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320 pages, Paperback
Published December 1, 2020
Because the night was beyond busy, we strippers were able to bump up the prices. I told him it was $150 for a ten-minute dance, or $300 for twenty. He pulled out three hundred and asked if he could also tip me with some American dollars he had left over. Does Joan of Arc see visions?The strippers favourite customers are Americans, nice polite men who spend money like water.
I began the dance by taking off my bra and giving him a motorboat: a stripper term for jiggling your breasts lightly across a man’s face in rapid succession. This is one of the only ways a stripper is allowed to touch a customer in the private rooms of the NT.
I then kneeled on the floor and arched my back over his knees, my hair trailing down to his ankles. Eventually, I slithered into the chair opposite, took off my undergarments and opened my legs in a flexed vee. See, a lap dance isn’t a dance per se: it involves moving from one sexy pose to another, while leaning as close as you can to a customer without touching them in a sexual manner. A swish of hair across the face, a brush of a hand against theirs, but no stimulation of genitalia.
I pretty much do the same succession of poses every time, each one a hint that another clothing item is about to come off. The talent is in the build-up. You want to leave the nudity to the last song, otherwise it gets really difficult and boring as you try to entertain them with something more than the main event: a view of vagina.
Let me try to tell you about the kind of excitement a US Navy ship brings to a small city. The troops are everywhere you look: perfect specimens with flawless bodies and faces that rival those of Calvin Klein models. They have money to wipe their arses with. They are unfailingly polite and charming. They say things like, ‘May I have the honour of a hundred-dollar lap dance, ma’am?’ rather than the Australian mantra of ‘Show me ya gash for a twenty?’Not that she would want to work in the US, as she says that
The best thing about stage dances is that you get to keep all the tips, without paying any commission to the club. Stage dances add up: you can sometimes make a few hundred from them by the end of the night. Australia has it quite good in this sense, at least compared to the US; as I learned when I worked there, they follow a stupid tradition of tipping one dollar bill at a time.Reading this book, I can't be sure it's not fiction. Every chapter ends on a cliff-hanger as it were. The ending with the knight in shining armour called Orion is forseeable from very early on, although she doesn't actually date him until almost the end. Strangely I do know a psychiatrist in Australia who fits the physical description she gives called Orion! His parents used to live on the island on a boat.
‘When you say small, exactly how little are we talking?’ Candy asked.Sunshine on discovering that her boyfriend has been unfaithful to her yet again, decides to leave and contacting a friend in Japan flies there. She finds her friend has enrolled her in a stripper agency, the club to whom she is hired to makes up the rules as they go along, fining her for all sorts of infractions it is impossible to predict. The customers are allowed to squeeze, lick and suck the dancers, except for their 'pink bits'. She is told she has to let them. Things go from bad to worse and she is told that she must have two regulars by the end of the month, and she will be expected to get drinks money out of them as well as dance money and screw them too. This club is all about sex work.
Jade thought about it. ‘Not much bigger than the tampon, really.’
‘Oh, I hate that!’ Row cried. ‘Isn’t it just the worst? When you go home with a really good-looking guy and he has a big toe between his legs?’
‘Yet he seemed so confident …’ said Jade.
‘I’d rather a smaller tower-of-power than a huge one, though,’ Belle put in.
I nodded. ‘True. Nobody likes a party-size penis.’
‘Or a bent one,’ Rowena added. ‘I seriously dislike it when their cock is off to the side. It creeps me out—like a diviner looking for water or something.’
‘But you don’t want it looking like a chestnut either,’ I said.
‘What’s a chestnut?’ the girls asked.
‘Too small. All ballsack, snake hidden.’
‘Oh, I call that the fried egg,’ said Row.