« Contradictions In Coitus | Main | August »

July 21, 2007

Who's In My Underwear?

"Dancing" is a different animal from sex-for-pay. I'd forgotten.

Well, in all honesty, I didn't have anything to compare it to when last I did. Dance. Naked, for money.

The way you sell yourself as an object of gyrating desire is completely different than as one of abject sexual complicity. Here again, the girls have the scene sewn up. They've got props, a gazillion clubs, and a culture that allows men to meet in office towers before heading down to get sat on by a g-stringed amazon in stilettos. And the girls have it figured out, the parrying of priapic bellicosity; but mind you, they also have to deal with the inherent sexisim involved in the purveying (suggestion) of female desire, along with all the shit that goes with it--but boys, we're not quite as sorted out with the whole thing. For example, what's the predominant relationship that's being emulated or acted out here, one fellow naked and the other observing? Who's up to what, exactly? For that matter, who's up to be up whom's whatnot? And when, exactly, is too late for a boy to be compensated when there's a naked thigh tentatively fretting against a crotch?

Note_stripper_copyStripping can be fun, there's no doubt about that. What I find interesting is that now, after becoming familiar with the details and caveats of more, shall we say, full on sex work, I'm much more inclined to find it so, because whatever inroads we make towards true sexual congress when I'm in underwear that barley keep me in, and there's a man with a stack of bills in his pocket taking me to a back room, there's still no agreement for sex, no guarantee even of me touching him. It's all promise, not contract.

In layman's terms, drunk, lascivious men that want to do dirty things to me can't, unless I let them, and I still get paid. There's a whole club backing my decisions up: bouncers, bartenders, managers. When I first took my underwear off on a platform, it was nerve-wracking; as an older, wiser sex-worker, there's something of the "fuck you" in the act. I smile a lot.

It's an interesting way to decompress.

TrackBack

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.typepad.com/services/trackback/6a00d834516e1069e200e008dcd9ac8834

Listed below are links to weblogs that reference Who's In My Underwear?:

Comments

I found a funny for you
lolNote

That's one of the best things I've seen in weeks!

I love you, Bagel.

Verify your Comment

Previewing your Comment

This is only a preview. Your comment has not yet been posted.

Working...
Your comment could not be posted. Error type:
Your comment has been saved. Comments are moderated and will not appear until approved by the author. Post another comment

The letters and numbers you entered did not match the image. Please try again.

As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.

Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.

Working...

Post a comment

Comments are moderated, and will not appear until the author has approved them.