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What You May Not Know About Older Strippers at the S*********
If you think older women don’t make as much money as the younger, perkier strippers, you’re not alone in making that assumption. But you *are* wrong.
Erin Taylor
Erin Taylor
Feb 14 · 7 min read
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Photo by Renata Schaitza on Unsplash

Recently, I reflected on my time as a twenty-something-year-old stripper, and how different my career would’ve been if I started stripping as a thirty-something-year-old. I thought, well, at least I still have the body for it. (Shout out to my personal trainer, Rod.) But the truth is, my success as a stripper was never just about my looks. To be an exotic dancer, it takes so much more than blonde hair, perky t***, and a youthful presence.

Sure, I was tipped often on stage at the club because I had an a** that wouldn’t quit and a pearly Colgate-white smile that peeked through when a customer made me blush from across the room. But as soon as I walked off stage and sat down with my potential customer, the real work began.

I couldn’t connect with clients and make a sale from just looking good.

You may think all you want is a hot stripper on your lap, but if she’s obviously uninterested in you as a person and won’t even play into the fantasy of desire and seduction, you’re probably going to look for another girl, and fast.

Once I sat on a client’s lap, I had to think on my feet and know exactly what to say and how to say it to make them want me. This was based solely on a quick scan of their clothes, their posture, and demeanor, how they spoke, and what they were drinking, in a matter of a few minutes.

If I was too forward, I’d scare them off, and they’d ask me to come back later — the signature move for all uninterested clients.
If I took my time and tried to be a fun party girl instead of being a saleswoman, they’d think I was there to have shots of tequila with them and they wouldn’t tip or buy any dances from me.

A lot of the younger strippers, myself included, didn’t know how to adjust accordingly from client to client. We used the same approach, the same moves, the same conversation with every person we met. This is a recipe for disaster, or a very unsuccessful stripper.

As a twenty-something stripper, it took some time for me to see the big picture — every person visits the club for a different reason because every client (and every stripper) has their own story. Not every client is there for an aggressively bouncy lap dance from a perky girl who won’t even look them in the eyes or introduce herself — yet some younger girls think that’s how they’re going to make money.

But the older women, oh boy, they always know just what to do.

As a brand-new stripper, I was ignorant about the potential earnings of the older women who worked beside me; these were the 40- and 50-year-olds who also walked around in practically nothing but a pair of clear stripper heels that clacked loudly along the tiled floors.

I assumed the older strippers made less money because they were competing with just barely 21-year-old energetic, young women. Most people I’ve spoken with also assume that older dancers have a harder time finding customers in the club. But they are wrong. I was wrong.

The older women at every s********* I worked at ran circles around the younger, hotter, perkier strippers.

As I mentioned earlier, s** work is not all about looks. Sure, the sexiest, blondest, most beautiful woman might grab our attention as she walks by. We’re only human. But what does that even mean? Beauty is subjective; what may be breathtakingly gorgeous to one person may not be for another.

Most people aren’t looking for the hottest stripper in the club — they’re looking for someone they think is s*** who can connect emotionally, have an inquisitive conversation, and share a few laughs with them. We’re called dancers, but I didn’t actually physically dance for all of my customers. Some I just sat with without taking my clothes off and I listened to them, I shared with them, and I held them close.

The older dancers I knew had so much experience doing this, it was nearly impossible for them not to find something to talk about with customers — young or old. And believe it or not, I’d often see the older women leading their clients upstairs into the VIP room while the rest of us 20-something-year-old’s wondered what the hell we were doing wrong.

I’ve written countless times about what it takes to be a successful exotic dancer, and one of the biggest things is empathy. Being able to connect with your client, despite who they are, where they’re from, what they look like, or how much money they make — and treat them like they’re the only person in the room.

Connection isn’t always physical, and it isn’t always communicated with words. I’ve had long-term clients who didn’t speak more than a few words of English. The s********* fosters a community of people looking for emotional connection, and having the skill to establish that connection with wildly different people multiple times a night is something that comes with experience, practice, and determination.

Now do you understand why older strippers make fantastic money?

Because they see the s********* as a lucrative business opportunity — not a place for drinking, drugs, and partying — they know exactly what to say, how to touch, where to sit, and how to flirt with most customers that walk through our doors to make their money, easy.

My former co-worker Sammy, one of the very few women who I am still in touch with today, gave me permission to write about our conversations from years ago.

When she and I first became friends in the club, I was 23. She disclosed with me she was older than me. I smiled, thinking she was probably in her mid-thirties. She was physically fit, and she didn’t look that much older than me. Cognizant of the almost pitch-black lighting in the club, I knew it was dark for everyone’s benefit, but how forgiving could these black lights be?

“I’ll be 48 next month,” she said.

My jaw dropped. She was nearly 50; she looked amazing, and she was still stripping. (In case you’re wondering, she never smoked or drank alcohol, and she wore SPF all of her life.)

But that initial shock of mine was insulting, and it stemmed from a deep-rooted and cruel societal view of older women — their value based on their looks and how they compare to their younger counterparts. The unrealistic expectation for women to find permanent youth or die trying. My shock to her appearance was about as insulting as the “she looks great for her age” comment we hear so often about older female celebrities.

Over time, Sammy shared little pieces of her life with me. She explained she was married; she had children and grandchildren. When her kids and grandkids moved out of state, she felt comfortable enough to strip again at the old club she once worked at in her thirties.

“Dancing gives me freedom, it helps me save a pretty penny for our very near retirement, and I get to let loose here.” She laughed and continued. “Could you imagine the look on the faces of the ladies from Evelyn’s Grandma and Me class if they saw me shaking my a** in the faces of twenty-year-old college kids!” she cackled, her eyes twinkling with joy.

She was hilarious, a rare gem of a friend in the s*********. I looked forward to every one of our conversations because she had so much knowledge to share.

Especially when it came to money.

Months later, I was having a very slow night; I had barely made $200 and my goal was $2,000. I wanted to leave. I was discouraged and frustrated, two emotions that don’t translate very well into “I’m a fun stripper, buy dances from me!”

Sammy stepped in and offered to share one of her clients with me. “He prefers older women, but if I tell him you’re my friend, he’ll bite.”

I held onto her words as she walked me over to the VIP booth in the corner. “He prefers older women.” I assumed he was an older gentleman, but when I walked over, I found myself on the lap of a thirty-one-year-old accountant. Sammy helped me make my goal that night, and then she refused to take a percentage. (Giving a cut of your money to a fellow stripper who helped you make that money is a must. If they politely decline your gesture, that’s how you know you’ve made a genuine friend.)

But she opened my eyes to the unfair assumptions I had made about her — and the other older women who worked at the club — based solely on their age. Because you will never meet a woman who has mastered the art of connecting with another human being like an experienced older woman. Let that sink in the next time you visit the s*********. The older women, they just know how to treat you right.

So, if you think older women don’t make as much money as the younger, perkier strippers, you’re not alone in making that assumption. But you are wrong.

©
Erin Taylor
2020. All Rights Reserved. Medium

New Confession

Mr John…she stammered.shhhhh I said. If I tell your mom you were actually f****** on my couch she’ll beat you ground you or? Yeah I know. How can we make this right? Well if I won’t tell you can’t tell. Come over here and sit on my lap. No straddle my legs and face me. Are we going to really f***? No sweetie. You are 13, and I’m not insane. But a little foreplay to give you your o***** would be a nice way to end your night. She edged up to me , saw the huge bulge in my pants. And spread her thighs apart and nestled her tight little a** on my legs. God she was warm. I parted her blouse snd palm ribbed her n******. A minute later she closed her eyes and leaned backwards, her tongue lolling in her mouth. I Slowely began sucking and licking her now hardening n******. Slurp. Slurp. I suckled her tips. Oh oh Mr John you really know how to s*** n******. She panted. Now I ran my fingernails from her spread open knees to her very inner thighs. She felt terrific and parted her thighs wider. I smelled her young eager p**** aroma. It was intoxicating. You smell so fresh sweetie. My name is Lizzie. Call me Lizzie. As I messaged her thighs she respread hrr thighs. Am I all drippy? She asked. I moved my fingers to the edge of her vaginal flesh. Yes swee Lizz you are a little slippery. Met I touch your very soft p**** Lizz? Yes yes I ran my fingers over the slushy slit. From a** hole to her c*** I let my fingers fiddle and wiggle in between her inner and outer lips. Nearly virgin as she was the flesh was delicate and lovely. My fingers and c*** tingled as I played with her p****. She gasped a little. Oh oh oh press on my c******* Mr John. Rub it gently. It’s all on fire down there.what’s on fire? My hot p**** Mr John. I know Lizz but it will get much much hotter . I felt up between her inner lips and gently rubbing her buttonwatcher her face contorted as she bit met bottom lip. Ooooo ooooo. Ooooo she slobbered. Yes honey let it go let it grow wild up into your belly and spread. I will get much more exciting. Her 13 yr old p**** enraged my c*** snd it twitched maddeningly. I caressed the wet button slowly and drew circles around it then tapped it seversl times. Then pinched it and then pressed on it. Then gripped the tiny button. Oh oh oh I’m i’m ( I stopped all movements. She unstiffenefd her torso and nearly collapsed. No no no don’t stop. Just for a minute. Your climb up will be even better. Oh s*** oh s*** I have to peepee. Go ahead let it come. She let loose snd peed into a cup i ok held. I watched her urinate and nearly blew my wad. She finished. I wiped her puss and slid my finger to her wet c******* again. Yes yes yes as I rolled my finger over the now very tender c*** I lifted her Fanny closer to my chest. Now my hot breath covered her c***. But also bared her tiny button slowly and hole. It was pink and puckered. Tho delicious looking I chose to use my other finger to eiggle it over her sss hole. She jiggled her a** cheeks trying to tighten them, but I pulled them apart and slid my index finger up into her lovely little yielding hole as fsr as I could. Once fullly inserted I wiggled it round and round and round. She gagged a bit but I gently lifted the hood on her c*** and sucked it into my lips. My waiting tongue began licking her c*** faster and faster. She grunted. She cried out as her wave of lust built up. As I sucked harder she waved her arms skyward snd grabbed her n******, pinching hard. A wild scream may have begun, but no sound was emitting from her gasping mouth. Her a** rippled and bounced on my legs. She stiffened and then looking into my eyes she collapsed against my body. Gasping for oxygen she sagged into e***** exstacy. Oh god oh god. I hugged her tiny body warmly. Was it good for you Lizz? I asked.

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