Chapter 38: Strip Club

MEL

The Golden Girl Lounge taught me a lot in a very short period of time. I had a simplistic idea of what went on in a strip club, influenced greatly, I think, by some brief scenes in various movies or previews of movies that I never saw. My vision was a big room full of tables and beer drinking men, watching various women come out from behind the stage and strip to some music that nobody really liked. I knew that there was something called lap dances involved, but that was where my ‘knowledge’ stopped.

Ron introduced me to Tony, the owner of the GGL. Tony was a hunk and hung out a lot at the gym next door. The two places shared the parking lot, in fact. Tony gave us a personal tour.

GGL had three stages – one relatively large stage for the main event, and two smaller ones for lesser dancers or ‘secondary’ performers. There were forty tables, each with four to six chairs. There was a sign that announced, ‘Max Occupancy 200’, so Tony was right at the limit if the place filled. He said it rarely got that full except for what he called ‘special events’.

There was a balcony running around the place one story up, where most seats had a great view of all three stages. There were more tables and chairs upstairs, as well as some sofas with coffee tables. Tony explained that this was the VIP area, where special patrons could chat and buy drinks for the girls. Ron laughed and said, “The drinks are over-priced, the girl’s drinks are usually non-alcoholic, and if the patron isn’t spending money, their nudged out of the VIP zone.” Tony laughed and agreed.

Behind the VIP room was a very private VVIP room where very special patrons got to take the girls to have even more of some kind of sex with them – hand job, blowjob, a straight fuck, or an anal fuck, was the order of things. Ron filled me in later that the costs for that progression went something like $50, $150, $400, and $650. The girls got eighty percent, plus any tips their got.

I asked about the dancers.

Tony chuckled, “We have a list of girls that want to dance. They have to audition, and not just the dancing. They’re the same girls that make money in the VIP or VVIP areas, so they have to prove themselves. Not all the girls do the whole menu of things.

“The dancers strip to nude, and collect the money tossed on the stage. Those tips are theirs to keep. They also get paid $25 an hour when they’re on duty.” Tony said, “If a dancer does something really unusual, even just once, I might give out special bonuses.”

Ron asked, “After hours?”

Tony nodded, “Yep, happens about twice a month, often for a bachelor party. The place closes, early if the night is otherwise slow, and then the real fun begins. The whole building becomes a big fucking orgy. There’s a sex show on the three stages, some amateurs in the group. Some of the girls they’re fucking work here, and others are their girlfriends or local hoes that get recruited somehow.”

I asked, “How long does that go on?”

Tony shrugged, “Guys have limits, even young turks like some of the audience you’ll see tonight. They fuck twice and they’re pretty well done. Three times is rare. Thus, if we close at midnight or one a.m., we’re likely really closing up shop two hours later. Just so you know, the group has to pay for the privilege, so everyone on our side of things makes some good money from the overtime. The bar stays open, of course.”

“What’s your plan for me?”

“You dance?”

“Not really, just socially – never on a stage. I did try a little of your kind of dancing after watching some videos. I can’t say that I got good enough to perform I also didn’t have a pole to work with.”

“Would you, just to get the guy’s attention?”

I thought about that and got wet between my legs almost instantly. “Yeah, I would try, but I’d hope somebody kept expectations low.”

Tony said, “What we’ll do is set you and Ron up at table in that corner of the club.” He pointed. “I’ll have Trixie with you, too, since she can handle the transactions when you sell something. Ron told me how you did it down near Panama Beach, and that sounded fine with me.

“Around nine p.m. we’ll get you by yourself on the main stage. We’ll tell everyone before your music starts that you’re not a skilled dancer, so that’ll keep expectancies down. You strip as far as you want, then give a pitch to the crowd using the wireless microphone about your DVDs, exit stage, give lap dance or two if you are so inclined, go to table, sell DVDs. If things are good, we’ll repeat all that around eleven p.m. We close at one-thirty, unless we make an announcement to the contrary.”

I asked, “What about me doing lap dances? How’s that work?”

“Oh, yeah. When the dancers finish their stage routine, they’re usually naked or only wearing a G-string along with their come-fuck-me shoes. They go into the crowd and work the tables trying to talk up the idea of a lap dance. The usual rate is two twenties - $40 – and they get to keep that.

“The rule is no touching, at least on the main floor. In the VIP area, simple fondling is allowed, and in the VVIP area, you’d be fucking anyway, so the point is moot. We never worry about staining the men’s pants. If they don’t want pussy juice on the pants, they shouldn’t have signed up for lap dancer.”

Just then a platinum blonde with a figure to die for and a nice smile for everyone, brought Tony a clipboard. He introduced Trixie to us and then read the papers on the board. He turned to me, “You might be lucky. We have two bachelor parties tonight, and both have paid for VVIP privileges. One is a party of twenty and the other around thirty. They want to hang out here past closing. That likely means a lot of nudity and your basic orgy.”

Trixie said, “The larger group guaranteed that each girl participating with them will get a grand - $1,000. The guy said they were ‘high rollers’.”

Tony wrinkled up his face. “Shit, we’ll be short girls.” He looked at Trixie.

She chuckled, “I’ll be in the thick of it once the fucking starts, but I called some of the others and no one could make it in.” She shrugged, “Eh, we’ll do the best with what we have. I think they’re bringing one or two of their own, too.”

I asked, “What if I were to want to play?”

Tony, Ron, and Trixie all looked at me in surprise.

Tony said, “Then I think you’ll be having a really good time. Ron and I will be there, too; and the bouncers and bartenders stay around. Everyone that stays, plays.”

DAVE

The text from Mel read, ’Just outside Tallahassee tonight. Big orgy tonight. Need many hall passes. What say? OK? 143.’

I texted back, ’Have fun. Send pix. Stay safe. Condoms? 1432.’ No need to belabor any of those points. I’d hear more about my wife’s exploits late Sunday when she got home. I already knew her plans to appear at the Golden Girls’ Lounge. I guess the Lounge had some other activities planned.

Since it was Saturday night, the regular meeting of the Sex Club was being held at Neal and Mandy’s home. The kids were being sequestered at Jim and Sarah’s. Their house was six homes up from the water, so from some of their home windows, they actually had a view of the bay looking down the street or across backyards.

At the bay, there was a small beach about the width of the two-lane street. My guess was that somebody added a few truckloads of sand at the end of the street when the various homes were built. Elsewhere, the shoreline was clustered with mangroves. In any case, the sand made a narrow spot for swimming in the bay and for a neighborhood picnic. That’s what we did that evening.

I wondered whether any of the other neighbors cared what we were doing, but no one showed up or said anything.

We had nineteen of us – everybody but Mel. I reported on the recent text from Mel, and that created some laughter and comments tossed my way about my slutty wife and her insatiable appetite for sex.

My mother pulled me aside and made sure I was going to be fine with my wife pulling a train at the nightclub. I laughed and assured her that Mel’s proclivity to find ways to have large amounts of sex in a short period of time did not bother me. I promised my arousal, and also my desire to be with her later in the evening.

Despite the minimal amount of clothing most of us wore in anticipation of losing it later in the evening, we had a picnic and went wading along the small beach. My father, Bob, and I had a chance to talk as we stood around with a couple of beers.

Bob asked, “How’s your meditation and mindfulness coming?”

I nodded, “Honestly, it’s a work in progress. I have even been coming to this little beach in the mornings to practice. Most of the time I struggle to turn off my monkey brain, but I have had a few lucid moments of calmness that I think were what I was striving for.”

“Good. Keep working on that, but let me give you another element of the Tantric connection with your love partner. Look into your partner’s eyes as they look into yours. It has been said that the eyes are the windows of the soul, so look into that window and deep into your partner’s soul. Allow them into yours. Try it tonight, and at the same time, seek that meditative connection to all the loving souls in the universe. Connect.”

I acknowledged his advice, and promised to try the technique. Somehow, I knew that when he did, it was second nature to him. For me, I had to practice.

As darkness fell, we cleaned up our picnic and carried everything back to the nearby London’s home. The dance music soon started on their patio and a few people stood to dance. Others found a chaise or horizontal surface to be on so they could make out, and one foursome went in the pool after stripping away their clothes. I noted that my father and Neal were the two men of that group, along with Ashley and Trish.

I found Bridget in my arms – already naked and desirous of my lovemaking. We did exactly that. We took over a chaise that was in the dim light from the twinkly little white holiday lights that everybody used the year-around. I lost my clothes before we lay down.

I relaxed into the physicality of our bodies being together and feeling each other all over. I made love to Bridget’s breasts, and then moved to her pussy, yet gave my mind over to the connection between us and even our connections to the universe. Even in the dim light, I could see the reddish hue of her pubic hair. I love redheads.

Since I’d known her, Bridget responded to me with orgasms, almost when I wanted her to have them. She made no exception that night, and started to come and gasp and quake and shudder as I brought her pleasure after pleasure.

Eventually, she stopped me and went down on me. Just from doing her, I was already hard, but she took me the rest of the way to having a menacing tool ready to use. As we did all this, even with the oral, we were kissing a lot and getting closer and closer to each other physically and emotionally – and then spiritually.

The words of love flowed freely between the two of us. We were both so grateful to have found each other, thanks in part to Cindy’s efforts to get us together. We coupled in the missionary position, and I quickly recalled the earlier conversation with my father. I whispered between kisses with Bridget, “Look into my eyes. See my inner soul.”

As I slow pumped my meat into her quim, our eyes locked together, and didn’t waver as we truly did get lost in each other’s eyes. After a few minutes, I felt a huge desire to push the love I felt for Bridget to her over our visual link – and then through the spiritual link we created. I did nothing more than let that thought pervade my thinking, and then I allowed my meditative mind to make my focus on the love connection.

Minutes passed; I think. Bridget gasped without forming a word, and I felt her tighten around my shaft as I moved back and forth into her body. Her legs wrapped around me, and more kisses prevailed, but we always came back to having our eyes locked together. We were looking into each other’s souls.

Sometime later, she whispered, “You’ve got me in a state of constant orgasm. This is the most powerful and loving experience that I’ve ever had.” We went back to our mutual silence, except for the staring. Having called attention to it, I could detect a near constant flutter of the vaginal muscles surrounding my cock. Amazingly, I felt myself on some near-orgasmic high, as though I’d been pushed past the point of edging into feeling wonderfully, without having my climax.