Confessions of a Lapdancer

‘Jesus, how can you sit by and let him do that? Do you have no self-respect?’

‘It’s not about that, Geri …’

I didn’t want to hear any more.

‘Excuse me, Daryll,’ I announced. ‘I can’t sit here and watch this. I’m going to the bar.’

He nodded but Luke jumped up.

‘What, you not man enough to hang around, Geri Boy? I knew you wouldn’t last.’

Words seemed pointless so I gave him the finger and stalked off.

I went to sit on a stool at the bar and ordered a vodka and tonic. I picked out the wedge of lemon when it arrived and crushed it hard in my fist till the juice ran down my arm, wishing it was Luke’s smug face.

‘What did that lemon do to deserve that?’ said the barman, offering me a napkin.

‘Oh, nothing – I was just imagining it was someone’s head,’ I explained.

‘Wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of you then, madam,’ he grinned.

‘I’m not that scary,’ I said. ‘Except when provoked by an idiot who thinks it’s funny to call me a boy just because I wear trousers.’

‘Take no notice. You look real smart to me.’

‘Thanks … But I do feel a bit buttoned-up here and I’m supposed to be celebrating. Look at them,’ I said, pointing to the Brothers. ‘Allegedly the cream of investment banking. They didn’t want me here being a killjoy but a strip joint is not exactly my idea of a fun night out.’

‘Ah, we get a lot of City boys in here letting off steam,’ he said. ‘They’re pretty harmless and they empty their wallets so we love ’em.’

‘You try working with them, though. I wish I’d stayed in New York now.’

‘Ah, I love the Big Apple,’ he said. ‘Worked the cocktail bars. How long were you there?’

‘Six weeks, on secondment. Got back to London to find my boss had employed a Playboy bunny as my PA and she was going out with my nemesis.’

‘Moral of story: don’t turn your back for a minute. Want another vodka?’

‘OK, go on,’ I said, turning to check what the Brothers were up to. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Do you think it’s possible for a woman to be sexy if she never wears a skirt?’

‘I love a good bottom in tight jeans. But, well, nothing like a good pair of legs.’

‘I thought you might say that.’ My knees haven’t seen the light of day outside my bedroom since school sports day … I thought to myself.

But he’d already disappeared off to the other end of the bar to serve a rather irritated-looking little man and one of the dancers had mounted the adjacent podium to start her show. As I watched her spin and move expertly up and down the pole, I realised it was just as much about technique as sex appeal. These girls had to be seriously fit to do this stuff.

Then I glimpsed a tipsy but animated Tania chatting to a good-looking, dark-haired guy at the other end of the bar. As soon as she realised I’d seen her, she moved away and came up to join me.

‘You don’t look too happy,’ she said, as if I was her best mate rather than her boss. I didn’t know whether she was confident, over-friendly or just cocky.

‘I just can’t believe why anyone would want to spend any time in a place like this. It’s for blokes too ugly or too dim to get a shag elsewhere. I don’t think women should encourage it.’

‘Lighten up,’ said Tania. ‘There’s nothing wrong with using what God gave you.’ She leant forward and gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘I’ll tell you something funny, Geri. I’m sure one of the reasons I got this job was because of my legs! I saw the way the personnel manager was looking at me so I played up to it. It’s so easy to manipulate some guys.’

I stared at her in disbelief. ‘Tania, why are you telling me this? I had to work damn hard to get where I am and to earn respect in this team and you come along and tell me I could have got there quicker by wearing a short skirt?’

‘No, that’s not what I meant …’

‘Tania, please, just leave me alone.’

I left her at the bar and took refuge in the ladies’ loo. Just like the women in the club, she flaunted herself effortlessly and that just wasn’t my style. Tania Peck was a man’s woman. I suppose my style could be summed up as look but don’t touch.

She revealed; I concealed. It was as simple as that.

I couldn’t delay my reappearance any longer, so took a deep breath and rejoined the party. My timing was poor. Luke was busy enjoying his lap dance, which he’d chosen to have in public rather than in the private booth.

It seemed to me he was getting into it a little too much as I could see him groping the dancer and it didn’t take a genius to work out this was a breach of club rules.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a couple of giant figures approaching, but before they could reach him, Tania strode over, shooed away the dancer without a word and straddled Luke, fully clothed.

Her pneumatic frame came into its own, arching, twisting and circling over him as she ran her hands through his blond hair but moved out of reach every time he tried to grab her.

The security staff soon backed off as the mood lightened and the other guys started laughing and wolf-whistling.

But when she turned round to grind her bottom inches from his face, Luke ran his hands up under her skirt and grabbed both cheeks before slapping them.

‘Bad baby,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you in future when I want you to dance for me. I don’t want these guys getting an eyeful of what’s mine.’

Tania ignored him and carried on gyrating until the end of the next track, to Luke’s obvious discomfort. Then she dismounted and snatched the £50 note Luke had in his hand to place in the pro-dancer’s garter.

‘Thanks, Lukey baby,’ she announced, ‘that will pay for my cab home – alone!’

Luke’s face was a picture and the Brothers were rolling in the aisles, which riled him no end. It was so good to see him being played by a girl.

‘Bravo, Tania,’ I clapped.

Luke saw me laughing and turned on me like a wounded beast. ‘That turn you on, Geri Boy? Maybe you’re more of a man than we thought!’

He clicked his fingers to summon one of the dancers – a pale honey-blonde wearing a tight red bikini top and short denim skirt.

‘OK, I’ll pay you £50 to do a private dance for my colleague here,’ he said to her, pointing to me, ‘and £50 more if you snog her afterwards, full tongues.’

‘We don’t kiss the customers, sir,’ she replied. ‘And we can’t dance for a customer who doesn’t give consent.’

‘Jesus, you girls are no fun,’ he said, his face dropping. ‘How about you, Tania, why don’t you dance for your boss? That would be a great way of getting to know each other, don’t you think?’