Drinks, dances and then an offer of sex

Even before we arrive at the strip club known to its regulars as "The Rhino" the tone of the evening is set. The taxi driver taking my cousin and me to the Tottenham Court Road venue says: "You can get whatever you want in there. But it isn't cheap." We laugh disbelievingly, but within hours we were offered sex by the club's dancers.

As soon as we enter Spearmint Rhino, we are met by two semi-naked girls, each no older than 20. We make small talk, but our attempts are cut short by the girls. Taking us by the hand they lead us to the bar, where we stand shoulder-to-shoulder with businessmen and girls young enough to be their granddaughters.

They ask us to buy them drinks: the bill for two bottles of beer and two glasses of wine totals almost £30. As my cousin is led towards a private room beyond by his escort, I feel a discreet pull on my sleeve. I follow Fernanda, clad in a tiny, red bikini, into the booth and hand over £40 for a "track", or private dance, lasting three minutes. As the evening proceeds a succession of girls descend upon us and, in a manner as polished and predatory as the City traders they entertain, they suggest we share further "tracks" with them. Every time our cash runs out they lead us to a counter where we are encouraged to buy a minimum of 10 "tokens" at £20 a time. With a service charge the bill reaches £240 each.

Fernanda tells me she is an aspiring writer who wants to sell her story of her time as a stripper. I ask if she has stories about what goes on behind the scenes. She laughs and says: "I cannot say anything. This place is under investigation by the police. But there are more than 90 girls working here. I cannot speak for them."

It's almost 1am, and it seems every time I've summoned the courage to ask a dancer if she wants to go "somewhere quieter", I'm met with a warning the club is under investigation and a suggestion that prostitutes are available.

But Australian Nicky and her Croat friend Mila take a different view. After several dances I ask her if she works outside the club. She smiles and says: "That depends."

I ask her how much money she wants to meet me after the club closes. "Buy 10 more tokens inside and we'll talk about it," she says.

She adds: "I cannot say anything here. Let's talk later. But you have to know Mila and I work as a team." When I ask how much money I need to bring, she says: "Give me your credit card. And get your cousin to bring his gold card."

But another woman has designs on his credit card. Lisa is wrapped around him in the booth. When I tell him our time in the club is up she looks furious. Outside he tells me why.

"She said she would come home and have sex with me," he explains. He adds: "At first, she said we had to be careful because the police were investigating. But soon afterwards she said she could take me to a special room near the disc jockey's booth. And shortly after that she offered to come home with me for sex. But she said she was too frightened to discuss money inside the club."

Around us middleaged men are gyrating around girls barely out of their teens. Others cluster in the dimly-lit corners engaged in whispered discussions. Some head towards the doors arm-in-arm with their escorts. It's almost closing time and the customers and professionals are striking their deals.

We opt out of ours and head for the exit.