Confessions of an Ex-Stripper

slutty stripperPlaying to every man’s fantasy wasn’t exactly a dream of mine, but now that I’ve done it, I’m glad I did.  Dancing topless for a group of guys with perma-grins and wads of one dollar bills (or even better—expense accounts!) can make a girl feel sexy, alluring, and alive.  Raking in over a grand a night is even better.

I became a stripper twenty years ago after a topless club moved in next door to where I waitressed part-time.  Back then, I was also a really shitty stock broker.  After easing in as a cocktail server at the strip club, I quickly lost my inhibitions about taking off my clothes for money and began dancing.  While I loved all of the attention, the real draw was the appeal of being a shrewd business woman and independent contractor.  Where by day I was busy hustling folks to buy stocks and bonds so I could keep three cents on the dollar, by night I was holding on to over 90% of the profits I made on stage or at the tables.   When the boys from the firm came into the club, I loved making them pay.  They felt guilty because I was stripping for a living.  I felt empowered because I knew how to feed on that guilt.

Another way I made money at the club was by figuring out common fantasies and putting those fantasies into action.  Men love girl-on-girl action, so my friend Jasmine and I would undress each other on stage.  We unzipped each other’s dresses, unclasped one another’s bras, and gently touched each other playfully while keeping an eye out for the men enjoying the show.  Long before they sold dirty underwear in vending machines in Japan, I recognized how Japanese business men loved the smell of pussy—so I would go upstairs, change my G-string, wrap my hair in it, and proceed to sell it to them—along with a dance, of course.

Jasmine was the pinnacle of shrewd.  She finagled a scheme where a Geek of hers (a moniker we gave men who frequented our club) handed her $1,000 as a tip while she was alone on stage.  This created quite a stir, and for one evening Jasmine was the belle of the ball.  When I asked her how the fuck she got her Geek to do that, she just smiled at me and said, “It’s my money, silly. He wanted to look like a big man, so I let him give it to me in front of everyone.”

I had a few Geeks of my own.  One liked to take me shopping at Victoria’s Secret and go to lunch.  It was a treat for him to be seen in public with a hot blonde.  I liked taking the expensive, silky lingerie back to the store for money the following day.  The free lunch was okay, too.  One poor, lost soul agreed to pay me to sit with him night after night whenever I needed a break.  I rarely danced for him—the whole point was to get off of my feet for a few minutes—but he still paid me $10 for each song I sat on my ass and drank the drinks he bought for me.  These guys felt special because they knew my real name.  Here’s a little secret:  Strippers like having regulars.  We don’t have to work as hard for our money, they buy us drinks that also make us money (the bar gives us a cut), and all we have to do is play favorites for a few hours each night.  Sure, some girls sleep with their Geeks, but I never did.

One night my #1 Geek brought me a gift.  It was a piece of jewelry that was really sweet but not my taste.  Luckily, it wasn’t something that I could wear while dancing, so I figured I could pawn it.  The next week he brought me another gift and another.  Similar to the first time, I didn’t really like them—but being gracious and classy pays in the long run, so I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that.  “I’m not coming back here again,” my Geek told me one night while handing me a letter.  Now this freaked me out.  I knew he was having heart trouble, and I was worried sick that he was going to have surgery or something.  I never read the letter.  My boyfriend at the time read it and told me that it was sweet AND innocent AND nothing to do with death or dying.

And that’s the hard part.  Because there is so much money at stake, and because the men in the club don’t always understand that you’re just pretending to be their confidant, the walls can sometimes come down between the stripper and her clientele.

I’ve never blown a man for money, but I did pimp myself out as an escort one night.  A very shy, awkward man needed a date to his Christmas party.  At the time, I had long blonde hair, killer legs, and a knock-out smile.  I was also college educated.  I think the real reason he picked me, though, was because I had (and still have) real breasts.  In other words, I can pass in public for something other than a stripper.  His party was on a Saturday night—a night I regularly worked and couldn’t really “afford” to take off—and so he agreed to pay me $800 to offset the money I would have made if I had been at the club.  We worked it out so that he gave the envelop full of cash to my then-boyfriend.  My date and I agreed to some stories for “how we met” and worked up what we thought was a workable she’s-my-girlfriend façade.  It wasn’t until around midnight that everyone in the group had us figured out.  I felt badly—I even wanted to give him his money back—but I guess we were too much on an anomaly to be taken seriously as a couple.

I only stripped for a year. 

That year was 1993, and a lot has changed in the industry since then.  For one, the girls now wear incredible shoes that make their legs look like a million bucks.  I covet those shoes.  The other changes—the ones involving lap dances and private party rooms—are things that make me very thankful I got out when I did.  Back in the day, you could dance for a living—a very good living—and do nothing more than strip down to a G-string.  In today’s clubs, the girls make their money grinding their pelvises into strangers.  It’s so close to prostitution, in fact, that I rarely tell folks I used to strip.  When I do, they imagine me on my knees pushing my pussy into a businessman’s rock hard tailor-cut trousers.  I set them straight immediately.

Being a stripper twenty years ago meant making money by tapping men on their shoulder, whispering in their ear, and jiggling your boobs about two feet away from their faces.  The actual dancing was different, too.  The only thing allowed on the floor was our feet.  At no time during my stint as a stripper did I roll on my back, crawl on my knees, or spin on my ass. I never once wiggled my G-string down to reveal my butt crack.  Sure, I broke the rules (I was told I needed to end the panty parade with the Japanese businessmen, for example), but I also knew the rules were there for my benefit.

Today I’m living a new dream as a “legitimate” business woman who owns a small independent retail boutique.  My profit margin isn’t as good as it was as a stripper, but having that experience has sure taught me how to be shrewd, discerning, and figure out quickly who is going to pay and who is going to simply wave that dollar bill in front of my face as bait.

25 comments

  1. Oh that’s just great – I’m now following your blog and really enjoyed reading your stuff! Nothing is sexier than a strong woman in control of her sexuality, you are one badass chick!

  2. Oh, thank you! Being a 40-something gives us wisdom, clarity, and a reason to try Botox. I hope others find your blog, as I have, and get a chance to follow you on your journey as a writer and dater.

  3. When men exploit other people and prey on their emotions, they are chauvinistic pigs.

    When men want to make big bucks, they have to invest major effort and learn tremendous skills.

    When women exploit other people and prey on their emotions, they make big bucks!

    1. Bless your heart, Neo. When men willingly enter an establishment that sells fantasies, pay for those fantasies, happily receive those fantasies, and then feel exploited because they find out later that all they got was a chance to live out their fantasies–I am reminded of my youth. Thank you for sharing.

      1. So you’re calling getting a man drunk and taking advantage of him consensual? That’s sort of hard to believe, since the reverse situation is too horrible for me to even write. And since he’s a man, he probably had to work a lot harder than just jiggling to earn that money.

        Thanks for approving my post.

    2. Willingly=consensual
      Nobody holds a gun to these men’s head to come over at these establishment,they do it on their own…

      “And since he’s a man, he probably had to work a lot harder than just jiggling to earn that money.”
      And your point is?Did anyone forces them to hand over the money they’re so generously giving in the first places?

      1. My sentiments exactly!

  4. I can’t say I’ve ever stripped, but I definitely know the escort side of things!
    Very much enjoyed reading this, crazy how things have changed so much, though I wasn’t nearly old enough to experience it when you were tearing up the dance floor.
    I look forward to more posts from you.

  5. Mmmmm. I cannot wait to read about your adventures! Thanks for coming by and sharing.

  6. Super-interesting take on a 1993 strip-club.

    #ProudToBeAFollower

    1. Any chance you were born by then? (hehe).

  7. Great article! Thanks for sharing your experiences as a stripper and commenting on how the business has changed. My wife and I go to strip clubs together, and I really love and appreciate strippers. I wrote about “what makes a good stripper” in this blog article, if anyone’s interested. http://swinglifestyleblog.wordpress.com/2013/04/15/4-sexiest-attributes-of-the-best-strippers/

    1. Thank you so much! I’m glad you and your wife find strip clubs as a fun, exciting outlet. I couldn’t agree more.

  8. [...] the key words stripper, sexy confessions, and stripper confessions. Low and behold, my article “Confessions of an Ex-Stripper” comes up #2 on Google when plugging in those terms. Who knew, right? Salt-N-Pepper gave me a few [...]

  9. This was a really great read! I am very curious about the stripper culture. I was not aware that there was a change in the culture, very interesting to note. I have always wanted to strip, but I think I am too scared. Being in my early 20′s I haven’t been legal super long, but it has always intrigued me. Do you know a lot about stripping in today’s world? I’ve heard a lot of mixed reviews. I tend to be fairly closeted with my sexuality when first meeting people, and most people who meet me tend to see me as “proper”, “professional” and “naive” and I always stick firmly with that as far as business/jobs go. I’m curious if you ever felt that your stripping days ever affected your professional life- Did you ever run into coworkers while working? Did you ever have potential employers find out and be put-off by that?

    1. Yes. I used to play off of my ex-coworkers and guilt them into buying a dance. If you find the act of dancing shameful, it’s probably not for you. Thanks for your comment. I wish you the best of luck!

  10. […] street is pretty good,” I tell him as I intuitively flash the smile I learned how to use from my stripper days. “I used to go to it when it was in a different location. I think you’ll be pleasantly […]

  11. […] you ready to learn from an old pro and get that foolish grin on his face? No, you don’t have to install a brass pole in your home to […]

  12. […] feature stripping, meeting a homeless man for sex, and anything having to do with Craigslist. Why? Because the murky […]

  13. […] that last note, Salt-N-Pepper would snicker about “once a stripper, always a stripper” because I feel entitled to having men buy my meals and cocktails. All the […]

  14. I also worked in a strip club 20 years ago, and I LOL’ed at your comment about starting out serving drinks. I suspect that’s how most women start out, it certainly was where I worked. The club always advertised for ‘bar staff’ not ‘strippers’. The owner figured once he had you in the door it only took a fortnight to get a girl from the bar to the stage.
    These days it’s much more professional of course, with most strippers being trained dancers/gymnasts/circus contortionists…

    1. Ahhh, yes! The good old days. We didn’t even have a pole at our club. Too bad, I’d love to know how to twirl around and maybe take a stab at it on amateur night.

      Thanks for the comment!

  15. I started going to strip clubs when it was still burlesque. I’ve known a lot of dancers who got out during the eighties when lap dancing came in. I preferred the old days when the dancers controlled the stage with a wink and a smile, before silicone implants. My hat is off to you for providing real entertainment. ~ Dennis

    1. That does sound like an environment I would like too. I danced in the 90′s, and lap dances were alive and well–just not in my club. I doubt I would have participated in them, but I’ve heard from other women that they are not too bad.

  16. […] #1 top story at Off Go the Panties for the second year in a row (with 8,704 hits) is “Confessions of an Ex-Stripper.”  Now, part of the appeal is the topic, but the main reason this particular story keeps getting […]

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