With the kids away at their grandparent's home, my 40-year-old wife, Kate, and I decided to spend a winter weekend at our cabin in the North woods. When we started off from the city after work on Friday, it was already snowing hard.
The driving was slow-going, and by the time we exited the main freeway to get on to a two-lane highway, we could barely see, and it was already after 9 PM. The wipers were going full speed, but it was a full-on blizzard. Our All Wheel Drive Mercedes SUV was well-equipped for the deepening snow, but visibility was awful and becoming downright dangerous. The sun sets early in the north during early January, so it was pitch black and the headlights were barely illuminating the deep, white, snowy road in front of us. To concentrate, I turned off the Podcast we were listening to, and all we could hear were the wipers.
We had driven on the two-lane county highway for about 45 minutes when I confessed,
"OK, this is a white-out. I can't see anything and there must be 10 inches on the ground already."
"We should stop. We're going to end up in a ditch or get hit by another car," she said.
"I agree, but there's no place to pull over and it's too dangerous to be stopped on the side of the road. Let's keep going until we see a store, motel, gas station, or whatever."
We were in a rural area and even though we'd been on this road hundreds of times, it was impossible to tell exactly where we were. I knew we couldn't be too far from a tiny little town we usually passed through at 70 mph. If I recalled there was a gas station, a liquor store, some small homes, and maybe a restaurant.
We saw the light of a gas station on the left side of the road. With snow swirling around the dulled light of the lamppost we could tell that it was closed - no lights were on in the little store beyond the single gas pump, and we started to get nervous.
Creeping forward along the county road, we could see another light ahead on the right. As we got close to the red, illuminated road sign, we could see that it said, "Misty's".
"There's a place, and it looks open! Thank goodness!" my wife exclaimed.
It was a small, wooden structure. Either a bar or a restaurant. I'd seen it many times before... and then it triggered.
"Oh yeah. I forgot. I think this is a strip joint," I said as I maneuvered the car off the small highway and into a parking lot covered in deep snow.
"What?! Are you serious?" she asked, as I eased our SUV between a row of maybe four or five pickup trucks.
The wind was howling and as soon as we stopped, the windshield was quickly covered with snow as the wipers tried helplessly to keep up with the blizzard conditions. The digital readout on the center console read 5 degrees Fahrenheit.
"Yup. Look at the small sign in the window - 'Exotic Dancers' - I remember wanting to stop before. How many singles do you have?" I joked.
"Good lord. How can this be our only option?" She asked laughing.
My wife, Kate, is an extraordinarily cute, petite brunette with a tight little body. She loves sex, we talk about experimenting, and she's is not afraid of showing off her figure in small bathing suits or tight dresses. But that said, she's also not the type to go to strip joints, especially ones in tiny, rural towns.
"Well, it's approaching zero degrees, we can't see a thing, have a quarter tank of gas, and are 30 to 50 miles away from the next gas station, which may not be open. Care for a Coor's and some cooch?" I asked jokingly.
The alliteration was noted with an eye roll, and she said, "No choice, let's roll."
Upon opening the car doors, we were met with howling winds and snow. Grabbing her arm as we crossed the parking lot, we leaned into the blizzard and trudged through the almost knee-deep snow. I patted her tight little ass in her black LuLu Lemon yoga pants that showed beneath her high-fashion white parka with a fur collar. Her tight little legs fed into fashionable and functional Sorel boots.
When we got to the entryway, I pulled open a screen door and turned the knob of the main wood door. An arctic blast of wind and snow announced the arrival of us two out-of-towners and the entire bar turned to look at us.
There were about seven or eight guys seated around some small tables covered with pitchers of beer and a couple dudes standing at the bar to the right. It was a pretty small room that had a shallow stage about 15 inches high with a short pole and was in front of the tables. A naked blonde was bending over, pulling her cheeks apart and showing her ass to the audience. She too bent her head around her left leg to see who had entered.
I quickly shut the door to keep out the cold wind from howling across both the patrons and the gorgeous bare ass and asshole on full display on the stage.
"Sorry. Just ahhh...passing through!" My five-foot wife looked up at me with a 'AYFKM?' kind of look on her face. I grinned internally, semi-laughing at our situation and led us to the bar.
