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Katrine
04-16-2006, 11:11 PM
Its all about Pareto's Principle. Jay, you got one of the 20% girls.....

Chili Palmer
04-16-2006, 11:26 PM
It's rare I am in complete agreement with Jay, but his post exemplified a way too common occurence. He got one of the 80% girls, Kat. You are (were?) one of the 20% girls.

This type of activity happens on nearly every visit I have, at least once a night. It's the rare dancer who honestly understands how to maximize her $$$ potential while keeping the customer happy, and no, I am not just talking about high mileage activities. It's the rarer dancer who is always on the floor hustling, and not hanging at the bar, with friends, in the dressing room, or making personal calls in the CR.

I have a firm policy to never beg people to take my money, either in business or my personal life. I enjoy lap dances but I don't need them, so if a dancer I find attractive chooses to ignore me, I just move on to next one. And there always is a next one, either at that club or another.

CP

Katrine
04-18-2006, 09:32 PM
I find the exact same to be true of realtors and mortgage brokers. :(

Jenny
04-20-2006, 08:21 AM
If I may suggest something - sometimes after a certain amount of rejection the girls get kind of "afraid" of the customers. So they don't ask, and they don't push because they are already, somewhere in their heads, expecting you to say no. It's not actually because they don't want your money. Or so I would conjecture based on my small experience.

yoda57us
04-20-2006, 08:44 AM
Actually Jen I agree with you here (there I go again!) I've seen it happen first hand on many a slow afternoon in my favorite clubs. Fear of rejection is real even when money is at stake.

GenWar
04-22-2006, 12:02 PM
I haven't done any TRs. Been to like 7 clubs in last 2.5 weeks and none of them strayed from the "find seat, order vodka, meet beautiful woman, share Patron, spend all money on dances, shotgun coffee in attempt at sobriety and enjoy SCARY drive home" model. As fun as that is, I just don't, in my gut, feel like it deserves a TR. However, last night, I met not 1 but TWO pinkies, so I figured I had to write it up.

This weekend was designated long ago as a weekend in which the wingman and I would be visiting the ATF. Every week that passes, she is less and less focused on dancing, especially at the favorite club, which is 2.5 hour commute for her. The last time, she completely no-showed, which was disappointing. This time, we emailed and she said she would try really hard but we all know Rule #4 ("no promises. No jealousy.") Still, no deposit no return so I packed up, said goodbye to the wife and headed down the 300 mile path to the town of the favorite club.

The wingman had to work on Sat morning, so he wasn't coming out until the afternoon. I personally arrived around 8 pm Friday evening and had planned on visiting a subsidiary club that the wingman hates. There was one girl there, Miss R, who is absolutely delectable. However, I am surfing the sites on Fri morning at work and I see a post that Miss R has quit the biz. Upon reflection on this, I realize that the subsidiary club would be a drag without her. Still doing idle surfing, I stumble upon some random rants about a new club in town and how horrible it is. Given the context of the site, I figured any club these guys hate must have something to offer. I begin some earnest searching and find about 5 reviews on TUSCL, all saying the same thing (too expensive. too many black girls.) which I can safely interpret as a positive, as I have both money and a healthy attraction to black women. I even found the club’s website, which had no depth at all. It is apparently part of a chain that originates in Vegas. Can’t beat that, right? So, I figure I will give it a shot. Normally, I hate a new club due to the lack of clientele and lack of energy but I really have nothing better to do.

So I spot the address and it is, from the interpretation of the #, right down the street from the subsidiary club. So I head across the river and go to said club and continue down the street. I had actually never been down that stretch of road but there were some strip malls and chain restaurants, so I just followed. After about ¼ mile, all the business ended and I was in a littered warehouse district with docks on my left and empty lots on my right. I was sure I had the wrong location but I continued, just in case. After a mile or so of complete dead space, the road opened up on the right and a giant club rose out of nowhere. It was literally born out of nothingness; they built the place on a giant lot in the middle of nowhere. They also spared no expense, building a HUGE building with TONs of parking. I took one look at the lot and decided $5 for valet was NOT too much. It was huge and I am lazy.

I walk in and the place is all done in black marble and tile. It is nice, a bit clinical but classy. I pay the $10 cover (*ouch*) and head into the main club. There is a long hallway with a desk that is empty and several dancers clustered around an entryway. Bad sign. I head past them and into the club proper. It is HUGE. I mean, HUGE! Perhaps twice as big as my favorite club and very reminiscent of Vegas, which is what I guess they are going for. I wander aimlessly around the area, noting the spotty customers and how each had a dancer with them. Bad for money flow but good for me :) I hit the bathroom for lack of something to do. Interestingly enough, the bathroom troll is missing. He is all setup but he isn't there. I help myself to one of his towels. *shrug*

Back in the main club, I wander around for a seat. My eye catches on a tall, statuesque blonde and an eyebrow involuntarily rises in interest. She is dancing for another, so I do not rest my gaze long but do take a moment to enjoy the peripheral view. Along the far wall is a row of seats with tiny tables in front of every third or fourth one. I wander down this path about halfway and randomly seat next to one of the tables. I just sit for a moment, noting the layout of the club, with the stage in front to my right (it is off center in the room, something that annoys my mild case of OCD.) and the bar on the far wall. I dump the pockets onto the tiny table and rest for a second. When I look up again, a waitress has arrived and asks for my order. "Belvedere and tonic." I say and she wanders off.

Another scan of the room and I see that the blonde has finished with her custy and is going to work the room. She does a quick inventory and notes that I am the closest lonely fellow so she wanders over. I am expecting a rule 12 violation but instead she says, "You must be from NJ." It is a statement, not a question, and a damn interesting opening. (I know people that have killed men for suggesting less.) "Oh?" I respond, wittily. She nods at the table and my cigar wallet. "You are ready to smoke." she states. The light dawns. "Ah, I guess they have finally finalized that law, eh?" She seats herself in the chair to my right and leans in close. I note that she has a pleasing aroma and that parts of her anatomy that I would choose, given the choice, have come in to subtle contact with me. She's good. "April 15th." She confirms, referring to the law. I introduce myself and she responds with her name, Miss B. It is a cute name with some humor but I stifle a chuckle, as I am not sure how that will go over.

We launch into conversation on my business in town. I explain about the favorite club and she promises to change my mind and extols the virtues of her club. That is interesting, as I rarely meet a dancer who seems to give one whit about her club, but she is very much on board with the company. Soon, the waitress returns with my vodka. I offer Miss B a drink and she hesitates a moment before ordering a bottled water. The waitress nods and wanders off. There must have been something in my face because she smiles with chagrin and explains that she doesn't drink while working. This gives us another conversation topic which goes a bit, as she justifies her policy. I glance down at her hands and silently guess 27 years old. So I suggest that she is perhaps not old enough to drink, which is met with a smile that reaches her eyes. However, her eyes narrow slightly, indicating she has recognized that I am bullshiting. Still, she doesn't let on. She's REALLY good.

We continue to chat and I am wondering when the question is going to come. It doesn't but her water arrives and I am loving the company. Eventually, I made some comment about CS and she lights up. "I know what CS is." She says. "Really? How?" I ask. "I've read about it online. I know CS and SS and all that." She tells me. "Really?" I ask, intrigued. "Yeah. You must be online,' she tells me. "What site do you post on?" I ask. "Stripperweb," she answers. I am shocked. This begins yet another conversation about the boards. Turns out, she is a pinkie. I had seen her now and again, in my brief forays onto the pink side. However, I have really avoided the pink side due to fear, a healthy fear that I personally attribute to self preservation. In any case, we manage to talk a while more about the web and she starts to drop the hints about the dance. It is too subtle, though, so I let them by. Rule #15 and all ("It's not a sale until she asks for the business.") Eventually, she pushes a little harder. I can see in her eyes that she is starting to get mildly annoyed about my lack of responsiveness but it doesn't show in her manner at all. Her smile never waivers. As I said, she is GOOD. Eventually, I casually mention the rules and let the 15th one be known. Recognition dawns and a brief look plays across her face. The look is only a flash and seems to say, "Damn custys and their pointless idiosyncracies." I have to chuckle at it as she said pointedly, "Would you like a dance?" "Absolutely," I respond.

She's up and dancing for me. They are, to my mind, good dances. She has a phenomenal body and is not afraid to show it. It is, of course, limited by the status of the club. It is not, never will be and has no pretensions of being even MEDIUM mileage and her dances are designed for the environment. She is also wearing large glittery pasties, but what are you going to do? When a truly lovely girl is relaxing her body on yours, you really have to reach for complaints. She keeps up the conversation during the dance, which is fine by me, as I love the SS. She also is smiling very very largely throughout the dance. I am unable to discern if this is technique/SS, if she is really enjoying herself or if it is forced because she is nervous. The logic side of my brain chugs out a theory that she might be nervous because of the board connection, as it is a linkage between herself and her dancer persona of Miss B. Blurring those lines might be an issue. I ask if I am making her nervous and she replies in the negative but does make some comments that feed into my theory.
(continued...)

GenWar
04-22-2006, 12:04 PM
(continued from previous...)

After the second dance, I have to demure. Rarely do I get more than 2 at a time. She thanks me and gets dressed. I reach for the cigar wallet and summon a double shot of Mr. Jackson. I am not sure why, but it becomes clear that she is going to be moving on. I regret this, as I am enjoying the conversation but I am a firm believer in a girl making money and if I am enjoying it THAT much, I have the means to buy out the rest of the night. I do not have the inclination however, as, as much as I like her, I am not in love. I fumble with money, looking for an additional bill to tip with, finally summoning the needed dead pres. I hand it over and thank her and she thanks me back and wishes me a good night. She moves off into the "crowd" and I watch her go.

I am not alone long. The ratio (at that time about 2.5 to 1) will not allow for that. I puff away on the big black cigar before another lady approaches and introduces herself as Miss C. Miss C was a brief encounter, as she gave some good game and did the league minimum SS before going for the dance. I am about to decline when I get a face full of amazingly soft breasts. As a sales technique, it works. She gets the nod and goes into the dancing. They are good dances, more mileage that Miss B but still respecting that line. After 2, I give her the shake off and she collects her Jacksons and moves on.

I relax and relight (Miss C didn't like the cigar, so I let it go out.) After a few puffs, I get a flavor of it that reminds me of the last time I smoked one, which was during a NY Strip steak at a club in Charlotte, NC. This reminds me that dinner was a bag of Doritoes like 4 hours ago. I flag down the waitress and ask for another Belvedere and a menu. She delivers and I review. The Cheeseburger looks good. I order it. At some point during all of this, Miss B goes on stage. I pull out the wad of ones and peel off a few, dragging my lazy ass up to the stage to stuff her g-string. She gives me her smile (worth the tip) and immediately opens the string. No play at all for the tip, which is a little wierd but I wasn't tipping for action, so I don't mind. I see another guy from her dance card get up and move to the stage and I figure my job is done. Always a good idea to remind the fuckos why they are there.

Back at the table, I am sipping and puffing when a petite brunette walks up and leans over to look me in the eye. She is absolutely delicious with short brown hair and an interesting assortment of beauty marks and freckles why my eye tries to subtly trace while still maintaining appropriate level of eye contact. Even dancers don't like roaming eyes, a non-sensical principle to my mind, but a true one, nonetheless. She makes a good amount of small talk, introducing herself as Miss S. Her name is perfect, from my view, and I tell her so. It seems to fit her perfectly, unlike Miss B's name, which seems to fit her stereotype well but, when you get to know her even a little, you know she is NOT her stereotype. (a good thing.) I am so busy marvelling at her name and her shoulder that I fail to even manage simple politeness and offer her a seat. Eventually, she goes ahead and asks to sit, making me feel about 5 inches tall. I motion to the seat to my right and she settles in.

She continues with the small talk and I try to keep up. She is distractingly exotic in a completely girl next door kind of way. I find myself wishing for serious chemistry, a dangerous thing. The waitress wanders by and I offer a drink. She orders a Ketel One and Soda which allows for a conversation on the relative qualities of vodka. After a brief moment of sideways conversation, she gets up, pulls over a chair, and sits facing me. It is much better position for conversation and I am grateful for the effort. She inquires as to my purpose in town and learns of my distant home. I inform her of the favorite club and she nods regally and discusses it dispassionately. She is the first one I have met in this club who does not inform me of this club’s mission to “take down” my favorite club and she is the first one who doesn’t tell me that I will come to love THIS club better. Not that I minded them selling the club, but her neglecting to do so, gave her a more genuine air.

She is a pleasure to converse with. Intelligent and thoughtful, she understands what I say (hearing limitations, notwithstanding. This club is both dark AND loud.) and gives as good as she gets. There is also an air of genuineness that really makes her endearing. She is either really a actual sweetheart or she is DAMN fine at SS. At some point, my cheeseburger arrives but I avoid eating it out of politeness sake. She accepts this for what it is worth before doing the polite thing herself and insisting I eat. She promises she will do all the talking. I am starving and though I don’t feel right about it, I dig in. Sure enough, she begins to entertain me with stories of some other clubs in the city she has worked at and shares the pluses and minuses thereof. I manage to keep in the conversation, doing that thing the wife does where you cover your mouth with a napkin to speak while eating. That really isn’t my bag; normally, I would just talk and not pay any attention to it, but, for some reason, she brings out my inner refined gentleman. That is NOT a good sign for the relax, cheap evening I had planned.

Eventually, the food is done and she is on her second Ketel One and I am on my third Belvedere. On a whim, I order a shot of Patron, chilled and straight up. She blinks at that order and gives a knowing grin. Clearly, she is a woman who knows her way around a bar J. We sit and talk some more about steakhouses and other topics. I realize that an hour has gone by and we have just been enjoying each other’s company. This is not my modus operandi. I glance around the club but no one meets my eye. It does not appear I am being a bad fucko (which I define as someone who ties up a dancer without spending money, when others are waiting to spend on her.) However, just because no one is glaring at me, doesn’t mean this is acceptable. This all runs through my head in a second and then she looks me in the eye and makes some comment in our conversation and I forget all about it.

About 20% of the way through the Belvedere and 50% of the way through the Patron, she makes mention of the VIP room. She hasn’t asked for a dance at all and, I guess, this probably occurred to her. So she is going to go right to Level 2. Now, I wouldn’t normally do something like VIP. So the second she mentions it, my heart sinks. There are three things that intoxicate me. Cigars, Alcohol and the attention of a mesmerizing woman. I am currently floating on all three. I know, KNOW mind you, that I am NOT going to get out of this VIP room experience. I do a mental fiscal review and internally groan. Oh well, I am confident I am going to enjoy it.

So I give it back as best I can. I am not IN to VIPs. I haven’t finished my drinks. Things are so comfortable out here. I haven’t even had an intro dance or nothing. None of it works, as I knew it wouldn’t. I don’t know why I was choosing to reside in the 15% of my being that really DIDN’T want to do it when I knew the other 85% would win but I was. I tried one last ditch effort…they won’t let me transfer my tab back to VIP and I don’t want to close and reopen. It failed and she was insistent. We parted briefly for bathroom breaks and met back and she led me meekly back to the room.

She had given me a heads up previously about tipping the bouncer, like I am a rank amateur. So I played stupid with the CS and let her guide me through it. The back VIP room is just as nice as the rest of the club, with private tables for dining and then a back back room with couches. It is all very sharp, almost to the point of clinical. Sign of newness and all. The bouncer doesn’t make himself available to tip so I have my Hamilton palmed. We get to the entryway to the couch room and he launches into this explanation of how the front 4 couches are the only ones covered by the cameras and he is really suppose to fill front to back but many people like the back couches, however…I touch him on the shoulder and say, “I get where you’re going,” and I shake his hand with the tip. He grins relief and leads us to the back couches and we sit.

Miss S suggests we wait for the waitresses and drinks (mandatory in here) before beginning. She makes herself comfortable and owns to a certain level of intoxication, probably in response to my profound announcement of such. Another round of Ketel One/Belvedere arrives and I realize it has to be my last one for driving purposes. I tell her such and she agrees, claiming that she too is feeling it. She seems better off than me, in any case. We set the drinks down and she launches into my three song dance.

The dances are better than they should be. You know when you have that chemistry and that personality click and you are REALLY into it so much that your brain will fill in some blanks. Truly, they weren’t bad dances but they were not outrageous and no lines were approached, let alone crossed. Still, my perception was that they were amazing. You really can’t buy that kind of self delusion but it sure is great to have.

(continued....)

GenWar
04-22-2006, 12:06 PM
(continued from previous...)

After the songs, I have to take a moment. After she is redressed, we take the drinks and head to the VIP room bar where we relax and finish them up. She had stated that the dances could go on my tab, so I elected for that option and she let the bouncer/manager guy know. He mumbled into his walkie talkie and I assumed it was being resolved. We sat and talked some more until we realized it was about one and she could see that proverbial pumpkin an hour away. She thanked me and I thanked her and she headed out to try and make up for some of the time she wasted on me. I headed back to my seat, which was moved by the shifting sands of the club but still intact.

The waitress came back and I ordered coffee and a bottle of water. I also asked for the total on my tab. She returned with each in a separate trip (???) and the tab total was all wrong. It was clear that the dances had not been added and it appeared that some of the drinks had been overcharged. I requested that we work out a clarification and it became an ordeal. Eventually, the paperwork was reconciled and I was right, except that the dances had not been added. I hadn’t paid for the VIP experience. I sent the waitress to find out how to rectify that…I wasn’t about to leave Miss S hanging after she did such a good job and wasted all that time on me. I would NEVER be able to live with myself.

I sipped my coffee and Miss B wandered back by. She asked if I wanted company again but I demurred as I struggled with the monetary issues. I asked her to stop by again. She agreed. Shortly thereafter, I was joined by another dancer, Miss F. Miss F had some great game but I was done for the night. Still, she talked me into a dance and she had the most perfect ass. I mean, I must have been channeling mr_punk because my gums itched with the need to bite her ass, it was that perfect. Her first dance was great but she was interrupted from doing a second because the DJ called her on stage. She promised to return and disappeared. She reappeared moments later and resumed her seat on my lap. The DJ issued a correction on the next dancer, calling Miss S instead.

Just then, the waitress returned with a clarification on the issues with the dance bill. I would apparently have to go out front and settle up with a hostess there. I said no problem and agreed to take care of it at the next possible moment. As the waitress departed, Miss F returned offering me another dance. I agreed but I needed to tip Miss S on stage so I excused myself momentarily. I got to the stage and smiled at Miss S. I mentioned to confusion over the bill and her face fell, drastically. I think she didn’t intend to let that situation get away from her and was a bit disappointed that she had. I made reassuring noises and tipped her a handful of one’s. As I returned to my seat, I heard the DJ call Miss F again. I sat and she moved as if to dance. I complained that the song had started but she insisted and she stuck that ass in my face and my protests melted away. Half a dance later, the song ended and she kept dancing. The DJ began making insistent noises and the stage was empty so she HAD to go. I frowned at the interruption and she promised to return and “Make it up to me.” *shrug*

As soon as she departed, I got up and headed up front to settle the issue of the dance bill. I found a lady there and explained the situation. She asked my name and I provided it. She then asked who the dancer was and I heard “me.” from behind me. I turned around and Miss S had magically appeared. My initial thought was offense, but I squelched it. I would NEVER leave a lady high and dry but I guess that so many custys would that it is stupid to get insulted over the implication. I think she saw it in my eyes so I tried to make a joke of it, giving her a “good-natured” hard time about checking up on me. I don’t think it worked.

As the hostess began to settle up the situation, she informed me that I would be charged 10% more than the cost of my bill. I realized I was in a funny money situation and inquired as to the charge to the dancer. She mumbled something and I asked her to clarify. She responded with a statement that was basically gobbledygook and then stated that it was complicated. Again, I got offended, like I am some idiot that can’t understand a simple percentage breakdown. Again, I squelched it…it serves no good to get pissed in the club. I asked Miss S and she explained it to me briefly. I did some quick mental math and determined the additional amount I would need to provide to make it right, as though I had paid cash. She beamed her magic smile up and me and made the polite noises about how that wasn’t necessary and how I had done enough already. I grinned and found the cash on my person and placed it in the shoulder strap of her dress. She performed a quick slight of hand, making it disappear.

The hostess took another 4-5 minutes to complete the paperwork, and then laid it on the counter for me, pointing out where to sign. She departed, taking the pen with her, leaving me to stare at the paperwork like an idiot. Eventually, she realized I wasn’t doing anything and returned with the pen, departing again. I reviewed the documentation, spotting a credit card authorization and a brief declaration of intent to purchase funny money. The declaration included several statements; one of which was, “I certify that I am not drunk or impaired in any way.” Just to screw with them, I wrote at the end of the statement, in a brief note: “Capacity clearly in question.” I signed the documents. The hostess returned and took them away. She still had not paid the dancer nor provided me with any funny money. I began to get exasperated and I started to purposefully show it. Another hostess, intervened, reviewed the paperwork, and provided Miss S with the appropriate funds. We walked back into the main part of the club, repeating the goodbyes and thanks of earlier.

Back at my seat, I was on my second cup of coffee and no longer feeling in a real party mood. Miss F returned and I really wanted to send her on her way but she did owe me. She said she was here to make it up and she started to dance, again mid-song. Stupidly, I assumed this was the rest of my original dance. She launched into a second, which I agreed to and asked for a third. I declined and then paid her for the second. Of course, she asked for payment for the “first” which was another ½ song. I cursed my own stupidity and gave her another Jackson, resolving to go nowhere near her ever again. And this is supposed to be my new favorite club?

She departed with her ill-won gains and I sighed. I was about to leave on the down note when I saw Miss B making her way across the stage. I smiled in spite of myself. If you like tall, leggy, buxom blondes, then she is truly something to see. She made her way over and joined me. We chatted a bit, as I desperately tried to get my waitresses attention. I was down to the “emergency” Grant and I needed change to pay for additional dances. As the waitress turned to me, I asked for change and Miss B offered to provide it. The waitress took this as gospel and turned away again. AARGH. I resolved myself to it (I *HATE* getting change from a dancer.) and let Miss B chase the blues away.

This dance was less energetic and more relaxed and was really more just general closeness with her on my lap. For the end of the night, it was perfect. She offered a second, but the marquee sign in my head with the total spent flashed brightly and I declined. She thanked me and declared that her night was at an end. She didn’t even dress, just said her goodbyes and headed across the club, giving the shake-off to all she passed.

I got up, checked for all of my endless possessions, performed a quick self sobriety test, which I passed J, and headed out to the valet. This club has a lot of work if they are going to “take down” the favorite one. But they are on the right path…just have to work out the kinks. In any case, it will always be special to me, as it was the place I first met members of Stripperweb.

Emily
04-22-2006, 03:14 PM
it's interesting to hear customer perspective on the club and me, especially from a SCJ.

is it okay to out myself? I'm Miss B. You can call me Buffy :P

FBR
04-22-2006, 03:44 PM
it's interesting to hear customer perspective on the club and me, especially from a SCJ.

I thought it was an interesting read also. Up to Gens usual standards of brevity LOL When reading his reports I go by home many beers I consume. This one was three but I did read it twice, there were so many details LOL I struggle with the tiny font though which slows me down.



is it okay to out myself? I'm Miss B. You can call me Buffy :P

Sure. Jay and I prefer that the dancer out herself or if the custie does it, its with the dancers permission. Saves on drama.

Buffy. I dont know if I would have assigned that name to you but it is cute. And dont tell me...Gen was the vampire?

FBR

Emily
04-22-2006, 04:06 PM
Yeah, I get that a lot. I recently changed my name to Buffy because I wanted something "dumb blonde". Naturally, I don't consider myself such, but it keeps the conversation light and flirty, which I'm convinced is what makes money in the short term.

Last night I was told by Gen that I "did not look like a Buffy", which is fine. I like *being* a Buffy when I'm at work. Lots of people mock the name, but I didn't choose it to be taken seriously. I'm a stripper for chrissakes! Gen said he hates that word (stripper), but saw nothing wrong with referring to himself as a PL. Go figure.

Then when I told him my real name (which is Emily), I was told I don't look like that either.

Anyway, I liked him and I hope he comes back, even though his all-time favorite club is right down the street.

FBR
04-22-2006, 04:22 PM
When I hear Buffy I think tiny and blonder than you (or at least your picture). Gen described you as tall and buxum :P So in my mind the name doesnt fit but after a couple of minutes of nice conversation, who cares? I have a dorky first name (which I obviously didnt choose) and usually just mumble it LOL

Gens not a PL. A PL spends under the delusion that hes going to get something that everyone else on the planet knows hes not going to get. Gen OTOH knows his own expectations and is a realist. Hes just OK with lower mileage than some guys. Hey, different strokes.

As far as hating the word stripper, maybe he was just sligging a little CS ;)

FBR

mikeyd1075
04-24-2006, 07:03 AM
I recently changed my name to Buffy because I wanted something "dumb blonde".

Damn that doesn't fit you at all! ;D

Emily
04-24-2006, 10:18 AM
Damn that doesn't fit you at all! ;D


hrm, thats 2 blue-ballers that have met me and said that.

I love being Buffy, but most everyone hates my choice of name.

the801
04-24-2006, 12:24 PM
I love being Buffy,


Then I love you BEING Buffy!! ;D Ha Ha!! Besides, it's part of your "marketing", correct? Then there is no more explanation needed, IMO...... pretty cool, actually.

My $.02 & worth every penny,


801inPDX

the801
05-04-2006, 10:12 PM
My First TR attempt, so here goes: Preamble:

I planned a trip to the Coachella Music and arts fest as soon as I heard that Tool planned to headline the affair. Then I started looking at the complete band lineup for the two day affair and it seemed like a natural. Preface: I am a live music junkie first and and an SJC second ;D. I mentioned the idea to my ATF and she sez " I've already got tickets", "I'll see you there and we'll party!" .....K.

Fast forward about 6 weeks and the conversation starts anew: In the home club getting dances from the ATF. By now I have purchased tickets for myself and a neighbor and we're committed. When told I am going, my ATF sez "I have extra tix now because my buddies are flaking on me. Can I travel with you?" Uhhh, sure I sez, still not sure how everything is going to fall into place. Then another dancer sits down and asks what we're talking about and she says, something to the effect of: " I want to go, when/ how much is it?" So suddenly I am buying tickets to L.A. for these two ladies, Plus rental car and Hotel rooms in Palm springs.

The flight down was relatively uneventful, but once we hit the ground in L.A. it was Tequila time! ;D I had arranged for a masseuse to meet us in the rooms in Palm Springs to get the ladies off to a good start, so we hustled through Friday evening traffic to make it on time. Jacuzzi first, then massage, then out for Steaks and Martinis in downtown P. Springs, then panty shopping at a local lingerie store (you can't have too many pairs of sexy panties, apparently), then off to the Spa Resort Casino-I gave each lady enough scratch to play blackjack, slots, etc. Several Grey Goose and Orange's later. We make our way back to the 24 hour Jacuzzi at the Hotel and proceed to soak and cavort. More Patron shots, and one of the ladies decides I needed some education in basic stripper moves, and let me tell you, watching is one thing, guys. But actually doing them? Different story! I'm glad noone had a video camera! I was humbled and came away with even more of an appreciation for what hard work their performance are! By now the sun is coming up and........

Next installment soon....

801in PDX

the801
05-08-2006, 06:17 PM
Coachella Continued:

so the sun was coming up and after 10 straight hours of partying, Jacuzzis, massages, eating, drinking, gambling, slow dances on the balcony, jumping up and down on the bed to Soundgarden the same way mom always told me not to; I'm thinking "a little shut eye might be just the thing". So the ladies adjourned to their room and I got mine back (partially destroyed), pulled the black out curtains to, and crashed till the alarm went off three hours later at 9am. Off to Starbucks and Jamba juice for an eye opener, then Peabody's for the Magnificent breakfasts they have there right downtown P. springs. Watched the geeks and freaks for awhile and scarfed down our food, then off to the liquor store for more Grey Goose and Patron just in case we might run out- Oh god! ;D We hit the Polo Fields about 4pm and started the frivolity anew. Wow, if you are a people- watcher, this is heaven! I particularly liked the Rasta- Midget with dreads that reached the ground! Lots of music and most of which I was unfamiliar with: Some really good music and some really, well boring, but enough variety to make everyone happy. It's warm, but not hot and when the sun goes down, it's
Pleasant

More soon


801

the801
05-11-2006, 10:03 PM
Coachella continued again,

by sundown the place is just packed full of people, the food is good, but the lines are long..... the drinks are bad, but the lines are longer! By now I've seen ten or so bands, I'm a little dehydrated, but not bad, ears ringing slightly. The eye candy here is just astonishing! I've been won over by all the belly-buttons. I never considered myself a belly-button guy, however I think I have now been won over to perhaps "quasi- belly-button fetish-dom". I find myself gazing at women's tummies with no shame or self consciousness, finding a modicum of peace and tranquility amidst the chaos and anarchy swirling around me. The wingman reaffirms his breast fetish/worship as well, since there are a plentitude of same dancing by in the evening heat: all sizes, shapes: skin tones vary from pale white (some sunburned! Ouch!!) thru luscious caramel to dark chocolately-brown! Such a cross-section of human phenotypic heterogeny!! So we watch attentively as the sun sets to the west and darkness descends over the Empire Polo Grounds.

The ladies show up from the dance tent at the opposite end of the venue all sweaty (smelling great! }:D ), and wild-eyed from nearly non-stop raving in the heat. They are thirsty, so first we locate drinks, then food then more drinks, then more drinks and then we're off to the main stage to catch the headliner for the first day at the main stage. I have to digress here for a moment and relate a personal observation regarding the animal sexiness that a slightly sweating, out of breath woman exudes in this state. My sense of smell is very acute, and when I am getting private dances, I find the smell of my partner to be as exciting and erotic as anything else about her. In fact, I feel the best dances I get are from ladies that do not use too much perfume, so that I can smell THEM!! Obviously this can be taken to an extreme; I'm not talking nasty B.O. here, but rather the natural feminine "girl-smells" (pheremones, whatever it is) that tend to enhance my overall experience. So throughout the weekend, these girls smelled great!!! ;D Very sexy, and I told them so.....

The music finishes up and we leave to drive to our Hotel. In the jacuzzi by three am this time a little Grey Goose to settle our nerves, and sleep by four......ZZZZZZZZZZ. ahhhhh bliss!

The next day follows a similiar pattern except that the ladies start the partying early and by noon they are extremely happy!! It is going to be much hotter today, I can feel it. Already well into the nineties by now, headed towards a projected high near 100F. So, I throttle back a bit, pace myself to make sure my entourage makes it safely to the polo grounds by 3 pm. We're in the gate, this time smuggling airline bottles of grey goose in to supplement the meager selection and quality. The place is just anarchy! It is way more crowded and there are lots of people is various stages of "chemical enhancement". Oh and those belly buttons are everywhere!

After losing and then finding the ladies several times throughout the day (I was more "Sleater-Kinney", they were more "Madonna" 8) ) I was able to keep tabs on them somewhat via text messaging on my cell phone. They met up with some friends from Portland, and I was just not interested in hearing any more DJ music, so I saw relatively little of them that day until after sundown. I pushed my way up in front where people were packing in to see "Tool", so I was going somewhere they couldn't/ didn't want to follow. One highlight for me (other than the great performance that the guys put in) was being caught in a pocket of lady Tool fans up near the stage. There's something about being smashed in with a bunch of twenty year old women all leaping and moshing and jumping in unison to the music! Oh well, I survived!! ::) Hehe.

The ladies slept in the car all the way back into L.A. for the flight home, waking up in time to check in. Then an uneventful flight back to PDX rounded out a very pleasant weekend.

As I said at the beginning, this is my first TR/ OTC travelog or whatever you want to call it. If you made it this far, I'm amazed! Just want to say "thanks" to two amazing women for making it a wild and fun time. ;D

Cheers,

801

sander8son
05-13-2006, 11:01 PM
im not sure ive ever posted a TR on this site. but here goes. a twofer:

about two weeks ago i went to a club in providence. wasn't really sure why, itd been a while. think i was looking for an old dancer i used to visit before my clubbing days ended. anyway, she wasn't there. so i surveyed the tallent. approached the stage when there was a cute mildly freckle-faced waif on stage with above average breast size for her frame. had 4 $1s on the rail ready for tips. she did her thing, i gave her two, then she got up. i was going to ask her for a dance when she was done with her stage set... i assumed that id get another round of action(20-30seconds) and give her the other $2 and ask for an LD after her set. but instead she got up, and moved on to other customers. wouldn't have been a big deal, but she grabbed one of the extra $1s i had sitting on the rail and threw it on stage as if it was hers. so im glad she did that, because it saved me the $100 or so i was going to give her for LDs. hope that $1 extra was worth it.

that kind of put me in a foul mood. i left that night, down maybe $30(cover, a soda, stage tips).

tonight: went to a different club in providence. first time id ever been to this club. went with a buddy of mine. we were old SC goers. we were pro's back in the day, ever since sporty and gb(inside reference) called us up to the big leagues. been about 2.5 years since we'd headed out to a club together and did it up "right". i went to look at drink options, and when i got back my buddy had a chick with him. they headed off to do a private dance. so after sitting there sometime i approached the stage. got my personal attention, gave the chick a $2 and she asked if i was getting dances later. she was cute. probably sporty's type with a nice rack. so i told her sure, and she informed me that she had a dance to do with some other guy first. no biggy, i just got there, i could wait and take in the scenary.

eventually my turn comes up, we head back there. it was a private setting, basically negotiate your own terms. total between her and the house $200. more than i usually spend, but no big deal. i was gauranteeing myself action. so she starts off dancing and isn't affraid to use her hands and teeth. so after a bit of that i decide its best to take off my pants and just be in my boxers. so i do that and she rides me for a bit more. when i get closer i tell her and she proceeds to use her hand til im done.. $200 is a lot for just a covered HJ. im off my game. my buddy recieved much higher services from another dancer for an extra $50, but i wasn't expecting this level of service tonight at a club id never been to. that and the guy before me dropped $2k apparantly, so that significantly hampers my bargaining ability. but hey, im sure he got off, and so did i... except i did it for 10% of his cost. so im pretty pleased with myself. obviously ive got room for improvement, but hey, first majour trip in 2.5 years, i say i did ok.

dayzed
05-14-2006, 12:42 AM
The contrast b/n this thread and "Hustle Hut" on pink side (re: profileration of extras) is really quite something. (This comment not directed at last few posts but thread in general.) I understand the variables at play (non-extras stripper not as likely to contribute to SW, customer not as likely to share non-extras story on TR), but the incompatibility of the varying testimonials remains startling.

Clearly, the truth lies somewhere along the continuum, and can only be uncovered via broad and expansive investigation, with extensive "interviewing" and forensic analysis.

SportsWriter2
05-14-2006, 05:52 PM
first time id ever been to this club. went with a buddy of mine. we were old SC goers. we were pro's back in the day, ever since sporty and gb(inside reference) called us up to the big leagues. been about 2.5 years since we'd headed out to a club together and did it up "right".
GB and I called your buddy up to the big leagues because he throws hard consistently for strikes. You, no way. You spent $200 in a strip brothel without even getting head? ::)

Dude, this is where cokeheads say, "Gimme 50 and you can do anything but kill me." :O

Still, "cute mildly freckle-faced waif" is a good lead. And she doesn't give head to just anybody. That's sweet. You might get called up in September as a utility player. :)

yoda57us
05-14-2006, 06:19 PM
The contrast b/n this thread and "Hustle Hut" on pink side (re: profileration of extras) is really quite something. (This comment not directed at last few posts but thread in general.) I understand the variables at play (non-extras stripper not as likely to contribute to SW, customer not as likely to share non-extras story on TR), but the incompatibility of the varying testimonials remains startling.

Clearly, the truth lies somewhere along the continuum, and can only be uncovered via broad and expansive investigation, with extensive "interviewing" and forensic analysis.

Trip reports is where guys talk about their experiences trying to get extras from cute dancers. Hustle hut is where cute dancers talk about getting as much of our money as they can while "putting out" as little as possible. A dancer's truth and a customer's truth will seldom coincide if all you do is go by the alternating colors of pink and blue. The fun lies in exploring the grey areas.

yoda57us
05-14-2006, 06:21 PM
Sandy, you overpaid huge...but hey, as long as you had a good time.....

Casual Observer
05-14-2006, 07:09 PM
^ Right. I routinely spend more than that with no expectation or interest in extras and that's fine by me.

sander8son
05-14-2006, 08:18 PM
yoda, i know i overpaid, and my level of extra wasn't huge. but im way off my game. i realize that. i chose someone and went with them, had she not taken a guy for $2k just before me, i feel i would've done better. sure, after hearing that i couldve backed away. but i didn't care. i spent what i was willing to spend, and got my desired goal. i'll work on tightening it up as i get more practice. i still know the game, but i almost feel like a newbie again.

sporty, you're mixing up the chicks. the freckle faced chick at the first club may or may not have given head. she was a thief, so i decided against giving her any more of my money. the chick at the other club may or may not give head, but wasn't going to for what i was willing to pay at that moment.

with regards to the disparity. on here the guys tell their tales of conquest. either highlighting or slightly embellishing on goods recieved and downplaying or under reporting amount they paid. hustle hut is the inverse. "how i took a guy for this much"... but they'll leave out anything that could be construed as an extra if any occured. im pretty straightforward. im bragging about getting ripped off. lol. but hey, im a newbie again, it happens, and atleast i got ripped off, but left happy with slightly lighter balls.

i'll try to shape up for september call-ups, sporty. atleast ive got a shot at the 40man. but remember after this season, im out of option years. :-p and bullshit you never called me up. i was your top prospect. perhaps i just got called up too soon. i think of myself as like junior griffey. too much success early, then injuries plagued me. out for a while, starting to come back. but may never again be as strong as i was. heh, ok, enough of these analogies.

Sportsman's?
05-14-2006, 08:56 PM
Yeah, this latest trip to Providence for me and my queer friend was long overdue. Thanks, SW, for the compliment... I do my best. I've been off my game for a while, having abstained from the nudie bar for quite some time before encountering some vehicular difficulties, which further extended my hiatus from the clubs... I feel I could have gotten a better deal, but I did enjoy myself as well as reach a new personal nudie bar milestone. It seems things have improved a bit since I last spent much time round them parts... gootastic.... ;D

yoda57us
05-15-2006, 06:56 AM
^ Right. I routinely spend more than that with no expectation or interest in extras and that's fine by me.

And me as well. I spend the vast majority of my time and money on non-extras ladies and in non extras clubs. Still, evil yoda sneaks out to these dives once in a while and he's a cheap old bastard...

GenWar
05-15-2006, 04:47 PM
Ok...it's that time again. *sigh*

I don't like this TR. It doesn't capture the essence of what was a really great night. I think I reached the limit of my writing skill. I just can't communicate it.

Oh well, I spent too damn long on it not to put it up. Grab a six pack and some sandwiches, say good night to the wife and kids and settle in for the long haul.

Here ya go...

-gen

GenWar
05-15-2006, 04:49 PM
So, I had a pretty great night last week. I think, to fully appreciate the night, I need to give a little background. As I alluded to in another post, I had been too this club twice before on previous visits to this city. Having really enjoyed a meal there, I returned this week to partake of the food again. The first night was mostly a bust, but I did notice a particular dancer who drew my eye. She never made came over, so I didn’t have an opportunity to meet her. I returned the next night, again, drawn by the steak, and again, I used the various tricks to meet this lovely dancer. Failure again. Spending time with another dancer, I suggested the lack of attention might be racially motivated. (We WERE in the South, after all.) My dancer was apparently close friends with the lady in question and was offended FOR her. She set about to correct the situation by letting her friend know that I was smarting from the lack of attention. Ultimately, I not only met the dancer but she managed to charm/chemistry me while keeping 4 VERY high money fucko’s waiting. Her dancers were so phenomenal; all I could do after the 3 I could afford was sit there dazed and beg her to tell me she would be working the following night. She confirmed that she would and I silently thanked the Lord.

A couple of other things from that previous night were pertinent. I had brought a wingman that night, Ole’ Blue Eyes, a college buddy who just happened to be temporarily living in the South. He had been on one previous visit and had been fascinated by a dancer named Miss S who managed to charm him despite the fact that she was physically everything he said he didn’t like in women. It is always curious to have chemistry with a dancer when she is the opposite of your “type.” Still, the best way to maximize the club experience is to be open minded. You truly cannot judge a book by its cover. The other thing was that Ole’ Blue Eyes was absolutely mesmerized by the waitress Miss L. Miss L was the waitress on our previous visit and had been the bartender the previous night (the busted one) and was quite lovely. She also had a magnificent BA job that was carefully dressed to draw the eye. He kept buying her shots, which she would sneak in the back and do and she ended up sitting with us as much as some of the dancers. Toward the end of the night, I finally asked why she wasn’t a dancer, as beautiful and temperate (she was a waitress, for god’s sake) as she was. She chuckled and stated that she WAS a dancer and that she would be dancing the next night. Ole’ Blue Eyes cursed vehemently, as he had pretty much ruled out the possibility of a return visit. She laughed and flirtatiously told him that that was too bad. He spend the rest of the night contemplating it but ultimately decided against it.

Finally, there were two ladies that joined us FIRST thing that evening. They chatted us up a bit and when Miss L came by, I ordered them some drinks. Miss L frowned (unusual, as she is a GREAT waitress) but complied. I realized shortly my mistake, they were very young and inexperienced and just like to get drunk on the customer’s tab. They really had no game and no energy and weren’t any fun to be with. This became apparent after $21 in drinks and I was pissed. I don’t know why but it bugged me. If one of them had given me a terrible dance, I would have paid the $20 and been fine with it, win some/lose some and all that. But, to buy them drinks only to have them move on without so much as a thanks, really bugged me. I might have mentioned that story about them to, oh, I don’t know, perhaps EVERYONE I spoke to in the club for the rest of the night. Like I said, I was pissed.

So, for the night in question. I arrived early…couldn’t help it, I was anxious for more of those dances. I parked in the usual spot, paid the usual cover and visited the usual stall in the restroom. I walked into the main part of the club and headed towards my usual booth. It has three dancers in it, huddled together for warmth. (This club runs the air-conditioner almost nonstop. It is normally a good policy, as the weather tends toward the WARM. However, it was about 65 outside due to a cold snap, so it was about 50-52 degrees in the club. The waitresses could wear fleeces and light jackets, the dancers, it appeared, could not. So they would sit in the booths and cuddle together to share body heat. It was unfortunate for them and mindless on the part of the club management, but it was not unfun to watch. Still, it meant that the booths were full and the floor tables were lonely, as you can’t cuddle in the club’s chairs.

I selected a table and tried it out. Didn’t like it. I went to the table from the first night and found it passable, if tight because it was between two other parties. It was not ideal but what was I gonna do. After a few moments, a lovely blonde waitress stopped by and introduced herself as Miss Kr (We are doing 2 letter names this time, as this will get rough without them. You’ll see.) I asked her the specials and she said $3.25 Mich Ultras and $3.50 Crown Royal. Considering this club maintains Vegas prices for drinks, this is a fine special list. I order a Mich Ultra and a shot of Crown, straight up. I am taking it easy for driving purposes. I relax and began to remove the wrapper on the first cigar, a short MonteChristo that I got as a gift about a year ago from a fellow cigar lover. They are harsh but tasty, so they make a good out-of-the-gate cigar. Plus, they are short, so I can eat without having to deal with a relight. As I get it puffing, I look at and across the stage to see the lady I came to see, Miss Ca. When I catch her eye, she smiles broadly at me, almost as if to ensure that I do not think I am being ignored. However, she is with fuckos, so I resolve to spend some time alone. Miss Kr arrives with drinks and I take a pull off the beer. Good stuff, never had had it before but since (it is about 4 days later as I write this) I have had about a case. Like I said, good stuff. As I set the beer down, I feel a hand rub across my back. As I turn, my phone rings. I grab it to silence it and look up to see Miss Sk. Miss Sk is unbelievably gorgeous, being half Mexican and half Italian. Curly brown hair, large, beautifully augmented breasts and curves that make you long to drive through mountainous Germany. She smiles broadly at me but frowns abruptly and apologizes. I assume she means the phone and I go to shut it up but she is gone. I take the call and get rid of the person, quickly promising a return call. I look up again and she is gone, no where in view. I sigh.

I take a few more puffs and tip the hard working girl on stage. I notice Miss Ca break from her fuckos and start around the room. That part of my mind that never truly buys into any of this demands that I play it cool. I would rather drool like an overly large puppy but I keep my face forward and feign detailed interest in the contents of the Crown glass. Sure enough, a dainty hand rests on my shoulder and I look up and see her smiling at me. She is not the most beautiful dancer in the club and she knows it. She does not have the best body in the club, and she knows it. She does have a body that almost ideally matches my “type.” (I think she knows this too.) She is blonde, curvy and hippy, with large, natural breasts. Her costume includes a thong with a wide front, a white push-up bra with a work ethic that would put the Japanese to shame and a long flowing robe that covers her from neck to ankle in the rear but doesn’t REALLY close in the front. She also knows that she has me hook, line and sinker. Looking into her eyes, I read that she has marked me as someone who is prepared to treat her well to get at those dances she gives. I sense that she is wondering how far she can push this without upsetting the apple cart. I also sense that she is someone who has learned, through vast experience, how far she can push these types of things.

“May I join you?” she asks. “Of course.” I gesture for the seat across from me. She sits and, after granting blessing on my cigar, launches into a description of how she has told everyone ALL about me. “Oh?” I ask, curious. She confirms that she has told all the ladies in the dressing room and all the people at the bar about my rules and how hilarious they are. She told her friend, Miss Al, that she would have to come over and meet me. I am just a teensy bit weirded out by this but I push on gamely. Just then, another dancer comes over and tries to sit with us. I say tries because the chair situation is bad. I recognize the dancer as the one I tipped on stage but I think it is odd that she would approach me with Miss Ca there. I then realize she has not approached me at all but approached Miss Ca, who is trying to make a seat for her. The seating thing is entirely impossible and when Miss Ca realizes this, she looks up at the dancer, there is a silent moment, as if they are communicating telepathically or something, and then the dancer nods, turns to me, thanks me for my stage tip and moves on. Miss Ca glances at me to see if I saw anything but I play dumb. It was all very odd.

GenWar
05-15-2006, 04:50 PM
I apologize for the chair problem and glance at the booth. It is EMPTY! I jump up and start to gather all the crap. Miss Ca helps and when we both have full hands (and pockets for me) we head over and dump all the junk on the booth table. (Junk inventory, just to paint a picture: bottle of Mich Ultra, shot of crown royal, large cigar ash tray (containing lit cigar), wooden matches, her cigarettes, paper matches, cell phone, sun glasses, car keys, pad and pen (Miss Ca is supposed to share some recordable wisdom with me later), handful of Lifesavers™ brand Wintergreen mints, and cigar wallet (containing two additional cigars, id, credit cards, copies of the rules and all my cash.) Clearly, moving was a 2 man operation. Once we are moved in, I settled behind the U-shaped booth on the inside with Miss Ca to my right. She lights up a Marlboro Light 100 as I puff away and a waitress approaches. She inquires as to my tab status in my other seat and she seems a little pissy about it. I tell her I had a tab and she insists that I will HAVE to start a new one. I agreed and asked if she could send over Miss Kr. She stalked off and didn’t even introduce herself. “You have a bad waitress, now.” Miss Ca informed me. Great. We sat and chatted some more and were shortly joined by Miss Al, who sits to Miss Ca’s right. She was a pretty brunette who lacked a smile but had impressive breasts. I suspected they might be fake but it is hard to tell when there is no motion and the lady is so young. “Doesn’t she have the best breasts?” Miss Ca asks me out of nowhere. Miss Al nods agreement and I am soon hearing the story of the recent surgery and how well it turned out. It was all very clinical but it came with accompanying displays that were impossible not to find hot. At one point, the waitress wandered by. I raised my hand but she kept on flying. I shrugged but Miss Ca and Miss Al begin to discuss how bad she is. Miss Al tells the story of how she asked the waitress for a pack of smokes and it took 3 hours for said cigarettes to be delivered. Miss Ca nods and commiserates, noting that she is down to 2 smokes herself.

Miss Kr stopped by and I apologized for abandoning her. She smiled and told me not to worry about it. She informed me that she tried to transfer my tab but that my current waitress refused the transfer. Miss Ca made a disparaging comment about the current waitress which Miss Kr politely chuckled to. I tipped her 50% (which made the whole thing like $11, wooo..big spender.) and thanked her for the service. Once gone, Miss Ca leans over and asks me if I would order her a drink (Ladies in this club are not allowed to order their own alcohol.) I say sure and she grabs my arm and looks me in the eye. “You sure?” She says. I smile, “No problem.” Maybe I overdid it with the bitching about those drinks the previous night. The waitress comes back and I give her the id and card for the new tab. “We need a pack of smokes,” I tell her, gesturing at the almost empty pack. “and I’d like to order dinner.” I tell her. “I’ll get you a menu,” and turns to leave. “Excuse me, ma’am?” I call after her. Out of the corner of my eye, Miss Al winces. The waitress stops dead and turns very slowly. “yes?” she says though her teeth, her smile tight. You know that moment when you know you did something wrong but you don’t know what. Usually, it is reserved for the wife but somehow I am in it with this waitress. “Umm…Ahh…” I say, and then I place my order, completely, answering all options for sides, customizations and dressings without being asked. She nods politely. “And a Jaeger Bomb. In a tall glass.” (“In a tall glass” is the magic words, as dancers cannot have drinks in the smaller, normal glasses.) The waitress sniffs at me and states, “That’s $12.” As she says it, she looks at Miss Ca. I get the distinct feeling I am in some sort of power struggle. I peripherally look at Miss Ca who is smiling, almost triumphantly, and realize that, if there is a struggle, I am on a side. “Yeah, so?” I ask with as much nonchalance as I can quickly summon. The moment ends, the waitress nods and she is off again, reminding me not a little like the Wicked Witch from the wizard of Oz. Miss Ca leans against me and coos, “Thank you, baby.” Miss Al explains that I need to call the waitress ‘Mo’. Not her name, not, under any circumstances, ‘ma’am.’ Just ‘Mo.’ I look at Miss Ca, who just frowns.

The cigar is still lit so I take another puff. Miss Ca takes out another Marlboro and I quickly grab the paper matches and light it for her. Miss Al is just sitting there with a bored look on her face. I chat a bit more with Miss Ca, reliving a moment from the previous night. Miss Al keeps up with polite disinterest. Mo returns with the cigarettes and Miss Ca’s drink. Shortly, we are joined by Miss Sa, who is Ole’ Blue Eyes’ favorite at this club. She remembers me and asks after him and I inform her that he has wimped out on the visit. She scoffs at him and pulls out one of her Capri 100’s. I grab the paper matches again. We sit and puff in companionable silence for a bit when I realize that Miss Ch is on stage. Miss Ch is a self-described “old skool” dancer who REALLY enjoys her job. Her stage presence is insane and her private VIP dances are mr_punk worthy. I went up to get a couple once and came down with only one, as I literally could not handle more. I am, needless to say, a fan. I decide I need to tip. I pat Miss Sa who moves out to let me slide out of the booth. I head up to the stage with a TJ in hand and smile at Miss Ch. She comes over and gives me the usual stage lovin (way beyond what any of her peers would even THINK of attempting) and thanks me for the tip. I turn to return to the chair and my memories are very clear here. There is a dude getting a private dance immediately to the right of the path to my table. Miss Sa is moving to get up to let me in, Miss Ca is smiling broadly and Miss Al is contemplating her thumbnail. Anticipating returning to the booth, I do NOT look at the floor, which is unusual for me.

I am not a small man. I rarely fall based on the same physical principles that keep trucks from sliding too much on the ice. However, if I attempt to move without clear knowledge of my path, I might not notice that the dancer who is lapping immediately to my right has placed her removed shoes directly in my path. This is what happened. I never saw the shoes but I felt the balance go. I flailed to catch myself but there is nothing in my path to catch on. As I start to go down, I spy the end of the table in the next booth and think clearly that I do NOT need to hit that with my head. Both hands go out to cushion the fall and catch the floor. However, they reduce speed without regaining control and one of them slips on the thin carpeting. Nothing is going to stop my head from hitting the ground, I realize. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to tuck my chin but my face slams into the ground, thankfully at a reduced speed. My nose is smushed but not crushed. My left eye hits and blossoms of silver fire explode on the inside of my eyelid. “That can’t be good,” my inside voice says, remarkably calm. My hands go immediately to my face and I roll onto my back. I realize I am under the booth next to mine when I roll into one side of it. Lights are dancing in my closed eyes and my breath is not coming easily. Most of all, my face HURTS! All I can think of is the guy on my favorite baseball team who got hurt at a game I saw at the stadium the previous weekend. Like him, I am lying on the ground and not sure if I am going to be able to get up. For some reason, mr_punk floats through my mind. Unable to stop myself, I begin to laugh, as it is funny. I am fairly certain, had he been there, mr_punk would be laughing too.

“Are you ok?” I hear. I realize that I actually have to continue living life, and not just lie there forever. I decide to try the left eye, as it is the one I am worried about. I open it and it is cloudy for a moment but it clears. I let out a breath and try the other one. As I suspected, it is not problematic and sees clearly initially. There are a lot of people gathered around me…Immediately above me is Miss Ca, one of the bouncers and a smaller, older fellow in a tan suit who was not among the customer base before I went down. “Are you ok?” I hear Miss Ca ask, belatedly realizing it is the second time she has asked. I chuckle again and reply, “Nope.” I give my head a little shake, first gently and then a bit harder. I judge the feeling and use my extensive medical training to diagnose that I do not have a concussion. A bit more inventory reveals skinned elbow and knee and several sensitive spots on the face. I move to sit up and everyone backs up. The bartender offers me a hand and I shake my head. He nods once, as if to say that he understands, and moves off. As I sit up, I see that Miss Sa and Miss Al are further back showing appropriate concern, as is the other bouncer. The dancer whose shoes I tripped on is noticeably absent as is the waitress. The short man in the tan suit identifies himself as a doctor in broken English and asks me a couple of basic questions, which I answer and I struggle to my feet. Once standing, I give a body shake and settle everything back into place with a big sigh. I move over to my booth and return to my seat, taking a LONG pull of beer, which helps me feel a little better.

GenWar
05-15-2006, 04:52 PM
“Here we go…” Miss Ca, who has returned to my right, says. I look up and see that the other dancer, the one with the shoes, has brought me a towel full of ice. She gives me a guilty look and I smile at her with a shrug, granting silent forgiveness. The doctor guy is telling me to hold the ice to the left eye HARD and he demonstrates. Miss Sa, back on my left, is motioning as if to help me make sure I do it but I brush her off and hold it tight. I hold it as long as I can stand the cold, as the doctor guy wanders off. I notice some of the other customers looking at me out of the corner of their eyes. Miss Ca is telling me that people fall all the time in the club and sharing a story of the time she took a header off the VIP area stairway. Miss Al did not rejoin us and had moved off to parts unknown.

When I had just about caught my breath, Mo arrives with my salad. She looks at us for a second. Miss Ca just sort of glares at her. She shrugs, “What?” “Nothing.” I say. As I am about to move into my salad, Miss Ca announces her need to use the restroom and slides out, promising to return. She also indicates that she would not be adverse to another round. The salad is good and the steak arrives just as the salad is done. Miss Sa moves off as well and I am left alone with my dinner, which I am sure was their plan. I take a few minutes to enjoy my steak and a few more to recover my wits before stacking the dishes at the end of the table and lighting a second, longer commitment cigar. I puff deeply and relax, letting things return to normal.

The lonely time is not long as Miss Ca has returned. She moves in close and gets comfortable as I find Mo and order another round. She grins at me and I can tell she is still feeling the first. The drinks come and I enjoy the flavor interactions between the new cigar and the crown. Miss Al rejoins us for a smoke. Miss Ca is pretty much chain smoking and I ask her about it. She says that she doesn’t smoke at all outside of work, but she smokes all the time at work. I then ask my usual questions about the club and the inner workings. They tell me that the club is going to start weighing girls and that 4 girls have been fired for being overweight. I express the required outrage which I don’t have to fake too much, as neither of them are unattractive due to weight but both are eligible for firing under the new rules. We are still chatting when the DJ calls for the feature. They do the usual T-shirt 3 for 2 dance with cut off songs which I hate. Miss Al makes a beeline for the back, as suggested. Miss Ca starts to move off, lamenting the need to leave my side in fine SS form. As the last possible second, she suggests that we might go to VIP instead of her doing the feature. She quotes me a price cheaper than the going rate which is a fair approximation of the fact that they cut the songs off. Not only is it fair, but she is asking for the business, which I have been waiting for. I quickly agree and the next thing I know, I am being lead up the stairs.

Once upstairs, she selects a leather couch and admonishes me to empty my pockets of sharp objects. All I have is wallet, keys and phone, as the rest is downstairs. I empty the pockets and sit to enjoy the dances. She is, as I stated previously, an excellent dancer, mastering the cowgirl and reverse cowgirl positions as well as some other key moves. I am very much into it and enjoy the three shortened songs. She asks if I want to continue but I decline, because I am a little scattered from the first ones. She grins as the effect she has on me and settles next to me for a few minutes to relax. After a bit, she suggests we return to the table for drinking and smoking. I agree and she leads me back downstairs after paying the VIP manager his cut.

We sit and drink a bit more. I relight the cigar and sip the Crown, mentally calculating my blood alcohol content. Several dancers stop by and say hi to Miss Ca, getting introduced to me by default. Many of them have heard of me and the rules, thanks to Miss Ca’s stories from earlier. Most move on…one or two, stay for a bit. There are too many to keep track and there is usually at least one person seated in the booth that I cannot identify. It was cool and weird all at the same time. Further, not a one of them complains, makes a face or otherwise unfavors the cigar. That shocked the hell out of me. Course, most of them are smoking cigarettes anyway. I do recall that Miss Sk came back to the table a couple of times during this time. She apologized for earlier; she apparently had thought that I was not me. At first, she recognized me but then she thought she had confused someone else for me. I forgave her with a grin. She had the look of wanting to ask for a dance but couldn’t see how to do it with 5 other girls at the table. She glances briefly out of the corner of her eyes at Miss Ca. It was quick but I caught it.

One of them, Miss Ne, settles in for the long haul. She is apparently the one tapped to make sure I stay out of trouble. As Miss Ne and Miss Ca chat, a dancer in street clothes walks up to the outside edge of the booth. It is Miss Si, the waitress from the previous night. (Miss Si is a stage name for Miss L.) She is wearing blue jeans and a pink and orange “bebe” top. She is looking ridiculously hot and I give her an appreciative grin. She reaches over and hands me a $20, “Order me a Crown and Diet.” I nod and try to hand back the cash. She pushes it at me and I push it back. Finally, she brushes it back to me and disappears through the door to the DR. I shrug and put the cash down on the table. Miss Ca excuses herself to make the rounds but Miss Ni will be keeping me company. She seems thrilled by the prospect (not.), but she is interactive and polite. When Mo comes back, I order more drinks for myself and Miss Si and some change for Miss Si’s money. After a short time, Miss Sa comes over and sits with us. She smokes another of her tiny Capri cigarettes and flows enough SS my way to make sure I don’t forget about her. Then, Miss Si comes back, in costume, smokin’ hot. She sits as well and inquires after her drink. I shrug, and Miss Ne explains that Mo is the waitress. Miss Si nods as if this explains things. I get the distinct feeling that I am in a movie and someone didn’t give me the unabridged script. I do remember his exchange.

Random Dancer #1> Miss Si, can I use your lip gloss?

Miss Si> Sure.

Random Dancer #1> The AC is on so strong, my lips get chapped so easily.

Miss Si> You know what could help with that?

Random Dancer #1> What?

Miss Si> If you come over here and eat my pussy.

Random Dancer #1> *rolls eyes*

Me> Really?

Miss Si> Yeah, really. Sides, everyone should get their chin shiny now and again.

Me> *dying of laughter*

Eventually, Miss Ca returns and Miss Ne gets out of the booth to let her sit next to me, without being asked. Mo returns with the drinks and the change. I try to give $20 in ones to Miss Si. She returns 5 of them. I give up.

Miss Ca gives me the skinny on the contents of the room customer wise. It is very interesting to see it from the dancer’s point of view. As she chats, the girls wander off, some following the advice of Miss Ca to see a certain customer and which type of girl a particular guy is looking for. Various others appear come by. I am in a daze but manage to keep my focus on Miss Ca who is in no hurry to move one. She asks for another drink. I involuntarily roll my eyes, which she reads as a sign I am bothered by it. But she doesn’t back off the request, which is ballsy. She instead builds value or it with some sweet talk and promises of how her dances improve if she is drunk. It works, which pleases her (I was never gonna not buy the drink, but she doesn’t know that J). I catch Mo’s eye across the club. She is sitting at a table with three guys about 4 booths over. I point at the tall glass. She frowns but nods and gets up to head to the bar. It is the first I have noticed the guys, but something about them bugs me. Not the guys themselves but the dynamic. They have three girls with them and I don’t know any of the girls. Now, Miss Ca has been introducing me to girls ALL night and I have been working hard to remember names and faces (ok, outfits.) And I don’t know ANY of these girls. Weird.

Mo appears with the drink which she sets in front of me. I ask for another beer and she sets that in front of me too. Nice. I thank her, with sincerity for perhaps the first time. She grins and I feel Miss Ca tense beside me. I am dense but I am starting to catch on that there is some sort of stupid game going on here. Most guys would probably try to extricate themselves from such a situation but I am fascinated by it. Mo returns to the table with the guys and the dancers I don’t know and re-sits. I take a pull off the new beer and hear the tell-tale sounds of Tone Loc begin to play. This is the DJ’s signal that the feature is up. Miss Ca sighs a curse, as all the remaining girls move off to go backstage. At the last moment, she turns to me and asks me if I would take her upstairs. Fact is, I have been jonesing for more dances for some time, but she has to ask. Off we go

GenWar
05-15-2006, 04:52 PM
These dances were to three cut-off Outkast songs. I love Outkast and I loved the dances. She uses her long blonde hair as a curtain to create the illusion of privacy and then stares deep into my eyes, charming me to intoxicating levels. “You will be the death of me.” I tell her. She grins. At the end of three, she asks me for another and I decline. I see her eyes when I say no and I realize why she never asks. As good as she is, she is confused by me. I buy drinks, but I complain about buying drinks. I tell her that her dances are awesome and clearly demonstrate my appreciation for them but I never buy straight lines of them. She can’t figure me out. It is weirding her out. We sit there for one or two songs, actually recovering for me, ostensibly recovering for her. Afterwards, she leads me back down the stairs. We return to the booth to find three new dancers sitting at the table to the right of my seat. They see us and ask if they can stay. We laugh and encourage them to join us. It is only belatedly that I realize they were not asking me but asking Miss Ca. I discard that fact, as what am I going to do with it.

I slide into the booth and Miss Ca sits to my left, joined shortly thereafter by Miss Sa and Miss Ne, respectively. Miss Ca rattles off the name of the three new dancers to my right but I barely catch them. I am now seated among 9 dancers. Three to my right, three to my left. Miss Al has pulled up a chair and miss Si is seated on the arm of said chair and Miss Ch has come to stand at the table and shoot the shit with Miss Ni, who is apparently her old friend. Miss Ca says, in my ear, “So many girls, I bet they think you are a drug dealer.” I glance around and see the looks I am getting. I can read em better than her, they don’t think I am a drug dealer, they think I am a fucko. It is pretty apparent.

I drink some more, smoke more cigar, and chat with the ladies. It is good to be the big shot but I know that I am not actually the center of attention. I am just Miss Ca’s customer. SHE is the leader of this internal clique of girls, which is, as near as I can tell, a rival of a different clique. All of the girls pay her a silent form of respect and none of them fail to do what she advises or suggests. In fact, with the exception of Miss Si, I don’t even see any of them backtalk her. I find I can identify the members of this clique because ½ the dancers in the club will not pass the table without saying “hi.” And the other half keeps moving, even if I smile at them. And, if I am alone at the table, no one stops to say, hi, except for Miss Ni, Miss Sa or Miss Si. No one asks for a dance; I am off limits without even knowing why. I bet something like this plays out often and it only depends who the customer of the night is for Miss Ca. I do not comment on this dynamic but I test the theory by suggesting Miss Ca work the room while I chill out. She declines, giving me supreme SS about rather hanging out with me. I think the 3rd tall Jaeger Bomb is just as much her friend as I. Her eyes are little glassy and out of focus, so I think she is buzzing hard core. I kid her about it and she confirms that she is drunker than she normally gets.

Coming and going ensues, with stage dancing, room working and Miss Ca’s inevitable trip to the restroom. At some point, I am alone with Miss Si, who is so attractive because of her former waitress status. In quiet desperation, I break rule #15 and ask her to promise me a dance later. She agrees with a gorgeous grin. We chat and flirt some more as she tries to demonstrate how raunchy she can be. When Miss Ca returns, she doesn’t sit. She quickly reads the dynamic of the interactions between Miss Si and I and decides to leave us alone. She grabs my arm and tells her to let me know if I want any more dances, and makes to move off. I decide that it is getting late so I grab her hand and bend Rule #15 to say, “I thought you’d never ask.” She grins and practically drags me over the top of the table to get me upstairs. I look back at Miss Si, who is all smiles and gives me a quick nod.

2 full song phenomenal dances and she is in top form. She again trots out all the positions and tricks but she starts some extended grinding while facing me. She stays with that same move over and over and I see a fine sheen of sweat break out over her forehead and he breathing starts to shorten and get more intense. She keeps grinding in that position until she hears the song winding down and moves off to do another move. She asks for the third and I decline, sure I could NOT take another one safely. She rolls off me and settles on the couch. I pull her in tight to talk quietly with her. “How much of that is SS?” I ask, genuinely curious. Of course, she is going to give an SS answer, but…”Well, sometimes, if I am not in the mood, I do have to kinda fake it. But not tonight, it is very real tonight.” I nod. “Probably the alcohol too” I suggest. She nods but says, “But…I really think I could truly get into it with YOU.” It is very natural, very genuine grade-A USDA approved SS and I LOVE it. She gets dressed and we move off the couch. She says she has a fucko to dance for up here so I head downstairs alone.

The table is deserted…a cursory glance around reveals Miss Si at the bar, doing nothing. At this stage, I am basically waiting for her. All the girls are with customers, working it, as the night is now in full swing. It warms up as I cool down, as I have to work in the morning. I decide I can give her 20 minutes to go for it. I catch her eye and smile and she nods and I sit. I wait for a bit, catching Mo and closing out my tab. As Mo leaves with the receipt, Miss Ca wanders over, sees I am alone and stops. “You good?” she asks. I confirm that I am. “Just waiting for Miss Si…” “Oh, I thought I saw her upstairs?” she tells me. “Really? I like JUST saw her at the bar…” I respond. She sits for a few minutes with some idle chit chat. I confide that Mo’s tip was wanting and she tells me, “Oh, you can never tip her ENOUGH…” She stays a bit longer; Her buzz is wearing off and it is always somewhat anticlimactic when they KNOW you are no longer in the market for dances. I might have gone for more with her if Miss Si never appeared, but she didn’t foresee that so she wasn’t working it. After a few minutes of companionable chatting, she leaves with the stated goal of seeing if that old dude in the corner was ready for a dance.

I wait a while longer and the feature comes up. If she is not in the feature, I know I am done. Sure enough, the ladies parade of the stage and Miss Si is no where to be found. I pack up my stuff, pocketing all the miscellany, and get ready to head out. As I am about ready to depart, I hear, “Hi, Gen.” I turn and find one of the random dancers from earlier. Short blonde hair and a tight, perky body. She is wearing a white bikini and a white frilly belt that is supposed to be classified as ‘skirt’. I can’t recall her name but she offers me the feature. I don’t want the t-shirt, no do I find her unbelievable (she is way to thin for my tastes.) but I do recall some nice conversation earlier at the table and I know she has been having a rough night. Additionally, Miss Si’s money is burning a hole in my pocket, so I grab a chair. She gives me a couple of nice sensual dances which put a great end to a great evening. I thank her and pay her and head out, trying not to wistfully glance at the stairs to VIP. I hit the cold air of the late evening and try and remember what the passing standard was on that self sobriety test. This was one of those nights I go clubbing for.

dayzed
05-15-2006, 06:31 PM
Excellent stuff... I'ma have to go back and read all of Gen War's trip reports now.

red red red
05-16-2006, 03:48 PM
Hahaha Gen, great trip report... it appears as though you have moved beyond the champagne room and the VIP room to the elusive "dressing room" experience... sounds like fun, although I found myself feeling bad for Mo the cocktail waitress.

GenWar
05-16-2006, 08:12 PM
Thanks, Red. :) I am always appreciative of anyone who makes it to the end. ;)

Yeah...Mo and I were cursed from the beginning...star-crossed almost. Still, I wouldn't have traded Miss Ca for anything. Except perhaps Miss Si...*hmmm*...

-gen

GenWar
05-17-2006, 06:13 AM
Dude! Imagine WRITING it. I worked 3 hours in the airport, 2 on the plane and 6 more (off and on) once home.

Understandable, though. No hurry :)

-gen

lunchbox
05-17-2006, 10:32 AM
No time for Houston?

GenWar
05-17-2006, 10:45 AM
I'll get Houston done. Just gimme time :)

dayzed
05-18-2006, 10:12 AM
I bought my bro-in-law several dances as well. It was really enjoyable but more like what you would expect from a typical strip club. Not major extras.

As we were driving back to the house, he confessed that he was a major regular at bar number 1. He knew who did what to who and who got paid LOL I started to chide him for not warning me but then decided to not say anything. I think it was a gift and as they say dont look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever that saying is.

We arrived back at the house and installed the high tech seal LOL and all was well. Mrs FBR was a happy camper. I gave my bro-in-law a hug just before he climbed into his truck to head home. I guess I owe him and I'm sure he will collect when I head back to Florida this fall for my next vacation. I was feeling a bit surreal as he headed up the street and I walked back into the house. There are players and then there are PLAYERS.

FBROne interesting omission from this narrative (yes I know it's like 2 years old -- I'm slowly making my way through this entire thread :P ) is what the author did to get rid of the smell of baby powder, perfume etc. on the way home from the SC. I grapple with this problem from time to time ;) and of course am looking for insight from the older and wiser.

Seems like changing clothes wouldn't have been an option, given that the stated purpose of the trip was simply to buy appliances...

SportsWriter2
05-18-2006, 01:50 PM
Seems like changing clothes wouldn't have been an option, given that the stated purpose of the trip was simply to buy appliances...
Keep a matching shirt and pants in the sports bag in your car. Pop into any BK and lock the men's room door while you wash up and change. Any place's handicapped stall will do.

When you find an ATF, tell her clear lip gloss, no lipstick, foundation make-up, body bronzer, oil, or scent. If she's a natural beauty, she'll make more money that way.

Cally
05-18-2006, 03:31 PM
Ok Gen I have tried reading that like 20 times now and my ADD kicks in hard core lol... give me a week and i'll make it all the way through :P

I hate to see the report from when you visit my club... cuz its one hell of an experiance lol.

sportsfanonsw
05-19-2006, 12:41 AM
Isn't it ungentlemanly to kiss and tell?


It seems, however, this may be the most popular thread on the entire site. Gotta love it. ;D

easy_e
05-19-2006, 08:15 AM
Ok...it's that time again. *sigh*

I don't like this TR. It doesn't capture the essence of what was a really great night. I think I reached the limit of my writing skill. I just can't communicate it.


-gen

Au contraire, I think you captured it beautifully. I could visualize the whole thing. You are one hardcore mofo to bust your ass like that and still have a fun night.
Respect.

GenWar
05-21-2006, 11:30 AM
QUOTE=GenWar:
Back at the table, I am sipping and puffing when a petite brunette walks up and leans over to look me in the eye. She is absolutely delicious with short brown hair and an interesting assortment of beauty marks and freckles why my eye tries to subtly trace while still maintaining appropriate level of eye contact. Even dancers don't like roaming eyes, a non-sensical principle to my mind, but a true one, nonetheless. She makes a good amount of small talk, introducing herself as Miss S. Her name is perfect, from my view, and I tell her so. It seems to fit her perfectly, unlike Miss B's name, which seems to fit her stereotype well but, when you get to know her even a little, you know she is NOT her stereotype. (a good thing.) I am so busy marvelling at her name and her shoulder that I fail to even manage simple politeness and offer her a seat. Eventually, she goes ahead and asks to sit, making me feel about 5 inches tall. I motion to the seat to my right and she settles in.

She continues with the small talk and I try to keep up. She is distractingly exotic in a completely girl next door kind of way. I find myself wishing for serious chemistry, a dangerous thing. The waitress wanders by and I offer a drink. She orders a Ketel One and Soda which allows for a conversation on the relative qualities of vodka. After a brief moment of sideways conversation, she gets up, pulls over a chair, and sits facing me. It is much better position for conversation and I am grateful for the effort. She inquires as to my purpose in town and learns of my distant home. I inform her of the favorite club and she nods regally and discusses it dispassionately. She is the first one I have met in this club who does not inform me of this club’s mission to “take down” my favorite club and she is the first one who doesn’t tell me that I will come to love THIS club better. Not that I minded them selling the club, but her neglecting to do so, gave her a more genuine air.

She is a pleasure to converse with. Intelligent and thoughtful, she understands what I say (hearing limitations, notwithstanding. This club is both dark AND loud.) and gives as good as she gets. There is also an air of genuineness that really makes her endearing. She is either really a actual sweetheart or she is DAMN fine at SS. At some point, my cheeseburger arrives but I avoid eating it out of politeness sake. She accepts this for what it is worth before doing the polite thing herself and insisting I eat. She promises she will do all the talking. I am starving and though I don’t feel right about it, I dig in. Sure enough, she begins to entertain me with stories of some other clubs in the city she has worked at and shares the pluses and minuses thereof. I manage to keep in the conversation, doing that thing the wife does where you cover your mouth with a napkin to speak while eating. That really isn’t my bag; normally, I would just talk and not pay any attention to it, but, for some reason, she brings out my inner refined gentleman. That is NOT a good sign for the relax, cheap evening I had planned.
--------------------------------------

You know...It occurs to me that Miss S never did out herself. I think that was on purpose but I have read some posts on the pink side that make me think she might have relaxed her restrictions...

So I wanted to bump this passage, hope that she sees it again and let's all the junkies know who she is. It would be a win for all, because I had a WONDERFUL time and she is an AMAZING dancer. Still, as is tradition and appropriate, I must leave the "outting" to her.

Miss S, you know who you are...;)

-gen

red red red
05-21-2006, 01:10 PM
Hi, Gen... I do know who I am. My assortment of beauty marks regularly leaves me mesmerized in front of the mirror, too. Thanks again for your visit and saying such nice things about me!

Miss S.

azdd
05-21-2006, 01:44 PM
QUOTE=GenWar:
.... my eye tries to subtly trace while still maintaining appropriate level of eye contact. Even dancers don't like roaming eyes, a non-sensical principle to my mind, but a true one, nonetheless.
-gen

Very, very true GW, but still sometimes very difficult. I do like to make solid eye contact when first meeting a dancer, and during conversation. When I do fail in this regard, I've found that dancers are considerably more annoyed if I'm checking out other dancers walking by, than if I'm gawking at some other part of their body than their eyes! :D

Richard_Head
05-21-2006, 01:45 PM
Isn't it ungentlemanly to kiss and tell?


It seems, however, this may be the most popular thread on the entire site. Gotta love it. ;DLuckily for us there are only a few gentlemen on this site:P.

GenWar
05-21-2006, 09:00 PM
Hi, Gen... I do know who I am. My assortment of beauty marks regularly leaves me mesmerized in front of the mirror, too. Thanks again for your visit and saying such nice things about me!

Miss S.

You and I knew...but no one else did. Now, everyone knows. Which is what I was going for :)

As for the nice things, you're welcome, though I just call em like I see em. ;)

-gen

itsthatguy
06-04-2006, 12:18 AM
First time poster here. I've been to Augusta Georgia's Discotheque about six times, period. It's a very small club, most say it's medium sized. Last visit was May 31st.
For those who haven't been, it's an all nude club that still serves alcohol, the clubs are "grandfathered in" and when the owners pass away, they close. I'm sad that they won't be around forever. I had been dying to go Master's week to see all the extra girls, girls who have more or less retired come back and work that week, so you can see a former ATF or even an ex-girlfriend/casual acquaintance one more time. (Let's not go into that.) I didn't get to go,dammit.
This is a nude club, and all the girls are clean shaven. I wouldn't mind seeing a little patch here and there, but I think it's just club standard to go bald. Girls do three songs during happy hour, one clothed, one topless and one nude. Afterwards, one topless song, one nude. You can sit real close at the tip rail and stare into heaven, no pole for them to work on the main stage, though.
I don't go to clubs looking for extras, I'm a "looky-loo" but some of the girls do insist on hugging me before I leave. At my last regular club (a topless club) I was in high demand for back massages which I never minded doing.
The bartender/manager was in the running for Playboy's "Sexiest Bartender" (You'll have to buy CyberClub membership to see her NN pictures, sorry.)
The waitresses are cute, one really lean girl, and two chubby girls, one of them looks like a Lebanese girl and is very chubby, but it looks good on her. They dress in lingerie or something very sexy.
I went about 8pm, sad to learn that my almost instant ATF "Paris" (I've only seen her three times, I bought a dance after only seeing her on stage once) only worked happy hour and left. "Paris" is a beautiful, stunningly gorgeous dark haired beauty that looks a little Greek to me. Straight hair, usually wears a black outfit. I told her once I would love to see her in something pinkish-purple, something that accentuates her really sensual skin tone. She is what's considered "healthy", no ribs showing, nice lady curves everywhere and natural breasts. I wouldn't want her to change a thing.
Very cute tummy, a mixture of tone and softness that usually isn't found on strippers. She dances a bit slow and doesn't do any contact. I don't look for extras, I just like to look. When she smiles at you, you can see pure joy in her eyes, it's mesmerizing. That's the sort of smile that makes a guy blow a week's pay on one stripper. Yes, I've fallen for her, and yes, I know she's a stripper and I'm a custy. A man can dream, can't he? I have a feeling she's going to quit soon and I hope I see her one more time before she only lives on in my dreams.
That was okay, because I have other favorites. I was happy that Shanel was working. Shanel used to be a feature and now works there. Shanel is a bit short, very muscular legs and also, not a toothpick, which is something I happen to like. She looks a little Hispanic, mixed with Native American. Very sensual lips, beautiful eyes and right now she has long, curly black hair. Shanel is the kind of girl when you see her dance, and she can pull her legs behind her head, you bite you hand and saw "Oooooohh". I have seen lots of strippers, and she really stands out. She does appear to have implants, but they're not too big. Her skin is just very tan and lovely, and her hair smells very, very good. Like I said, I've seen lots of strippers but she really captures my attention. I started sweating the last time I got a table dance from her. And it's not because it's hot-as-hell Georgia, she's that good.
The same goes for the absent "Gizmo", (vacation, I heard) who looks a bit like Internet softcore model Alyssa Doll, though I'd say Gizmo has a cuter nose and chin. Nothing against Alyssa Doll, who I would worship if I even got to see her in person, fully clothed. Gizmo is a caucasian girl, five foot six, brunette hair, although quite small waisted has these really great hips and a nice butt. I'd compare them to former Playboy Playmate of the year Stacy Sanchez's hips and waist, like that. It's kind of like "Kapow!", that whole biological instinct hip-to-waist ratio thing that kicks in.
She does have implants and they don't move much, but I usually focus on her fantastic, toned legs and cute tummy. She laughs easily, and smiles easily. I like her back tattoo, I wouldn't know what to describe it as other than just pretty.
Gizmo has this really unusual booty-shaking talent, she can isolate each butt cheek and jiggle it. It has to be seen to be believed. She has said she wants to be a feature, I wish her the best of luck, if only selfishly because I would love to buy a video or a magazine featuring her. She does very good table dances, really works at it and bends and twists in fun ways.
"Gia" was working, she's another one of those non-specific darker girls who don't really need to tan. She wears these Marilyn-Manson-ish contact lenses, and there was a hilarious bit where somebody had given her a giant fake 100 dollar bill.
The club has been really slow lately, the economy's a bit bad so the girls have time to sit and chat with you. All the girls are working too much. I hope it doesn't run the good ones out. "Ryan" quit, twice since I started going regularly,which also made me sad because I really liked her husky voice, and she had recently gotten in fantastic shape, one of the sexiest stomachs I've seen in there. Ryan was about five foot seven (they wear those huge heels, who knows?), sort of honey blonde, very fond of wearing neon-pink lipstick and has nice, smallish natural breasts.
I really appreciate them putting up with my crap,I have been a bit hyper lately.
They had other girls I just didn't give enough attention to. I had seen "Echo" only once, upon my first visit. Echo is a very, very tall, lean blonde with about two percent body fat. She is skinnier than the last time I saw her. I had heard she was out working in SC.
She has smallish breasts that aren't super-obvious implants with very long nipples, and a perfect ass that's practically drawn by Jim Lee, comic book artist. Her body type is closest to Stephanie Seymour's, only with a nicer tummy. Skinny girls aren't really my thing but I will always compliment Echo.

They also have two black girls, Isis and (Storm?), who have a lot of fun and usually
tip each other when on stage, giggling and putting on a show.
It was slow, and I talk with all the girls a bit before buying a dance. Some obnoxious guy who looked like the lead from "Office Space" was telling the sort of jokes that piss girls off (something I've been guilty of, but still) and was getting some dances from Echo. A nice night, tipped a lot on stage, darling Nikki is a small breasted blonde with outstanding legs that I really need to get a table dance from the next time I see her. Did I mention they're short of girls? One girl I had only seen twice quit named Gillian, I missed her, and I had a big windfall awhile back I was willing to blow on her about three months ago. Nice redhead, a bit skinny but had lovely curly hair that I liked.Ah well, more fish in the sea, right?
Another lady is just a part-timer, she was asked to fill in, I think her name is Lil or Lilbit. Five foot tall, sort of brownish-auburn hair, very, very cute and young looking. I really wanted another dance from Shanel, one more dance before I left about midnight, but she was busy with some other guys or I'd been too much of a pain with her, (I'm going with that second one) so I got one from Lil. She, also, is a bit on the chubby side, something I really like, a girl who actually eats. If any dancer reads this, yes, there are guys who prefer girls who look "real" instead of anorexic.
Nice muscular legs, but not so muscular that they're not soft. Very small natural breasts, but outstanding puffy nipples. I'm sure they were smaller when she was skinnier but they're perfect right now.
She is so comfortable with her body and nudity I ended up talking to her for half the table dance I bought. She is so comfortable being naked that turned me on more than anything in her dance routine. If a girl can take off all her clothes and talk to you the same as if she were in jeans and a t-shirt, well, *whew*. Well, I wouldn't want just anybody to do that, but she really made an impression on me.
So, that's my trip report. I probably won't be back for awhile, due to personal obligations, and I'm sure most of my favorites will be long gone or had moved onto the club across the street. That one isn't the best, it's very small (even smaller than the 'Q" and the lighting is harsh.
I had fun. If you're in town, I encourage you to go and especially get a dance from Paris or Gizmo, and definitely at least say hi to Shanel and tip her well on stage. She's worth it. Hell, buy two dances from her at once. }:D

SportsWriter2
06-04-2006, 07:26 AM
The same goes for the absent "Gizmo", (vacation, I heard) who looks a bit like Internet softcore model Alyssa Doll, though I'd say Gizmo has a cuter nose and chin. Nothing against Alyssa Doll, who I would worship if I even got to see her in person, fully clothed.
Nice reference to a "solo girl" (typically a teen who plays with herself on her own website for caring nerds). Here's the definitive thumbnail collection of solo girls for lookup purposes.



And then there are solo girl imposters like , whose welcome promo trailer makes fun of the solo girl concept.