I was asked to do a little interview today about drinking and, since I’m fairly well versed in the art of beverage consumption, I gladly obliged.
Being sexy is thirsty work.
News in sex
Stripping back the truth of exotic dancing – as told to Deborah Bennett
Stripping isn’t just about sexual gratification or titillation; it’s a sexual adventure, a desire and a fantasy.
I am a stripper for private parties and events and I provide a sexual adventure for my clients, rather than just a quick lap dance.
Despite popular belief, stripping alone doesn’t make me enough money to survive. In fact, some strippers I know are 9am-5pm government servants or professionals in other sectors. I can make up to US$500 for one half an hour show but the work isn’t as regular as I’d like.
Some weekends, I can get two to three different jobs, if I’m lucky. Sometimes, there’s the occasional lunchtime birthday strip-o-gram sort of thing, which always interests me; and for me, a show can be performed at any time, anywhere.
Very few people in my private life know that I strip. I’m not a bad looking girl, but I don’t have the face of a supermodel. I’m in good shape, but I’m no Gisele Bundchen; and I can dance pretty well, but I’m no Joaquin Cortes. And I don’t have gigantic boobs but I’m happy with what I have.
The one thing I do have is what every successful stripper needs; and that is confidence: confidence that your audience wants you and confidence that you can make them want you more.
Stripping isn’t just about sexual gratification or titillation; it’s a sexual adventure.
I got into stripping in college. A friend of mine was looking for a stripper and he asked me because I’m a dancer.
I’ve always been a show off on stage and I thought it was the perfect opportunity to make a few bucks and get a thrill. Plus, I had the chance to impress someone. I had so much fun and after that show, more and more people engaged me for strip shows.
The clients usually give me a few details about what they want from me, for example, the theme, venue, time, what it’s for and the kind of crowd that will be there.
My first experience was doing a routine that is a must for almost all female strippers: go in dressed like a school-girl and ask if you can join in the party. It turned out to be a going-away party for an English lecturer from my college! Since I was a Computer Science major, I didn’t know many of the English faculty.
It was mostly men about 30 years older than me. As the featured stripper, I always arrive after the crowd has had one drink, two at the most. If I get there too early, everyone’s too reserved to get into it, and I end up feeling too self-conscious with the lack of audience participation. On the other hand, I don’t want to get there when everyone’s smashed. My rule is that my client has to be there at all times to ensure my safety.
That first evening, I did the school-girl thing and danced for the man of honour. I was nervous at first, but I warmed up quickly and everyone seemed to be having fun. He was flattered and fairly buzzed; and when I got down to just the thong, he wanted me to come closer.
Stripper rules are: I can touch the customers if I am invited to; and they always want me to! But customers are not allowed to touch the strippers unless she guides them to.
I ended up doing a lap dance for him, me in his lap, straddling him, facing him and grinding against him. The music ended, I gave him a kiss, and I got up to go.
Then another song started. That was not my plan. A few guys wanted me to dance. Gamely, I took a few steps with each, gave them a kiss, and tried to work my way towards the door. Then one, probably the youngest, best-looking man grabbed me for his turn.
He was about 20 years older than me but in great shape. He looked familiar. I had probably bumped into him in the hallway rushing from one lecture hall to another. We did a little bump and grind on the pseudo dance floor.
He looked at me and said, “Hello little dancer.” At first, I thought he might not recognize me, since I was lacking clothes and all. But then he whispered, “I remember you.” He smiled and slid his hands down to my waist.
“Hello sir,” I whispered in his ear. “Nice to see you here.” He gave me another slightly lop-sided grin and proceeded to lead me to dance as the crowd of men around us cheered enthusiastically.
All the attention was feeling really good and I started getting horny. We were quickly going to a place that I didn’t want to go with a crowd of boozy academics watching over us.
I danced us over to the door, told him that I was very sorry, but had to go. I gave him a kiss on the cheek, smiled at the glassy look in his eyes, grabbed my stuff and raced out the door.
My job is sexy, fun and exciting. I try my best to fulfill my clients’ fantasies and desires, as long as my safety is assured.
As a stripper, men drooling over me with a big hard on is nothing new and the thrill of stripping is that a bunch of men that I don’t know have that desire for me; never mind that they’re usually half drunk. Never mind that I might not be especially attracted to any one of them. It is all ego gratification in its purest, most addictive form.
SECRET WOMEN’S BUSINESS – as told to Deborah Bennett
I have a thing for hands when comes to men. I like them rough. I don’t like them pretty. Pretty hands are for women. A rough pair of hands shows me he’s willing to get dirty and it feels good to have rough hands running all over my body.
I love thinking about sex; it consumes my thoughts. I used to wonder if I was addicted to the eroticism of my fantasies, but now I know I’m as normal as the next woman.
Women have sexy thoughts all the time.
Women have sexy thoughts all the time. If a woman tells you she doesn’t, she’s lying. We think about sex just as much as men do, but a lot of women are too shy to speak about it.
Sometimes when I am having a conversation with an attractive man I’ve just met, I find myself fantasizing about him, imagining what it would be like to feel him against my lips, touching my skin or thrusting deep inside me.
I failed my diving writing exam because my instructor was too hot and I couldn’t stop staring at his butt as he wrote on the board. I found myself lost in a fantasy of us together in the water, naked. I couldn’t answer any of the questions he asked. It was so embarrassing.
Many of my girlfriends have boyfriends and they are faithful to them in body but not in mind; they all masturbate thinking about other men. I am no different.
It feels good to have rough hands running all over my body
Having said that, when I’ve had sex with a really hot guy, I will think about him non-stop until I can have him again. I think about his face, his mouth, his chest, and his hands, especially if they are rough hands.
CONFESSIONS OF A HIGH CLASS SEX WORKER – as told to Deborah Bennett
Most people’s getting-ready-for-work routine is a shower, sensible work clothes, a piece of toast and a ride on public transport; while mine couldn’t be further from that.
After a shower, shave and douche, you’ll find me sorting through my overflowing collection of lingerie, pulling on silk stockings, applying make-up and a gentle spritz of Lady Million by Paco Rabanne; then I’m ready to greet my client who has been booked and screened prior to his arrival.
It takes just an hour to transform from Pippa: the girl who was educated at an exclusive Lutheran college and grew up in the leafy greens of Adelaide, into Grace Bellavue: high class sex worker.
I meet my client at my city apartment with a kiss, we chat, have a drink and I lead him to the bedroom where my workday really begins.
But my business wasn’t always this way.
When I chose to become a sex worker at 17 years old, things were different.
I was underage with a fake ID, and every weekend I’d go to a brothel and lie to my parents, telling them I was going to a party.
When I finally told my family I was a sex worker, they kicked me out, although I think they secretly knew what I was doing all along.
What I was doing was being paid $35 for 15 minutes and seeing around 8-13 clients a night.
When I broke it to them, Dad cried, Mum vomited and they gave me an ultimatum, but I had made up my mind – I wanted to be a sex worker.
At the brothel, I worked for a manager whose face was tired from years in an unforgiving industry.
This inspired me to choose the name Grace, because Grace was a nice name and I wanted to be a nice hooker.
My first time was horrific; I was pounded for 40 minutes by a hairy, sweaty business man who grunted on arrival and snorted on departure.
I sat in the toilet swabbing the blood and nursing my dignity when one of the old girls came in and said, “Honey, you don’t have to let them do that, you know. You’re in charge.”
That’s when it changed and I started directing my own show.
My business is my baby and I have built it from the ground up; I love my job and I can’t imagine doing anything else.
Through sex work I have met some incredibly inspirational people, had some remarkable experiences, and have been lucky enough to travel.
Recently I took some time off from work for personal reasons; I had become depressed and I got quite lost so my holiday in Africa is a chance to get Pippa back after a difficult six months.
Sometimes my Grace persona creeps into my Pippa-life which makes it difficult to switch off; the phone is constantly ringing for bookings and enquiries, emails are nagging at me and occasionally the costume I wear starts to become heavy.
As Grace, I have to look good all the time which means Pippa can’t be lazy very often.
It’s hard to turn off the sex, especially when I’d only had sex a couple of times before I worked in a brothel, so my entire sexual life, aside from those few experiences, has been in performance mode.
The sex I have with my clients, though in abundance, is all partner focussed which means often I spend so much of my time pleasing others, I forget to please myself.
I can count on two hands how many times someone has made me orgasm despite having had over five thousand partners
I rarely fake an orgasm, though, because it would be an indication that someone is doing something right when they’re not and that defies the purpose of my job.
Often men come to see me for guidance and education so if I’m giving them fake responses, they’re not learning anything and I am not doing my job as a sexual mentor.
An orgasm, for me, is also an emotional response so I can only really climax with someone I am in love with but there’s not much room for love with my job and I would find it difficult to give up my job for a partner.
I am often asked if my world is as glamorous as Pretty Woman or Secret Diary of a Call Girl and at times, it is – I received gifts, wear gorgeous lingerie and have sex with incredibly wealthy men.
But the main difference is the hard work that goes into making a client happy so they can leave knowing they have had the experience they paid for (around $800 an hour).
And yes, I kiss! It seems strange to me that kissing would off limits when anal sex is not!
Despite the stereotype, I didn’t go into my industry because I needed quick money to feed an addiction or keep debt collectors at bay.
I chose to have sex for a living because I was young, curious, and horny and I loved being Grace Bellavue.
These days, I’ve developed my business to a point where I can pick and choose when I work, who I work with and where I work.
Sometimes I take Grace on tour where I travel to different cities and spend my holidays in the bedrooms of some of the best hotels with the most beautiful views in the country.
Sometimes I work with other sex workers and sometimes, like this year, I take some time off to travel or rest; but it’s always on my terms and I’m not sure I would ever want to change that.
Every day is different in my job and I have the pleasure of sleeping with some beautiful men and women.
I have a lot of regular clients who I have developed a good relationship with and who I have grown very fond of; my youngest client has been 18 but my oldest client is 83.
My married, or attached, clients come to see me because it’s a non-judgemental space and they can give over the desires they can’t necessarily communicate to their partners.
It’s far more discreet and less stressful than an affair.
Sometimes men have a fantasy in their minds that they’d love to play out but know their partner would be against it; that’s where I come in.
A lot of my married clients prefer to come to me to live out their sexual fantasies rather than put their partner in an awkward position, or jeopardise their marriage or partner’s trust.
Some of my clients come to me when they are tired, stressed or in a slump and they treat our time as they would a psychologist’s, but with less psychobabble and more stimulation; I listen, understand and give them a chance to just be free for the duration of our booking.
I see many couples who come to spice up their relationship, live out a fantasy or treat each other to a sexy weekend, which I love because I am very attracted to women; and sexy play with couples is always a lot of fun.
My life as Grace Bellavue is beautifully chaotic and I wouldn’t change any of my experiences for anything, but it has been an incredible journey to get to a stage where I can proudly call myself a sex worker with the support of my friends and family, and know I am a business woman who has built a company from the ground to the success it is now.
Deborah Bennett's Naughty Nightcaps 