My first time performing an erotic striptease for my husband didn't go as well as I had hoped it would. I arranged it so that when he got home from work I would surprise him at the door with a thrilling erotic seduction; it would be a total surprise. He was two hours late that night, which had me panicking. Plus the cheese I had laid out had started to crust at the edges, my makeup had smudged, and the champagne had warmed considerably. My heart started thumping when I heard the garage door close and the familiar sound of his boot steps as he stomped up the stairs to the kitchen door.
He opened the door to find me wearing a sheer negligee over a bustier, thigh-high stockings, garter belt and spiked, five-inch, clear high heels. The only thing he said was, "I'm not in the mood." Barely even glancing at me he opened the fridge, grabbed a beer and went into the den to turn on the TV.
I was devastated.
I had no idea that he had just gotten fired and had spent the last couple of hours drowning his sorrows at the bar. Our marriage didn't last much longer, and I realized that the biggest mistake I had made was to try to save a failing relationship by planning an erotic seduction. Unfortunately, a seduction can't repair a marriage; in fact, it can backfire terribly just like it had for me.
It took me a long time to work up the courage to perform another strip tease after that. A full four years after my divorce I decided to give it another shot with my boyfriend. This time it was a huge success.
First, learning from my past mistake, I didn't make it a complete surprise. I made a point to invite him to spend a romantic evening with me that Friday night. Then that morning, I left a note in his briefcase to prepare himself for the sexiest event of his life. Along with the note, I left a hotel key, the name of the hotel I had booked, the time he should meet me and the room number.
Secondly, I had practiced my moves to perfection (I did some research reading Mary Taylor's Bedroom Games) which really helped to ease my fears. I spent a lot of time in front of my mirror figuring out what positions and moves made me look the sexiest. Those few hours in front of the mirror were actually very liberating for me. I realized how sexy I was (am) and went through the process of accepting and loving my body. I even started to feel sexy about body parts that I had previously really struggled with.
I went to the hotel early and set up the room: I turned on the gas fireplace, lit candles, had room service deliver chocolate covered strawberries and his favorite beer in a bucket of ice. I tossed my floor-show blanket in front of the fireplace and dragged a chair into position where he could sit down and enjoy the show. I showered, dressed in my costume (the top layer wasn't very seductive) and went to the hotel's lobby to have a drink and relax.
In the meantime, my boyfriend arrived at the hotel room. Finding my note with instructions to make himself at home, he sat down on the chair and opened a beer. Fifteen minutes after his arrival, I proceeded to the room and knocked on the door. "Room Service," I called in a feigned French accent.
He opened the door to find me standing there dressed in a dowdy maid's uniform that I had borrowed from the hotel (the concierge had hesitated a little, but conceded after I gave him my winning smile). My hair was pulled back into a bun, and I had donned some ridiculous horn-rimmed glasses that I had picked up at the thrift store. The only thing that gave my intentions away was the 6-inch stripper's heels, and stockings peeking out from beneath the uniform. "May I help you monsieur?" I asked in my French accent.
"Yes, I believe you can," he whispered, his voice shaking with anticipation. I was pleased. Placing my hand on his chest, I proceeded to maneuver him back into his chair. I opened another beer and handed it to him. Then I started the music.
I rotated my hips in slow circular motions, in time to Madeleine Peyroux' voice singing in the background. I seductively fondled my breasts as I walked toward him. I took hold of his suit jacket and slid it down his shoulders, giving him a naughty smile. I slowly turned my body around and peeking over my shoulder I asked him to unzip my uniform please. He gladly obeyed.
With my arms pointed downward, I shimmied my chest & shoulders until the dress dropped to my ankles to reveal my next layer of clothing: a pair of leather cutoffs, a tattered, see-through top with a sequined bra underneath and thigh-high stockings. I kicked the dress away, turned back toward him and undid my bun, letting my hair fall about my shoulders, and dropped the eye-glasses into his lap. The music switched over to "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leppard.
By my third song ("Let's Get it On" by Marvin Gaye), I had stripped to only my panties, stockings and heels. I maneuvered to my hands and knees for my floor show, crawling and gyrating on the blanket like a pro. Lying down on my back I lifted my butt of the ground and slid my panties off and up my legs. For the grand finale, I launched my panties off the heel of my shoe into his lap. I spread my legs to show him my goodies and before I knew it, he was all over me in time for the fourth song. It couldn't have gone any better.
Naomi teaches strip dance for women in the Denver Metro area. Book your own Peel & Play event by calling her at 720-201-5096.
Originally Published July 2006: Stripped! Anniversary Issue