Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger.
For this week’s instalment, we hear from a stripper, kink consultant and podcaster who goes by Buffy.
Buffy, who doesn’t use her real name for safety reasons, is 40, has a long-term partner and describes herself as heteroflexible.
She tells Metro.co.uk: ‘I’ve been a stripper for 23 years, and I love my job, dancing on stages, in dive bars, at parties and around hotel suites from London to Las Vegas.
‘I moved to London from San Francisco at 18 years old with a couple of hundred dollars in my pocket and not much of a plan. After trying my hand at bartending and waitressing, I started to think about my CV skills: enjoy talking to strangers, can walk in high heels, love dressing up, great saleswoman, love to dance, not bothered about being naked… the conclusion I came to was obvious.’
Buffy and her partner have an open relationship, and she says she enjoys this as she can ‘meet the many different needs I have sexually with different people.’
Without any further ado, here’s how Buffy got on over Christmas…
Today I’m hosting a one-on-one striptease class with a student in central London. She’s newly divorced and looking to rediscover her feminine power as she gets back into dating. We go through all her lingerie, so I can style a look that makes her feel sexy, then show her how to take it off without falling over (stripper 101: keep your legs straight).
Later, like a stripper fairy godmother, I swoop around Selfridges picking out some beautiful everyday sets and one break-the-man-in-half set for our next lesson. We end at my favourite female pleasure spot – Coco de Mer in Covent Garden. I take her through all the different toys and recommend a little suction number as she’s never tried it before. New year, new you, right?
In the evening, I work a shift at my favourite East London club. Some regulars have asked if I’ll be in, so I select my Christmas outfit – a custom-made deep red pin-up style velvet two-piece that I pair with thigh-high stockings, patent leather Pleaser boots and a black faux fur hat.
The club is heaving, but I see my regular, T, on a corner table. We head to the VIP where he works through the bottles of champagne whilst I discreetly tip my bubbles into a flowerpot. T has never noticed that I don’t drink in the 10 years we have known each other, and no one likes to feel they are drinking alone.
He asks if I can help him find a sex party. I just laugh.
I start my day with my go-to toy – a rabbit vibrator. I can usually make myself cum pretty quickly. An orgasm first thing in the morning gives me a burst of energy and focus.
Then I take a look ahead at my January work options. As I’m trying to figure out a plan, I see that I have a missed call from T. He has left a message asking again about taking him to a sex party. Says he is more than happy to pay my normal hourly rate for the privilege. As it’s going to be a slow few months, and he is a very good regular, I text back saying I’ll try my best.
I also have a message from B, a guy I met at a sex party a few weeks back. We haven’t slept together as I prefer to use parties for making connections for future fun instead. I arrange to meet tomorrow.
B is very excited to meet – when I turn my ‘play phone’ on I have lots of messages and pictures waiting for me. I let him know we are still on for our date and start getting ready.
This is something I love. I shower, shave, and lotion myself up before picking out my outfit. Black sheer brief panties, black bra, Wolford stockings with a black leather pencil skirt and black sheer sweater on top. For makeup, I go minimal – just a bit of cat eye flick and some mascara.
I always pack a bag of tricks on play dates – vibrators, butt plugs, lube and condoms. I think of sex toys and paraphernalia as necessary tools for good sex. You wouldn’t try and change a lightbulb without a ladder, so why try and cum without a vibrator?
I arrive at the hotel in Paddington before him so I can get myself comfortable and set up. I always play in hotels because it’s safer, and I use my stage name – Buffy. Unless someone is very close to me, I don’t feel they need access to me outside of our sexual time together. I text my partner to let him know I am safe as well as what room number I am in before B arrives.
We have a long play session, and I am pleasantly surprised with him. I was not expecting much today, but he was great, so I will definitely be adding him to the ‘yes’ group. He also lets me know about a party on Boxing Day. I make a note to invite T.
After we finish up, I pack my things text my partner to let him know all is well and then head to Chinatown for some solo dim sum and grocery shopping before going home.
I message T, let him know I have found the party and I will pick him up at 9pm Saturday. He quickly transfers my hourly rate into my account along with a screenshot of the payment. I text him back with ‘good boy’ and then make my way home.
It’s Christmas Eve. I wake up to a message from T. He’s now asking me to get two more tickets for some friends of his who are ‘Instagram models’. Oh dear.
T is a very successful ‘tech bro.’ Like all such men, he’s very intelligent but incredibly naive in the world of sex and relationships. In his public-facing life he is what you would call an ‘alpha’ male. The stereotype of wealthy men is still true – they like to be dominated. With me, T is as submissive as you can get. I am always very honest and clear about the transactional nature of our relationship, and I have never promised him full-service sex work.
I message him back saying I will see what I can do but there is no way I am babysitting him and two Insta models at a sex party all night.
Then I have some tea in bed with my partner in his room. We have separate bedrooms and bathrooms which we feel is key to us having a healthy relationship.
Afterwards, I have a couple in their 50s to see so head to their home in Belgravia. They have come to me to connect with each other again after years of marriage and a nearly nonexistent sex life. In the club, I am known as the ‘couples queen.’ One of my favourite things is to be a conduit between two lovers and help them find that spark again.
In the club, I would be much more involved erotically but in the civilian world, my tactics are slightly different. Today I start by opening the conversation with what they both find sexy about each other, what kind of porn they enjoy together and solo, what toys they use together and solo, and what they both miss about their past sex life that they would like to bring into the present.
Just through this conversation alone, I can see the sparkle coming back between them again. Our hour consultation flies by, and they book with me for the first week in Jan where I will take them sex toy shopping.
T has asked to stay anonymous at the event, so I pop by my friend K’s professional dungeon in central London. He lends me a gimp mask, collar, cuffs and a dog lead, so no one will see T’s face.
I head home to have dinner and a quiet evening with my partner.
Today is Christmas Day, so I skip my regular routine to start cooking lunch before guests arrive. I have opted to follow Jewish American tradition this year and make Asian food. In the US if you don’t celebrate Christmas, it’s always Chinese restaurants that are open. As a nod to that, I am making Taiwanese pork belly, sweet and sour fish, spicy Korean chicken wings, egg fried rice, chilli noodles and greens.
Our guests, my partner’s family and my great aunt, arrive on time at 1pm. We all eat far too much before watching the new Pinocchio film on Netflix. Everyone is gone by 7pm, my partner does most of the cleaning up since I did the cooking, and we head to our rooms at 9pm.
I finish the evening off with some self-pleasure before going to sleep. I bought myself a new g-spot vibrator from Je Joue as my personal Christmas treat. It always takes me a little while to find the rhythm of a new toy, but solo play is just as important as partnered play, and I am more than happy to give myself all the time I need.
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The day of the party is today.
At 6pm I shower and start to get myself into my full ‘Buffy’ look – black Wolford stockings, suspender belt, strappy open body harness, black sheer sleeveless leotard, red waist-cinching belt and 6.5 inch patent leather Pleaser ankle boots.
My hair is in a sleek short, fringed bob and I put my full face of makeup, red lips and lashes on to finish it off. To conceal my near nakedness from my Uber driver I drape a floor-length velvet cape over myself before I order the car to take me to Knightsbridge to pick up T. I message him and let him know that I have been unable to get any extra tickets for his friends, and tell him to be outside and waiting for me as soon as I arrive at 9pm.
T is waiting as I pull up. It’s raining and he looks slightly dishevelled as he jumps into the car but it’s nothing a gimp mask can’t fix.
He begins to whimper about his friends being disappointed, but I cut him short. I explain that it’s a privilege to be coming along to this and that he should just focus on that for now. We arrive at the location, a Mayfair mansion where all of London’s elite sex parties happen. As we walk through the discreet doorway we are greeted by a friendly team who check our ID and usher us through towards the changing area.
I order T to sit down while I begin dressing him. First, I put on his wrist cuffs and tether his arms behind his back. I place his gimp mask on, which laces up at the back of his head leaving only his eyes and mouth visible. Lastly, a leather dog collar attached to a heavy-duty lead. He follows behind me as I lead him up the grand swooping staircase to the Playroom upstairs.
The space is almost empty apart from the monitors, on hand to make sure everything is safe and consensual. Scattered around the room are a few mattresses with blankets and pillows, a St Andrews cross, a whipping bench and a puppy play cage with a lone couch behind it. I opt for the couch and T sits next to me waiting for the action to happen.
After about 20 minutes couples start to mill in. Everyone seems to be waiting for someone else to make the first move. It reminds me a bit of a school disco where none of the boys know how to talk to the girls.
A man finally decides to break the ice with his girlfriend. She is wearing some sort of white fluffy angel costume while he has on tiny latex shorts which do nothing to conceal his huge erection.
T leans in and asks: ‘Are those special shorts?’ I smile and reply: ‘No darling, that is just a massive c**k.’ By T’s crestfallen reaction I can only assume he isn’t similarly blessed.
I then see a large group of men and women walk in and make a beeline for one of the mattresses. They clearly have a plan and are here to play. Three men and two women proceed to have a very energetic session while other guests watch.
I think to myself that it’s a shame I am here working, as I would love to take their numbers for a future date. My voyeuristic trance is interrupted by T who announces he doesn’t like looking at other naked men and would like to go home.
I manage not to laugh – I’m a professional – but I’m unsure what exactly he thought was going to happen at a sex party. I escort him downstairs, remove his accessories and let him know that I will be staying on to catch up with some friends. He kisses me on the cheek before scarpering out, and I head into the basement to have a dance.
I wake up slowly and have a tea in bed with my partner in his room while relaying the sex party details from the night before. I make us breakfast and we have a lazy day of Netflix and long dog walks.
As evening approaches, I turn my play phone on. A text pops up from one of the men involved in the enthusiastic orgy last night. We crossed paths on the dance floor and swapped numbers. I make a date to meet him and his friend to see if we vibe enough to make a three-way play arrangement.
I total up my week and am surprised to find my earnings for helping others are more than my earnings at the club.
Perhaps this is something I should take more seriously. It seems there’s plenty of couples counselling going on across London but very few people helping people have good sex. This irks me. Sex is a human right – seriously, it’s even in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
I think back on the week and realise this may be a watershed moment. Strippers age well, no matter what the cliché is. Women who know their own bodies are top earners, and awkward 22-year-olds don’t appeal to most men. Me, however, I like an early night.
I fall asleep planning a new consultancy. Maybe the UN will give me a grant…
Buffy and her co-host Heaven run the podcast Strippers in the Attic. Season Three begins on Thursday 5 Jan.
How I Do It
In Metro.co.uk’s How I Do It you get a sneak peek into a week of a person’s sex and love life – from vanilla love-making to fetishes, threesomes and polyamorous relationships, they reveal it all.
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