Reykjavík Grapevine - 16.08.2013, Síða 6

I had spent the afternoon preparing so as to not reveal
myself as a journalist on a quest to discover whether
or not illegal stripping was taking place at the club. I
had watched episodes of ‘The Thick Of It,’ re-enact-
ing the mannerism and accent of some of the actors. I
trimmed my beard, donned the suit I had worn daily
to work in London, spit shined my shoes and ironed
my shirt. Finally, I had drunk a smooth double Glen-
livet whisky as I rehearsed my cover story, calmed my
nerves and stopped my hands from shaking.
Meeting Lisa
I step forward to the girl closest to me, a blonde
woman who looks to be in her late twenties, and we
have a quick chat. She seems eager to please, gig-
gling at what I say and responding in a flirty voice.
I ask to see the menu, and the matron hands over a
single laminated A4 sheet. There are six or so drinks
on the menu, and the lower half simply says “pri-
vate time,” with times ranging from 15 minutes for
20,000 to 1 hour for 60,000 ISK. I ask for 15 min-
utes, and the matron asks me “with who?” I ask the
blonde woman what her name is, and she says Lisa,
from [eastern European country].
I pay the matron in cash and she asks me where
I’m from. I tell her England, and she tells me they get
a lot of English guys. They also have English girls,
she tells me, but they weren’t working that evening.
Lisa leads me upstairs to the top floor. A small
dance floor is beaming with disco lights, but six
curtained-off booths that look to be 2x5 metres in
dimensions occupy the majority of the space. She
takes me into one of the booths and I sit down in a
leather sofa. As soon as the curtains are drawn, she
starts dancing.
The clothes start coming off…
She has long hair that hangs down past her shoul-
der blades, and is wearing a black top that almost
meets her stockings and knee-high leather boots. It
takes all of my acting prowess to smile back at her as
she starts rubbing up against me, climbing over the
couch like a cat begging to be petted. I ask her what
we can do together tonight. “We can have a lot of fun
tonight… if you want,” she responds. “You can stay
hours, we can drink champagne. What do you think
about that?” “I think I would like to see you naked,”
I reply. “Yeah, really?” she says. “I would,” I say.
She straddles me, and puts my hands on her. If
there was a look but don’t touch rule in play, then
Lisa wasn’t playing by the rules. She then stands up
and takes her dress off slowly, revealing matching
black lingerie. Every question I have is met with ei-
ther a flirty giggling answer or a confused look as
she takes a moment to understand what I’m asking.
She then takes off her bra, but only after stating that
she’s the boss and dictates what happens.
I ask her if she gets this naked for everyone or if
I’m just lucky, and she says with tongue in cheek “no,
usually I don’t do topless.” But she assures me her
boss doesn’t have a problem with her doing it, and I
that I wouldn’t get into trouble. She keeps dancing,
rubbing her breasts in my face, and climbing over
me. I ask her if she has a shaved pussy. She tells me
it’s shaved. She tells me teasingly that I won’t get to
see for myself, but then takes off her panties. I look
at my watch; we are five minutes into our proposed
fifteen and she’s already naked in front of me.
Paying to access her body
Lisa asks me what I’m thinking, and I tell her I want
to touch her pussy, asking how much that would cost.
She answers “if you pay one hour, one champagne,
and some tips,” and that we can do that in the club.
She asks me if I want to buy more time since our
fifteen minutes are up. I check my watch and pro-
test it has only been seven minutes. She assures me
that she knows the time is up as she starts getting
dressed.
I ask how much sex would cost, and she says, “we
cannot have sex here, but we can have a lot of fun
here, and make me want you, then maybe I will meet
you after. Let’s start to drink a little, we can talk
a bit, then come back here if you like, for a while.
I think it works good like that.” She’s put on her
clothes at this point, and we start walking out.
She asks me what I want to do, and I tell her I
need to go get more money to keep going. She as-
sures me they take all kinds of cards, as well as
pounds and euro notes, but I tell her I’d rather go get
more cash. She tells me they are open until 1:00 AM,
and until 5:00 AM on weekends. I ask again how
much one-hour is as we walk down the stairs, and
she says 60,000 ISK, asking if it sounds good in a
coquettish manner. When we get to the bar, she asks
me if I want to buy her a drink, and I tell her I’ll first
get more money.
I pull back the black blinds serving as a door,
walk down the stairs and through the ground floor
sports bar. People cheer as a goal is scored, and I
slip out. I get flooded with a range of emotions from
disgust, anger and shame, but they settle at simply
feeling sullied.
* Lisa’s name and a few other details have been
changed to protect her identity.
Reykjavík’s Cham-
pagne Clubs
Today there are three champagne clubs operating in
Reykjavík: Strawberries, Crystal and VIP club (the lat-
ter two opened this year).
In July, Fréttablaðið sent two informants to inter-
view the women working at these champagne clubs
who found that they were all foreigners who had been
in Iceland for a week, spoke little English, and lived
together in a small apartment. The reporters were told
that they could do “what they wanted” with the women
for 10 minutes in privacy for 20,000 ISK, without any
further explanation.
When Björk Vilhelsmdóttir, a city councilperson,
and Steinunn Gyðu- and Guðjónsdóttir, the director
of Kristínarhús, a shelter for women exiting traffick-
ing and prostitution, spoke out against the champagne
clubs, they were threatened with lawsuits for slander.
Vilhjálmur H. Vilhjálmsson, the lawyer representing
Crystal and VIP club, demanded that they withdraw
their remarks suggesting that there were signs of hu-
man trafficking and prostitution taking place at the
champagne clubs.
Vilhjálmur further attacked the character and
credentials of María Lilja Þrastardóttir, the journalist
who reported on the champagne clubs. Vilhjálmur said
María “is a hardcore feminist and spokesperson for
the Slutwalk, who is not capable of reporting anything
other than her personal views, which makes it impos-
sible for her to approach any subject with objectivity.”
Chair of Reykjavík City Council Dagur B. Eggert-
son said during a speech at the Slutwalk that “we will
not let lawsuits discourage us.” The City Council is
currently looking into the legality of champagne clubs.
Is VIP Club Breaking The Law?
The owners say:
Mikael Nikkulásson, the most well known of the
owners, claimed that another person whose name he
couldn’t remember was completely responsible for
running the club. Mikael said customers could buy
expensive drinks and take it easy in the VIP Club. He
denied knowing what purchasing ‘private time’ with
ladies entailed, and refused to comment further. An-
other of the owners did not want to speak about the
club, stating that he was trying to get out of the busi-
ness as quickly as possible.
The lawyer says:
Vilhjálmur H. Vilhjálmsson, the club’s lawyer, imme-
diately asked whether the article would be a journal-
istic one, or “politically correct femi-communist pro-
paganda.” He answered my questions with questions
of his own about the contents of the article. He stated
that he was not a PR person for the club, and suggested
I visit it myself before writing anything about it. The
lawyer also suggested that somebody other than the
building owner is responsible for running the club.
The operational manager says:
The person in question is Kristján Georg Jósteins-
son, the operational manager of the company Almitra
ehf, which runs the club. He described the place as a
nightclub with a well-stocked bar. He stated clearly
that stripping and prostitution were illegal in Iceland,
and that these services were not being offered at the
club. He said that buying ‘private time’ with the ladies
involved a friendly, secluded chat and nothing more.
He then got defensive, asked about what political
party I voted for, and wanted to retract his statements.
A thickly set man sitting by the stairs leading to the VIP Club nods as I pass him on my way up from the ground floor sports club called Home. Once upstairs,
I pass a man in his forties who is on his way out as I go inside, through the heavy blinds, which serve as a door to the club. Six scantily clad women sit around
the bar table, and a seventh serves as bar maid and presumably matron of the establishment. The dark wood and black leather interiors are illuminated by a
series of tacky red lights. The women greet me with warm, but contrived, smiles. Rhythmic pop and RnB tunes play softly in the background.
Lisa asks me what I’m
thinking, and I tell her I
want to touch her pussy,
asking how much that
would cost. She an-
swers: “If you pay one
hour, one champagne,
and some tips.”
“
„
Twenty Thousand ISK Gets You An Illegal Strip Dance
by Tómas Gabriel Benjamin
Iceland | Stripping
This image is from Stígamót’s campaign against sexual exploitation and human trafficking. “The idea came from designer Stefán Einarson,
and we felt it was the strongest move to print with as little text as possible,” spokesperson Guðrún Jónsdóttir said. “We have given several
groups permission to use it, including for a book cover in Bulgaria, posters for organisations all over Eastern Europe, and the Nest in Den-
mark which is a home for victims of trafficking. It has become so well-known worldwide that occasionally we get foreigners accusing us
of trying to appropriate it.” Stígamót kicked off their own “champagne club” nights on Thursday, August 15 to raise awareness about sex
crimes worldwide and to raise money for the centre, which counsels hundreds of sexual assault and rape survivors each year.
“It is not permissible for restaurants
[which include bars] to offer nude shows,
promote or profit in any way from the nu-
dity of staff or others present.”
- Article 4, section 4 of Icelandic law
85/2007, amended on March 23 2010
Stefán Einarson
6The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 12 — 2013