Saturday, March 28, 1:00 p.m.

"Ladies, why aren’t we giving enough lap dances?”

Heather, a Colorado bride-to-be, calls out, “Body-image issues?” We all nod deeply. Like a first-grader, I raise my hand. “Um, knee placement … ?” This elicits raucous laughter, and the ice is broken.

Onstage, instructor Kindra wears black booty shorts, a black bra, a candy-pink tank top and clear platform heels that light up as she touches her toe down to the center of the chair to show us how to grind on an invisible and presumably very lucky partner’s lap.

Despite the various pole-dancing and stripteasing classes around town, Stripper 101 at V Theater is dominating the clothes-doffing industry with two 70-minute classes Monday through Wednesday and up to eight Thursday through Sunday. For just $40 per person, ladies learn “sexy stretching,” lap-dancing and pole work before receiving their stripper name and license. The “What Women Want” package for $125 throws in dinner, American Storm tickets, a garter, cocktails and gobs of club passes. Stripper 101 will even pick up the tab should some dedicated deb want to get the class’ logo tattooed on her virgin flesh.

“It’s a day in the life of an exotic dancer,” explains Kindra before we begin our sexy stretching, which looks like we’re applying lotion all over. Forty ladies squeal in delight. “And if you decide to make some money after the class, it’s up to you.” They squeal some more. Kindra, now semi-retired, was an “exotic dancer” for 10 years, but says she’s given up dancing for guys and now much prefers teaching us gals. “I love you because you smell much better. And you don’t bite me so much!” Squeal.

A cocktail server arrives with a tray of Jell-O shots, eliciting a Pavlovian response from the Colorado set. Shots downed, inhibitions uninhibited, we watch as Kindra demonstrates how to slide our partner forward on the chair, putting less strain on our legs and eliminating knee-placement accidents. “Piñata to the edge of the seat!

The last time I gave a lap dance (I’m saddened to report) was at a Guinness World Record attempt at Scores last summer. Of that lap-tastrophe I wrote, “I … lock an unnerving gaze with my poor target and proceed to rub up against him like a deer on a tree. My cat has more finesse with her scratching post.” About 30 seconds into that wobbly-kneed pseudo-sexy balancing act, I gave up, plopped down on my date’s lap and, of course, landed in quite the wrong place.

I’m still wrapped up in that memory and beginning to lose hope when Kindra kicks it into high gear with some honors-level moves. We mimic her, swatting at our bums in a Windmill Smack, pressing our chests to invisible faces in a Chest Roll and dragging our legs slooowly up the center of the chair for a Lower Leg Tease.

Finally, somewhere around the Cookie Roll—when your crotch is at eye level and potentially knocking a guy’s glasses off—I lose my own inhibitions and air-hump along with 39 ladies, including my new friend Shalom. She is tiny but curvy, and the air-hump just looks better on her, whereas I appear to be doing the Bunny Hop. “Ladies, we are the sexiest of the sexes,” Kindra says encouragingly. Kindra is full of such sage advice: “Tie him up; save him from himself!” And, referring to keeping your panties on till the finale, “Keep the cookie in the wrapper.” Note to self.

And then we arrive at the holy grail of lap-dancing, the No. 1 most requested move: the Booty Grind. If a lap-dance were a meal, this would be the steak, and all the other stuff—the slapping, the rolling, the teasing—would just be the appetizer salad. Scientifically, it looks rather like a woman hovering in a bathroom. But then we employ some “sexy friction,” and the effect is undeniable. We’ve managed to turn ourselves on! Squeal!

Before we move onto the pole for some half-dips and Fireman Spins, then chose our stripper names (Heather become “Tawny Legs”; Shalom and I choose “Chastity” and “Irony,” respectively), Kindra gives us a few minutes to practice. “It’s simply teasing your partner by enjoying your own body. And if you forget what to do, just grab your boobs and moan a lot.” Forty heads nod deeply and squeal.