribbled down words.  As regular readers will know, I don't shit-stir, I don't name-drop, I don't moan in explicit detail about my nights at work, the guys I get naked for, the girls I do it for or the managers I tip out each night.  I just generally try and use this as an outlet for my little pieces on the stripclub industry - hell, the sex industry in London in general - I am classed as a sex worker by the government after their ruling a few year back now - anyway, I just like to write on what it is like to be a stripper in London and my thoughts on London's sex industry.
Still, the book Stripped: The Bare Reality of Lap Dancing
paints such a negative picture of exotic dancers and the attitudes that they are faced with that I am glad I have this blog, because in its own miniscule way I can be a voice for all the lap dancers out there who enjoy their jobs, who work in nice clubs, and feel that they are doing a service to mankind itself.
There, I've said it.  I'm a girl providing a service of full-blown, 5 star entertainment.  I'm a stripper. I get your rocks off.  For money. So there.
Just please, if you are my boss, don't figure out who I am and sack me.  I'm not a dancer with a malicious bone in her body - my bones are rather flexible, and tanned and trim at that.  I'm just a girl, who like anybody else, has days where she loves her profession pathway, days where she hates her job, but please don't get scared by my stripper diary.
It's as harmless as a single lapdance..... you can always have one... no1 will notice....

Lap Dancing jobs - are they really proper employment?

"So what do you do for your day job?"
One of the most common questions I get asked - or a variation thereof;

"What are you going to do in the future? After this? When you can't do this anymore?"
"What field do you work in when you are not here?"
"You can't be a stripper forever you know..."

I'm sorry. You ask me that question, night after night, and quite frankly, I find it insulting.  Lap dancing is proper employment.  I have to pull an 8 hour shift - its a full 9 to 5, give or take the clocking in times, and I am potentially rostered to work every day of the week in many of the big London clubs - thats right, Monday thru to Sunday, ad infinitum.  What other industries have the crazy working hours that a stripper can? Frontline frickin services matey.... Lap dancing venues are often open seven days a week, from lunchtime till the early hours of the morning - Secrets is open till an eyeball bursting 6am! If you are ever desperate for naked women in the middle of the night, they have venues all over goddamn town (see here)

I got asked this today, when I was soooo tired - and thats just from doing a weeks work at my strip club. I've worked every night apart from Sunday and the Strike action yesterday till the sun came up.  yeah, so some nights I've been home by 4am, but mostly I have shut my eyes as the birds were crowing and the traffic was building.
I've been reading that book that was published recently by Danns and Sandrine, and its full of women complaining that their hard work and long hours are not recognised as valid by society, even though 'raunch culture' is encouraged (you can see a really interesting review of it here by a feminist book reviewer)

Well look everybody.  Whilst I might say to your face that I am studying/caring/being a PA - that being an exotic dancer is just a stepping stone to new and bigger things -  I'm telling you now, I'm in this for the long term.  As I've said a million times boefore, I like my job, I like lapdancing, I think it is a great profession if you approach it with the right attitude.  No job is perfect, and neither are there perfect customers. Besides, with the economy as it is, the job market sluggish, and youth and graduate un-employment rising, why not capitalise on my strong sales skills and good looks by providing a second to none service?

Besides, if my contemporaries can't get a job, wouldn't it be greedy of me to take up two or more???

Really Rosamund? The clubs that strip women of their dignity

I got told by a fellow tweeter last Thursday that there was 'a rather misinformed article compared to the one you were in in the Evening Standard the other week' (thanks @K_Pilch)

I followed her link and found a rather opinionated article on a female journalist's visit to Secret's in Covent Garden.  Read it here

I was surprised by how offensive it was.  The author, Rosamund Unwin, has written very funny and sharp article in the past that I have really enjoyed, but this wasn't clever at all, just nasty with a hint of snobbish bully about it.  She calls herself a 'self-declared strident feminist' but derides a ladies night - the first one the club had held (in that location).  I tried to look at the website to see what 'ladies night' entails but I couldn't find any information.  Nonetheless, a stripclub making an effort to be more attractive to female customers should be applauded.  In America, girls visit lapdancing bars all the time - why not here?  Besides, the lesbian scene in London has been decimated with the closure of Ghetto and Trash Palace, and is now a figure of fun in the sleazy Channel 5 documentary imaginatively titled 'The Candy Bar'.  (I've been there, it's great, and much better than channel 5 portrays it.)

She says that the dance was 'as erotic as taking out the rubbish' and complains about feeling the dancer's 'leg stubble'.  She also says that her female friend was laughing throughout in 'embarrassed hysterics'.  Poor girls - doesn't Rosamund realise that we are not all Dita von Teese, and have to try and be 'erotic' without personalised lighting, special effects, a hair and make-up team, and a chereographer?

I was really pleased to see that the majority of comments were in favour of lapdancers and thought that the piece was 'one-sided' and 'bitter'.  It's certainly very different to the Striponomics article which was based on an interview with yours truly a few months ago.  There are also lots of reader comments on my blog piece on the article

I suppose that it's the job of newspapers to explore professions such as mine from all angles, and that the Evening Standard should be lauded for presenting such different views by such different columnists.  London's sex industry is a huge heaving underground mass and it's great to see insights into the sex industry in London get some press - even if it's a bad review of a lapdancing bar.  Still, it's a shame that Rosamund Unwin complained of lapdancing bars stripping women of their dignity, when she goes on to strip the lapdancers of their dignity in her article.

Brand new page of all my favourite blog posts!

Bonjour readers, I just finished going through my blog posts to find my favourites - the funniest, the rudest, the nastiest!
I've uploaded them all onto a spanking and sparkling new page which can be found here.

I hope you read and enjoy them - feel free to comment and moan all you like - although I want the sexy moan - not the nagging kind.  Mwah!

I've just enjoyed the last Bank Holiday of the so-called english summer, and have a few stories to tell which I'll be writing up and posting tomorrow.  Until then, I've got a bottle of red wine to finish off and a sofa which is calling me.

Ciao!

Fantasies of a stripper

My imagination has taken to wandering after three days of being locked up inside my house whilst the violence rages on outside on the streets of London.  Denied the ability to work, fantasies of being a stripper fill my mind.  Well, I am one already, so really it's the fantasies of a stripper - lapdancing fantasies that have already happened, that I want to happen, how I wished they had happened.  I've danced for years, so have a lot, some are cookie-cutter fantasy, some are strange and esoteric, but I'll list a few of my favourite stripping fantasies;

• Giving Johnny Knoxville a lapdance whilst wearing his cowboy hat - it felt so rock and roll.
• Giving a sci-fi actor a lapdance - I can't remember whether it was Star Trek or Star Gate but our eyes locked throughout and we had a connection that was out of this world!
• Doing tequila shots with my Pammy lookalike friend Grace in a dingy little Tokyo bar after work in the Roppongi district. She had nipples like pistons, and would wipe a slice of lime on one big, pneumatic nipple, sprinkle salt on the other, then balance the shot glass inbetween her ginormous surgically enhanced tits and approach my face with her ample creamy cleavage.  I was in tequila heaven. Yum.
• Several VIP moments with several hot hot HOT girls - it's a shame that I'm not in contact with so many of these wonderful women any more, but thats the nature of the stripping industry beast - we move on and disappear.  If I ever have trouble getting off, its these lesbian twosomes and threesomes (with the guy customer watching with a massive grin on his face) that I remember.  
• Dancing for a dwarf.  This hasn't happened yet, and it's pissing me off.  It's number one in my stripping 'To-Do' checklist - if there is a dwarf in my club, which seems to happen on an annual basis, I'll make a beeline for him as soon as possible. But I miss every motherfucking time! I've danced for guys half paralysed in wheelchairs, a blind man (that was really fun - I had to dirtytalk a lot), plenty of hobbling broken legs, carefully shimmied round broken arms, I've had stroke victims, Downs syndrome - the lot.  But not a dwarf - although I did dance for a guy who had no hands and his legs amputated at the knee, so I've danced for someone of similar height.  (As a disclaimer, I'm not doing this because I feel sorry for them.  They are in the club to party with beautiful women, and I am happy to provide that service.  If I've given him something for his wank-bank, all the better! However, to keep me inspired, I do have a 'To-Do' checklist of bizarre stripper-related aspirations) 
• Getting rained on.  This is an American term which means that a guy stands at the tipping rail (side of stage) and throws notes on a stripper whilst she dances - but throws so many that it looks like rain.  I've had it happen to me with fivers in London a few times, single dollar bills plenty of times, but the best was by a music producer who rained on me with $100 & $20 bills when I was dancing abroad.  Wow. My garter was certainly packing that night, I tell ya!
• Getting praised by the management for doing a good job.  This NEVER fucking happens, as even if the burly blokes do give you a compliment, it's always followed by a sarcastic rebuff/insult.     ie: ME; "I did really well tonight, here's a tip for you"  BOSS; "Thanks, I knew you would do well tonight in that outfit, it looks good on you. Makes you look like a right slag."
• I'd love to give a rockstar a lapdance.
• Ditto a pornstar - male or female, or a burlesque star.  Might be a bit intimidating, deffo lotsa fun.
• I'd love to work in Vegas. It's like the stripper Mecca.  I've been, and loved it, and wish I could click me heels and go to where the sun always shines, the high rollers are always rolling in, and the lights are bright.  I'm sure they would love me over there - in my fantasies all these American guys go "Jeez, I lurve ur pritty inglish accent, lets go to V.I.P right now" and shower me with casino winnings. Sigh. Unfortunately, as I don't have a USA visa, Vegas business licence or sheriff's card, it ain't gonna happen, as the clubs in Vegas are SUPER strict on hiring. Meh.

Well, there are my favourite stripping fantasies right there. If I remember any more naughty times, or simply think of another lapdancing fantasy I'll let you guys know.  Especially as it's great fun to sit in the sun and fantasise about strippers, punters and stripclubs that I've met. 

Ciao! 

I like lapdancing! So why quit?

I'm a lapdancer.
But then I'm always asked "Why?"
Well I like it - I like lapdancing.

There, I said it.  I like lapdancing. I like my job, I like what I do, I like what it brings and what it does - is it really so strange to have a bit of job satisfaction?

Sure, I've had bad days.  I've had times when my job - my chosen career in fact - times when the job seemed to be too much.  I'd stomp off in a huff.  I'd fight back tears in the toilets.  I'd feel incandescent with rage - at the customers, the management, my fellow dancers and the assorted staff.  I'd come home and cry.

But doesn't everybody get days like that?

I've recently had the opportunity to try out a different career path - the office.  Nice, safe, dependable - a steady wage, with steady skills being gained, a steady crowd of fellow employees.  I found it, after years of stripping;

mundane
repetitive
and totally frustrating.

The thing is, lapdancing is a career for many women, and yet; its not seen as valid by so much of society.
I'm lucky - blessed even, to have a network of family and friends who know what I do, don't mind - are only interested and intrigued even.  I live in London, one of the world's most cosmopolitan cities, and have people around me with sophisticated, modern attitudes and lives.  I blog and tweet about my experiences on a regular basis, and the general feedbackand comments are pretty positive.

Sure, I know that lapdancing can be a pretty bad experience for some women, for various reasons - and I fully support and champion changing that.  But I guess what I am trying to say, is
"why can't I enjoy my lapdancing job?"
In a way, I can't say I mind society's attitudes too much.  Perhaps, if I like lapdancing, its enough to keep it a secret.  I like lapdancing, I like being a lapdancer, but I like its social cachet too. Besides, if everybody likes lapdancing, wouldn't it make it as normal as the office?