It was my "bachelor week".
At 42 years old, and married for 15 years, I was a little frustrated with the lack of passion in my life and so when I learned that my lovely, but admittedly prudish wife was going out of town for work for a week, I was determined to find a way to take advantage of it, though I wasn't sure exactly how.
I'm not exceptionally tall, just 5'8". I had the married man's spare tire and receded hairline. I wasn't going to just walk into a bar and have women throwing their panties at me.
I was in the midst of what you might call an early midlife crisis. Before getting married, I'd sowed my share of wild oats and I'd figured the wild times were just beginning. Sure, my fiancé insisted that we wait until our wedding night before having sex, but once we exchanged vows she would be open to the myriad of physical pleasures afforded to man and wife.
Or, so I thought.
It wasn't long before reality started crashing in. Lights remained off. Oral, giving or receiving, was not something she was interested in. The bedroom was quiet as a tomb. Dirty talk was not afforded and definitely not appreciated. Rather than breathlessly jostling from one position to the next, missionary was the only way to do the deed and her lack of passion or enjoyment made it seem barely different from mounting an inflatable doll.
Attempts to discuss the disconnect between her view of her wifely duties (i.e. her "job") and my desire for a more recreational approach would quickly degenerate into loud arguments without resolution. Soon even attempts went from few and far between to virtually nonexistent. Had it not been for the fact that I truly and deeply loved everything else about her, I would have probably walked out within the first couple of years. But, sex life aside, we were genuinely happy.
So, one year without soon became two, and then five and before I knew it I was turning 40 with only masturbation fueled by Internet porn to satisfy my needs for as far back as I could recall.
The realization that I was getting older and that, as far as I know, we only go around once, made me start to focus on all the things I never tried and may never get to. But it also made me start to think about what I might still have the chance to do, if I was careful enough.
Within days of my 40th, I'd visited our town's adult video store for the first time. It had a video arcade that was dark, smelly and full of guys looking to have fun with other guys. Not my cup of tea.
I started reading local online personals but soon found more often than not they were posted by spammers or fakers.
When traveling on business, I began exploring the adult options out there.
Portland had some great adult theaters where couples would often put on shows or let numerous strange men join in. I could only bring myself to watch but it was still one of the most exhilarating things I'd ever seen and it only made me wish my wife was open to such naughty acts as performing before or with strangers.
Phoenix had a swingers club where I touched a woman other than my wife for the first time. Remembering the electricity felt touching new and strange skin, or skin other than my own for that matter, further awoke the desired I'd buried long ago.
Unfortunately, these experiences were limited as I didn't go out of town often and I had yet to take the chance to go somewhere local and risk recognition.
I'd been exploring adult fun outside of my marriage for two years when my wife informed me that her employer was sending her to Chicago for a week to get training. I marked the dates on my calendar and waited patiently, determined to find some new adventure while she was safely half a country away.
Dropping her at the airport Monday morning it felt more like I was the one going away on a trip into uncharted territory. I immediately began scowering the Internet for the needle in a haystack: a real, living, breathing woman or couple that was up for no strings attached fun and wasn't looking for a "donation" or man on man activities. Like I said, not my cup of tea.
By Wednesday evening I was very frustrated with a lack of results. My week of debauchery was nearly half over with nothing to show for it. Finally I said "fuck it" and decided to go to a strip club rather than just sitting at home like I would normally do when the wife is in town. I figured no one I know will be at one let alone on a week night. I chose the only club I'd ever gone to during my single days, The Lantern.
Of course, my single days had been over a decade ago. So, imagine my surprise when I pulled up and it was completely dark. It's almost as though the fates were conspiring against me to keep me from stepping out.
Since I'd already come this far, I wasn't just going to turn around and drive back home. I decided to try the newer club in town: The Wintergreen Wildabeest. I'd heard I t was part of a national chain and that it was nowhere near as divey as The Lantern. When I arrived, I found it was open with a decent amount of cars parked in front.
I went in and was pleasantly surprised to find there was no cover charge for locals. Finally things seemed to be going my way. After showing the doorman my ID, I walked inside.
The lighting was dim but the room was large with mirrors on most of the walls, comfortable chairs surrounding small tables with faux candles illuminating them, and a large stage with gleaming brass railing and stripper pole (I heard a bouncer tell someone that the stage floor was actually granite and a number of dancers had injured themselves falling from the pole). There were darkened booths along the far wall. The near side had a well lit bar, some tv's and a couple of pool tables. It was easy to spot the scantily dressed dancers milling about the crowd peddling lap dances between their sets.
I sat down at the bar and I ordered a beer. What I didn't know was that they were having a two-for-one special and without asking the fiery redhead in a bikini top and Daisy Dukes riding up the crack of her ass brought me both beers at the same time. Despite my large gut, I'm not really much of a drinker. Typically two is my max so I was debating whether I would actually finish both of them.
The dancer on stage wasn't really my type (very thin, very bleached blonde and orange tanned) so I continued to sit at the bar and people watch through the mirrors all around. It was an eclectic and entertaining crowd. I'm guessing at least half of the people there were either dancers who had the night off or were waiting for their shift or the significant others of said dancers.
Before I realized it I'd finished my first beer and was sipping on the next.
Over the next half hour or so a couple more dancers took the stage and none of them made me want to "make it rain". As I was finishing my 2nd beer and feeling pretty good (not drunk but pleasantly warm inside), I turned around and watched the dancer on the stage. Sexy lingerie, darker hair, a bit curvy, ample breasts. More my type.
Then I noticed a couple sitting at a table on the far side of the stage.
I've always been very voyeuristic. I'm a watcher. And one thing I've enjoyed watching in the past is couples at strip clubs. It's just arousing to see that the woman is enjoying the dancers as much as, and some times more than, the man. If I'm in a club and there is a couple there, I end up watching them more than the dancers it seems.
From the distance and given how dim the lighting was in the table area, I couldn't see much detail. Distracted by them, I found that I had ordered yet another beer without realizing it. The redhead bartender could probably sell bottled water to a drowning person with her sultry voice and DD tits.
