Confessions of a Lapdancer

As I walked towards Canary Wharf Tube, I thought how I never wanted to go back to the office again.

Fuck ’em all, I thought. I might as well go and be a lap dancer and get screwed that way.

I jumped on the Jubilee Line to Green Park and walked the rest of the way to the club. At least I wouldn’t have to be part of the lunchtime back-slapping that the Brothers would currently be indulging in at Ubon.

It was strange seeing the Pearl in the cold light of day, its neon sign switched off. Any semblance of glamour disappeared without the veiling mystery of the night. But as I descended those red-carpeted stairs into the womb of the club, it came back to me how liberated I had felt the night before.

‘Hi,’ I said, recognising the girl behind the desk as the one who had given Luke his lap dance. ‘I’m Geraldine Carson. I’m here to collect my purse?’

‘Oh yeah, I’ll just ring Declan,’ she said in a raw East End accent.

‘Who’s Declan?’ I asked.

‘Declan Meleady,’ she said. ‘He’s the manager.’

‘Right,’ I replied, wondering if he was the dark-haired guy I’d spotted the night before, talking to Tania.

She disappeared for a moment, then returned with an odd smile on her face. ‘If you just go in the club and wait at the bar, Declan will be with you in a minute,’ she said.

As I perched myself on one of the high stools I surveyed the scene of my crime. Part of me wondered ‘What the hell was I doing?’ but there was also a tingle down my spine.

‘Miss Carson?’ said a voice behind me.

‘Call me Geri,’ I replied, turning round and blinking in the lights.

‘Hi, I’m Declan Meleady,’ he said in a sexy Irish voice, as I finally got a good look at the man who had given me unspoken permission to take over his club the night before.

He was even better close up: well-cut dark brown hair, with warm brown eyes and the sturdy build of a stable hand. He was wearing a very expensive suit, almost certainly Savile Row’s finest, with a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt underneath.

‘Here’s your purse, Geri,’ he said. ‘I was going to contact you anyway.’

‘Ah yes, it was you in the top booth last night, wasn’t it?’ I said, drinking him in. ‘I’m intrigued why you didn’t set your Rottweilers on me – I was breaking the rules, after all.’

His eyes twinkled as he smiled softly at me. ‘It’s my job to make sure the customers are happy,’ he said. ‘And that means knowing when to send in the clowns and when to back off. I had a few regulars in last night and I could see they were enjoying your impromptu performance, so I allowed it to continue.’

‘And did you enjoy my performance?’ I asked, realising I was flirting with him.

‘Indeed I did,’ he replied. ‘I was most impressed.’

‘Wow, thanks,’ I said. ‘That was my first time.’

‘But will it be your last?’ he asked.

‘I’m sure it will. I already have a very well-paid job,’ I replied, opening my purse to check its contents.

It was only then that I realised the £500 worth of cash I’d taken out to pay for drinks at the club was missing.

‘Oh shit,’ I said, feeling a little panicked, ‘I guess I shouldn’t be surprised the money’s been lifted but, Jesus, I could have done with every penny of that.’

‘What happened to the very well-paid job, then?’ he asked.

‘Still have it, but it’s perhaps not quite as well-paid as I’d like,’ I explained. ‘I have a high-maintenance mortgage and horse to support, you see.’

‘Really?’ He sat up more in his seat, and leaned forward a little. He smelled good; all musky and manly. ‘I part-own a racehorse in Ireland myself.’

‘Well then,’ I said, warming to Declan even more, ‘we must compare form some time.’

‘I don’t know how to ride,’ confessed Declan. ‘Well, not horses, anyway … I’m only in it for the investment.’ What a tease, I thought.

I liked this man – he was alpha without being aggressive; smooth without being oily.

‘So pay in the City is not all it’s cracked up to be then?’ he smiled in empathy.

‘Well, it is for the boys,’ I explained. ‘But it seems the girls aren’t always invited to the party.’

‘I’d invite you to my party any time,’ said Declan. ‘If you were ever thinking of changing career, you could walk into a job here. Or shimmy, should I say.’

‘Are you serious?’ I asked.

‘Let’s say I was only half joking,’ he said.

‘OK, I’m curious now,’ I smiled, enjoying the banter. ‘How much could I earn, in theory?’

‘Well, on average, between £400 and £500 a night,’ he said. ‘The big West End clubs pay more but then there’s a list of rules and regulations as long as your arm. Here, it’s more relaxed and there aren’t so many girls on each shift, so you’ll get more tips.’

My mental calculator was doing back flips – I worked out that if I were to do a shift every night from Wednesday to Saturday, 8pm to midnight, for six weeks, I could potentially clear £10k, which would keep Zeus in hay for the foreseeable future, and me with a roof over my head.

‘God, that’s tempting,’ I said, recognising a good deal when I heard one. What was stopping me? Well, one very good reason. ‘It’s just a shame that I have an image to protect. After all, my real job would be down the pan if the guys saw me working down here.’

‘That’s not a problem,’ said Declan. ‘Mayfair’s not our only branch. We have clubs all over.’

His voice was working its charms on me. The answers came slick and easy. Ten grand couldn’t be sniffed at.

‘So, hypothetically, if I were to take up the offer, could you guarantee that income?’

‘Well, there are no cast-iron guarantees,’ said Declan. ‘But with your natural talents, I can’t see there being a shortage of admirers.’

I paused for a moment to reflect as Declan moved behind the bar.

‘Here, I’m sure you could do with this,’ he said, pouring Sauvignon Blanc into a chilled glass.

‘Thanks, you read my mind,’ I said, taking a large sip. ‘Look, you seem to be a straightforward kind of guy, Declan, unlike most of the shits I work with. Between you and me, I was expecting a bigger bonus at work and it didn’t come through so I need the money. Fast. Plus I got such a kick out of dancing last night.’

‘Not half as much of a kick as I did watching you,’ he replied, and we both laughed.

This man had more charm in his little finger than all the guys in the office put together and I felt so relaxed in his company. But I had to be careful – after all, somehow he knew Tania, and I had yet to get to the bottom of that little conundrum.

‘I’m glad you thought I had potential,’ I said, pulling back a little. ‘Perhaps you can help me develop it.’