Believe it or not, I've been a wicked little brat most of my adult life. Usually I do something silly and immature without really thinking of the implications of my actions. I guess I'll probably never truly grow up.
While all of my stories have yet to be told, I do plan on telling them. I think that some of the audience may have guessed that most of my stories have a hint of the reality to them. Voyeur was a complete fiction. Free Hugs and Caught in the Act were virtually true to life. A Night at Roxxy's was a fiction, too, but born out of a fantasy dreamed out with a friend I care for deeply. And Sensual Touch happened verbatim - just with a few name changes.
This past weekend, I was blessed with an epiphany. And while the stories leading up to this day have yet to be told (although I promise that they will be), you will need to know that Rachel and Carolyn have now met and we have all become intimately close. Carolyn has her own home, but Rachel lives with Gaye – her mother – and me. Armed with that knowledge, I hope you enjoy this tale.
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Years ago, I discovered the Foam Party. I traveled to Cancun, Mexico with friends and we all ended up in a dimly lit club. I didn't really know what to expect, but imagine a dance floor furnished with what appears to be a swimming pool. When the fun of the night begins, imagine foamy, soapy goop dripping from the ceiling on top of everyone bumping and grinding to the beat of the music. Imagine clothing dripping wet. Imagine half naked women and men. Imagine some more daring women that shed their clothes with abandon. Imagine lewd behavior unbecoming of a Celly.
While I've been to a few of these foam parties in Toronto and elsewhere, I had never been to one in my home town. When a local event was announced on one of the local radio stations, Rachel brought it to my budding attention. Since Rachel and Carolyn have also become acquainted, we all decided to go on Saturday night.
The weekend prior, the three of us went out and bought matching bikinis at a local shop in the bustling mall. We decided we wanted to complete the look as we couldn't really just wander down the main downtown street wearing just bikinis. We spent a fortune on oilskin black trench coats. After polishing off three bottles of zinfandel Saturday afternoon and spending way too much time in the hot tub, Carolyn, Rachel, and myself piled into my Corvette Stingray and headed downtown. Walking arm in arm, the three of us found our way through the madding crowds and to the club. The night was still young, but we knew the crowds would fill the club early in the evening.
The club is built in an old cinema that closed years ago. All of the downtown cinemas have become nightclubs in some form. It seems to be the way of the times. So be it. More foam parties for me! I'll rent the video instead. The marquee blinked its neon goddess message to the three of us and we approached the burly bouncer at the entrance of the club. Can you believe he had the gall to demand identification proving we were the rightful drinking age of 19? Or was that flattery? I'll prefer to think it was the latter. And since we were women, we didn't have to pay the cover charge to get inside. There are a multitude of benefits to being a woman.
I hadn't entered the building since my teenage years. I think I recall birthday parties and fun get togethers with friends during my adolescence that brought me to the old theatre. The long hall from the marquee area is still adorned with beautiful artwork of a dying era. The red carpets were still rolled down the staircase to the front door. Two glass and crystal chandeliers hung from the high vaulted ceilings decorated with sconces in plaster and frescoes in ivory. The lobby, while no longer a concession, took the same shape as the cinema lobby from the way back when. The wall that once separated the concession area from the seats had been removed and the concession stand was now a 360 degree bar up on a pedestal. Six gorgeous women in beachwear and shades, all with pink hair, manned the bar with an awe inspiring booze cabinet. Few other patrons wandered the bar at 7pm as the night was still young so we were met with happy, inviting expressions on each of the barmaid's faces. Surely after the advances of far too many eager and horny men later in the night, their expressions would likely be less than affectionate. There were plenty of raised tables scattered around the room with comfy padded barstools that were easy on the butt.
Sadly the balcony had been removed in recent years. All of the seats in the theatre had also been removed. And while there was always a somewhat steep incline in the room, the dance floor was now flat as a pancake. Steps descended to the floor into the midst of the swimming pool shell that would be the arena of our mischief in the hours to come.
All around the perimeter of the room, gogo cages hung from the wall. Little doors behind the cages obviously leaded off to tunnels for the dancing staff. I couldn't wait to see the gogo girls later.
Most of the lighting was yet to be turned on, but later in the night it became clear the owner had spent a king's ransom on the dazzling light display in the club. I knew the club had been operating for many years, but sadly I had never given it a try. All three of us agreed to come more often.
Rachel, Carolyn, and I parked ourselves at one of the tables. We ordered our drinks of choice and as the next hour or two passed, the three of us became increasingly drunk. I will confess I've been fighting a cold probably because I've been pushing myself way too hard in recent weeks, but I stifled that ailment lubricating myself with the liberating tastes of wine and spirits. I wasn't going to let a case of the sniffles keep me from having a fabulous time.
As we sat at the table and engaged in small talk, the three of us gawked around the room and enjoyed our mutual desires for voyeurism. We all love to watch women, especially young women, and Carolyn and I are 35 Rachel has yet to reach 3-0. We're still very young at heart, but I guess we are 'dirty ole women'. Giggles.
A man in an Armani suit was at the bar chatting with the bartenders and suddenly looked over at us. A flash of recollection passed over me as he glanced in our direction. When a big smile crept onto his face, he headed in our direction.
Man – "Well, hello there. Bet you don't remember me, do you?"
Celeste – "You look so familiar. I'm sorry you will have to refresh my memory."
Man – "The name is Andre. We went to high school together."
Celeste – "I knew I remembered you Andre. It's been so long I've had a chance to forget. It's so nice to see you again. You were the one guy in my dramatic arts class! Now I remember!"
Andre – "That's me! I was the lucky man in a class of 30 sixteen year olds."
Celeste – "As I recall, you didn't need any luck with the ladies, Andre. And I bet owning a place like this, you have no trouble even to this day."
Andre – "I'm taken. So don't get your hopes up, Celly."
Andre flashed his wedding band and pointed over at the bar where a beautiful blonde chatted with one of the bartenders. I unwittingly licked my lips as I soaked in Andre's better half's beauty.
Celeste – "Somehow I'm very happy for you, Andre. And for your wife."
Andre – "Thanks Celly. Why haven't you come to the club before now? I wish you had graced the dance floor before today."