Sassy by name, Sassy by nature, I write to explode the myths which surround the lapdancing profession - standing up for the clubs, the girls and the customers. Its not always drinking champagne and playing with my tits - it can be hassle, hustling and hangovers. At heart I'm just a regular twenty-something posh cockney living in London who likes taking her clothes off...
Everyone knows all footballers, sportsmen and famous reprobates love a strip club, so the temptation to be a kiss-and-tell-girl can be strong. If you are a stealthy stripper – a fickle celeb fame-hunter, with Max Clifford on speed dial and a wall of ‘EXCLUSIVE! SCANDALOUS!’ newspaper front pages with your face on them, a career as a stripper can be seen as a potentially lucrative opportunity. A decent story can net a girl 5 – 10 grand minimum, get her a few photo shoots in the national press, and a brief taste of the fickle flame of fame and notoriety.
So for all you discerning men out there with a reputation to protect, how do you spot a celeb-fame hunter kinda girl?
That’s the problem here – you can’t.
(Perhaps go with your gut feeling, rather than the excited feeling which is building in your pants?)
I would say that a good indicator that this is not the right girl to spend a night with would be;
- If the doorman at the hotel knows her by name.
- If your teammates wink and say – she’s trouble.
- If she insists on taking lots of kinky photos during your session.
- If she asks you to autograph the napkin you wrote your number down on.
I had a night recently in which I danced, again and again, for the cutest young man who made my heart pound and pussy moist – I guessed he was someone important, but as he had a crew of minders and was being deliberately vague I didn’t bother asking. (He was hot and had money and adored moi – that’s all a girl needs to know.) Imagine my surprise when I found him in a magazines hot young bachelor list! Now luckily for him, I respect privacy, but for a different kind of woman, the temptation to take the night further and then sell the story – well…. that’s for a kiss-and-tell stripper to say