How I Do It: 'Stripping has empowered me, now I'm looking for a three-way'

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 Heaven.

Heaven, 30, who doesn’t use her real name for safety reasons, has been a stripper for over a decade, in a relationship for three years, and describes herself as heteroflexible.

She tells ‘I love almost everything about it. As the years go by I just seem to get better – at talking, at asserting boundaries and at closing that sale.

‘Stripping gave me the resilience to get through the pandemic and may have sparked my intrigue in an ethically non-monogamous relationship.’

This week, Heaven and her boyfriend have been looking for their unicorn – aka their third for a three-way.

‘We have always been keen to explore having sex with other people,’ she says, ‘initially just in a threesome.

‘Speaking openly about sleeping with other people is like taking Arnica tablets before visiting Harley Street for a Botox top up – perfect preparation.’

Here’s how they got on with their search…

Warning: The following is, as you might imagine, not safe for work.


‘You have a new connection’

I wake up to the dating app notification on the first day of a couple’s mini break. My boyfriend Jackson* is still fast asleep beside me.

I click on the profile of my new connection. Andi*, 31, bisexual, Southeast London. Three pictures – one selfie, one bikini shot and one in a figure-hugging evening dress. I make the first move. ‘You look like trouble…’

Instantly Andi pings back ‘Would you like to find out?’

Jackson approves of Andi’s profile and follows her on Instagram while I brush my hair in the mirror. I feel him come up behind me, pull my pyjama bottoms down and slip inside me. The holiday is starting well.


We wake up in full holiday mode. We’ve made a promise to have some kind of sexual interaction every day.

We had a dry spell over Christmas with me working every evening at the strip club and the two of us being flu-ridden by Christmas Day. We didn’t have sex for around a month which is unusual for us.

I bring Jackson a coffee in bed and jump back under the covers. We fool around for a while until he pulls out my doxy wand – a large mains plug-in vibrator marketed as a ‘massager’. I love this toy, although sometimes it can take me to orgasm in under two minutes. Jackson uses different pressures to eke it out a bit, but I can’t hold off for long.

I return the favour, then we go downstairs. Jackson gives me the small half of a… magical fungus, and we head off for an adventurous hike along the coastline.

We wander like enamoured children through a stone sculpture park at the top of the cliff, searching for the hidden carvings of faces and animals. The fungus kicks in, and I feel like I’m wandering through a fantasy film. The walls swirl and nature buzzes in a way that I don’t usually notice.

Then my phone pings. Its luminous screen feels deeply unnatural. I can see it’s a message from Andi, but I save it for later. We continue our quest through the park until a storm hits, and we walk inland for a bus home.

Once bathed, scrubbed and massaged, we curl up on the sofa watching a film and eating fish and chips.

Then I read the message from Andi. ‘Do you want to grab a drink on Saturday? I could come to you and if things go well we will be close to your place…’

She seems well-versed in hooking up with couples. I send a quick ‘we’d love to’ and our first three-way date is in the diary.


Jackson wriggles down under the covers and demonstrates some of his skills down there before we start packing to head home.

It’s another gloomy day, but the coastal view from the kitchen window is glorious – we watch waves crashing against the shore and leap with excitement at the prospect of the ocean spray on our faces. We decide to find a spot by the harbour where the waves are not so wild, whip our clothes off and leap in.

That evening we set up the projector in our flat and choose some porn to watch. I opt for a two men/one woman scene. It’s a fantasy I’ve yet to try.

That night in bed, we talk about how we think the date on Saturday might go. Andi seems right to both of us.


I always try to get that extra hour in bed on the days that I work so I’m able to stay awake until the club doors shut at 3.30am. Tonight will be my first shift back.

Heaven, my stripper alter ego, is a fun party girl more than capable of giving you the girlfriend/therapy experience if the price is right. I’m still in holiday mode and January nights are not the most profitable, but I try to stay positive.

Last week, work was disrupted by tube strikes, so this week really needs to be consistent. I pack my diamond-encrusted bikinis in bright lurid colours – men are attracted to neon like moths to a flame.

I add mouthwash, clear Pleaser shoesz, and a wig as I can’t be bothered to wash my hair.

I finally break even around 1.30am and go home with a profit of around £260.


Sat in bed at 12pm, I swipe through profiles and match with Beth*, 29, from North London. I message her, and two blue ticks appear – she has read the message but sends no reply.

Jackson and I have been on this app for a couple of months, but we haven’t had any lasting conversations, let alone met anybody in person.

Women are proving tough to talk to. One wrong word and that’s the end of the conversation. Men are far simpler folk. I think that’s what I like about them.

Getting ready for work, I scrub my body in the shower, add a light layer of fake tan and check the chat with Andi. I haven’t heard from her since Wednesday, and whilst I don’t want her to get cold feet, I also don’t want her to feel pressured to meet us.

‘Hey, how’s your week going?’ I type. ‘Just a heads-up to say no pressure on coming back to ours on Sat, we’re more than happy just to have a drink first.’

Almost instantly Andi replies. ‘Well, you are gorgeous, so I’m sure I’ll be very much up for going back. See you tomorrow!’

Later at the strip club, a silver fox I met last summer seems pleased to be in my company once again. He is the private chef to a member of royalty in a Middle Eastern country I won’t name.

As the night goes on and the champagne flows, he tells me about breaking lockdown in private jets during Covid. I laugh at all the right parts of his story. We spend three hours in the VIP and I make £1080.

He asks me to meet him at a hotel the following day, and I nod along knowing full well that as soon as he walks out of here, he’ll forget the conversation.


It’s unicorn date night. We clean our flat together in case she comes back to ours. I hop in the shower and preen myself for the evening ahead.

‘Hey, all good to meet at The Horseman at 8pm?’ I WhatsApp Andi.

The message shows two ticks – it has been delivered. We continue getting ready, chatting about what could possibly happen tonight.

It gets to 7.30pm, and I notice Andi hasn’t replied. Then it reaches 8pm and still nothing.

By 11pm, we have given up on our unicorn. I’m hoping she’s okay, but I’m also disappointed and slightly annoyed that I took the night off work for nothing.

We go to bed deflated but manage to laugh it off. Better luck next time.


To make up for our lack of a date last night, Jackson and I take ourselves on a ‘Tate Date.’

We wander around the gallery and then go to a wonderful Israeli restaurant for food and mocktails. It’s pricey and Jackson works in a university earning a lot less than me, but I’ve earned well this week, so it’s my treat.

Neither of us has the stamina for sex today – my feet hurt from all the walking, and instead I head for the shower when we get home.

I think about our intimate mini-break. The hot water runs down my body and wakes me up a little. I decide to finish the evening by pleasuring myself.

I have no toys in the bathroom so I use my hands – I believe the internet calls this ‘playing acoustic’.

In the warmth of the water, I think about my dance with Andi and Beth this week.

I’m not giving up on the threesome but, as my fingers drift to the places I know best, I’m glad I can always rely on myself for my own sweet pleasure.

Heaven and her co-host Buffy host the podcast Strippers in the Attic. Season Three began on Thursday 5 January.

*Names have been changed

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How I Do It

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