I knew it was not going to be your typical casino trip when my lovely wife of seven years got in my truck. Her personality immediately transformed to her alter ego Kay, the high-class prostitute. I, in turn, became TJ, her favorite (and only) client. My wife was wearing a short black mini-dress, black nylons and black suede ankle boots with three-inch spike heels. Her pearl earrings and bracelet matched the simple three-strand choker that adorned her neck. Kay teased me by allowing her dress ride above her stocking tops as she drifted off to sleep during the long ride. She awoke about thirty minutes before we were to arrive at our destination Atlantic City, and announce she needed to use the bathroom. I pulled into a roadside bar and stated, "I could use a drink anyway." Apparently we both missed the sign outside that said 'GO-GO DANCERS' when we went in. Kay was a little shocked when we entered the establishment and saw a dancer on stage in only a black leather miniskirt and high heels, but she did not make any attempt to leave. The bar was furnished nicely and the clientele seemed to be upper middle class. There were probably approximately forty customers in the audience of which fifteen were women. Kay told me to sit down at the bar and order her a beer as she set off in search of the restroom. As she made her way through the bar, almost every man leered at her gorgeous legs and tight ass. I was extremely proud she was with me.
Kay joined me at the bar after freshening up and downed half her beer in one swallow. The deejay started the music again, introduced himself, and announced that was amateur night at the club. He explained the five simple rules; no touching the contestants, all clothing is to be returned to the contestants, contestants must keep their crotch covered, tips are to be thrown on the stage, and the winner would be determined by the audience reaction. He announced that there was a one thousand-dollar prize to the winner.
The deejay then asked for the first contestant and a short plump blonde stumbled to the stage in a state of obvious intoxication. She told the deejay what she wanted him to play and began to strut around the stage to the beat of her first song. After about thirty seconds of the hip swaying march, she stopped in the middle of the stage and dropped her dress. She just stood there in her control top pantyhose and plain white bra as the song faded. She received a little polite applause, retrieved the four or five bills that were thrown on stage out of sympathy, and quickly retreated back stage. Although the next six ladies were better dancers and were dressed sexier, their performances were uneventful. It seemed to me they did not have their heart in what they were doing and were just going through the motions to please the companion or the own curiosity.
