How to tease the cash from a cheapskate's wallet at a stripclub

From lap dancing to 'body shots' and peep shows, strippers strut their stuff to make sure their customers get a bit of bang for their buck. Sunday Times reporters visited one of the flesh palaces this week.

"I hate Wednesday nights. All the cheapskates show up."

Legs crossed and wearing the ubiquitous white "ho-heels", she flips her wig in the direction of two patrons sitting in a booth. They've been regulars on Wednesday nights for months, sipping on water as they ogle the wares.

"They come here to see free p***y."

The rules on the menu state that every table has to have at least one dance, which starts at R300 for a table dance, R700 for a booby dance and R2200 for a private dance in one of the booths upstairs.

Tonight it seems the allure of the ladies is not lost on the water quaffers. With beers on the table and an ample-bosomed lass stroking the leg of one of them, our aquaman reclines on the black leatherette seat, mouth agape, staring up at the feint landing strip dangled before him.

For these girls it's all about the hustle. The club is a roundabout of lingerie and fluttering eyelids. A bit like walking through a mall with the woman behind the bread counter and the prissy girl at couture all putting their wares on show.

One patron with carefully parted hair tries to focus on his meal, seemingly unperturbed by the dark beauty trying to distract him. Suddenly a nipple dripping with sauce is thrust in his face.

"He wants p***y, but he won't get any. The place is called Teazers. Doesn't that say it all?" says the umpteenth girl to introduce herself and slide into the booth with us.

On stage the dancing is slow, writhing and lacklustre, dispelling any fantasies in this supposed escapist's haven but for the most diehard of patrons.

The "exotic dancing" aspect can only refer to the fact that nearly half of those cavorting with the poles are from Eastern Europe.

From primary school teachers to aspiring students, they're trying to pay the bills.

Self-trained experts at discerning between the smattering of patrons, the strippers can smell money a mile off. The guys with a R1050 bottle of Jameson whiskey on their table don't have it. The titty-sauce guy does.

The ones with money often disappear into the bathroom before ordering anything, first extracting the cash for the excursion from some nether region before placing their order. Those who pay by card have "Nagata Piano Lounge" appear on their statements.

Wednesday nights at Teazers are not short on sleazy or dodgy characters. As a group of girls dressed in yellow rain jackets and high heels perform their rehearsed number on the stage, Ace*, the evening's creep, with cauliflower ears and black golf shirt, stands up near the stage. Their dance routine becomes more provocative, and Ace becomes more determined to get a touch, or at least a glimpse, under the dancer's raincoats.

With each girl teasing him, Ace starts snapping at the dancers with his mouth until one of the big, burly bouncers tells him to move back.

The dancers finish their dance without any further harassment, taking off their raincoats to reveal naked bodies.

Meanwhile, big-headed Ace, built like a rugby player past his prime, continues to try his luck with other entertainers.

He makes his way to the second floor private rooms and stares at the dancers and their clients , occasionally making comments, until he is escorted to a couch by one of the bouncers, to be joined by the apple-bottomed Tracey.

On "cheapskate night", the club is a mishmash of characters, ranging from 20-year-olds to greying bald men, from men in shorts to businessmen in fancy suits.

Bill*, a burly, bald man with a bright green shirt, one leg and crutches, dances with one of the dancers on the second storey.

At times Bill gyrates against the window wall, trying to keep to the DJ's rhythm, at other times to the rhythm of the bare back and buttocks of the dancer with a racy G-string.

As the night wears on, only a few girls are left to hustle for a dance, not having made the trip upstairs to the lucrative private rooms.

For the most part, the girls give those hunkering down over a steak a pass.

"After you've had dinner, I'll come back and you can have sushi without rice for dessert," says a Ukranian blonde with a wink, lick and a smile.

* Not their real names

The Price of Pleasure

THE MENU FOR HER

R600 for a full monty table dance

R150 for a body shot

R500 for a lap dance

R1550 for a private hour-long "chitchat"

THE MENU FOR HIM

R300 for a table dance

R500 for a lap dance

R700 for a couple or "booby" dance

R800 for a "lesbian" dance

R1400 for a 30-minute private dance

R2200 for an hour

Read the Sunday Times (online subscribers can click here) to find out what the experience was like for our female reporters who delved into the world of Teaze-Hers.