things get a little heavy when you're thinking about moving to another country, so what better to take my mind off the mire for a little while than to talk about strippers.
we visited lots of strippers during my time in melbourne. the person most responsible for this is max, who is a connoisseur of fine pole dancers and who totally knows the etiquette necessary to receive a lap dance. during the first weekend of my stay, we paraded out with miss dandy and a reluctant r (stealing the abbreviating convention from the BedroomEyes blog) after a lovely dinner at the fitz. first stop was dallas, which i believe was in the cbd (central business district - check out my melbourne vernacular). the thing i remember most about dallas was the wood-paneled walls, which will forever characterise the tale of my first lap dance. max and i approached the podium (which, in the states, is what you do when you graduate) and i enabled my good etiquette by sitting on my hands. the dancer asked where i was from and how long i was staying and all of that small talk, and while i don't recall saying anything witty, she was very sweet to me. i felt a bit clueless as to what to do with my face - do i look her in the eyes, do i run them up and down her body, do i just stare at her tits (which were super cute), do i smile or look pensive? i think i settled on a cross between watching max and watching the dancer, and apparently i had a big stupid grin on my face that i was subconsciously trying to quell, because she gave me verbal permission to smile. 'the bigger the smile, the better,' she said. i got lots of tits in my face and walked back to the table cleaning the smudges off my glasses.
what a total nerd.
we moved on to bar 20 after releasing r from our greedy grasp (he looked desperate to leave as soon as 'baby got back' started playing in dallas). this is the strip club of strip clubs, so far as i could tell. we got a seat right in front of the main stage, which gave us a good angle from which to view the dancers. they had three girls dancing at a time, who would then come down from their perches to do private dances. one of the first women we saw was doing this incredibly graceful and athletic pole work, really powerful and feminine, and because i'm even more impressed with things when i'm intoxicated, i knew she must be the one. the one to give me my second career lap dance. we had to wait about 30-45 mintues to get a dance from her because she had a partner with whom she usually dances, which i thought was incredibly cool. i like the idea that these women enjoy working together and have some sort of existing relationship that i don't have anything to do with. it makes it more fun for me to enjoy the dance, probably in the same way that the ifm sponsors enjoy seeing a couple together on camera. anyway, we got to go into the 'private' rooms in the back, which are acutally semi-private but a much nicer color than the main room of the club. the lighting is better in there. we should do an ifm shoot there. (this is the way i think now - 'some girl should wank in there and we should film it.' christ.)
the private lap dance was much more touchy-feely and i felt like a 13-year-old boy ready to pop. i was having the hardest time not grinding back at the dancers and i could see myself slouching down the chair trying to get my skirt to crawl up my thighs so they'd get more attention. i think i was a little too drunk to feel her licking my neck, but i knew it was happening and that was as good as feeling it at that point. it takes a lot of legwork to hover yourself over someone for a prolonged period of time, and i was totally impressed with all of it. and all hot and bothered.
i saw one of the dancers in the toilet after our little private session, and she had those lovely black vinyl boots i fancy so much. i told her how great i thought they were. i quite like the image in my head of me with my little nose and nerdy glasses looking up at a stripper with tall boots and telling her how much i like them. you might as well give me a little sailor hat and a red wagon to tow behind me. i'm such a child around strippers.
enclosed is the 'before' photo of our strip club tour. i've exercised my best judgment in not posting the 'after' pictures as they involved a bottle of champagne that probably never should have been opened and i didn't pay the models.
to come: more on stripping, shoots, feck branding, my new friends, and how cute arielle's boyfriend is. (i'm shooting for one post a day until i've exhausted my efforts or until it seems like it's gotten old.)
