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She's fascinated.
She can't help it.
That's Daphne. She wants to know everything about everything, especially about sex.
We're here as friends to have a good time together. And I'm still on a mission to get her laid.
I need to help her relax. No, she is relaxed. I need to help her with something else, with teasing out her questions and finding her own answers.
What does she like? How? Who? Where? When?
I want to know, yes, but sheneedsto know.
"Is this your first time at a"—I struggle for a euphemism— "erotic show?"
"An erotic show? No. I've been to burlesque before. But this is my first strip club." Of course, she calls it what it is.
And I think of myself as direct and open.
Daphne pulls her eyes from the stage to look at me. She studies my expression with the same level of interest and curiosity. "You've done this before?"
"A few times," I tell her the truth. I try to stay as open as she is, but it's hard. She's more open than most people. At least she is with me.
Curiosity fills her eyes. "By choice?"
That depends on how you define choice. Most people have a flexible definition. They see intent in others' actions but not their own.
I didn't suggest the strip club. I didn't want to visit the strip club. The first time, I had enough curiosity, that I didn't resist the idea. I thoughtwhy notandwhy are we going to watch naked women together to celebrate someone's birthday?
The other times, I didn't want to go, but I did anyway. I still chose to attend. I could have opted out. It's not as if I would have ruined my reputation as a party animal.
Why did I go though?
I wasn't trying to prove anything. I wasn't excited about the idea. I wasn't horrified by it either.
I was doing what I always do at work. Trying to make the smartest move, to do what others expected of me.
"It wasn't my preference," I say. "But I could have left." I didn't. I choose to stay. But then, who am I arguing with?
There's no judgment in Daphne's eyes. Only that same interest. "When was this?"
I rack my brain to remember the details. After the first trip, the others ran together. "A few times in law school. Then after. A few work celebrations and a bachelor party."
"Isn't that weird, bringing sex into work?"
"Very." But it's common in all these once all-male, still male-dominated industries.
She nodsof courseand continues her questions. "Did you enjoy the experience?"
"No," I say.
"Why not?" she asks. "You don't enjoy looking at naked women?"
"When you put it that way, of course." There are beautiful women here on display. There's a visual pleasure. It's wide open for me. And for everyone else in the room.
"But not in this context?" she asks.
"It's hard to explain." My eyes go to the stage. To a blonde dancer in all pink. She pulls off her tiny top to the cheers of a few guys on stage, and then she grabs the pole and thrusts against it. The move is supposed to be sensual, but it looks awkward and forced.
