You'll always remember your first...

​The first lap dance I ever gave was to a man with no lap, while the bouncer coached me through it. And yes I got paid for this ludicrous arrangement, and even was tipped rather generously.

You heard me correctly. 

John* had volunteered to “take one for the team” as he said with a guffaw. He was ancient, having a good fifty years on my not even twenty-one year old baby stripper self. 

A gnome of a man, he was barely my height without my heels on (I’m a quarter inch shy of 5’4”) and waddled when he walked. His eyes were squinty looking under the layers of bloated fat resting on his face. And his belly protruded so greatly, that when he sat down, there was no place I could sit.

I looked at Walter*, the tall pony-tailed bouncer in horror. As I struggled not so gracefully into my lap dance shorts (there were rules about coverage at this club), I declared in the loudest stage whisper  “there’s nowhere for me to sit!”

​It was my first day on the job. Scarcely a week had passed since my audition and I was now the proud owner of lacey lingerie, a pair of velvet Daisy Duke style lap dance shorts, and a robe. Not to mention the tallest heels I had ever owned. Picked out with the help of a drag queen at Fredericks of Hollywood.

Young enough to get away with lack of experience, and naive from this only being my second time in a strip club ever, I still knew enough that I was supposed to sit on some dude’s lap and bouncily jiggle around. 

Or something.

Walter laughed. John, who had heard my not-so-soft mutterings of panic, whooped so hard I thought he would croak. 

“We will start on the next song dear. Just listen to what Walter tells you to do.” 

If I could have allowed the floor to swallow me up in that moment, I would have. Was this normal? Did all girls go through a “training” like this?

My cheeks turned flamed with mortification.

Unbeknownst to me, the management had been rather taken with my lacking in real skill, but very enthusiastic and happy, audition. They had spread the word for everyone to help me quickly get acclimated to the life of an exotic dancer. 

Which is actually kind of sweet.

Walter was the 6’4” security who monitored the lap dance area. With long legs, and rather buff gorilla man arms, he was also a bit of a gentle giant as I would discover later. On the shifts I worked with him, he patrolled in VIP, making sure the counts were accurate so none of us girls were cheated by the clients, and the house got it’s fair cut. 

For reasons he never fully explained, he took management’s infatuation with optimistic cheerful innocent little me, to mean he should personally train me on the art of a lap dance. After all, he had two decades of experience watching over  his tiny dancers.

But no, this was certainly NOT typical.
And yes, I had NO IDEA at the time.

Fortunately my I-can-do-anything spirit kicked in. I smiled down at John whose shorts were at least two sizes two tight. I swear I saw something tiny wiggle in the crotch area, but it was hard to tell since his belly was almost on his knees. And the lighting was thankfully even dimmer in the lap dance VIP areas.

The music changed.

“Alright, now approach with confidence and make some sexy motions”. Walter, who was determined to get me up to speed as fast as possible, was wiggling around and looking like he was having a bit of a seizure standing up.

I giggled and turned towards John who was already drooling a little. I stepped closer waving my hips in what I hoped was a seductive approach. The reality was that I looked like a drunk girl teeter tottering her way to the toilet on 6 inch platform Pleasers.

“Come closer dear, I won’t bite.” 

John’s gravelly smokers voice was hard to hear over the music. I leaned forward, my size B cups getting way too close for my comfort to his face. “At least not with Walter here.” He began another fit of chuckles which sounded like a seal calling its death cries.**

“Now use your knee”. Walter’s voice was heard clearly over the music. I stood back up ramrod straight with confusion. 

“My knee?” I stared at him blankly.

Walter did this little jerking motion with one knee and suddenly I realized that THIS was the solution to a lap dance grind for a man with no lap. Knee him in the groin area, albeit seductively.

It was at that moment, I knew I loved this job. Because it was ridiculous and fun and no one, in a million years, would believe that this is how it began.

Truth is often so much stranger than fiction.***

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*Names have been changed to protect privacy

**John may have been a bit of a caricature of what people think of as strip club attendees. But despite this very bizarre introduction, he also turned out to be an absolute doll. And ended up being an extremely loyal patron of mine the whole time I worked with this club!

***Stay tuned for my sketches of my life as a dancer!

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