Few bedroom endeavors strike terror in a woman like stripping. Call it self-consciousness, a fear of not measuring up to the silicone-busted pros down at the local gentleman's club or—in my case—having no sense of rhythm. Whatever the hang-up, the average lady harbors serious bodice-ripping reservations. So what's a girl who wants to shake it in her birthday suit to do? Take a course, of course. Daring guinea pig that I am, I tried out two ongoing classes in Center City that teach women how to dance in heels without falling over.

Every Thursday, 6:30 p.m., $10, Sweat Gym, 700 E. Passyunk Ave., 215-627-5600, www.sweatfitness.com

Sweat's Web site describes this hour-long class as "sweat-nasty cardio dance class, sultry and seductive." Instructor Nikki Radick puts her money—or should we say booty?—where her mouth is. The 8- to 10-person class is a fusion of hip-hop dance and straight-up stripper moves set to blaring Top 40 tunes. Radick demonstrates several erotic numbers with serious come-hither potential, my favorite of which combined floor humping and backward slithering. This high-impact class is geared toward the under-35 set; gals feeling a little pooch-y in the belly should expect a serious abdominal workout. I'd recommend downing an Advil before you go and picking up a tube of Icy Hot for the morning after. Two bruised hipbones and a serious stomachache later, I found it difficult to laugh—but damn if I didn't look good.

Sat., Dec. 3, 3-6 p.m., Koresh Dance Studio, 104 S. 20th St. ; Fri., Dec. 9, 6:30-9:30 p.m.; Sat., Jan. 7, noon-3 p.m.; Wed., Feb. 4, noon-3 p.m., Rittenhouse Dance Academy, 1616 Walnut St.; $79, 1-866-HIP-ROLL, www.artofexoticdancing.com

Taught by AOED co-founder Leah Stauffer, this three-hour workshop strives to help older women release physical and sexual hang-ups and get in touch with their inner sensuality. Note to health buffs: The emphasis here is not on burning calories. You will, however, learn a hell of a lot about sexy striptease in an inviting and comfortable atmosphere. The songs in rotation were mostly Billboard pop gems two years past their prime, and attendees spent upward of 45 minutes just learning to maintain eye contact with a complete stranger. I picked up more types of "hip rolls" than I ever knew existed and—despite my cynical exterior—ate up the New Age-y "I am a beautiful woman" theme.

So how'd my lessons translate in the real world? A night of Old City barhopping found me looking stunningly less awkward than usual, but the true test came when I liquored up my boyfriend for a surprise striptease. I lit some candles, threw Erykah Badu on the stereo and hip-rolled my way to popped eyeballs and profuse thank-yous. Was the expression on his face worth the half bottle of aspirin and bruise-covered body? You bet your ass.