A sneaky visit to a strip club
During my recent trip to England, we found cause for celebration when one of the group got some good career news. Us ladies dolled ourselves up, and the boys spruced themselves up nicely too.
Off we went for a very classy meal on a boat, with stunning views all around. Beautiful food, a bottle of rosé sparkling wine and a few cocktails later we found an Irish bar we had been told about and had a few more beverages. So far, so good – keeping it classy!
The place closed a bit early so we went on our way looking for a club. After walking for about 25 minutes [which was approximately 23.5 minutes too long for D and I] and not finding a club, we decided to venture into ‘Urban Tiger’, a gentleman’s club.
Ground rules at the door “no touching the ladies, obviously, and no using mobile phones, you can come outside to use them”, and £5 later in we went.
The ground floor was quite small, just a bar and a few booths and about nine semi-naked ladies ambling around to cater for the four or five customers that had been in there prior to us [it was a Monday night after all].
On a pole in the corner, they took turns every 15 minutes or so to “display their talents”, and they danced too. They were shit hot. Beautiful bodies, in spite of their itty bitty titties and boy were they able to climb that pole.
Easy to know it was my first time as I gasped when the first one took off her top and continued to dance in just a tiny black thong.
We had just managed to get the round in when two dancers popped up for a chat, a dark skinned girl in her early twenties whose name I didn’t catch and an older white girl called Jess.
Five minutes later, a couple of the boys disappeared behind the mysterious curtain – one who needed little encouragement, the other we peer-pressured into it. They returned within five minutes looking like two very satisfied customers, and of course, my curiosity was piqued.
When one of the first dancers came back for another little “chat”, I was easily persuaded to go for a dance, and one of the previous satisfied customers joined me.
I was nervous going in; what exactly was going to happen? Where was I supposed to look? What was I supposed to do? Not to worry, Jess was happy to take the lead. We had had a bit of a chat outside and I knew that she was 30 and had been dancing for 6 years. We had exchanged ideas about tattoos. Having made friends with her a little bit the next part was weird.
Jess grinded all over me, rubbed her very soft boobies in my face and all over me, crawled sexily on the floor in front of me. On the other side of the tiny private room, I could see my guy friend getting similar treatment from his dancer. I’m not gonna lie, I was seriously turned on.
I am 100% straight, I love me some two-backed beast action, but she was so sexy, so overt in her sexuality and so good at what she did I was enthralled. I think I had a smile as big as the boys did on my face coming back.
Not once in the club did I get the sense that these girls were being exploited. They were British, they seemed to be having a good time and they were definitely making good money. I was also totally impressed by the athleticism required to dance up on that pole. Overall, we had a good time and it was quite the experience.
Strippers are real people
Leaving the club we saw one of the dancers in gym clothes going to get a kebab. It was very strange. You just don’t imagine the girls in club as being quite real. I imagine that’s part of the point. I was left with some lingering questions.
-Do these girls mother’s know what they do?
-Do they have boyfriends? What do they think?
-As mentioned, Jess is 30 – surely that’s nearly retirement age for a lap dancer – where does she go from here?
-Do they have pension plans?
Would you go to a strip club with your other half?
We had a couple amongst out group, the male half of which spent the night studiously looking at the bar instead of at the pole. A wise man he was. But I think if I went in with a guy I was seeing I would get a couple’s dance for us.