PHOTOS BRONWEN PARKER-RHODES
The woman with the platinum bob is unzipping her see-through mini skirt and ever so slowly, e-v-e-r so seductively, unfastening her bra. I only met her a few minutes ago, when she coyly approached me, took me by the hand, and led me up the spiral staircase. “I’ve never done this before,” I told her nervously. “Don’t worry,” she replied. “You’re fabulous.” Now she’s writhing against the wall of our private booth. She’s gyrating on the pole less that a metre in front of me. She’s extending one leg up. I can’t believe how high she can get it. She’s like a gymnast, a scandalously saucy, ridiculously raunchy, X-rated gymnast. Oh Jesus, I think she might be taking off her G-string. She’s looking at me. I’m looking at her. Then I’m looking at my girlfriend. Well… this escalated quickly.
Like many long-term lesbian couples, our usual idea of a hot date is binge-watching Gentleman Jack in our PJs. Yet here we are at the launch of Harpies, the UK’s first LGBTQI strip club, and let’s just say, we’re embracing the carnival spirit. The truth is, we’d never feel comfortable partaking in a peepshow in a mainstream strip joint. It’s not the strippers that are the issue. If anything, I’ve always been enthralled by their promise of subversive glamour. As a youngster, I was obsessed with films like Showgirls and Coyote Ugly. In the safety of my bedroom, I tried to emulate the magic of Jennifer Beals in Flashdance with the chair and Demi Moore in Striptease with the baggy shirt. My favourite song was Tina Turner’s Private Dancer. My workout regime was Carmen Electra’s Fit To Strip DVD. Still to this day, I have a penchant for the provocative. I can quote Moulin Rouge word-for-word and my ultimate style icon is Dita von Teese. I frequent burlesque nights and, in the privacy of my own home, I’ve performed many a risqué routine for my lover. So yes, it’s fair to say I bloody love a stripper.