Just another day in the life of...

I may not have mentioned this before, but I recently started working in a stripclub...as a stripper. This is something I find quite difficult to write down, as it's not really a piece of information I am keen to share with friends or family. Up until a few months ago I would never have even considered such an option. But money is a funny thing, it can make you do all kinds of crazy...It all started when a very (what I considered normal & nice) girl I worked with in a nightclub mentioned to me that she strips on the side, and has been doing it for a few years already. I almost dropped my fork (we were in the club canteen having dinner before our usual night of serving drunks and aching feet) - I had always tainted strippers with the dirty brush of skanky, gross prostitutes, and had never even considered that this pretty, funny, sweet girl would be doing such things. I asked her a million and one questions, to which my close friend Cassidy replied: "Why are you so interested? Would you ever do it?". And, shockingly, when I thought about it, I realised that I actually think I would. Especially after my friend explained how much money she made, and how she traveled all the time, and had such a flexible schedule. So I asked her why she bothered working with us in the nightclub then, if she already made so much money. She said "I have to do something else normal, otherwise I'd go mad". I'm slowly beginning to understand what she meant...

After much discussing with Cassidy, it turned out that the 'waitressing' job she'd had the year before was actually her moonlighting as a stripper. And she reinforced how much money she saved while doing it, and that it actually was pretty easy. We were both unhappy with the situation at work and tired of getting bunions from the awful shoes we were forced into wearing, so we decided to quit and start stripping together. This scared the shit out of me, but when I thought of the money it seemed worth it. We would both try get into the most well-known gentlemens club in London, as that's where the money would probably be best, and then just do it for a few months over the summer to save a decent amount of money. Finally, I plucked up enough courage to audition (which took me a good couple of weeks after chickening out multiple times), and after downing as much vodka and appletiser as possible, we went to audition at the famous club. We were told to get on stage and dance around the pole while stripping to just our g-string as quickly as possible. I remember Akon playing in the background, and shaking while pulling my dress down and trying to look sexy. It was one of the scariest things I've ever done. From the corner of my eye I saw the manager watching us and talking quietly to the lady next to him. The ordeal was over within a minute or two, and they told us we could get dressed. One by one, the lady called us over and gave us the news: they remembered  Cassidy from the year before and told her she could start working the following week, but needed to watch her thigh area (she has the best legs I've ever seen!); I was then told that I need to 'tone up' and try again in 4 weeks. I was disappointed. but also happy to have gotten it over with. The following week I realised I was desperate for money, and with 20 pounds left in my wallet I did my rounds at all the strip clubs that seemed suitable, and finally found a place that would accept me. I remember calling Cassidy in tears after all the rejection and her saying "How difficult is it for a beautiful girl to make money?!". It was a devastating day for me, but I went home knowing I could make money the following day. I would need the 20 pounds to pay my 'house fee' to work.

My first day as a stripper was traumatising, to say the least. I remember sitting in a dark corner sipping on water watching all the other 'vultures' hone in on the dirtly old men that came in that day and whisper things in their ears. I remember thinking how strange it was that I thought the hardest thing about becoming a stripper would be dancing topless on stage in front of people, and giving nude private dances - but in the end the most challenging part of it all is approaching men and trying to get money out of them without them feeling like that's what you're there for. I felt miserable. I didn't belong there. But I needed money, and couldn't think of any other way. Eventually my first dance came from an old man who approached me: "Do you wanna give me a dance?" to which I stuttered "Do you want me to give you a dance...?". And that's where I lost my innocence. I'll never forget taking his hand and leading him down the dark back passage with all the little private booths, walking past each booth and seeing flashes of naked women. I felt like I was in a movie, a scary, sordid movie. I gave him the worst dance ever, at least a metres distance away and on very shaky legs. Before I took off my underwear I told him his dance was almost over, trying to get him to carry on which was a tip Cassidy had told me, but he just jumped up and said "ok, thank you!" and I was like "Um, don't you want me to finish and take off my underwear first?!" and he said "No, it's alright. Thanks, you're lovely" and walked away. I remember feeling like an absolute failure - I must have been awful if he didn't even want me to strip to fully nude! (I later found out that he was a regular and liked to leave things to the imagination, always asking the girls to keep their undies on). So my first day stripping I went home with the same 20 pounds I started with. Enough for me to pay for the next day's house fee and hopefully make more. I went home and cried for a good hour. What had I got myself into?! From there it got better, and each day I came home with a bit more. But I was constantly thinking about it, and dreamt about dancing almost every night. It was haunting me. After many talks with Cassidy I started learning to think of it as just 'work', and once I'd left work to just let it go and not think about it again until I went back. I slowly got used to the idea, and felt less disappointed in myself.

A few weeks after I'd started, my roommate lost her job in recruitment and decided she wanted to start stripping too. We had been discussing it for a while, but it was only once she was fired and stuck for a job that she realised it was the perfect opportunity. She has plans for traveling next year, and really needs to save some money too. The only problem is the husband. He would never let her do it. So we decided to tell him that she was getting a job with me at the nightclub he thought I still worked at (which, by the way, is a private members club, so there's minimal chance of him ever going there), and instead she managed to get into the same club as Cassidy, and yet another one of us lost their innocence. Like me, Saskia struggled for her first few shifts, but slowly got into it and has even been enjoying it. She does, however, talk about it all the time, which drives me crazy, so I've told her she needs to let it go. And we've decided we might even get part time jobs alongside the stripping after the Olympics, so as to keep a bit of normalcy in our lives. Otherwise it's just a life of drinking, stripping, sleeping all day and then getting ready for work again. Especially because we live together, it would just be nice to not have that consume our lives.

One thing that does annoy the crap out of me in this job, is the amount of men that tell me I'm too good/pretty/nice/intelligent, etc for this job. And then most of them just want my phone number and want to take me out on dates! I'm like "No! Give me your money! I don't want to date you!" Ahhhhhh....So I've realised my niche is Asians, especially Indians! Arabs love me too...The white boys are mostly trouble, they don't want a dance and just want a stripper girlfriend. I can't deny that I haven't given my number to a few good looking boys, but in retrospect I'm never going to reply to their messages or let them take me out - it just feels wrong because of where we met, and the first impression they got of me. If I date someone I want them to first see me for who I really am, and then maybe I'll let them know the truth of where I work, but only if I really trust them...

On that note, I have been having semi-regular casual sex with the Neighbour from my first post and it's going quite well (he is u-mazing in bed, and has almost made me orgasm, which is quite a feat without a vibrator!)...I mentioned to him the other night that I was thinking of starting stripping over the Olympics as my friend does it and it will be good money, and he readily agreed! He didn't even sound judgemental, and said he knew a girl who did it, and that I would make loads of cash. So that made me feel a lot better, because I always thought a guy would never want to be with me if he knew what I did. Turns out it's probably the women that are most judgemental when it comes to strippers. Men have had enough experience in strip clubs to know it's pretty kosher and 'innocent', and I think there's a lot of guys that think it's hot to date a stripper. Cassidy's boyfriend knows she does it and doesn't mind. I think that's amazing. Obviously it's not something I plan on doing for a long time, but for now it's a means to an end, so why not? And I plan to keep it a secret, except for an elite few of my closest friends that I know I can trust...I mean, what if I become famous one day!?
I do, however, plan to write a book about my experience.You wouldn't believe the characters I work with...Anyway, I'm off to bed to get my beauty sleep for tomorrow - I have to work and also audition at another strip club just to see how it is. I need to make some decent money for my weekend off with my aunt, who will be visiting me for a few days...So no sex for me for a while!

PS: The STD test was clear! Yay! Never having unprotected sex again...well, unless it's with my movie star lover, of course!

Whipped Cream Bikinis and STDs...

A few days ago marked the birthday of the love of my life. We have a special kind of relationship, one that consists of me sending him sexy photos (and sometimes videos, if he's lucky) when he's horny, and the occasional skype sex session when I can talk him into it...He's a tits guy, so it's hard to keep coming up with new and inventive ways to take photos of my breasts! Seeing as it was his birthday, I thought it might be cute to send him a whipped cream bikini pic to change it up a bit. And it seemed more fitting - nothing says happy birthday like lots of cream! Boy, I did not realise how hard it would be...don't underestimate a whipped cream bikini!! Ali Larter made it look much easier than it is in Varsity Blues! I'm not really sure whether it's because my boobs are too big and sloped so the cream didn't have a proper anchor, or if it's because the cream melts against warm skin, but no sooner had I sprayed it on and placed my raspberries than the right side made a landslide down my chest and onto the floor, followed closely by the left.  I didn't even get a chance to grab my camera. I decided to move into the bathroom and carry on this operation over the safety of a sink before I left greasy cream stains all over the carpets in our apartment. After a few more attempts which ended the same way, I thought I'd try use some exfoliant over my nipples hoping the grains would get the cream to stick a little longer. That didn't work. Eventually I managed to spray on a semi decent nipple cover, pop in the raspberries while awkwardly bending back to prevent gravity, and quickly grab my camera for a few speedy shots before the bikini made its way down my boobs and my belly into the sink. When the can no longer seemed to have anything left to give, I gave up. This shot is about as good as it got. And then I enjoyed rubbing it all over my boobs and making a mess - which I captured too, of course. Birthday Boy was happy though...and then begged for more without the cream. I gave in, but only because it was his birthday...

In other news, I got a bit of a nasty surprise last night when I saw an article about an high profile man being treated for a rather serious STD. A man that I may have just shagged a few weeks ago. Without a condom. Shit. What's worse is that I may have even given him the STD as I had a bit of a slip up a week or so before that incident, and hadn't quite been feeling right since. I'm really hoping that: 1. I didn't give it to him and 2. I didn't get it FROM him! So it's off to the clinic for me in the morning. Keeping fingers crossed that it's just a vicious rumour and not true...Think I've learnt my lesson now, but I go weak when it comes to him. Sigh...Oh well, nothing a bout of antibiotics can't fix, I guess!

Breaking the Dry Spell: Sex with the Neighbour

So, I've taken the day off...why? Because I was having sex last night till the early hours of the morning, that's why. After a whole 4 weeks without a man's touch (granted it was a very delicious man's touch), I was hungry for some sexy interaction. And who better than my one-night stand neighbour to do it with...We shall call him 'W'. It had been 6 months since our first drunken/stoned night together, and a good 5 months since we'd bumped into each other in the street, so I really didn't know what to expect. I remembered W being rather good in bed, but I also remember that something had put me off enough to swat him away from me the next morning when he was trying to spoon... I didn't make much effort for him - pulled on my go-to maxi dress, spritzed my slightly dirty hair with dry shampoo, downed a glass of white wine and said goodnight to the married couple, who looked at me disapprovingly when I said I was going to have sex with the neighbour. They're just jealous because I have an exciting sex life that they can now only dream of...

I took the 20 odd steps to W's place feeling a bit nervous and not sure whether I'd even still find him attractive. As soon as he answered the door, though, that worry was put to rest. He was hot! And tall! And tanned! His shoulders looked a lot broader than I remembered (which I summed up later must be from all the rugby he's been playing), and he was wearing sexy torn jeans that flashed his golden skin at me. His hair was scruffy and all I could think about was how I wanted to yank it hard and passionately. His muscular arms were distracting me, and while he was chatting away I was trying to remember how big his penis was. We drank white wine and swapped some stories of the past few months. Mainly he just told entertaining stories about his friends' drunken mishaps and I just laughed charmingly while trying to figure out why the hell I hadn't seen W again sooner. He also had 2 joints rolled for us, and popped on 'The Departed', one of my favourite films. We ended up chatting a good couple of hours over wine, weed and smoothies, and then slowly started cosying up to each other. Eventually we started getting hot and heavy on the couch, and I was reminded of what a great kisser he is. That's always my deciding point about whether I'm going to sleep with someone or not - if he's a bad kisser I just can't bring myself to go any further. I'm big on kissing.

We moved to his bedroom and he put another movie on to play in the background. His body turned me on so much; those muscles, the tanned soft skin, washboard stomach. I made my way down to his member and almost sighed in relief when I felt a hard, decent sized cock in there. Thank god. He was very attentive, but a quiet lover - which isn't neccessarily a bad thing, it's better than 'J' the footballer who wouldn't shut up. It just means he was really feeling everything and enjoying the moment, which I like. I almost orgasmed before we even had sex which is very rare for me without my trusty vibrator. He definitely had a way. The sex was great, a bit tender and not quite as hard as I like it, but still great. Afterwards, we shared another joint and cuddled while watching 'Stepbrothers', which made us laugh. It was really nice. W asked if I was hungry, and then jumped out of bed and into the kitchen, only to come back a few minutes later with pita bread warm out the oven and hummus dips - I almost fell in love. It was past 4am when we finally switched off the tv and settled into each others arms to pass out. Naturally, I couldn't sleep as is always the case when I'm sharing a bed with a man. His sheet had bobbles on it that tickled my bare legs in an annoying way, and he kept jerking in his sleep which was a bit annoying. I almost snuck out and went home to sleep in my own bed, but thought it might be rude and I didn't want to screw it up again after being a bitch the first morning-after...I might have dozed a bit, but when his alarm went off at 9am it really didn't feel like I'd slept at all. I managed to sneak into the bathroom and swirl some toothpaste in my mouth while he went to move his car. Then I jumped back into bed and pretended to sleep. W came to snuggle me when he got back and then slowly got me in the mood for morning sex. It was just as amazing, if not more, than the night before - so sensual. He wanted to cuddle again after, and we kissed a bit, but then I said I had to go. He tried to hang on to me a bit more, and then gave up and walked me to the door, naked (that body!). W said 'I'll see you very soon' and I just smiled and kissed him goodbye, then skipped all the way back to my place in a great mood. I have a good feeling about this...even though I've been going on about how I'm not ready to give up my singledom after a year and a half, I definitely feel like he has potential. For what, I'm not certain, but there's something there for sure. No idea why I didn't get that same feeling the first time, but I'm guessing I just wasn't ready at the time. And possibly disgusted with myself for sleeping with W on the first date, which I then reflected back onto him...Either way, I hope it doesn't take us another 6 months until we see each other again!

In case you're wondering, I've already checked our star sign compatibility and apparently we make a great pair...