By Madame A  Photo: ConversionGuru

I realized that taking my clothes off for a guy could be totally hot about ten minutes into Kimberly Smith’s StripXpertise Basic Moves class.

Kimberly was part sex kitten, part stand-up comedian; her sassy ’tude and sense of humor freed the nine other women’s and my own inhibitions. We learned moves like “The Robert” (moving your hips in a figure eight motion) and “The Lotion” (running your hands over your chest, down your torso and back again) with ease and quickly moved on to naughtier territory – soon, we were sucking on our fingers, pinching our nipples, tossing our hair and spanking our asses like pros.

Feeling liberated and ballsy after the class, I called my once-friend-now-fling, Jack. Would he like a striptease and a lap dance tomorrow evening? Moments after Jack enthusiastically agreed to be my victim, I was seized by nerves. My routine needed practice, and my thighs and calves were already killing me – as Kimberly had said in her Texas twang, “Strippin’ ain’t easy, y’all.”

Back at home, I bandaged my blisters, slipped into the four-inch patent platform heels I’d worn in class, flicked on the Scissor Sisters and attempted a basic Robert-and-Lotion. My hips were awkward, my ankles wobbly, my hands shaky and my rhythm off – in short, I looked like an idiot. How could I remove my clothing if I didn’t even have the coordination to gyrate properly?

I looked at myself in the mirror and did what Kimberly had said to do when we felt silly: I made The Predator Face. With my head tilted down, my eyes up and a small smirk in the corner of my mouth, I felt bold enough to try again – this time with a slower beat. Jurassic 5’s “Thin Line” had me moving a little more smoothly and feeling a little sexier.

By the time Jack arrived I had my routine down, but couldn’t conceal my sense of impending doom. Would it nullify the hotness of the bent-over bum-spanking move if I tripped and fell on my ass? Even if I’d practiced the lap dance on a metal folding chair, how was I going to do it on a real, live dude? Jack poured me some wine and told me to relax. Relax? Didn’t he understand that strippin’ ain’t easy?!

Thankfully, an hour or so of chatting (plus wine, natch) calmed me down. I instructed Jack to sit in the chair, excused myself to change and told him I would kill him if he laughed.

I emerged in a white wife-beater and black booty shorts covering a lacy white Cosabella bra and boyshorts. I strode confidently in my heels over to my laptop, hit play on the Jurassic 5 song and shot Jack my best Predator Face. I Robert-and-Lotioned through the first verse, then alternately tugged at my tank and shorts to give him glimpses of my stomach and hipbones. Jack was initially stone-faced but when I bent over, put my index finger in my cleavage and then in my mouth, his jaw hit the floor and stayed there. And then I felt it – power. For the time being, I owned this guy. 

I removed the booty shorts, ran my hands up and down one leg and spanked my butt cheek. I couldn’t see Jack, but I heard him almost fall out of the chair. Seal’s “Crazy” came on; I moved toward Jack in only my lacy boyshorts and heels. I pulled off his jeans, moved him into a slouched position, ran a leg up and down his boxer-clad thighs and told him not to touch me. He couldn’t do anything but nod.

I sat on his lap facing away from him and did what would have been a very un-kosher lap dance had we been in an actual strip club. In fact, it probably would have gotten me fired. After an “Oh-my-god” and a “You’re-incredible” on his part, I felt like I’d finally found my inner stripper. Then I stood up, made one last Predator Face, and walked away from my first (and only) customer.