My First Lap Dance

Sandra Wade
5 min readJun 18, 2017


For some reason, I didn’t venture into a strip club until after I’d turned 40, even though I’d always wanted to go. I’m not even sure why. I think I might have been too scared to go on my own, and none of my ex-boyfriends proposed the idea. My ex-husband, who I was with for 10 years, was super vanilla. He could barely handle that one time we ventured outside the boundaries — I wanted to engage in some fun roleplay, so I put on a wig and pretended to be an escort. I thought THAT would kill him. So, going to a strip club while I was married was out of the question.

Right around my 40th birthday, I met an adorable 23-year-old and was surprised to eventually find myself in a serious relationship with him. Suffice to say, this young’un was way more adventurous than my ex-husband had been. We indulged in all kinds of kinky activities, and when I brought up the idea of going to see strippers, he eagerly jumped at it. I had finally found a willing companion.

I was pretty anxious leading up to the trip and did a little research, reading up on the rules and etiquette (“don’t fondle the dancers”), recommendations of how much to tip, and so on. We invited a couple of friends — a very open married couple I’d been friends with forever — to go with us, figuring the more the merrier. We had procured these free passes to a club in West Los Angeles but found out when we got there that there was a two drink minimum, and the drinks weren’t cheap. Still, the club was pretty classy and not at all the seedy dive full of drooling perverts that I had expected.

When we walked in, it didn’t take long for one of the dancers to glom onto us. She seemed to especially like me, complimenting me on my looks and undressing me with her eyes. She flirted with me for a bit, and then we took our seats around the stage to get ready for the show.

Now, I love strip clubs but they can stir up some pretty conflicted feelings if you’re a feminist. I happen to be one of those sex-positive feminists who cut my teeth on Camille Paglia’s writings; I’m also a sex worker, myself (fetish model and professional dominatrix). On the one hand, it’s clear that the whole thing objectifies women. On the other, it’s also obvious which party in a strip club exchange benefits most. Men usually walk out with blue balls and their wallets a bit lighter. The dancers exit the club with a ton of cash. Still, stripping can be a tough profession for women who aren’t too secure in their looks or the fact that they are actually worth so much more than JUST their looks.

I actually felt empowered as a woman in the strip club, and the dancers made me feel very welcome. For the same reason that I really love serving the rare woman who sees me as a pro domme, they seemed to really enjoy playing up to me and my female friend. We were perceived as non-threatening, gentle, and as kindred souls. More than one of the dancers spent a lot more time with us women than with the men in the club, shoving their breasts in our faces and egging us on to slide dollar bills in their thongs and stockings.

My boyfriend noticed what a good time I was having and decided to take it to the next level. “Hey babe, why don’t you get a lap dance? I’ll pay for it!”

I wasn’t sure if I was ready for a private, one-on-one encounter like that, so I hesitated. He kept encouraging me. “Take that dancer that keeps flirting with you. She really likes you! Maybe we can take her home afterwards.” He winked. I finally decided if he was paying for it, what did I have to lose?

I approached the dancer and she was more than willing. We paid our money (I think it was $45 for two songs, which seemed like a deal), and she led me to one of the private rooms, which was basically closet-size with a comfortable overstuffed couch and curtains on the windows to protect you from prying eyes.

I was still a bit nervous. “I’ve never done this before,” I laughed. She reassured me that everything would be fine. Then she pointed out the miniskirt I was wearing. “Maybe not a good idea to wear such a short skirt to a strip club.” I felt a little embarrassed and confused by this remark.

Then the music started, and I realized the chastising remark was meant to be flirtatious, as she was soon sliding her hands UP the skirt she had rebuked me for wearing two seconds ago.

I leaned back on the couch as she climbed on top of me, ripping off her top and shoving her 36D’s in my face. Her hand was soon sliding underneath my panties… I remembered all the rules I’d read beforehand and thought, wait a minute. If she’s touching ME, then all bets are off, right?

I decided to ask, just to be safe. “So… can I touch you?”

She smiled. “Honey, you can touch me anywhere you want.” Then she grabbed my hand and put it under HER skirt, while brushing her nipples on my mouth. This was becoming less of a lap dance and more of a molestation, but I certainly didn’t mind. She was HOT.

Next thing you know we’re making out furiously, with our fingers inside of each other’s pussies. As she was gyrating and grinding on top of me, I was licking her breasts, devouring her mouth, and bucking on her fingers, which were alternating between rubbing my hard clit and fucking me in the most delicate, delicious fashion. I still couldn’t believe I was getting it on with a stripper, and looking around at where I was at, knowing someone could walk in at any time, heightened my arousal.

By the time the second song started, we were both cumming hard all over each other’s fingers, still making out furiously. Sadly, my time ended way too fast, and as the song ended, we were trying to compose ourselves and fix our disheveled hair and clothing.

When we came out of the room, we both had cheshire cat grins on our faces, and I made my boyfriend give her a huge tip. As she walked back to the dressing room to prepare for her next dance, my boyfriend glowed in expectation. “So… how was it?”

“Oh my god. That wasn’t a lap dance. That was a seduction.” I told him I’d give him all the juicy details once we got home. Trust me when I say, we both had the best sex of our lives that night. I’ve been hooked on strip clubs as relationship foreplay ever since.



Sandra Wade

Actor, filmmaker, writer and sexy cat lady.. Currently showing at a festival near you: