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Confessions of a Lapdancer (review)

Confessions of a Lapdancer

Review by Lizzie Guilfoyle

WE’RE told that the anonymous author of Confessions of a Lapdancer found an outlet for her natural performing flair in karaoke bars and night clubs and that her fascination with the stripping industry has led to a number of friendships with women working within it.

Add to that her own career in the City and fact and fiction blur in this tale of sex, sex and even more sex.

Confessions of a Lapdancer is primarily Geri Carson’s story. Fed up with being forced to act as one of the boys in order to achieve the success she craves and struggling to keep up with her increasingly lavish lifestyle, Geri seizes a chance opportunity to perform in one of the hottest clubs in town.

City girl by day, lapdancer by night, she somehow manages to keep the two worlds apart and revels in her new-found power over men. However, it isn’t long before the seedier and dangerous aspects of lapdancing rear their ugly heads.

I wish I could say something positive about this book but it’s not particularly well written and the storyline is flimsy to say the least. In fact, I could go so far as to say that it’s little more than a catalogue of sexual encounters, explicitly described in language that, at times, is nothing short of crude.

That said, Confessions of a Lapdancer does have two redeeming features – if indeed you can call them such. With the introduction of Irena, a young Polish girl, it’s easy to see why some unfortunate souls are forced into this line of work; and it certainly does expose the less obvious dangers of this sordid late-night world.

As for the rest, it struck me as a misguided attempt to prove that stripping demeans men rather than women, thereby vindicating the likes of Geri, or Ginger as she’s otherwise known, who see it simply as a means to an end.

Here let me stress that I’m neither a prude nor do I have anything against lapdancers – what they do and for whatever reason, is between them and their clients and that’s how it should remain. Moreover, what little I know of lapdancing has been gleaned from the pages of Confessions.. so if I’m judging the ‘profession’ harshly, the author has only herself to blame.

Without a doubt, this is an eye-opener of a book. And there are certainly no prizes for guessing why the author chose to remain anonymous. However, it’s not a book I’d recommend – particularly to old Auntie Nellie!