Though strippers are required to perform on stage, they’re paid exclusively by customers for private dances.
The way it works is, once you’re offstage, you walk around, chatting people up. Most strippers get really flirty right away, jumping into laps, straddling customers before they even agree to a lapdance, but I found this hard to do, at first.
My first day I walked around timidly, looking for someone who seemed friendly. Eventually I spotted a middle-aged white guy sitting in a corner alone, watching me.
“Hi,” I said, pulling out a chair. “Mind if I sit here?”
“Go ahead,” he said, smiling. He had scheming, twinkly eyes.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
It was Tommy. He was from Buda, owned his own business, and had 2 good-looking kids my age, whose pictures he showed me. As he was telling about himself, he pulled my chair closer and placed a hand on my thigh.
“Would you like a lapdance?” I asked, trying to sound sexy. Very conscious of his fingers, sliding slowly up my little skirt.
He laughed. “Maybe later,” he said. “How long have you been working here?”
“It’s my first day.”
“I thought so. You have that look, like a deer caught in headlights. Relax a little. Do you want a drink?” He motioned to the waitress.
If he wasn’t going to pay for a dance, I decided I’d go all out on the alcohol. I asked for a shot of Patron and a Bud Light to chase it down with. Very classy. As I chugged my beer, getting drunker and drunker, he explained how to perform a killer lapdance.
“First, what you did wrong,” he said, “is you asked me IF I wanted a lapdance. Everyone has money to spend, and everyone wants one. The trick is getting them to buy it from YOU. So sit in their lap,” he patted his leg. I moved. “And talk to them. Make them feel special. Then stand.” I stood up. “Brush your breasts against their chests, slowly. Ask, ‘Are you ready for a lapdance?’ That way it’s hard to say no, and if they do, you’re already standing, so you just leave.”
“Are you ready for a lapdance?” I asked.
He smiled. “There you go, girl. Show me how it’s done.”
Cry, by Rihanna, was starting. I moved my body to the music. Standing close. I rotated, showing off my butt. Bent down, touching my feet. All moves I learned watching the others.
Halfway into the song, I slowly took off my bra, exposing one breast at a time.
“You got it,” he said. “Now slide down, touch your boobs to my crotch, check if I’m hard.”
I checked. He was very hard. The song was almost over.
“That’s how you get them interested in another dance,” he explained.
“Would you like another dance?”
“Sure would.”
This time it was a faster song, still Rihanna. Please Don’t Stop the Music.
“Get on my lap,” he said. I straddled him. My breasts were in his face. TBH, I was getting kind of horny. I bounced up and down. I turned around, so I was sitting on his lap. I could feel his hardness near my butt.
“If you really want to get someone addicted, get them buying dances all night, ride his cock,” he said.
I rode it. I pretended to fuck him.
He bought dances all night. I let the club at 2, with a huge wad of twenty-dollar bills.
