A Private Stripper’s Confesstion

A Private Stripper’s Confession

Everyone is going to have an opinion about me the moment they see me on stage. They notice the stripper’s heels, the curvy body, the confidence, and a very carefully curated persona. They create stories in their head, and they assume they know my story. What they don’t understand is that I, like any other human in the room, have my own hopes, fears, and dreams. This private stripper’s confession is about one of those stories.

It was a rainy Thursday night when I noticed him.

The club was quiet, and you could hear the rain on the windows in the VIP room, where guests paid a premium to have a private show to themselves. The sound of the rain made it feel a bit cozier, even a little more intimate than usual. Most of our guests came looking for excitement, distraction, or entertainment. They had a certain expectation of me being on the VIP stage. This man, though, as he sat in the far corner, felt different. He had paid the money; he wasn’t necessarily there to watch me in the horny way the others watched me. That was what caught my attention. I walked by his table after my set, and he smiled at me; I smiled back.

He came back the following week.

And the week after that. He always sat in the same corner, ordered the same drink, and always came around my set times. Our brief hellos turned into conversations. It was ordinary things at first: books, the news, cities we wanted to visit. In the private room, we got a little more leeway in how we interacted with our guests. They were paying for more, so we were allowed to give them more.
For once, I was speaking to someone who didn’t see me as just the performer with the Private Strippers persona; he was talking to me as a person.
This is where the private stripper’s confession starts.

Once he asked me what I liked to do outside of work. This wasn’t him being curious about the fantasy version of me, but him being truly interested in my life. Somewhere along the way, I realized I felt safe and comfortable around this man, a rarity in my business. I felt comfortable telling him things I didn’t usually share with my guests.
One night I was giving him a lap dance, which was how he liked to help me out. Paying the extra money and would give me a generous tip afterward. This was a usual thing, like I said, we had become comfortable; but this night he leaned into my ear and asked if I wanted to come home with him after my shift. I looked startled. He reassured me it was only an offer to spend more time with him and there was no expectation of “more”.

I quietly nodded yes to this private strippers confession.

After I finished his dance, with the tip, he had put a card with his address in my garter belt. After work, I showered and put on my outside world clothes, got in my car, and pulled up his address. I was tired but excited. What would he be like outside the club?

I had looked him up, and I knew where he worked; I had stalked his social media, checked on the “Are We Dating the Same Man” group. We had talked enough, and I had seen no red flags to tell me this man might be dangerous. He was just who he said he was. An ordinary guy who saw me for who I was. I do have to confess, I wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Work was supposed to stay work and private life was supposed to be private, but this guy was different.

When I got to his door, he let me in. He had turned the lights to a soft glow and had some chill music on. He offered me a drink and welcomed me to his home. It felt cozy; he felt cozy. We sat with drinks and talked; it was so much easier to be myself here. After we had been talking for a while and I was feeling more comfortable, I moved to sit closer to him. He put his arm around me, and I snuggled in.

That’s when this private stripper’s confession became more.

There had come a comfortable pause in the conversation; I turned to him, and he leaned in for the kiss. The touching came next, slow and intentional. Soon our clothes were off, and his skin was hot against mine. All those weeks, talking and dancing for him, had been building to this. We grabbed our drinks and moved to his bedroom.
If I learned one thing in the private stripper’s confession, it was that genuine connection can be found in the unlikeliest of places.

If you want to hear all the dirty details of my life as a private stripper, or about the time I was lost in the mountains, found in his arms, give your perfect fantasy girl a call.

Call Mya 1-800-244-0699