A lapdancer’s experiences dancing over Christmas


Time to reflect with a lapdancer’s experiences dancing over Christmas.

The run up to Christmas actually starts in November, as people begin to celebrate office parties, end of year dinners, and meet up with old friends.  With every week there should be more footfall in the stripclubs, and dancer’s begin to pull additional shifts.  On good years, most lapdancer’s will go on holiday in January, either skiing or catching the sun in India and Thailand.

However, 2017 – what happened?

It wasn’t as busy as I expected.  The clubs were full, but never heaving.  My feet got sore but my purse didn’t burst at the seams from hustled cash.

So, dancing over Christmas – Who did I meet?

A handsome American surgeon, with hazel eyes the same shade as my fake tan, and a wallet full of 100euro notes after winning big at a casino in Madrid the night before.  Unfortunately I made the rookie mistake of failing to find out how much cash he had in wallet, and we booked the VIP on his card.  Another dancer hustled into the VIP I had set up and *stole* all the cash.  I was gutted as I lost much of my earnings in commission, whilst the sneaky trollop waltzed off with all the lovely monies 🙁

A drunk guy who fell asleep during our VIP, who came to celebrate that he was signing his divorce papers the next day.  At first his incessant swearing was really, truly hilarious, but after over 2 hours of hearing a misogynistic rant peppered with ‘F**k them’, I was glad that my lapdance sent him to sleep!  I’m usually a great dancer, seductive and keen on eye-contact – but even my boobs weren’t enough to keep his eyes open.  I’m not surprised he was getting divorced – I feel sorry for his poor (now-ex) wife!

An army officer who wanted to regress into being a naughty schoolboy.  He had the most fantastic tales about Matron and her handling of teenage boys with hard-ons.

An extremely scary Albanian gangster woman who kept on trying to spank my bottom.

An even scarier trio of drunk Aussie women who were also desperate to spank my bottom.  One apparently did martial arts in her spare time.

Lots of extremely sexy men who played rugby, or cage fighting, or boxed – there was an unreal amount of young sporty men this year.

Finally – I went on stage one night, all excited as there was a group of guys and girls who were literally making it rain on stage – every dancer who went up there seemed to get at least £50-£100 of notes and tipping dollars thrown at their cavorting bodies.  Unfortunately I was feeling pretty poorly and didn’t have the strength to do much more than spin slowly around with a sad smile plastered on my face.  Needlessly to say, I didn’t get any tips.  Even worse – just as I arrived, the waitress also arrived with mugs of steaming hot chocolate, and it was agonising to watch them drink it.

What was the BIGGEST thing to hit me dancing over Christmas?

The thing that characterized dancing over Christmas 2017 most for me however wasn’t the money, or the people – it was me.  Spending 8 hours in a red Santa bra and knickers, conversing with up to 100 coughing customers an evening, I was bound to get ill. But this year I got knocked for 6, with a hoarse throat that was initially husky and ended up a mere whisper.  I managed to ignore my chills and hide the feverishness by drinking as many gin and tonics and vodka red-bulls I could get customers to buy for me. Copious lashings of fake tan and bronzer hid my pale skin.

This year, as soon as 24th December hit and the club shut its doors, I breathed a croaky sigh of relief and hid under a duvet for a week.

So goodbye to another Christmas of working as a lapdancer, and hello to 2018 – a year in which I am going to focus on improving my sales hustle and aim to get a VIP every night!


xoxo Sassy

About author


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...

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