“I’m a dancer.”
“What kind? Ballet? Latin?”
I sent her a kinky smile. There were no more questions.
Why did I start writing this blog? In my country we say if there is something you can’t tell anybody, let’s tell everybody. I don’t know how it works in real life, but definitely a good feeling to confess all my little sins here. So now I’m ready to share all the secret details about the life of a stripper. All stories here are my real experiences, I only changed the name of the characters.
By the way, this is not a blog of a 20 years old party girl. I want less girlie talk here about guys, sex and rock’n’roll but more deep thoughts about human relationships (either love or friendship). Sorry if I disappoint you but I don’t want to be a copy of Belle de Jour who wrote about the ultimate adventures of a London call girl (although we live in the same city) So if you want to read more saucy stuff, I encourage you to buy that book.
This lifestyle still holds so many secrets. Some people have no clue about it. Men see the pretty girl on stage doing some erotic moves and slowly taking her clothes off while they fantasize what they would do with her body in private.
Women are more judgmental. This is totally fine. But I want to point out that we, dancers, are normal people just like anybody else. We also cry, we are desperate or confused, and sometimes we want to give up everything for a man we trust, we share the same emotions just those women who never worked in this nightlife.
And being totally frank here, some “normal” people can do worst things for money than taking off some clothes. And being even more honest, now I’m fed up playing the game and lie about my life… But this was a long way to get here.