STRIPPER CHRONICLES

 

Here is a detailed summer of visiting too many strip clubs.  I went other times, but these ones stuck out enough to remember.

 

April 11^th, 2005

 

Well, I was at the pussy bar this weekend, and ran into a very fine stripper, who is also a porn star.  Well, lets back up here, first I'll say it was fucking packed.  Wall to wall.  So I walk in, and take the only seat I can find, which is on that elevated part of the stage by the pole.  Well there is this hottie just starting, and I make a pretty obvious assumption that she does nude, solely based on her very very skimpy g-string.  So, I apply some knowledge about the ol strip club I learned a while back, and I lay down a $5, which gets her attention.  There is like 20 guys around this stage, and she comes to me first.  Then, after she leaves, I lay down another $5.  She makes her rounds, and I'm like the 3rd to last guy as she makes her round before her songs run out.  When she comes back, she says, and I quote "Hey honey, I do all nude upstairs, how about a private dance where I can rub my pussy all over you?"  I say that would be super.  So, that is the key to getting a lap dance out of a girl of your choice, be the biggest tipper at the stage.  So anyway, while up there, we get to talking, and she is a porn star.  Not only that, she produces and manages them.  Turns out she is 31, to which I am now pretty impressed.  I ask her where one could see her in action, and she says she always brings DVDs and sells them at the club, but was all sold out for the evening.  Come back next time I'm at work, and I'll have one for you she says.

 

What a hell of a racket.  This girl must be rich as fuck, what with the probably $80,000-$100,000 a year stripping all by it self, then the porn star bit, and getting a cut of her stable of 40 whores, I mean girls, damn.  The woman of my dreams.  Rich as hell, and any time she has a headache, I can pop in a DVD of her getting fucked by another woman. 

 

I think next time I'm there, I should ask if she needs any male "talent". 

 

My porn name will be Roast St. Peter. 

 

Hopefully that will bring in the Catholic crowd.

 

 

Oh, and by the way, if you really want some attention at ye 'ol strip club, wear this shirt.  Or, just wear it out, because it kicks ass.

 

 

 

 

Click on it, or these words to look at that shirt, and many more.

 

May 8^th, 2005 (Mother’s Day)

 

So, I am working on the weekend.  Not just any weekend, but Cinco de Mayo weekend.  My office is downtown, and it’s a major bitch navigating all the closed off streets to get there because of various parades.  I get there, work a few hours, and am not feeling very good about being there on Mother’s Day.  I say to hell with it, I’m going to the bar.  On the way home, I modify that to the strip club, and I roll in there with a bad attitude.  Once inside, it is dead as hell.  This is a huge club, capable of over a hundred patrons at once, yet I am one of four guys in the entire place.  Strippers are just sitting around bull-shiting with each other, because it is such a dead night.  I park at a stage, and was the only man sitting at one.  I tip heavily, because I had the money that night, and I felt bad about none of the other three guys tipping.  Fuckers just getting a free show.  What bastards. 

 

As I am looking around, I notice this lovely woman at the bar in a long, tight (of course) black dress.  We make eye contact, and she smiles at me.  I give her the best smile I can, but it is wrecked by my permanent scowl.  I’m still seething about work and life.  She stands up, and comes and sits by me at the stage.  Her name is “Misty”, and I tell her my name is Velvet.  She laughs, and says “No it isn’t!!”  I tell her that her name isn’t Misty either, so we will just stick with the names we gave each other.  She asks me what my problem is, how I could be in such a bad mood in such a fun place.  I proceed to tell her the fiasco that is my life.  I leave out nothing, and tell her everything.  It was pretty liberating, actually.  I don’t usually tell strippers important stuff about my life, but what ever.  She gets up to dance, pretty much for me, as I’m still the only one at the stage, and I tip her heavily.  I am starting to lighten up and have a good time.  I’m also starting to get a little drunk.  I am pulling gems out of my ass now, and she is really laughing at me.  My favorite is when she gets down to her panties, and is perched on the stage/table in front of me, and I tell her:  “Hey, I have those exact same panties!!!”  She looks down at her thong that has the Penthouse Club logo on them, and laughs.  “But mine are pink instead of red” I tell her.  We are having a good time, because let’s face it; I’m the only one paying in the entire club. 

 

After her 3 songs are up, she ruins the night for every other stripper in the place.  She asks if I want to go upstairs for some private dances.  I tell her yes, and we head up.  I blow my load (whoops, I mean spend all my money) while up there, and inform her I am now out of money.  I thank her for the good time, and head back to the bar.  I need to be going soon, since you know, it’s Sunday, it’s raining, and I rode my motorcycle intending to not get drunk.  I’m finishing the last drink, and she grabs the stool next to mine.  She launches into regular life conversation, and we talk until closing time.  I find out her real name, what she does as a main job, and all these life details.  As last call is announced I drop what will now be a line for me if I’m ever interested in another stripper.  It was an honest comment at the time though.

 

Roast:  Well, I’ve got to go.  You know it’s too bad I met you here.

Misty:  Why is that?

Roast:  Because, if I had met you at your other job, I would have asked for your number.  But, it’s a bit tacky to do it here, so, what ever.

Misty:  Well… what if I want to give it to you anyway?

Roast:  …….What?

Misty:  You know, what if I wanted to give it to you anyway.

 

I am now questioning my ability to ride my motorcycle home, because I am obviously hallucinating.

 

Roast:  Well, if you wanted to do that, I’d take it.  I mean I’m not going to stop you.

Misty:  (Big Smile) Good, let me see your cell phone.

 

So, she enters it in, saves it, and we part ways.  I make it home safely, because I stopped drinking hours ago.

 

What a night at the strip club, one to remember.

 

 

 

May 9^th, 2005 (The Day After)

 

I remember my first date, ever.  I was older then most, being 16, and I was very inexperienced.  I remember being a nervous wreck, totally uncool, not witty, not funny, and generally not pleasant to be around.  I eventually got some smooth, but it took a while to get used to interacting with the opposite sex.  Well, that was a walk in the park compared to this date with Misty.  I wanted to impress, which, should have been easy since I impressed her the previous night just being myself.  Well we were outside of the illusion, so I tanked badly.  We caught dinner and a movie, I know, lame.  But it was all we could whip up on a few hours notice since I would not have a chance to see her for a least a week due to work and going out of town.  Dinner was pleasant, especially after the booze I was downing started kicking in.  The movie was fucking terrible, and I really wish we had done something else.  Anyway, I meet her at the restaurant.  I show up early, because quite frankly, I couldn’t really remember what she looked like.  I would instantly have recognized that tattoo of hers, but you know, I figured she would have cloths on for our first date.  At least most of it anyway.  She got there earlier then I did, and thank goodness she recognized me and motioned me over to her table.  We had a good meal, which included many drinks for me.  Then we went and saw a terrible fucking movie.  Afterward we made small talk, and there was a point where I knew I had to kiss her, but couldn't muster up the courage.  I fucking suck sometimes.  We are holding each other next to her car, and I finally break the silence with this gem of a line:  "So, are we both uncomfortable, or what?"  She laughed at this and we kissed.  Said our goodbyes, and I told her I'd like to see her again, and she said she would really like that.  Good deal.  So, I finish the workweek out, and head out of town.  I can think of nothing else but how excited I am to see her, and I get back and call her.  She doesn't answer, so I leave a message.  I call the next day, and leave a message.  I call the next day, and leave a message.  I was born at night, but it wasn't last night, so I take the fucking hint.  She ain't calling me back.  Or possibly she got in a car accident and died.  No, I'm not that lucky.  Lesson learned, I suck at dating, and women are bitches.

 

 

June 5^th, 2005

 

The next month I head to the strip club for some much needed relaxation, and figure I'll play it cool as hell if I see Misty there, mostly by ignoring her.  I'm sitting at my favorite stage, by the bar, and this gorgeous little thing starts dancing.  She looks exactly like a girl I had a crush on growing up, but is obviously not old enough to be her.  She tells me her name is Jazzy, and I give her a fake female name as I always do.  I tip her big, and afterward we head upstairs for a naked pussy dance.  I only have enough money for one dance though, and go back and find a table to sit at.  She joins me, and we spend the rest of the night bullshitting about growing up, and generally having a good time. 

 

She is asking me all these flirtatious things like what do I look for in a girl, and stuff like that.  I give broad responses that could easily include her.  She gets called up to the nude stage, and pulls me with her.  I tell her I can’t, as I’m out of money.  She says don’t worry about it, just come anyway.  I’m thinking she doesn’t want anybody else sitting down while she is gone.  So, while up there, the nude stage has about 6 guys up there around it.  She started with me, (no tip) went to the next guy who tipped her.  Then she CAME BACK TO ME.  (again, no tip, no shit, I was broke)  Then she goes to a different guy, who tips her, and COMES BACK TO ME AGAIN.  This went on for a song and a half, until every guy there got up and left.  She then sat on my lap and bullshitted with me for the rest of her time up there.  After she was replaced at the stage, she pulled me over to the private area and continued to dance for me.  I’m starting to think I had a alcohol overdose, and have died and went to heaven.

 

As closing time comes, she says she wants to hang out with me again.  I say I'm sure she does, and I'll be back next month.  She says, no, not at the club.  She wants to exchange phone numbers.  I tell her she is playing me, to which she responds with the most rock solid logic I've ever heard out of a woman's mouth, much less a stripper’s: 

 

"Roast, you didn't pay me enough tonight for me to want to play you for more money." 

 

I laugh at this; because of course she is correct.  She had taken me upstairs several times, after I had no money, and just given me free dances.  It was surreal.  I couldn't fucking believe it.  I didn't want to be the guy that fucking calls strippers all the time though, so I just gave her my business card, with my cell number on the back and told her to call me.  (Probably the stupidest thing I’ve done all this year, and I do stupid shit on a regular basis)  I'd love to see her some more outside the club.  She says that would be super, and we both split. 

 

She never called.  So, again, women are bitches, and strippers are worse.

 

 

June 12^th, 2005

 

So, I make it one fucking hellacious week, and work is killing me.  I say fuck it, and go back to the club earlier then expected.  I was a little hesitant, because I now had two strippers to avoid, and was wondering if there would be some fireworks should I run into one or possibly both.  It is this point that I’m thinking I need to find a different club to visit.  It is my favorite club though, so I say to hell with it because fireworks would still be good entertainment.  It turns out to be 4th of July quality, in a way I didn't envision.

 

I enter after work, and find a spot at the bar.  It is pretty busy around the stages, and I need to get my drink on first before trying to continue my streak of at least getting numbers exchanged with strippers.  I'm watching the NBA finals, when I hear Misty announced on stage one, right behind me.  I look, and sure enough, there she is.  She is dancing.  I wait until her dance is over.  Then, she continues when the next dancer comes up, both topless, basically crawling all over each other.  That is illegal by the way, here in this particular state.  Anyway, when she finishes raking in all the cash that got thrown up there, and gets on her dress, I approach the stage that she is still standing on.  See diagram below:

 

 

 

 

I walk up to her, and this is what was said:

 

Roast: Hey, Misty

Misty: Yes? What’s up? (No recollection at all, BURN)

Roast: I just have one question for you. Did you get that job you applied for?

Misty: What? What is your name? (Ouch)

Roast: Roast. (After laughing off how much the last comment hurt!!)

Misty: Roast....Roast......Holy shit, I dated you!! (She said this LOUD, and pointed at me)

Roast: Um, ok. So, did you get the job?

Misty: Yeah, I got it. Thanks for asking.

Roast: Congratulations. Well, I was just curious. Later. (Starting to turn and walk away)

Misty: Wait, (she grabs my arm here) I feel really bad about not calling you back. I was getting a ton of static over dating you from my ex-boyfriend. Then I broke my phone, and by the time I got it replaced, I didn't want to call you because I figured you would be pissed about how long it had been.

Roast: What ever, it's cool. I bombed the first date, and was not surprised that you didn't want to see me again. So what is up with that, your ex-boyfriend runs your social life?

Misty: That's not true. I really do want to see you again. You are fucking hot! (I start laughing at this) Yeah, I am in a weird place right now, but I'm getting it all straitened out. (Yeah, me too. that is why we are BOTH at a strip club, drunk. That is how you get your life back on track, right?)

Then she leans in for a kiss, and gets me on the mouth really fast. I pull back.

Roast: You are going to get in trouble if we do that.

Misty: I don't care, kiss me.

We kiss, and it's nice.

Misty: Do it again, and kiss me like you MEAN it.

At this point, I can feel the eyes on us, but since I too have been drinking, I don't care. I give her the best public display that I can muster, and we make out there for minute and a half.

Misty: So, will you call me?

Roast: I erased your number out of my phone. So, if you want me to call, you have to give it to me again.

Misty: What, so you didn't want to see me anymore?

Roast: Not that, I just didn't want to bother you if you were not interested in me.

Misty: (Something else about me being fucking hot. Did I mention she was really drunk?)

Misty: So, you want to go up stairs for a private dance? (She has her hands all over me, and I my mind is spinning with the possibilities of what could happen upstairs)

Roast: Yeah, lets go, but I have to cash out at the bar and get my card so I can pull some cash. (I said this, in hopes that tonight’s private dances would be free. This is the only thing that concerns me about the evening, by the way. But hey, she is there to make money, so whatever)

I go cash out, which takes forever. Then I go to the ATM, and on the way back a manager is sitting there talking to her. Uh oh. I hang back and watch the game on TV at the bar. Then I look over, and two managers are sitting with her. Double uh oh. Then, the third time I look back, a manager is escorting her to the dressing room. Triple uh oh, because I left my phone with her. I walk over, and it is still sitting on the table, pick it up and leave. I then put the $60 I pulled out of the atm into gas for my truck.  Hey, I wasn’t going to break the bank for her, you know?

 

So, I'm thinking it is all fucking good.  Didn't get in trouble, made out (literally) much better then I did when we went on a date.  And, managed not to loose my cell phone, which she had put her number back in while I was getting money.

 

Then next day I call.  No response.  I call again the day after.  No fucking call back.  I am beside myself with what I like to call my "What the fucking FUCK?" attitude.  The day after that I call, but leave a different kind of message.  Something to the effect of:

 

Hey Misty, this is Roast. It would appear that you will not be calling me back, so just let me say this real quick. Truth is, I like you. Not because of anything that has happened at the strip club. I like you because I got to know you a little better at Old Chicago's, and during a slightly painful viewing of the hitchhiker's guide movie. I'm not sure what is going on in your life right now, but what ever it is, I wish you the best. I'm sorry things didn't work out a little better. If you ever want to get a hold of me, don't be afraid to call. Bye now.

This message got a response, no less then 15 minutes later.  She fucking calls me.  Then, she has the balls to ask if I was at the club on Sunday night.  SHE DIDN'T REMEMBER A THING THAT HAPPENED.  I am fucking flabbergasted.  She wasn't just slightly drunk, she was totally shithoused drunk.  So, I fill her in on everything that happened, all the details.  She is embarrassed as hell.  She is wondering if she still has a job there.  So then we shoot the shit a little bit, and she mentions she is dating somebody.  I say swell, and hope it works out for her.  She informs me that it's not going good, because he accused her of making out with a guy at the club last Sunday, and she denied it and they were not speaking.  I laugh so fucking hard at this; I almost fall out of my chair. 

So hey, maybe she got what was coming after all.  And it was because of me, so I'm pretty happy about this.

 

Next month, I go and see if I can run into stripper number two that never called me back, and find out what the hell is going on.  Hopefully her boyfriend will be there too!!

 

 

June 27^th, 2005

 

A female friend named Ell and I went to the club.  No really, we are just friends.  We had gone together before, and had a great time.  But that was before I had the epiphany.  You know the one, where you can get to know a girl there, and maybe even start dating her.  Well we went there to try and run into Jazzy, and see what was up with her.  And to have a good time.  Well Jazzy was not working, despite this being her normal scheduled time, so we just kicked back and started drinking.  But it was all different.  It wasn't the same as before.  I think I have ruined the strip club for myself now...

 

The illusion of fantasy has been shattered.

 

Try and follow me here.  Many guys go to the club, hoping to get lucky.  The dancers just drain their wallets, and move on to the next dumbass.  I have always known this, and accepted that it was impossible to even try to get with one of those girls.  Well, then a couple of them blew my mind, and because I was just being myself, and not trying to hook up with them, they ended up wanting to get to know me better outside the club. 

 

And this has ruined it for me.

 

I'm not trying to be all big headed here, conceited, or even vein.  But as far as the average guy goes, I am pretty decent looking.  I take pretty good care of myself, am not hideously fat, ugly, or stupid.  Add to that being pretty funny, and relatively charming, and you have a guy that has nobody to blame but himself for being alone on a Saturday night.  Lets say at a regular place, with a good variety of women there, I feel like if I don't walk out of there with some phone numbers, it's pretty much my fault for not going and getting them.  Sure, you will run into bitches, married girls, bitches, girls with boyfriends, bitches, lesbians, and more bitches.  But if I find some single girls, and have some time and confidence, I should be right in there.  That carries a kind of pressure.  That pressure used to be absent at the strip club.  But it's not any more.  I liked going there because I wasn't even motivated to try and do that.  And that is why all the girls like me there, and remember who I am.  Or possibly it's that one time I made out with a dancer by the main pole stage.  Who really knows these things.

 

Anyway, now I go there, and if I leave empty handed, I feel like it was a colossal waste of money and time.  I can go shoot pool, have fun, and not get pussy much closer to my house, and at a much lower cost.  I have another female friend, that is dying to go with me to the club, and I told her I was calling it quits, and she said I had to take her first.  So, I imagine I'll go, buy her some lap dances, talk to my favorite waitress (who if I get anybodies number, it will be hers this time), and have one last blowout.  I have become quite the regular there, what with bringing female friends, kissing dancers, climbing poles (yeah, I climbed that pole, and it's harder then you think), plus knowing some of the big wig managers because they know me from the other strip club that I used to play poker at last year.

 

So, what I thought was going to be an ongoing update fest with juicy stripper tails (ha!) looks about ready to dry up.  Sorry to all the people that were looking forward to them.  Both of you.

 

Stay tuned though, because I have at least one more outing planned, and you just never know what can happen...

 

 

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