Good Guys exteriorAt lunchtime on Election Day, I popped over to the Good Guys Club in Glover Park. I wondered if political stress could infect even a gentleman’s club, a place people go to escape their maddening reality: families, jobs, bills, the news. Were the political vibes dampening moods and tips? Could anyone possibly relax and enjoy a lap dance on today of all days? At 1 PM, the club was basically deserted, but there was a whiff of election in the air. Jordan, a server in a low-cut bedazzled American flag leotard, said a man had just called her outfit “very patriotic.” A couple of dancers said customers had asked if they’d voted. Of the six women working, four of them already had. For the most part, people come to Good Guys to unwind. “They’ll be like, ‘I want a double shot and I want to complain about my wife,’” said Aubrey, a bartender in lacy cropped camisole and black underwear. But in recent months, the election has  bubbled up some. “It’s not so much conversations about what people stand for, as much as being nosy and asking who you’re voting for,” a dancer named Erica said. Another dancer, Harley, told me that a man once asked which candidate she preferred so he could decide whether or not to tip. (She was honest about supporting Trump. He tipped.) Aubrey described the atmosphere at Good Guys as “like Switzerland—we try to keep it neutral.” At the bar, folks chat her up about all kinds of things—feet, nipple clamps, politics—and she tries never to judge. “We’re obviously not braindead, we have our own opinions,” she said. “But when people get excited about the election, we’ll be like, ‘Hey, you’re here to have a good time. You’re here to relax. Do you really want to be stressed about that? Don’t you want to see some tits?’” “I don’t try to bring up politics, period,” said a dancer named Milan—but she’ll listen if anyone wants to talk. Sometimes the conversations are searching: businessmen, for example, who believe Trump would benefit them financially, but that Harris would be fairer to their daughters. Other times, it’s more of a lecture. Older men in particular, she said, “think that because they’ve lived longer, their opinion is correct. And it’s like, okay, head nod, head nod. You have to let some men here think that they’re right.”  Asked if Republicans or Democrats tip better, the dancers of Good Guys weren’t sure. One said Republicans, another said Democrats. Milan said Trump supporters tend to have more money, but that “doesn’t mean they’re going to give it to you.” Erica rebuffed the question, accusing me of “being messy” while laughing and covering her mouth with long pink nails.  One dancer, Rosalia, thinks that the election has “hurt [her] money overall.” Two days ago, a group of men from the Netherlands came in talking about how much they love Trump. “I was like, ‘Well, I’m going for Kamala, I love her,’” Rosalia said. “And they were going to do a lap dance with me, but then the conversation got a little heated, and they were like, ‘You know what? We’re just gonna leave.’” Rosalia often feels a political undercurrent in the club. “There’s a strong woman that’s hopefully about to be president,” she explained, “and for some men, Kamala hurts their ego. So they call me the b-word, they call me a whore, and they also call Kamala those names.” She said she shrugs it off. “I feel like if you let men offend you, it gives them power. I don’t care if that’s what they think of me. I’m not here to be their friend, I’m just here to make my money and hopefully start my own business.” For the most part, though, the dancers agreed with Jordan, who called her occasional workplace political chats “positive and constructive,” fairly easy to deflect or endure. “It’s the same shit you hear everywhere,” said Aubrey, the bartender. “Like, ‘If this person wins, I’m moving,’ or, ‘If that person wins, I’m never spending a dollar again.’ And it’s like, okay, but you’re gonna be in here tomorrow, either celebrating or consoling yourself with a beer.”  Tonight, into the wee hours, Good Guys will play election coverage—though it’s not clear if it’ll be busier than normal. Milan thinks people might come in to get their mind off of things, but also that “maybe people are feeling uneasy about the future of their money,” so they won’t want to drop any cash. Rosalia won’t be there to see; the day shift ends at 7, and the polls in Maryland, where she lives, close at 8. She’s eager to cast her ballot for Harris; as soon as she’s off work, she’ll change out of her pink lingerie and sheer black robe and Uber from the pole to the polls.The post A DC Strip Club Feels the Election Heat first appeared on Washingtonian.