I'm new here, obviously, but damn am I glad I found you guys. I had an experience this weekend and got hooked (pun intended) and figured I'd better school myself before embarking on a new hobby.
A few quick words about myself -- not because you should care, but for context. I'm 38, never married. I've been to strip clubs on multiple occasions, maybe one to three times a year, but never became a regular. While still single, I've been in a seemingly neverending stream of short- to mid-term relationships since puberty and never had an opportunity or motivation to make clubbing a hobby.
I ended my latest relationship a couple weeks ago. This Memorial Day weekend, I was out cruising around on my bike, barhopping, enjoying the weather, and decided to stop by a local upscale strip club. I had a couple hundred bucks in my pocket and figured I go in for a few drinks and some laps.
So, I go in and sit down, order a beer. It's late afternoon and the club is pretty dead. A reasonably cute redhead in a hot red dress comes up on stage and starts "dancing" (you know, ambling around the runway with equal parts boredom and halfhearted seductiveness). I like the hair and the dress, so I walk up and slip her a five.
I nurse my seven dollar beer and eventually the next girl comes up on stage for a set. Now we're talking! She's young and petite with the small perky breasts I favor. She's very cute, though not drop-dead gorgeous, with a bright smile and that innocent "Bet you wish you could have fucked me when I was in high school" kind of look that appeals to my degenerate side. She gets two fives and chats me up a bit at the rail. Nice girl. I ask her to look me up when she's done on stage.
I go back to the table and my mouth is inexplicably dry, so it's time for another beer. The cutie's set ends (we'll call her Sarah) and she's soon at my table.
We do the usual SC intros and the usual SC chat for a bit, and I ask for a lap dance or three. Her eyes light up and she leads me to the couches at the back of the club. Over the next hour or so, she drains my wallet. The perfume, you know, is intoxicating, the smooth skin, the soft-yet-firm ass grinding on my cock. I'm riding a really nice high and I don't want it to end, but before long the twenties run out. Damn.
"You know, she says, there are VIP rooms. They're a *lot* more private."
With a goofy grin no doubt plastered to my face, I utter those ill-fated words: "How much? And can I put it on my plastic?"
"Of course! The price varies -- it's so dead in here, I'm sure the manager will give you a good deal. Should I call him over?"
"Uh, yeah..."
After a brief discussion with the manager, it turns out that the "good deal" is $300 for the girl and a $100 VIP fee for an hour. Plus, of course, a 10% fee for putting on my plastic.
So, a bit of oh-so-painless paperwork and we're in the VIP "room" -- just a leather couch in a discreet corner with a folding screen to hide behind. Good enough for this VIP.
Sarah starts dancing and grinding and quickly informs me that I can get a way with a lot more touching in here. My goofy grin gets bigger and goofier and I start caressing her unbelievably soft skin and inhaling lungfuls of that intoxicating perfume. A couple dances into my hour and she's rubbing those perky breasts and enticingly taut nipples against my face.
Then a nipple slides slowly across my lips. And again. On the third pass, clueless noob says "fuck it" and snags the perfect little bud between his lips on the way by.
I'm prepared to be slapped, and expecting to be told "no...bad boy." What I get instead is a sweet little sigh and an arching back under my hands. I spend the rest of my hour kissing her everywhere my lips will reach between her neck and the top of her G-string as she massages my cock with her legs, feet, belly, and hands.
I've never gotten off in my pants, even in high school, and this was no different. No happy ending for the HobbyHorse! But that's okay, because I'm just getting started...
"I want to go home and drop off my bike. I'll come back," I say. I look at her. "You don't believe me."
She smiles. "I'll believe you when you come back." We laugh. She gives me a card good for "Free Admission for Two." Wow, thanks, sweetie!
I settle up and head out. While trying to reconcile my slow-to-subside wood with the Mustang seat on my Harley, I do some mental calculations.
The original $200 cash I walked in with.
$430 for the VIP room
$20 for the manager
$50 for drinks
$100 tip for the waitress
Grand total: $800, maybe two and half or three hours all told.
I speed home, grab a quick shower and a bite to eat, jump in the car, stop by an ATM, and head back to the club.
Sarah finds me within a couple minutes of my ass hitting the seat. We do a few dances and some drinks, talk a bit more.
"Let's do another hour in the VIP," I suggest.
We find the manager and set it up again. It's going much the same as before, except we're probably both a little more relaxed and the nipples are in my mouth a bit sooner. Then she starts discreetly, teasingly, moving her G-string aside, giving me a look at the beautifully shaved cookie and stroking along the edges of her labia with one fingertip.
A few moments later, she's on my lap laying back against my chest, one hand under he ass stroking my cock. I'm rubbing her breasts and belly, and again, clueless noob says "Fuck it!"
I turn to make eye contact and move my hand down to the top of her G-string. She holds the eye contact. I move my fingertips under the G-string. A slight intake of breath and her legs move ever-so-slightly farther apart. I move my fingers down to her cookie, and...
Holy Fucking Shit!!!
She's sopping wet, and clueless noob is absolutely floored. I mean, I'm really shocked...I figured there was a good chance to get my hand in the cookie jar, or I wouldn't have been doing it, but the thought that she would be showing *any* signs of physical arousal honestly had not even entered my mind. I suppose money really is a powerful lubricant!
Her eyes are half-lidded and her lips are parted. Her breaths are coming in those short, soft gasps that we all love to hear. She looks at me again, her eyes close, she grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to her. She kisses me.
I spend the rest of my hour kissing her, exploring her cookie on and off while she massages my cock. No happy ending for either of us. I'm reasonably skilled with my fingers, but I'll admit that I was wearing jeans for both encounters and her poor cookie was probably numb. Or, maybe the money was really the only source of arousal and no amount of fingerwork was going to finish the job, unless I was stroking her with C-notes.
I'll admit I wanted to go down on her, but the VIP booth wasn't quite private enough for ole HobbyHorse. I'm a degenerate of some moral character, and we all have to draw the line somewhere.
I honestly had no idea if it was all an act or not, which I suppose means that it was a first-class act.
We finish up and I tell her I need to bail before I sign over my house.
"You know, I also do escorts," she whispers in my ear.
"Really? That sounds great...can I get your number?"
"It's on the card I gave you ealier."
"Oh, the one I gave to the doorman for free admission?"
Ooops. Clueless noob is worried that she's going to get fired or wind up in jail. She laughs it off. "Don't worry, lots of girls give them out." Oh, *really*...
Like I said at the outset, I'm hooked. I'm so tired of my pattern of one relationship after another that ends up being unwanted and unfulfilling. At least for now, I *like* being single. I've never done it before, but I'm at a point in my life where I'm perfectly happy to pay for sexual encounters with a hot twentysomething. I'm definitely going to call her, and I think it's fair to say I have a new hobby.
For those that have made it this far (I so hope I haven't butchered the etiquette rules with this interminable post), here come the questions and pleas for advice.
1. I plan to avoid financing my new hobby on plastic. This bill gets paid when it comes up next month. But if I do, do I tip the waitress on the dance balance? I did, because she had to fuck around with the paperwork, but I had no idea what the custom on this is.
2. How often should I expect to visit the club, and how much should I expect to spend? Clueless noob wants to know what kind of commitment it takes to enjoy "regular status." I make a good living, and being single, I'm my only financial obligation, but I certainly can't afford to go in and drop $1K+ as often as I'd like. Do most guys prefer to go in rarely and splurge, or go in regularly for more modest fixes? Or should I just try it both ways and see what I prefer?
3. Should I care about whether or not I enjoy "regular status?" Do I get any extra bang for the buck out of it?
4. How much does escort service typically run? Who makes the arrangements for a place to meet? Once I get to know a girl, I'd be happy to bring her to my home, but not at first I think.
5. With Sarah or any other girl who seems amenable, should I move right to the escort arrangement or should I try for OTC freebies first? Or, as I suspect, is this not something that bears trying, but rather something that just rarely happens when and if it happens?
6. How many mistakes did I make? How much more money did I spend than I needed to? Could I have negotiated with the manager on the price of the VIP? If a girl knows I'm going to drop a lot of money on her, can I ask for a bulk-rate discount, or does that just make me seem cheap? Should I care if I seem cheap? I'm guessing I should string it out a bit, even if I'm splurging...I pretty much had a non-stop all-you-can-afford lapdance buffet, but it seems like it would be wiser to stretch the twenties a little further.
Okay, I don't really expect anyone to actually answer all of clueless noob's stream-of-consciousness questions. *Any* help and advice will be greatly appreciated.
And I suspect I'll be seing y'all around...
