Champain Room

Last week, I had a crazy fucking day. First of all, I spent pretty much my whole shift in the champagne room with different guys. This is noteworthy for me because I'm not a big champagne room girl. I spend most of my time on the floor and make most of my money off of lapdances. I was thrilled - mostly because I pleased management with my lucrative day!

One guy was buying lapdances from every single dancer in the house. When he got to me, halfway through my first dance he called me naughty and asked me if I needed to be whipped into shape for misbehaving. I played along, and he got really really into it. Next thing I knew, we were in the champagne room and he was telling me (in no particular order) that a) I was his little slave girl, b) he wanted to put a collar around my neck and humiliate me, c) that every time I hear the word Daniel I'm going to come, even if I'm in a restaurant, and that I'll feel humiliated whenever that happens, d) that if I couldn't come on command upon hearing his name he'd have to punish me. It was possibly the easiest champagne room I've ever done in terms of physical work, but the emotional work (Hochschild 1979) was ridiculous. I was also confused by the racial dynamic of the whole thing; I know S&M people can be into the whole slavery thing, but what about when it's complicated by race (i.e. me a woman of color and him the whitest)?

Okay, my next trip back was with a guy from Hyderabad. Just turned 30, still a virgin, planning to get married soon. He asked me whether it was better to buy lapdances or go to the champagne room. Normally, my answer to this question is lapdances - I make more per hour giving dances than I do in the champagne room, plus I don't have to worry about unrealistic expectations or unwanted gropes. But this guy seemed pretty tame, and I wanted to impress management with a second room for the shift, so I suggested we retreat. This man was so so into my anus. It "tookus" no more than a minute before we were playing lapoeira , though this time it was anal-tug-of-war. The man couldn't take no for an answer! It's like there was insulin up there, and he was a diabetic (Chris Rock, anyone?). I think he thought the fact that we both speak Hindi gave him free reign over my hindy...An hour of keeping my anus away from him, and...I was exhausted by this Hyderabadass...

Back on the floor, a 1/2 Greek, 1/2 Turkish guy asked me if I was Arab, and if he could do a temporary nikah with me so we could have sex. I politely turned down his booty call/marriage proposal, and then he asked if we could go to the private room. Holy crap, three in one day? Sure! Back there, he revealed to me how much he loves Bollywood music and that I remind him of the Indian movies he grew up watching. Then... he tried to stick his finger up my ass. What, do I have stimulus money in there or something?! I shrieked and jumped away, and then he started laughing and singing Mehndi Laga Ke Rakhna to me! I chimed in for the female vocals, and thought we might just have a nice round of antakshri for the remainder of the hour. No "can" do! As soon as he got to the last verse, he went straight for the butthole again! I pulled all kinds of maneuvers to get his hand off of me, and then he resorted to standing up and bhangra-ing with me for a few minutes. Repeat a few times and you have a sense of how my hour with this guy went.

The story ends with a white publishing industry guy waving me over to him and straight up asking me if I want to go to the champagne room with him. Note: This never ever happens!!! I considered myself very lucky... Until I got back there, and he started asking me if my orgasms are mostly clitoral or g-spot. I told him clitoral, but I can also come through penetration. And then, very quickly, he goes, "let me try something real quick" and tries to stick his Finger In My Ass! Call F.I.M.A.!

What is up with this? Should I just take these as backhanded compliments?