Troy Francis - Fifty Shades Of Game Vol 3: Strip Club Secrets - How To Seduce Sexy Strippers And Exotic Dancers (50 Shades of Game )

50 Shades

Of

Game

Vol. 3

Strip Club Secrets How To Seduce
Sexy Strippers And Exotic Dancers

The Seven Laws of Seduction: How to Attract Beautiful Women and Enjoy a Supercharged Sex Life

Text Game Mastery: How to Get Her Off Her Smartphone And Into Your Bed

How To Get Hot Girls Into Bed: A Guide For The Modern Casanova

How To Be An Assh*Le That Beautiful Women Love

Still In the Game How Men Over 40 Get Results Dating Beautiful Women

50 Shades of Game Vol. 1 A Step-By-Step Blueprint for Attracting And Seducing the Sexiest Women in the BDSM & Fetish Scene

50 Shades of Game Vol. 2 A Guide to The Swinging Lifestyle Salacious Stories and the 7 Crucial Seduction Steps You Need to Master the Scene

50 Shades

Of

Game

Vol. 2

Strip Club Secrets How To Seduce
Sexy Strippers And Exotic Dancers

Copyright 2018 Troy Francis

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Requests for authorization should be addressed to .

Cover design by Nikola Novakovic

Interior layout and design by www.writingnights.org

eBook formatted by www.writingnights.org

Book preparation by Chad Robertson & Troy Francis

Readers should be aware that internet sites offered as citations and/or sources for further information may have changed or disappeared between the time this publication is made available, and when it is read.

Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of Warranty: While the publisher and author have used their best efforts in the publication of this work, neither author nor publisher makes any representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this work and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability of fitness for a particular purpose. No warranty may be created or extended by sales representatives or written sales materials. The advice and strategies contained herein may not be suitable for your situation. You should consult with a professional where appropriate. Neither the publisher, nor the author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damages, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damages.

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To the management and dancers at Sunset Strip, Dean Street, London.

Dating a stripper is like eating a
noisy bag of chips in church everyone looks at you
in disgust, but deep down inside they want some too.

Will Ferrell

All at Sunset Strip, Soho, plus The Flying Scotsman (RIP)Ye Olde Axe, Spearmint Rhino, The Mayfair Club and Stringfellows. VICE, in particular Jamie Clifton and Kev Kharas - this book contains elements from articles that they commissioned and edited and originally published online.

Antonio, Anastasia, Shauna, Rafael, Christoph, Rob L., Pete N., Nigel, Dad, Mum and Trevor, Marc, Paul Janka, Rish, Sam, Nick, The Marquis de Shard, Roosh, Tom Torero, Craig Cassidy, Psychopathic Seduction, Gary PUA, Tom (tddaygame), Donovan Sharp, Charles Sledge, BK, Fisherman Alkali, Radwan, Jeremy, Kevin Ibanz, Spaniard, Adrian Olivas, Chad at Writing Nights for his great work editing and formatting this book and to everyone else who has supported me along the way.

You alright mate? says the concerned barman.

It is 7 p.m. on a sunny Friday night and were in the street outside The Flying Scotsman, one of Londons most down-at-heel striptease pubs. A few regulars football shirts riding over their soft, distended guts watch as I sway woozily, holding my hand to my jaw. My face is pumping blood out onto the Kings Cross pavement. I have just embarked on a crawl through Londons dingiest strip-joints, keen to discover what, if anything, can be learned about the human condition by hitting eight of them in one night. A bottle to the face nearly scuppers my plans.

Come back inside, mate. You should get that seen to.

An older woman with spiky blonde hair and a leather coat at the bar had done the damage. Presumably shed already pissed someone off, because while I was waiting to get served, a wave of cold lager doused us a drink had been chucked. The next thing I knew, amid shouts and falling chunks of jagged glass, she had lashed out randomly and I received a blow to the chin that nearly floored me. Satisfied that it was only a minor cut, and with the irate woman thrown out, I continued as Id started.

Being bottled in this particular corner of London didnt come as any great surprise. Sitting at the top of the Caledonian Road, the Scotsman is one of the oldest surviving pubs in the area, offering red-faced, tooled-up football fans, flat lager, and semi-naked women. Inside, it looks like a set from the 1970s UK TV series, The Sweeney . Reputedly one of the last pubs in town to put sawdust on the floor, it has decaying wood panels. and paintings of hunting scenes on adorn the walls, and the place smells of stale alcohol and farts.

On stage, a blonde girl in stockings and suspenders swings a pair of leopard skin knickers around to 50 Cents Candy Shop. A crowd including a group of Polish lads in builders attire, a defeated-looking businessman, and an old geezer in a dirty vest and an MA1 jacket watch raptly.

For those unfamiliar with how a bottom-rung London strip pub works, basically, as each girl dances, another parades around with a pint glass eliciting pound coins from the assembled punters. Anyone refusing to contribute gets forcibly ejected. Theres something strangely English about a woman in Ann Summers underwear jangling loose change under your nose in exchange for a spot of stage-writhing. Its also a fantastic business model customers effectively pay a tax every ten minutes theyre in the venue.

How long you been here? I ask the old geezer.

Since before you were born, he says, fixing me with a rheumy stare. Judging by his clothes, this might well be true. His outfit is every bit as dilapidated as you would expect from someone who has spent most of his adult life putting his pound coins in a pint glass.

8 p.m. - The Griffin, Farringdon

You been here before, mate? You know the rules?

Just a mile down the road, but leagues away in terms of ambience, is The Griffin. Here, Im greeted by a unresponsive bouncer who hulks moodily at the door. Given his intimidating bulk, Im less concerned about bottles being thrown than of my chances of getting out alive if I run out of loose change.

First opened in 1993 in the heart of Londons law district, the venue was refurbished a couple of years ago from a shabby fruit-machine-and-dart-board perverts paradise into something that now looks like an All Bar One with naked people added. Welcoming high profile celebrities from NFL Stars and Premier League Footballers to World Famous Actors and Singers, the venue allows no touching between patrons and dancers. Like the Flying Scotsman, which has its own Twitter feed, the Griffins website advertises its daily line-up of girls on a handy calendar.

As Alex from Romania gyrates around the venues smeary pole, I dont see any stars. But the crowd largely composed of after-work media executives in suits is definitely less shabby than at The Flying Scotsman. Theyre being hyped up by Tony, a chuckling DJ who introduces each of the girls over the records (Welcome the very lovely Taylor from Bethnal Green to the stage) and sings along to the Alexander ONeal track hes just put on.