After enjoying Paris and the Moulin Rouge so much the first time, Jamie (my regular sugar daddy), decided to take me back the following year for my birthday. We hadn’t intended on going back to the strip club though, in fact I was quite against the idea after the aggro it’d caused last time (see linked blog); however, Jamie insisted that we go in, promising not to get upset or jealous this time.
It was a weeknight, so completely dead inside; and much to my disappointment I couldn’t see the girl who’d gone down on me the last time we’d been there.
There were a few scantily dressed girls milling around, but they weren’t dancing, in fact there wasn’t much going on at all. We didn’t mind though as we were still buzzing from the Moulin Rouge, high on champagne and happy to just enjoy each other’s company.
As none of the girls were dancing, I took it upon myself to climb onto the stage where we were sitting and do my own performance for Jamie. I was wearing a short black strappy dress, with no bra, so easily able to pull my dress down and expose my breasts whilst I danced.
I obviously can’t do the tricks the professionals can but still had fun writhing up and down the pole, feeling sexy and putting on a show. I’m quite an exhibitionist after a few drinks and couldn’t resist the opportunity to dance topless in a seedy club in Paris; it’s not something you get the chance to do every day.
There were a few guys hovering around the bar that obviously worked there (and who were more than happy to let me do my thing) and the girls relaxing at the back of the club watching me dance and cheering me on, probably enjoying a break; other than that, we had the place to ourselves.
After dancing for a while, I asked Jamie whether he wanted to take one of the girls into a private booth, to make up for the previous year when he’d missed out, having not been brave enough to join me and my sexy French friend for some private time.
He suggested that we go in together, but I didn’t want to go with him, I wanted him to have the full experience without me getting in the way (or making things weird); I had no desire to join in or watch. So slightly reluctantly he approached the girls and disappeared into a booth with one, leaving me sat by the stage alone, sipping champagne.
I wasn’t sat there long though before one of the men from the bar who’d been watching me dancing came over to talk to me. I guess he must have been the owner or the manager, for he was dressed in an expensive looking suit and had an air of authority about him. His English wasn’t great, but he knew enough to say that he wanted a blow job, and to follow him upstairs; which of course, me being me, and being quite drunk, I did.
If I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve negotiated a fee and earnt some money, but as it happened, after being bundled into a tiny toilet cubicle, I got on my knees and sucked his French cock for free.
He must have realised that I was a sex worker, or at the very least an ‘easy’ woman; I mean I had been dancing around half naked in front of him and the others, so could hardly blame him for trying his luck…
By the time Jamie emerged from the booth I had been returned to my seat by the stage, and was trying to process what had just happened, it had all felt a bit surreal. I wasn’t sure whether to tell Jamie about it or not but decided I should.
He was rather upset (again), as all he got was a dance and some boobs in his face, he wasn’t even allowed to touch. A stark contrast to my experience the year before, where my girl was all over me and I all over her; obviously it depends on the girl, and who she’s dancing for.
He was annoyed that whilst he was in the private booth (not particularly enjoying the experience) I’d been off sucking some other guy’s cock; which in hindsight I probably shouldn’t have done.
Looking back now, it concerns me how comfortable the man who worked there was with approaching me and demanding a blow job, like it was something he was entitled too and did all the time. I worry for the girls who work there, and whether they’re expected to drop to their knees and suck their bosses’ cocks whenever they’re told, and whether they’d lose their jobs if they didn’t.
I was drunk on champagne, horny as fuck and in Paris, so I didn’t mind, I was never going to see this man again, so could easily have told him to fuck off if I’d wanted too, the girls working there may not have that option though.
For women like me (and them) who work in the sex industry, there’s a fine line between a mutually beneficial arrangement and an exploitative one, and sometimes it’s difficult to know which side of the line you’re on; it’s not always obvious.
Despite our less-than-ideal experience at the strip club, Jamie wants to go back to the Moulin Rouge next year for his 70th birthday, however this time I really will insist that we give the strip club a miss. I think a private show from me in our hotel room may be safer.
Emily-Rose xxx
To check out what happened on our first visit to Paris check out this blog
Sugar and Spice 