Double dance

I think I need to work on my girl on girl action.  I mean, I'm pretty good at it.  I like women, work with lots of sexy women, and am generally cheeky and flirty with anyone, regardless of sex, colour or age.  I'll pop into the shop and flirt with the girl, I'll flirt with the milkman, and goddamit, I'll definately flirt with the girl I've just been paid to dance with.
But I saw two girls dancing in the booth next to me last night, and WOW! They had it down. Not in a pornographic 'lesbian filth shocker' way, but in a totally smooth, sexy, almost balletic way.
Turns out one of them IS a ballet-dancer, which is probably why she was able to pull and stretch and wrap her legs around the other stretchy, twisting beauty from Romania.  I was watching their show out of the corner of my eye, through a booth divider, whilst giving a guy a lapdance.  Surely multitasking in action.  But I can get easily distracted whilst giving a lapdance.  I'm dancing to the beat, pulling my straps down, fluttering my eyelashes and projecting a coy nymphette, but really my mind, and sometimes my eyes, are somewhere else entirely.  Readers of my byeline know that this is often cheese on toast and horlicks as I am bored to death of drinking multicoloured alco fizz with ice in the glass eight hours a night, four nights a week.  What I would do for a hot milky drink by 2am most nights!
But I digress.  I was discussing double dances.
A double dance is when two girls dance for one guy, similtaneously.  Depending on the club proprieters rules they may or may not interact.  However, being good little hustling Queens, we will always tell the punter that it will be a lesbian show, girl on girl, on you, over you, in your face whilst you just relax, sit back, and enjoy all the attention.  Four titties, two sweet pussies, two arses jiggling in your face! Who said blondes can't count?
More important than the club rules for the level of action you are going to get is whether the two dancers know each other.  I've danced with girls I've barely met in the changing room, as well as with girls I absolutely hate.  Now that's awkward.
So if you have a double-dance from two lapdancers who spend most of the song swaying on opposite sides of the booth, equally glowering at each other or trying to push each other out of the way as tehy shove tits in your face, then sorry mate.  You've chosen wrongly.  Always, Always, go for personalities rather than looks if you want the best bang for your buck.
Till then, I'm gonna do a spot of bendy yoga and jump in a warm bath.   May as well warm up the old bones for tonight's shift - who know's what it may bring?!!

Dancing for the muscle-heads

Amongst the guys I know outside work, I have to admit I don't know too many muscly guys. Most of my male friends are either wannabe rock god skinny or cuddly around the edges.  But inside my working life, I meet guys who work out all the time.

Let me tell you a little known fact.
Stripclubs are a haven for unusual looking people.  The girls have freaky surgery, unimaginably long hair, and skin the colour of an Orangutan.

But the guys can also be pretty interesting looking too....
Rich army types with cock-duster moustaches.
Footballers with plucked eyebrows and racks of shiny diamonds.
Essex boys with tans, tattoos and too tight trousers by an LA designer.
Big muscly men - and lots of them!!!

Gangstars and heavies, friends of the doormen, cityboys who work out in the gyms in their offices, successful men who now focus their energies on slavishly creating the perfect Men's Health body.

Now these muscleheads usually rarely have lap dances.  Perhaps it's because they don't see bodies in that way - they just like to watch an athletic woman performing a few pole tricks perhaps, or soak up the testosterone filled atmosphere over some vodka's. (Gym bunnies don't drink beer, they want ripped chests not plodgy bellies).

However, I love to talk to the hot muscly guys - well when else am I going to get a chance to talk to a dangerous looking bad boy, the kind who could crush me with one powerful hand?

And every now and then, I get to give them a couple of dances.  And naturally, I kinda enjoy it.  Turning on such a big powerful stallion of a man, with his biceps bulging out of his Ed Hardy T-shirt.  Feeling his eyes burning as he traces my skin and curves, following his line of sight to my own strong legs, lean and toned from years pounding the boards.  I curve up, rubbing my breasts, trying to stretch out my stomach, pulling the demi-moons up till they perk their pink noses to the soft mood lighting of the booth.

And thats when my face falls.  I love dancing for the muscly men, they love me - but I'm a woman.  I get body issues, feel fat, pile on the pounds after a lazy day being hungover and watching the telly.  My stomach gets bloated and waterlogged monthly, if not more, as I bleed not only on my period, but when I forget to take my contraceptive pill - perhaps after a three day bender, he he he.  The drugs don't work when you've been on drugs yourself.

So taking all of your clothes off and exposing yourself, every inch, for a good looking guy who takes care of his own body can be a daunting experience.  Really daunting.  But that makes the naughtiness more explicit, and as I get more kinky and cocky from all these compliments, I get really turned on, feel special, feel wanted and sexy - I'm not that bad after all.
Unless I am having an off day, or I notice a gleam in the eyes of the man I am dancing for that shows a hint of disapproval, a recoil as I tilt a certain angle and show some goosepimples of cold flesh.  Hey, that air-conditioning can get pretty chilly ya know.

But twenty quid is twenty quid, whether an exotic dancer likes the guy or its just him liking her.  And hopefully the lean, mean weight-lifting machines will rub off on me so that I drag my ass down to the gym on a daily basis.....

Review of 'Stripped; A Life of Strip & Tease in Clubland' by Samantha Bailey

A memoir that runs the full life cycle of lapdancing.  Samantha Bailey began as a champagne hostess and lapdancer in Denmark when she was only a sweetfaced 17 year old from Essex, then returned to the UK and worked in a succession of lapdancing clubs, first as a stripper, then as a house mum.  Unfortunately for the gossip mongerers she doesn't explicitly name any clubs other than Stringfellows, but I reckon I can recognise a few of the places - and people - she mentions.  Keeping my lips sealed for now tho! 

Seeing as we both write about the same territory, I was suprised to see that the experiences which stick out in my mind are completely different.  She talks about money and gangsters on almost every page, which could make some readers lose sympathy for the protagonist.  You see her naievity in the industry gradually dissapate, and replaced by a steely determination to get on top of her game.  However, over the ten year period, the game is changing - more clubs are opening up, stealing business, and a new breed of stripper, who will do anything for money, from dirty dancing to prostitution, emerge.  At first Sam combats this ill tide by switching clubs, but she feels that she cannot cope as the guareenteed money begins to dry up.  And Jesus, did this girl earn some money!!! She had a flotilla of regulars, guareenteeing several grand a week, and commission was so low in the beginning that it was practically non-existent.  Eventually though, the commission and house fees begin to increase, as the clubs realised that they can make money off the dancers as well as the customers.  She thinks she has a fresh start when she becomes a housemother, but the club, codenamed 'Liberty Steel', is taken over by a bunch of Americans who sound like a mealy-mouthed, hard-nosed contingent who make her life difficult.  She eventually quits in glorious fashion, presumably to go off and write this tell-all memoir - Stripped: A Life of Strip and Tease in Clubland

My favourite chapter explored the different types of customers; 'The Virgin', 'Mr Trapped', and hilariously 'The Homosocials'.  All in all, she divided the guys into six different personality and spending types, (see my stripclub stereotypes series for more in a similar vein), and I felt that she summed up the men really well. The Homosocials are described as men who come into impress other men ie: their clients. Or as she brilliantly puts it "It's a bizarre variation of the 'see how big my dick is' contest that men play all the time."

Stripped: A Life of Strip and Tease in Clubland
has only just come out last week, and it's doing really well in the charts, so I encourage you to click on the link and grab a copy before they all sell out.  Perfect holiday reading for when summer arrives!

Shock Horror! Houston Chronicle versus Diary of An Angry Stripper

Dear Diary, I think you've been found.
The pages have been ripped out, torn apart, and my stories out for all the world to see as my identity is revealed.

Bless Sarah.  Her Stateside blog 'Diary of An Angry Stripper', that of the fabulous title and enviable reader comments, has been on my favourite posts links page for a while now.  It's a very smart looking blog, and she has posted some really funny little bon-mots.  I especially like her lists - what not to say to a stripper, ten things about our timekeeping, beauty obsessions, and general fabulous stripperness, and a really funny tale on Jeremy Piven, he of 'Entourage' fame, and his crap technique in bed.
But she was also working as a society reporter at the Houston Chronicle, which basically menat that she was going around to all these posh society bashes in an ultra conservative city filled with uptight, well bred folk....and when a rival paper outed her, outrage ensued. 

Ohh dinners here! Good luck sarah, I'm gonna finish up later

Stripper Stories - guest post by Sheila Hageman

The strippping and blogging community makes a perfect match, and I love talking with my fellow dancers, call girls and bloggers.  Sheila Hageman is one of these inspirational women, and I'm happy to present a call to action from her! Here is her guest post, and please check out her fantastic books too!
It’s time for strippers to unite!



I’m not talking about creating a sex-workers union or anything like that. No, what I’m talking about is much more radical than that. It’s time for strippers to unite in their mission to tell their stories.



There are lots of stories told out there about us—just look at the movies, television shows, and magazine stories to see what people believe about strippers. But they are not our stories.



Okay, yes—there are some stripper memoirs out there. I mean, I’m one of those stripper memoirists having written Stripping Down
and The Pole Position: Is Stripping for You? (And How to Stay Healthy Doing It)
 I also blog about the life of an ex-stripper who became a mom and writer at Stripper Mom.



But do you know what the biggest message I’ve been receiving from readers is? I keep hearing—Oh, wow! It’s not just another stripper memoir!



True, Stripping Down deals with much more than just my stripping past. My story begins: at twelve years old, everything changed for me with the discovery of my estranged father’s porn collection. Found locked away in a corner of the basement, the glossy images ignite in me an unrelenting desire for attention and adoration. Now, reflections on my past as a stripper permeate my thoughts as I take on the new roles of mother, caregiver and wife. While helping my baby daughter take her first steps, I nurse my mother through the final stages of breast cancer.



Spiraling through memories and torn between the woman I am becoming and the woman I have been, I am continually Stripping Down.



Part of the problem about the stripper stories we hear is that often strippers are presented in just that one way; we become compartmentalized and shown to be just that and nothing else.



I propose that every thinking stripper out there get to writing and start representing!



Write about everything, not just your stripping life because you are more than just a stripper.



Journal about your everyday life, your past, even your imagined future. But don’t avoid your stripper story either. There is so much to delve into and explore.



Let’s share our stories with the world. Let’s show that we are not all alike. We are all unique and amazing women with our own stories to tell.



If you want to write but don’t know where to start just begin simply by journaling. We’re not talking old-school “Dear Diary” or anything, just grab a pen and pretty journal and carry it with you wherever you go.



Whenever you feel inspired or notice something around you, jot it down.



When you’re first starting out, don’t worry about making it perfect, just get some words down on the page. This is how you start. From the beginning. From right where you are.



Write about your surroundings, about what you see, hear, smell and taste.



And if you are feeling bold—start a blog! Share your words with the world.



What are you waiting for?



What is your story?







Sheila Hageman is a multi-tasking wife and mother of three who blogs for The Huffington Post. Her memoir, Stripping Down, February 2012, from Pink Fish Press, is a moving meditation on womanhood and body image. Also check out her Decision-Making Guide and Self-Discovery Journal, THE POLE POSITION: Is Stripping for You? (And How to Stay Healthy Doing It), by Every Day Create, December 2011, that helps women to further value their own identities through their quest to understand their motivations for stripping. She received her MFA in Creative Writing from Hunter College, CUNY, where she also graduated as valedictorian as an undergraduate. She is a Yoga instructor and teaches Writing at Housatonic Community College and Kaplan University. She has work in many anthologies and magazines like Salon, The Fertile Source, Prime Mincer, and Foliate Oak Literary Journal. To learn more about Sheila and everything she does, please visit SheilaHageman.com. Check out her blogs: Stripper Mom and Celebrity Momster.

'The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl' by Belle de Jour aka Dr. Brooke Magnanti.

Without a doubt Belle is a fantastic diarist, and one of my blogging hero's. In many ways she inspired me to start this blog as "Sassy Lapdancer", but not as a carrion call to 'look at me'! I'm inspired by her emotional honesty, and it really comes across in The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl
, which was her first book, evolving from her popular and award-winning blog.


As well as delving into explicit and intimate detail about her client's sexual peccadilloes, and the processes involved in getting ready for and meeting clients as a call girl in London, she writes about her love and home life. You feel sympathy for this woman, who often feels alone and alienated in the bustling strangeness of big city London. That she commits such intimate acts - perversions, blowjobs, girlfriend experiences, plus a whole host of sexual tricks, played out in various hotel rooms - but cannot find peace and love in her normal life - is a fantastic tale.

It's chock-full of very funny writing, done in a tongue-in-cheek way. It's a gripping series of anecdotes, which can make the narrative jump about a bit, but doesn't take from it's charm. She is extremely frank when describing sex and fantasies, but you are just as likely to laugh as to blush.

It's a great starter book for any erotic confessional collection.



The second book in the series The Further Adventures of a London Call Girl
continues in the same 'year in the life of...' vein, and see's a few of her boyfriends from the first book pop back into her life. I must admit that for a girl who deals with sex everyday, she also has a pretty raunchy stable of boyfriends, but then I guess I do too, if you condensed a whole years worth of sex into a novel.


There was also a FANTASTIC and highly addictive TV series and you can grab the DVD's here Secret Diary of a Call Girl - Series 1-4 Complete [DVD]
If you want a great box set to while away a rainy weekend (happens a lot in London), I'd get one sent over straightaway. It's like all the sexy bits of Sex & the City set in London, and has fabulous fashion to boot!

Don't smoke you drunken idiot!!!

If there are several butts wiggling in front of you whilst their tiny streaky-lined panties are tangled around their ankles, perhaps there is a bottle of £180 champagne within reach, I can understand that a man may get fairly distracted. He may lay back, observe the sensual scene unfolding in front of him that he has shelled out a succession of twenty pound notes and card swipes for, and feel relaxed. Totally relaxed. Relaxed enough to feel like he is at home, reaching into his suit, pulling out a cigarette, and lighting it up.
Deep pull, close your eyes..... and then BAM!!! Every bouncer and manager in the building rushes in helter-skelter,the cigarette gets pulled from your fingers, hot rocks and ash falling onto your Savile Row whistle, the girls start screaming, they are herded out, half naked, stumbling over their dropped lacy panties, and you are surrounded.
This whole scene takes barely a minute.
You lost concentration, you silly drunken idiot, revelling in the moment.
Because whatever goes on in the champagne rooms, nowadays, smoking is definately not allowed.
Uh- uh.
London's got a smoking ban, as has half of Europe.
You mighht get a quick feel, you might get laid, you might even get a phone number - but a quick pull on a fag???
Forget about it.  It's a ten thousand pound fine, whereas a bit of bad perverted behaviour will either get you cuffed round the ear, or perhaps the stripper might get suspended.
I've had a guy pull his pants down and waggle his dick at me, many others who have grabbed me so hard that I've screamed, people stick out their slobbery tongues and try and lick my nipples - and to be honest, many one or two bouncers and managers have perhaps waded in.  Slap on the wrist.
But light up inside the club, and you're out mate.  Pronto.

Funny that isn't it? Is my welfare that unimportant, or do all gentleman's club managers have asthma.......???