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! 

Where are all the bankers?

Last Friday the papers had the front page news I had been waiting for.

The Banker's bonuses had been announced!!! 

Ok, so they won't get their money for the next couple of months, but they find out what was in the pot and how much they are going to receive for a years hard work (ahem!), so the theory is that last Friday should have been a night of rejoicing for the 10000 bankers at Citibank say, or the 4000 at Barclays and so on.  (My figures may be off here, but I'm trying to remember the Evening Standard article whilst hungover).

Even though I was dog tired, I dargged myself into the club on Friday night.  I keep an eye on these things, as one big night with a super rich client can be worth a whole week of normal nights.  I wore my favourite, but approachable dress - not too tarty, in a pretty white lace.  My hair was carefully waved, my eyes were dark and smoky - all in all, I was a dead ringer for the girlfriend they had always wanted, a Page 3 girl next door, a true high street honey. The banker crowd want to celebrate, I thought, not get so drunk that they go for the slappiest slapper with the biggest tits and blondest hair - thats more a Saturday night, stag do crowd.

As you can tell, I had high hopes for this evening.  I just needed to look good and stay alert to the waves of guys coming through the doors, pick carefully, and pounce!

I waited

And I waited

And I waited some more.....

Midnight came, and I had still not seen even one f**ging group of City boys!!!!  

I left the club early, at around 2am, sorely disappointed.  City boys, I don't know where the hoardes of you happy boys went to celebrate your bonuses, but it is a sad day for us strippers of London when you can't even go spend some of it on a pretty lady or two.

There are further announcements planned for the remaining banks bonuses - boys, once you get your good news, remember what Lou Mannenheim says in Wall Street;

"Kid, you're on a roll. Enjoy it whilst it lasts, 'cause it never does."