Saturday night I decided to hit my favorite strip club for some late-night drinkin’ and fun. Because I was feeling generous, and because I was feeling experimental, I decided to buy (at least) one private dance from each girl dancing.
Rocket was on stage when I got there. I watched her two-song set, tipping a couple bucks per song, and when she finished I asked, “Can I get a dance?”
“Sure!” She held up a finger. “Give me a minute.” She gathered up her money and disappeared backstage, and exactly one song later, she emerged, took me by the hand and led me back to the private dance booth.
Before she began, I noticed that she had the beginning of a new sleeve tattoo. It was outlined but not filled in yet. I asked her about it. “Here, feel,” she said, “It’s brand-new. It’s still raised up.” I felt. It was.
“You heal fast,” I said.
“I do!” She began dancing as the song started, lifting her arms up in the air and turning slowly around. “I’m an alien from another planet.”
“A very sexy planet,” I said, in my best Austin Powers voice.
Technically, I didn’t ask Stormy for a dance. I spotted Stormy out on the floor, returning from the DJ booth after picking the songs for her next set. I didn’t even have to ask; as soon as she saw me she just assumed I wanted one. “Hang on, I’ve got to give this other guy a dance first, he’s been waiting a while, I’m so sorry is that OK?” The words tumbled out of her mouth, and her hand brushed my cheek.
I was amused, and a little irritated at the presumption, and I told her it was OK. Since I planned on getting dances from everyone, I wasn’t going to find myself in the “waiting for Stormy” mode I’ve found myself in on previous nights. Get immediate attention from Rocket, or wait all night for Stormy? Not a tough choice… Stormy can take her time.
Stormy apologized and asked me to wait at least twice more, while I enjoyed the stage show and drank. I flirted with Lux, the model-thin Asian dancer. I watched the crowd, and watched a group of girls in their twenties flirting with each other and the dancers on the stage. Always a co-ed crowd at Devil’s Point.
In spite of Stormy’s flakiness in the club, she gives the best private dances. Bar none. I ended up buying two private dances from her. ‘Nuff said. I staggered out of the booth afterward and bought another drink. She said over her shoulder as she rushed back to the dressing room, “Don’t forget to say ‘bye’ before you leave!”
While waiting for a chance to ask Lux (dancers at Devil’s Point don’t spend a lot of time out on the floor hustling, surprisingly enough. At least not that I notice), I sat at the stage and watched Stormy. One of the three girls I had noticed before sat down next to me, turned to me and said, “Can I have a dollar?”
“But… you’re not naked and on the stage.” I said, mock-confused.
She pointed at Stormy. “I’m just going to give it to her. Please?”
Feeling a bit like a sucker, I handed the girl a dollar. She held on to it until Stormy came by, then waved it in the air like a flag, prompting some close, personal attention from Stormy. OK, watching that was worth a dollar. Still felt like a sucker, though. After that set, I wandered back to the bar for another drink and some more ones; I was running out.
When I returned, all the seats at the stage were full, so I took a table with a view of the stage. I’d get up and toss a couple bills per dancer, waiting to catch Lux off-stage. Finally she walked by.
“Hi!” I said. “Are you up next?”
“Can I get a dance after?”
She nodded again. “Sure!” She curtsied.
After her dance, in the booth, she asked me my name. She’s asked me before. I reminded her of that, smiling, and told her again. “I’m Brian.”
“I’ll remember this time!” she said. “It’ll be easy. You’re like Brian, the dog on ‘Family Guy’!“
“Well,” I said, “I am incredibly intelligent. But I’m not covered in hair all over my body.”
Lux bent down, and carefully lifted the hem of my shirt just an inch or two exposing my stomach. She let it fall, stood back to up face me, smirking. “I don’t believe you.”
“Fine, dammit. You caught me!” We laughed.
Last girl working that night was Aris. I waited for the end of her stage set and asked her, as she was collecting her money, “Do you do dances?”
She shook her head. “No.” I’ve never seen her dance, though I have heard the DJ implore the crowd to ask her for one. “But the other girls do,” she said.
I laughed. “But I’ve already had dances with the other girls. I wanted one from you.”
She gave me a mysterious look and, saying nothing more, went backstage. Had I crossed a boundary by asking everyone? Had I acquired a reputation? If so… what kind? Or was it simply that Aris did not, in fact, give private dances?
I had done what I wanted. And closing time was approaching.
I waited a bit to say goodnight to Stormy, who ignored me the one time I saw her out on the floor again. Then I went home.