By K_Single_Diaries on February 27, 2011
Lately, I've been saying yes to practically everything, "Yes" to party invites, "Yes" to random good looking men and last night "Yes" to pole dancing classes.
It's half the reason why my social life has picked up and the reason why I'm rarely at home alone drinking myself to oblivion. Great news I know.
So when a gf asked if I was interested in checking out Pure Platinum (PP), a strip joint on a school night you know what my answer was.
I was so excited I let it slip to a few guys at work, and in response I got pitying looks as if to say ‘Poor K, she has to work extra hours at the strip clubs to pay her enormous mortgage.’
Yesterday morning I slipped into my new Pleasure State white lace lingerie preparing me for my literal pleasure state in the evening. After work I quickly headed to ‘Bobbi’s’ pole dancing studio to meet up with my girlfriend and her strip dancing troupe, PP in training. We had a few glasses of champagne to get us going, and I peered through the doorway to take a peek at the girls in their pole dancing classes. Like a voyeur, I watched as they flipped themselves upside down on the pole, effortlessly swung around the pole gyrating their hips to the music in their cute singlets and shorts showing off bum cleavage.
I admit it was such a turn on.
There were girls strutting around in their undies, I imagine this would be a guys version of heaven. It was a short walk to PP from the studio and after the bouncers checked our ID we waltzed in and took seats right in front of the stage. The girl on stage was a pretty blonde, large breasted and butt naked with her legs spread open in front of what looked like Japanese Tourists.
Apart from one old man sitting in a corner leering at the strippers with his hand suspiciously under his coat, the majority of men in the strip club weren’t at all your seedy types, more every day blokes with two kids and a wife waiting at home.
We were handed a few dancing dollars, which I slipped into the garters of the scantily clad strippers, my hands resting on their thighs for a few seconds. As I got more intoxicated, I would stroke their thighs and watch the girls purr.
One by one they came out in each colour and breast size. A Turkish delight with tattoos all over her delicious body, a scantily clad Chinese Empress and an Indian Princess all spread their legs for our pure viewing pleasure.
Yes, I saw their cha-cha, shaven and studded.
We called for another bottle of champagne and I purchased more dancing dollars to slip into their appreciative garters. I tried to sneak in some photos, but unfortunately a fat body guard came over and promptly deleted them from my IPhone.
I honestly have a new found respect for strippers, it’s not easy to move and twist their bodies in unnatural and physically demanding positions, they are the gymnasts of the night, forgotten and dismissed. I do not believe the stripper profession objectifies women; it is the female form being appreciated in all its naked beauty. Tomorrow night I head to a Hen’s party to see men take their kit off on ‘Wild Boys Afloat’, and I already know that female’s strippers work a lot harder than their male counterparts.
Admittedly, that happens to be the case in the corporate world too; but at least in the stripper world women get paid more ;)
I really must get me some of those clear heels; it's something any self respecting girl should own in their shoe closet.
Anyway, by 11.30pm I’d run out of dancing dollars and rang my dad who swung by to pick me up outside the strip club. On the way home my father gave me a long spiel about blowing a wad of cash on a stripper when an honest day’s work in Vietnam would earn you 20cents. While my dad lamented his little girl’s descent into sin city, I passed out in the passenger seat with a naughty smile on my lips.
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