All right, I've been a good custy for a long time now. Go in, be polite, tip the stage a little bit. Get a couple of dances, enjoy those moments when she fakes a connection with you - but never, never, believe that they are really interested in talking to you OTC.
Then just the other night, I go to a club I haven't been to in a while. It's so slow that there's a bunch of dancers sitting at empty tables just smoking or talking to each other. I buy a couple of dances from the gal who plops down next to me because she seemed pretty nice and although she's not my type, her presence seems to be keeping the wanderers away.
But I digress, (and she wanders off)
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As I'm watching the game, I barely notice a gal who walks up and asks if she can sit on my lap. I ask her a few questions about her night, the rotation, other gals etc. We swap a little info on our backgrounds and strangely get into a engaging discussion on the cultural differences between Americans and Latin Americans (she's Colombian, and I used to travel there for work).
There's a lull in the conversation so I ask for a dance. I keep my usual focus on her eyes and try to play along as well as I can with her dance. Shortly into the second dance, she mentions the VIP and although I rarely go, I wasn't planning on staying much longer and I had already mentally spent the $250 when I drove to the ATM so, what the hell? I wait until the third dance to mention the VIP and she tells me she'll make it worthwhile.
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During the move to the VIP, we talk a bit more - swap divorce stories over a chuckle and settle in. She then tells me she's going to give me the best dance of my life.
She then procedes to give me the best dance of my life.
I couldn't believe how intimate we got - she repeatedly asked me what I liked and guided my hands. At the end of the third song, she's clearly working up a little sweat so I ask her to rest.
More polite conversation about family, relationships, discussing how it's weird how different people can get offended in weird ways etc.
She mentions that she's at the end of her shift and asks if she can finish me off (her words, not mine, and it was clearly directed at the dance, not what some of you might think). Of course, I'd love to
After two more songs of the best stripper encounter in my life (it's no longer possible to call it a dance) she stops and we go back to the bar to settle up. As she's collecting herself, she laughs and tells me she doesn't always enjoy her dances that much.
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At the bar, I order a beer and get her a water. I ask her a question about her experiences stripping and she suddenly stops and says I have to know some strippers to ask the question. I admit that I have and do know some strippers.
Then she asks me: "So, you have no problem with dating a stripper?"
I answer that I of course wouldn't have a problem. She then asks if I had dated a stripper. To which I answer honestly that I've done things OTC with strippers, but no, I haven't dated one.
Then she screws with my head: "So, you wouldn't have a problem dating a stripper?"
Head spinning, I've lost control, can't resist: Noooo! Don't believe it! Don't believe it! She... does... not... want... you to ask her out!
I quickly dart my attention to the floor in an attempt to regain some semblance of control.
I order a beer and she leaves to go change. Thankfully since it was a slow night and a bunch of gals saw me settle up with her, I'm quickly mobbed by a bunch of "wanna dance" 'ers to distract me from obsessing.
One of those assertive young party gals avoids my deflections and plops herself right down on my lap. As I attempt to be polite while engaged in some discussion about the difference in party atmospheres in various parts of the country, the gal who screwed with my head walks by winks and waves.
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Now I am totally fucked. I allow myself to actually believe that I may have offended the gal by not asking her to meet OTC for a coffee or lunch to continue the engaging conversation.
I am so screwed. Fuck Fuck Fuck.
Please, someone help me get my head straight again?
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