One Night in Wyoming

"Do you want to add the donation for Search & Rescue, it's only $2 extra?" asked the girl behind the counter.

"Sure. Sounds like a bargain for a wilderness rescue."

She grinned and printed out my fishing license. The nametag said "Megan" and the eyes said "get me out of here." She was a big-boned girl; tall, chubby in a good way, brownish hair and friendly eyes, early 20's.

"I hope you don't need rescuing," she said as she handed me the license.

Was it my imagination or was she flirting? I was at least 10 years older, and grungy from a 2-day road trip -- it was probably my imagination.

I pulled out of the Wal-Mart parking lot and headed into the sunset; the windows down and the cool, dry Wyoming air bringing the fragrant smell of sagebrush and a feeling of freedom and adventure. Leaving the oppressive humidity of the southeast in August and climbing into the high desert always made me giddy. Fishing my way across WY for a week, planning to meet a buddy in Jackson, then spend another week in Yellowstone.

Thirty miles up the road I pulled into the motel parking lot. This was the closest bed I could find to tomorrow's fishing destination, and there was an actual restaurant here as well. After a hot shower and a steak big enough to choke a bear, I noticed another amenity just down the street.

The neon sign said "Nud Girls!" No telling how long the "e" had been missing. There were a couple dozen customers and 3 skanky dancers when I walked in. I grabbed a seat close to the stage and was halfway through a beer when the overweight woman on stage finished.

"Next up, Destiny!" the announcer said over the crackling PA. "Destiny" walked onto stage in a white babydoll outfit, and I almost choked on my beer. Megan from Wal-Mart (no nametag now) twirled and grabbed the stripper pole to hoots from the crowd; she was obviously the hottest girl in here. On her second spin around the pole she saw me -- our eyes locked for a second in shocked recognition. I was embarrassed and turned on at the same time. I'd just had a real-world mundane interaction with this cute girl, who was now getting naked in front of me and a bunch of other guys.

Should I avert my eyes? Would it be ruder to leer at her openly or to pretend I wasn't a dirty old man like the rest of the audience? She recovered from the shock and shed the babydoll in one quick move, releasing large breasts with just enough sag to make them jiggle. The panties stayed on through the first song, and then slowly eased down as the second song started and the dollar bills started hitting the stage. She ignored the rain of bills and fixed me with a seductive gaze -- it was clear she was dancing only for me now. The tossed panties spun like a horseshoe and landed on top of my beer -- a ringer! I resisted the urge to sniff them, as she bent over and looked at me from between her legs, giving me a "come hither" gesture with her finger.

As I slipped a $10 into her garter, she whispered into my ear, "After this dance I'll be giving lap dances -- I'd rather be dancing for you than these cowpokes." Oh, the smell of her perfume and the hot breath in my ear! So she did dance for me, over and over. No VIP room in this joint, just couches in a dark corner. Small talk: she was the youngest of 7 kids (Mormon family), living on her own and going to community college, trying to be independent.

We woke up early in Room 117 of the Ramada, smelling of sex and perfume.

"I have to go -- an early shift today." She kissed me goodbye. "I hope you don't need rescuing."

**********************

The drift boat guide knew his stuff; he put me just the right distance from the bank with enough oar to get a good float with the fly. Lots of big fish, including a 23" brown. Over the course of the day's small talk I learned too much: he had 7 kids, the youngest daughter worked at Wal-Mart and went to college. I handed him a $40 tip at the end of the day -- it was change from a $100 bill from a place with no "e."