I thought the story would be better told by my wife Karen, with me as her editor, so this story is from her point of view.
Ever since I discovered a fondness for exhibitionism, my husband Mark has been encouraging me to show off my body and we've had plenty of crazy times together as a result; with other people sometimes getting involved.
We've often played the role of the stripper for each other and sometimes I've even showed him off to my friends. For some reason we'd never been to a strip club before.
During that first visit as soon as I saw a stripper onstage, with men drooling to be with her, I knew I had to go through with this. What better way than to appear at an amateur night? Nobody would expect me to have the same kind of moves as a professional and hey, it's only one night.
Some of the regular dancers gave me an idea of what it was like and I did plenty of practicing with my husband in the weeks leading up to the big night.
A few days before the event Mark showed me a promotional flier the strip club owner sent out. In big, printed letters it read "Amateur Night" and "Someone you know could be onstage!" Someone had taken a pen, crossed out the word "could" and wrote "will," so it read "someone you know will be onstage."
I asked Mark if he knew how many of these were sent out and who received them.
"I may have sent them to some people, or put them on their cars," he replied with a smile. "Some people you know."
He wouldn't say who they were sent to and he had no idea if they would show up.
"You can always back out if you want," Mark said. "I figured this would be more fun than a bunch of strangers. With the stage lights on you'll probably have no idea who is even there."
I've been on a stage before and he was right. Other than the seats right by the stage I'd probably have no idea who was there. This made me nervous, though also intrigued.
I decided to wear my sexy schoolgirl costume. Kind of obvious, I know, but Mark loves it and I figured it would be a hit with the crowd. Besides, I often wear this when I perform for him at home.
I wore my regular clothes to the club and we got there fairly early. The manager had some forms for me to fill out and he said drinks were on the house, but warned us not to overdo it. I knocked back one of them right away.
There were a half-dozen other women competing. Some of them looked more nervous than I was. As I'm in my early 30s, I thought I might be the oldest, but there was a dark-haired woman who was about the same age as me. The others looked barely 21.
We drew lots and I was thankful that I would go last. The dark-haired woman changed into a nurse's costume. The others seemed to have brought the sluttiest clothing they had, though altered so they could tear the fabric away.
One girl said showing up tonight was her boyfriend's idea. Another said she lost a bet with a friend of hers. One of them said it was a birthday present for her fiancé.
A waitress brought me a note from Mark. "You've got some friends in the house. OK to back out, if you want. It's up to you."
Sure, he would support me either way but I felt like he was almost goading me to perform.
I borrowed a wig from one of the strippers, donned an extra dress she had and made a quick survey of the club. I breezed past them and no one seemed to notice me as they were busy talking and drinking.
There were two of our neighbors from down the street, both men. Each of them married. I could live with that. I bet they wouldn't be able to tell their wives about this.
Then I saw them—five guys I worked with. Four of them were younger than me, though one was a senior executive. I know one of them likes to attend strip clubs, but was he here because of the flier? Butterflies filled my stomach. Could I really strip myself naked in front of them and parade around onstage?
One of them had a girlfriend and two of them were married. I figured that ought to keep them from talking to other people about this and besides, I could always retaliate.
I went backstage and told Angel, the stripper I'd met before, who was organizing things and helping the performers. She offered to help fix the wig to my head as a disguise.
I thought it over and decided, no. I was going through with this. Wearing a disguise would be like chickening out, as if there was something wrong with this. Besides, if one of them saw through the disguise I'd really be embarrassed. I was going out there with nothing to hide.
There was a camera set up and we could watch the others perform from backstage. The manager reminded the audience that this was amateur night and the dancers were not to be touched. He encouraged the crowd to offer a loud cheer over and over again until the volume was piercing and they seemed fired up.
The first dancer seemed rather nervous and a little tipsy as she fumbled with the string on her halter top, though the crowd shouted encouragingly to her.
When my turn finally arrived I stepped out onto the stage as the manager called my stage name.
"Let's hear it for 'Jasmine' everybody, a big round of applause," the manager announced.
The crowd roared. I knew my husband Mark was out there, near the stage, though with the darkness of the room and the lights on the stage I couldn't see him.