I think there's something special about a strip club. The pretty naked girls dancing for your entertainment is the most obvious appeal, but it's more than that. I love that there are no pretenses about any of it. You put your money down and you get some attention. The more money you put down the more attention you get.
Maybe it's just the unapologetic commerce of it all that appeals to my inner capitalist, but I love it. The booze. The girls with their glittery tits and cheap perfume. The slick feel of their breasts and the slight musk of their sweat as you get your face planted in the décollage of some young beauty.
Some people like going to the park with a good book. Some people climb mountains or go fishing or garden in the bark yard. I go to strip clubs. It's where I find a sense of inner peace.
But I digress. This is a story about one of my most memorable trips to my favorite strip club.
I'm lucky to live in a western town in a western state amidst a lot of oil fields. Our community still very much has a western frontier vibe, which translates into a lot of bars with quite a few of them offering naked dancing girls as part of their entertainment. One of my favorites is a slightly seedy little place down town.
I say it's seedy, but that's really part of the charm. It's a little run down, but the shabbiness gives it a certain appealing veneer. Plus, to compete with the more upscale places, there's no cover charge and the drinks are cheap. All the more money for the girls, who almost without exception are cute as a button.
So on a random Tuesday's early evening (I like to go during the week to avoid the big crowds and the bachelor parties, etc.) I found myself sitting on a couch in my favorite dark corner somewhat near the stage watching the girls dance. I was on my third beer, and feeling comfortably numb. Normally during the week a lot of the girls are regulars, but as strains of The Stooges launching into the raunchy, stripped down chords of "No Fun" came over the bar's speakers a girl I hadn't seen before stepped on stage. Or, perhaps more accurately, bounced on stage with a sort of erotic exuberance that galvanized my attention immediately.
She was wearing the extreme high-heels that seem to be part of the stripper uniform, but these had leather thongs that laced around her shins and knees to end in tied bows on the back side of her lower thighs.
Above these she had on a pair of boy shorts cut low to show the straps of a thong. Going higher, she had on a black bustier. Her hair was a dirty blonde with shoulder-length curls.
She was curvy and busty. A healthy, happy girl who seemed to be doing exactly what she was meant to be doing.
I sat up as she took notice of me. There weren't many in the place and I was the only one near the stage. She gave me a grin as she started into her routine.
"No fun, my friend, no fun," Iggy Pop snarled out of the speakers as she began to gyrate her sexy hips and run her hands over her ample chest. She was incandescent. The lights played over her body, and the entire bar seemed to be directing their attention toward her.
Others began to gather around the stage, putting their dollar bills up for attention, and I knew I was going to have some competition.
This was a dollar-a-dance sort of place, so I slapped a ten down on the stage. This girl was something special, and I was going to have her attention. But I had to be patient.
She was having fun on stage, and unlike some of the girls, the money almost seemed secondary. What was primary for her, it seemed, was putting on a good show, and she was putting on one hell of a good show.
Everyone around the stage was enthralled. Where usually patrons will wait until a girl singles them out and gives them a special stage dance (not to mention take off some of her clothes) before they give up the cash, this girl was inspiring them to throw their money right out on the stage for her. When she got near me, I tossed my ten down. She saw it, looked at me, and smiling a smile that seemed to light up the dim interior of that bar said "Thanks, hon!"
She turned around and shook her juicy, delicious ass at me then bent over and stripped the boy shorts she was wearing down her long, limber legs revealing a slink black thong that disappeared between her firm cheeks before covering the small pouch of her sex.
Somehow, she managed to make this a-typical stripper maneuver into something new and special and exciting. At risk of crossing the line into hyperbole cliche, let me just say it was magical.
She turned around and threw her shorts into my lap before doing a little girl skip over to the other side of the stage.
I readied another $10 bill, and slowly she made her way back to my side of the stage, still taking the time to dance for the other patrons. By the time she was back, the bustier was gone and she was down to the black thong and a black bra. The bra was sheer, and two perfect rock-hard nipples were visible through the transparent fabric.
She also had tattoos. Glorious, sexy tattoos. She had stars on one shoulder, starting in the front and going to her back/shoulder blade. On the other side she had a snake, the tail of which started just above her ass crack and curled around her side, over her rib cage, to stop just above her breast.
The combination of her innocent, school-girl good looks and pretty blonde curls with these tattoos was fantastically appealing.
"Is that one for me too," she asked smiling and nodding toward the bill in my hand.
"Indeed it is," I said throwing it on the stage.
"Well then, I need to do something special for my big spender." With that, she took off the bra revealing two perfect, perky breasts that sat on her chest like a couple of ripe pears. Her nipples were a dark pink, and still rock hard. Her breasts moved with her movements, and had to be real. There was nothing plastic of phony about this girl.
"Like what you see?" she asked reaching for my tie and using it to pull me up out of my seat.
"I sure do," I said standing, then allowing her to rub my face in her breasts. As I pulled back I did something out of character for me. I gave her left nipple a quick lick and a kiss. Normally this isn't something I'd do as it crosses a boundary these girls don't like crossed, but she didn't mind.
"Oooohh, bad boy," she whispered into my ear. "I like that."
"There's more where that came from," I whispered back.
"I hope so," she said turning to finish the song on the other side of the stage.
I sat back and sipped my beer. I could have watched this girl all night. She lit the bar up with her dancing and good cheer, and everyone in the place suddenly seemed to be a little happier. There's an attitude of cynicism that often seems to permeate places like these, but it seemed to have evaporated if only for the moment.
There was something satisfying about watching how good of a dancer she was, and how much she enjoyed doing it. She was doing more than the cliched stripper grinding and twirling with a bored look on her face. She'd have looked at home among professional dancers. She was competent and graceful and practically broadcasting eroticism from the stage.
She was doing it all with a bright smile that couldn't help but make even the most jaded strip club patron feel happy. And turned the fuck on. This girl was pure bouncing, jiggling, happy sex.
When she came back to me again I had a $20 waiting for her. She saw it, smiled at me, and said "You don't have to spend so much, you know."
Imagine that. A stripper worried about giving you a bargain.
"You're worth it," I replied.
"I hope so," she said.
She spent some time in front of me this time. She planted her fine little ass down on the floor and scooted it near the low railing that ran around the edge of the stage. Then she draped her legs over the railing putting her feet on either side of me resting on the ledge just below.
She grabbed my beer and took a long swig. "That goes down good; it's hot up here!"
"You're making it hot down here too," I said taking my beer back and taking a swig of it myself, tasting her lip gloss on the bottle.
It was watermelon.
