I’d never been to a strip club before, so when my friend, a visiting journalist from London asked me to go with her in order to check it out, I thought, We'll be the only women there (besides the dancers of course). Turns out we weren’t, but I’ll get to that later. The gladiator sized guy at the door didn’t look twice at us as we made our way in to the purple and red decorated club. Nice. Velvet chairs. Chandeliers. For sure, classy was the look they were going for.

We had shown up for the 9:00 early bird special so to speak—dinner and champagne, and free admission before the show started. It was a complete and delicious meal to our surprise: fois gras, followed by shrimp and a rich dessert that neither of us needed. After we were half way done, the scenery changed. The lights dimmed. The music became louder, and the two single guys sitting next to us suddenly stopped talking.

By the time I’d turned my head from them and back to my friend, a girl wearing a Roman like gown with thigh high splits and heels higher than I’d ever seen any drag queen wear, began pole dancing on the stage. As if someone had silently rung a bell, business men with their cigars and couples smiling and holding hands started filling up the club at exactly the same moment.

I couldn’t decide which was more interesting: the business men in their Hugo Boss suits and shiny black shoes negotiating the prices with the dancers for lap dances, or the couple who was sitting next to us debating on which girl they’d pay for their own lap dance. Now, maybe I’m slow or maybe it’s because it was my first time, but personally, I’ve never considered going to a strip club with my mate. Nope, no way, no how. This immediately became my night’s obsession, to find out why this couple was there.

Luckily, Charles and Alex (a cute couple in their early 30's) turned out to be extremely talkative. In fact, they’ve been going to Stringfellows on a regular basis for over a year. Charles, who's a commercial attorney at La Defense, started it. Going with buddies for a drink on Fridays after work, it became something he’d do once or month or so—payday. Alexandra increasingly felt left out on those occasions, so one Friday, Charles simply asked her to come along. Not knowing what she was getting herself into but extremely happy he’d asked her, she closed down the shoe boutique she manages and went. And she loved it.

“I was nervous the first time I came,” she said. “But that night we went home and had the most amazing sex we’d ever had. That’s when I knew this was something we should do together from now on.” Charles agreed. “If I had known the sex was going to be that good, I would have brought her here from the beginning.” They both laughed, and so did I, nervously, however. I was starting to think that if I didn’t slide back to my spot, they’d go into a lot more details about their relationship than I was willing to hear.

“The girls are beautiful, aren’t they? Très très belle,” Alex continued. I looked up and saw another blond with insanely huge breasts gyrating on stage. “Should we choose her tonight, Cheri?” I looked over at Charles who had a question mark on his face. “What do you think about the black girl?” I did a double take and looked at Alex. “She already danced for us and she wasn’t that sensual, remember?” I cleared my throat and looked around.

I had one more question for them so I figured I’d better get it out. What exactly happened in the back room, the one where a giant Conan looking man stood guard? My little lovey-dovey couple knew about everything, of course. The back room was for private lap dances. It costs more-double the €25 they paid for a lap dance on the floor, and you still couldn’t touch the girls, but you got to see a lot ahem, more, like everything. “Ahhhhh”… I said. But they hadn’t yet ventured into the back room. They were content to watch the activities out front.

Charles and Alex assured me that their relationship was healthy without Stringfellows, and that going there was equivalent to them sitting at home and watching racy videos together. “But this is more delightful to the eye, and its real people,” Charles explained. “And you don’t get one bit jealous, Alex?” I had to ask. “No, not at all, because I am with him and no longer sitting at home while he’s here with the guys. Plus, I know he’s my man and he’s going home with me tonight, and it’s going to be hot.”

Well, I couldn’t much say anything after that could I? I guess the real question is do you need what the French called piment in your relationship? If so, maybe Stringfellows is just the place to go for it.

Stringfellows
27 Avenues de Ternes
Paris 17e

Tel. + 33 (1) 47 66 45 00

Priscilla Lalisse moved to Paris from New York City in 1999. She is the Editor & Founder of Prissy Mag, and the author of STOCKDALE , her first novel. For her complete bio, please click here.

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