Finding an oasis in the desert
leyhunter
England
Strip clubs exist, albeit in ever falling numbers, but are largely empty and seemingly cater for groups of men who stumble out of pubs with no expectations beyond staring at tits, stag parties led by a best man who, having failed to arrange decent entertainment, is desperately clinging to a sense of tradition to salvage an evening, and a few businessmen in suits trying to look edgy.
It is, in short, rather grim. You are far better off finding a prostitute who happens to dance, or saving your money and travelling overseas.
Or is it?
Amazingly, in amongst this dismal rough crops up the occasional diamond. The Capricorn Club on Goodge Street, sadly no longer with us after being shut down by the Fuzz a decade ago, gave an indication of what might be possible. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, with as much touching as you could negotiate and a nearby hotel that catered for brief liasons outside the club. I have encountered nothing quite like it since.
But you can get close. Every now and then a club will spring up in the sticks, or the arse end of London, which combines a local police force dealing with other priorities with political ineptitude, and then the fun begins. The Honeypot in Maidenhead, known for being the backyard of Prime Minister Theresa May, has been one such find, with private dances occasionally including the offer of a quickie in the private booths. Ye Olde Axe in London is not quite so wild, but as hands on as any dance you might find in the US.
Finding such places takes a bit of luck, but if you're willing to take regular glances at reviews on this site and others your odds are greatly improved. The oasis is out there.
Happy hunting!
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