Sunday, October 29, 2006

A Dance in the Dark, Again

It was late, almost the end of her shift, but I stopped in to the strip club anyway. A simple plan - say hi to my dancer friend who hasn't been feeling well, have a beer, listen to some stories, and maybe drop off October's BOB. Also, a simple resolve - no dances.

A busted plan, it turned out.

I paid at the door (carded: am I over 18?) and slid into the darkness, the music thumping into my chest. A familiarity washed over me. A comfort. I love strip clubs. I miss strip clubs. I wanted to be there, and at the same time not.

Stick to the plan, I said to myself as I found an out-of-the-way table in the back. Table selection is important. A single guy, moderately well dressed, is a target for dancers to do what dancers are there to do - solicit private dances. It's their job. Their livelihood. It's a transaction. I understand it, and expect it. I was resolved to behave and avoid the transaction - even as much as my body craved and desired it. So, I did my best to stay out of the traffic. Unsuccessfully, it turns out, because within a minute I was engulfed in the squealing embrace of one of my all time favorite dancers. She was as gorgeous as ever in a sexy new hairstyle and outfit and it took every ounce of my resolve to not immediately sweep her up to the VIP to reconnect! But, I declined and she scampered off to sign in for the night shift.

Whew! Close call.

I ordered a beer from my cute waitress and settled in to check out the room. Dark. Vibrant. Moderately busy for a weeknight. First, I scan the many guys sitting around the room and the stage for one reason - anyone I know here? No. Good, I can relax. Now I focus and become aware of the few, the pretty naked women seasoned in throughout the room. It's always a thrill to become aware of them. To notice delightful displays of flesh - a table here or there with 3 or 4 guys and one semi-naked beauty working for a dance. I see a girl looking at me - and recognize that look instantly. Even though she's working that table, she's scanning the room for other targets and interested in me because I've just walked in. I'm as yet unmarked and she's making a mental note to get over to me.

My beer makes it back and I give cute waitress a nice big tip because I'm only going to be here long enough for one drink. She smiles sweetly and moves on. I scan the room again and determine two things quickly with one sweep. First, I don't know most of the dancers on either shift - the one finishing and the one signing on. Wow, I really am rusty. I used to know them all. Second, Passion - my dancer friend - is not here. If she was, I would already have gotten one of her thrilling full body hugs. She's not here.

Decision time. Stay or leave. It's tempting, really really tempting to stay and get a lapdance from the gorgeous dancer who hugged me earlier. Or, to stay at least to see her stage show. Tempting, but I resist. Leave. Finish your beer first, and then leave. Watch the stage show while I finish the beer, but finish and leave.

Good plan. Good resolve. But, as I said, a busted plan.

Dancer slid into the empty chair next to me. A smooth, polished, non-aggressive move. She immediately put out her cigarette and turned to smile at me.

"Sorry about the smoke", she lied as she smiled at me to assess me.

"No problem", I lied back. "Are you getting off, or coming on?", I asked her with my veteran knowledge.

"Oh, I should be leaving soon." She left that hanging in the air. I interpreted what she meant, which was that she was angling for one last dance before she hit the dressing room to leave.

Decision time: stay or leave. Politely decline, or stay and let DanceFan out to play.

The problem is this. I don't really have a "type" of stripper that I hone in on. I've had enjoyable times with a very wide variety of women. All shapes, sizes, and colors. Having a type is too limiting. But if I had a type, Dancer would definitely be in that range. Hot. Cute. Pretty. Sexy. All of the above. Something about her petite frame and shoulder length dirty blonde hair and no-makeup girl-next-door look reminded me of some girls I knew and lusted after in high school long ago. Something like that. Whatever. She had my attention.

Some small talk, as I gazed into that lovely face. True, she looked tired and a little ragged even in the concealing darkness of the club lighting. Understandable. A verbal dance, shortcutted. Yes, she was new to this club. No, she was not new to dancing but had danced for years. Here and there. Around the country. As had I. We were both veterans, and we got quickly to the question:

"So, would you like a dance?"

Decision time: my want and need and desire answered that one for me.

"Yes. Yes I would. Let's do a dance before we both head out for the night."

She took my hand and lead me to the upstairs area for a private dance. We arrived mid-song and settled onto the plush couch to wait for the next song to begin. Preliminaries - stripping myself of poky objects. Keys. Cell Phone. "Wouldn't want to accidently call your wife!" she said. "No", I concurred. "That would be bad".

As is my habit with a new partner, I cleared the ground rules. "Are you okay with light touch?", I asked as she shimmied out of her sexy black catsuit. "Sure, baby", she said as she curled up into me, fully nude. Wow, she felt nice against my side. Warm and sexy and alive.

Dancer sprang into motion as the next song started. Working through her routine, with my reclined form as her stage. Moving that lithe dancer's body across my lap, display herself for me. Standing, between my legs. Moving. Standing over me, facing me, lowering herself slowly to press her cookie right on my nose. Lovely. Moving again. On my lap, firm breasts pressed into my face. Flipped around. Sexy tattoo in the small of her back staring at me as she presses her ass into my chest.

She's not shy, this Dancer.

Back in close. Straddling my lap and leaned into me. Nuzzling my neck. Arms around me and that long straight hair enveloping me. Hot breath on my face and neck. The "almost-kiss" in the engulfing cocoon of her hair. Nice. A moment of GFE - the girlfriend experience. Instinctively, Dancer knows what I like.

And I know what else I like - touch. Lightly, just my fingertips over all of the allowed areas. "No kitty, no titty" as they always say. Constant contact in sync with her moves. Tracing all of the curves of her delightful young body. Grazing, stroking - never grabbing. Over her back, down her sides, along the back of her legs and over her hips. Fingertips only. Touching, experiencing, memorizing. A sensual treat.

Standing over me, facing away, dancer bends over to put the cookie right in my face. Hello again. Slight movements side-to-side to graze her ass on my cheeks. Wow. And, as I'm distracted, she slides her hand down over my crotch and squeezes. Gauging my arousal. We're getting there. It's growing, and Dancer seizes on that. She moves smoothly back on my lap. Cowgirl on top, deftly positioned with her pussy snugly nestled my bulge. Rocking against me slightly as she nuzzles up against my cheek. "Nice", I whisper into her ear.

As the song ends I state the obvious. "Let's keep going." One more song, at least. Grind, touch, nuzzle, repeat.

Dancer is just as agressive in the second song. More comfortable with me as I've established myself as a gentleman - relatively speaking in the world of the lapdance. She lingers longer in the cowgirl grind. Breathes a little ragged. Allows herself a moment of connection. Only a second, but I recognize and enjoy it.

We finish the second song. Were I not a veteran, I would have pressed on. How could you not? A hot sexy naked girl on your lap. Money in your pocket. All of your blood in the member that's straining against your Docker's for attention. Many many times I've gone on for "just one more". But, I am a veteran. I know that there's not much more to be gained here. No difference really, between two songs and three or four other than money spent. I've had my fun. I've made my memory. I've enjoyed Dancer. We're done. I settle up - 2 songs, roughly 6 minutes, for $60. Worth it. Way worth it.

"Thank you, baby", I offer as I adjust myself and she re-dresses in her sexy work clothes. "Next time we'll spend more time". I'm already imagining a 1/2 hour session in the VIP with Dancer. Maybe it will happen, maybe not. But it's a pleasant fantasy.

A quick hug from Dancer, and we're out. Is her night done? Who knows. Mine is, and I'm out into the night.

Thank you, Dancer.
posted by Semi-Celibate Man @ 9:29 AM | 0 comments


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