(nosex, exhib, strip, true)
© 2009 George Page. All rights reserved.
I'm later updating this blog than I intended, but apart from rehashing historical events, I thought I'd wait till I could add something new.
Advice the first: Get about 70% cut before heading out for the night. Not paralytic, by any means, but let everything be moving smoothly, see everything around you. Yah, it's not real, but it's worth it. Like many others I'll expand more on this theme later.
Advice the second: Pick a Strip club on a good night - Friday or Saturday - and get there early. Everyone's on duty, but it's still slow. They're not busy, and they're still fresh and full of energy. I've got a story about the other end of the night, but it's not this one.
Okay, tonight.
Where I live, there are three strip clubs. For whatever anonymity it's worth, let's call them Puddles, Albuquerque and the Tongue.
Long story short: Long day at the office, needed some relaxation. I try the Tongue, but it's too early, sorta: The Bouncer tells me they're not really going. I ask when, he says when they get more customers, I walk away, go figure. Frankly, I think he's got a couple of the staff out there on the sidewalk with him.
Puddles is the next best, but it's the pricier of the three, so I hit the Albuquerque. Good plan, I decided in the end.
It's a Friday night, but it's early (Rule 2). I get my first drink and sit about as far back from the stage as possible. That almost qualifies as another Advice: Never start at the tipping rail.
Let's make that official:Advice the Third: Never start at the Tipping Rail
Advice the Fourth: Don't be stingy - if the dancer comes up to you, tip her.
Hence Rule Three. If you're far enough back, they don't hound you. It's different in each place, of course, especially the ones that close off everything _but_ the Rail until they fill up, but it's a good general idea.
Anyway, I'm sipping back my first drink, just relaxing into the atmosphere. Two routines - they drag them out, they're not getting many tips - and I luck out, both of them are just going breasts-free as they're getting to me. One of them even gets me to undo her bra. Nice, for a house of strictly-no-touching. I fumble it a little, she's got nice shoulder blades.
Meanwhile, I'm checking out the talent. Albuquerque is the smallest of the three, and has the newest location. It's not _great_ - maybe one pair of C-cups. Maybe, but that's not really my bag, anyway.
Two catch my attention: One's wearing tinted glasses - that's always a goer - and the other's just sitting on the far side of the room, down the end of the bar. I'm not sure why, she's slim, short hair.
Glasses hooks up with the guy sitting two along with me, and I don't see her again. Who knows, maybe she wasn't working.
I keep looking over at Slim, during the next stage act. She's not looking around, but I decide that if she comes over, I've got my 'private dance'.
That's confirmed when she starts working the booths. Not stripping, it's not her turn, but just dancing the poles. Definitely nice.
She doesn't hit the back row, though, which is a shame, although I do get a good view of her as she's working the nearest booth.
I do work out why she stood out, though. She's the only one in a dress. I'm firmly of the less-is-more camp, at least as far as strippers go. There's a world more attraction in a provacative outfit that an a bare ass. All the other talent's in variations of bikini/halter top and miniskirt. Not Slim.
Sure, it zips up the front and isn't exactly hard to get out of - as I was to discover - but it made the difference, especially when I refresh my drink and slip into the booth she's just finished with. There's just one older guy there and he doesn't object.
I keep an eye out for Slim as I watch the stage some more, and I'm more than happy when she starts on the booths again. Well worth the effort shifting to the booth!
Rule four kicks in and I happly slide the 'dancer dollars' into the top of her boot - that's the other difference between Slim and the usual dancers: she's wearing these nice knee-high leather boots. Well, I guess the dress would rule out the usual garter, right?
She's certainly amenable to a half-hour, so we wander past the barmaid who's keeping score and toward the back room (more of a curtained off alcove) and I lean back with my arms spread out over the back of the couch.
Rule the fifth: Know the rules of the establishment. Some places are more liberal in their rules, possibly depending on how much you pay. Albuquerque is one of the stricter places, and I expect especially so in the private dance area. You might be able to get away with a bra-pop, or a face trap in the dim lighting of the main floor, but not in the back room. I'm all for Dancer Safety. If I wanted something more, I"d go for one of the other clubs.
Anyway, popping my arms behind the back of the couch sends a clear signal that I know what's going on and Slim returns my smile as she introduces herself as 'Paris'.
Yeah, I know it's a pseudonym - the French accent gives that away: she's probably doing the Working Holiday thing, NZ's a great location for that - but it suits her.
She sways a little to the ambient music and starts unzipping the dress. Not too quickly, which is something else I appreciate, but soon enough she's down to the usual bikini outfit.
I grin in appreciation as she poses a little for me to get a good look. Slim, as I'd seen initially, but there was nothing boyish about her. Her breasts ere probably appropriately sized to her frame, which meant they were on the small side - I'm no expert judge, but let's be generous and say B cups - but the thing that got me, and made her stand out completely was the tribal patterned tattoo around her side over her right hip.
This wasn't one of the usual 'small of the back' tattoos - they're known down here as 'slut tags' - but a solid black pattern that extended completely around her side above her right hip. Even though it's breaking protocol somewhat, I had to ask her about it. Turns out that it had been especially designed for her by one of the people she was staying with earlier in her stay in NZ. Nice, I compliment her, thinking to myself that there was one bit of NZ culture that was going to be going back to Europe with her.
Moving right along, she pulled one of the low tables into a better position and made a show of taking her boots off before straddling my legs on the couch for the more intimate art of the dance.
Eventually, and at her behest, I slowly pulled the tie on her bikini top to free her breasts and thoroughly enjoyed the close up view of them that she gave me before backing off to remove the bottoms. Back to the table she went then and gave me a wonderfully wide open scissored view of her sex before coming back onto the couch for the closer view.
All good things, as they say, and we ended up back in the main room, but there was one scene left in this act. Wonder of wonders, she was up on the main stage almost immediately, so I went straight to the tipping rail for the best view.
Ir was odd, actually. I'd normally sat and watched the stage until I'd made my pick and then gone for the private dance, but this time it was the other way around. I liked it: a couple of smiles acknowledged where the two of us had just been, and I like to think she played up to me a little. Certainly, it was me she chose to lie down in front of on the wide padded 'rail'. I decided to push things a little and reached down for the pointed toe of her boot, encircling it with thumb and forefinger and making motions like I was masturbating it.
I don't know if anyone other than her noticed it, but then I didn't really care.
Sigh. And then it was over, and I went home.
One thing about the modern internet, though, I was able to start writing this right away.