Dear Sasha: I’m a man who likes to wear panties. Lately, I’ve been hanging out in a strip club where one dancer has the most stunning thong I’ve seen. I asked where she bought it, and she mentioned that it was custom-made by a seamstress in the club. So I can’t buy it in one of the shops I frequent.

I realize I could have my own pair fashioned by a seamstress too, but there is something about the dancer that has captured my imagination. Part of the thrill of wearing panties is objectifying myself—in lingerie, I imagine myself as the kind of goddess that would probably be unattainable if I met her. This dancer is such a goddess, and for the first time, I won’t be content with a pair of panties that I could obtain through conventional means. I want her panties.

She’s a nice woman, though. I enjoy our conversations just as much as our lap dances, and I don’t want to sacrifice them for my kink. That said, part of me is screaming for satisfaction, which I won’t achieve until I own her underwear. As friendly as our professional relationship is, I’m afraid I’ll destroy it if my frustration grows (lately, my gaze has moved away from her to the thong lying beside us; she’s already asked me why I keep staring into space).

What’s the politest, most respectful way to ask her if I can purchase her underwear? I know I can’t control her reaction. If she’s grossed out, that’s her business. But I don’t want to be a jerk just because I have a fetish. I’m a little depressed that I’d consider risking our professional relationship to satisfy my needs, but it won’t be much longer before I get irritated to the point where I simply stop going to the club, or making an awful remark—I’m quite sarcastic when I’m irritated. —Thong Luster

Dear Thong Luster,
She is a sex professional, and while sex professionals have boundaries that merit respecting, what you’re asking of her has doubtlessly been asked before and if it hasn’t, it’s something a stripper should get used to addressing without feeling dishonoured. If you’re going to get naked and squirm around in people’s laps, it’s a good idea to be open to fielding satellite inquiries, if you know what I mean.

“I don’t want to jeopardize our exchange because I genuinely enjoy your company,” you might say. “But you may have noticed I’ve been coveting your panties. I wouldn’t want you to think my distraction was due to anything other than the fact that, like so many men, I have a thing for ladies’ underwear. I’d like to buy them as a keepsake, but I would not be at all offended if you refused, of course.”

I know the handbook that tackles such specific sexual issues has yet to be written, but fear not, what you’re asking is not an aberration (I guess I should also apologize for revealing its inconsequence, since you seem to enjoy getting yourself all wound up).

Back when I was a dancer, men asked to buy my panties or stockings all the time, some even stole them, the buggers. My guess is that if you do go ahead and make your offer, she’ll assume what we all do when we’re not told otherwise: that you want to take them home and jerk off into them. I bet she’ll be willing to part with her delicates—for the right price, that is—if she can have another pair made just like them. Truth be told, I would have driven a much more neighbourly bargain had I known guys were using them to explore their inner goddess. That’s so much more fun to picture.

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