From: exotica@milton.u.washington.edu (Tsilke Pearlman)
Subject: The Joys of Strip Clubs
Summary: Het ones, even!
Organization: Elite Data Cunts
Date: Tue, 18 Aug 1992 21:02:31 GMT

My lover and I went to a local strip club called Deja Vu on
Saturday night to see a woman we've recently met dance. We took
three fags and 3 other dykes with us, crowding the two cars full of
eight kinky queers. Got nervous just as we arrived (fear of the
straight planet) but our nerves calmed the minute the guy at the
door said "You're here to see "Tina"? Damn, the boss is here so
I'll have to charge you."

Got tables up front, looking at the square stage, the poles, the
drink rail. A girl dancing, nude, spreading her ass cheeks, showing
her cunt and asshole, slapping her ass, gyrating, flying around, up
and down the poles, a good athlete's body, nice face, sexier than
I actually thought it might be. Women in various sorts of lingerie
around the club gyrating on, around, near, men seated at tables or
on the couches around the parameter of the club - Texas Couch
Dancing, yessum. Men sit unmoving on those couches, hands at their
sides, tense, unable to touch the women 'dancing' for them; sliding
over, across, on them, their bodies just millimeters away, faces in
crotches, crotches and asses in faces, gyrating, undulating, never
touching, mesmerizing like a fascinating and deadly snake from the
charmer's basket - don't move; move and you will die because she'll
stop, go away, take away your lustfeed and you'll be high and
nearly dry, and have to take your boner stiffly to the bathroom and
relieve yourself sooner than you'd planned. The girls rotate from
stage to floor to the VIP room, a smaller area with a larger stage
rigged with two shower heads where two girls dance and shower
together in the same tired fantasy, age old and predictable, that
straight men think they've discovered all on their own: two women
together, soaping, slipping, sliding, until they, the *real* men,
can come in and finish the job for the little ladies. They show the
women showering on the video screens in the main area to get the
men hot on the VIP room, get 'em paying the extra fare to go into
that room and hopefully get closer, see more, more to whoop and
holler about, more detail to fuel the fantasy when she climbs in
your lap and takes control, shows you what she has and takes the
money you hand out like it's so much spunk, spurts of money where
spurts of come would be....

The power is with these women, scantily dressed and seemingly
vulnerable they hold all the cards in this game, the game of the
paid cocktease, no recourse for the slimy males but to jack off
into a toilette. I worried only about the possibility of the
dangerous ones, the ones who would hang around until the place
closed and get "their money's worth", but the place felt reasonably
safe and protected, goings on closely supervised and with no
alcohol being served, perhaps less potentially volatile.

We waited what seemed an eternity, the only glimpse of "Tina" on
video monitor when she was in the VIP room showering onstage with
another woman, working her crowd. She had told us not to pay for
the VIP room, that she'd get us in, so we stayed where we were,
assuming she'd rotate to the mainstage soon enough, but not until
they paraded the whole crowd of girls to that stage did she appear.
"That one! There she is, in the orange!" I announced trying to be
calm, admiring her, the fact that, to me at least, it was obvious
she was a lesbian, needing absolutley nothing from these men but
their money, not their approval, not their respect. It made her all
the more powerful (and more exciting to me) in this setting.

I followed her off the stage to see her disappear in a dark corner
onto a man, couching him, taking him. One of the fag friends asked
if I wanted company on my quest and went with me to a pole nearest
her corner and waited. When she turned to give him the ass
treatment, all the wonders of her body up so close but still so far
out of his range, I directed my energy at her face, wondering if
she'd remember what I looked like and spot me in the gloom. Shortly
thereafter my question was answered. I could see it on her dimly
lit face as though a light had snapped on above her and in her
brain simultaneously. Her mouth dropped to her chest, a grin
followed and I could swear the customer got a more vigorous couple
of minutes out of it as she worked him and watched me watch her
doing it, smiling-seductive and nervous. After a song or two she
turned back to face him and I stood and watched a bit longer, then,
feeling a little conspicuous, decided to go back to a pole nearer
my table and wait for her to ascend from her quarry. I was rewarded
soon after by another stripper coming over and asking "Are you
waiting for "Tina"? She says to stay visible, she'll be over in
a minute." My Top came out to play with the idea of her telling me
what to do - or was it my bottom? -It didn't matter. A stripper was
giving me directions. Fabulous. I stayed standing, one eye on her
dark corner and the other on the stage.

A few minutes later one of our fags ran out of time, had to leave
for his afterhours job. One car had to leave with him, give him a
ride. I was unwilling to leave though he had come in our car, so I
arranged to stay long enough to connect with "Tina" and get a
ride back in the dyke car. Just as the rest were standing to go
(including Krys, who opted not to crawl into the back of the
lesbian's hatchback Honda with those who stayed) "Tina" arrived,
tiny straps of cotton lycra not-swimsuit barely covering her
nipples and crotch. I said hello and had her introduce herself to
everyone, letting her know they had to leave, but that some of us
were staying. They left, Krys most amazingly giving me her trust
and allowing me to continue without her. 

One of the dykes had been arranging a couch dance for her
plaything, their slave, and I thought that the perfect way to
connect with "Tina". I told her to dance for diane first, that
she should work her for less time than she did me (the joys of
topping!). She led diane to a couch and did her thing, diane
sliding down the upholstery inch by inch by inch, and the three of
us watching. The sexy-illicit nature of it ballooned for me; here
we were, three dykes in a straight strip club turned away from the
stage watching another dyke be seduced and all but fucked on a
couch in a public place surrounded by men who were paying through
the teeth for far less sincerity. The song ended and "Tina" came
for me. 

I settled into the couch, taking my hands out of my pockets and
putting them to my sides at her request so she could kneel over me.
Get in close. "This is the last time, unless I come back, that I
won't get to choose when to touch you," I said, playing the game.
"I know," she answered, perfectly, "and I'm going to work it for
all it's worth..." melting me instantly. I was in lust.

The song was En Vogue "My Lovin (never gonna get it)", the same
sexy, slinky song that was my last dance on my 30th birthday,
teasing the stranger who wasn't *quite* dancing with me, but doing
it in just the perfect way, who's eyes I never looked at and who I
felt I'd had anonymous sex with when the song ended. The song is
good for me....

"Tina" climbed me, "danced" up and down me, grinding her body,
just barely not touching me, so close the difference disappeared;
moves straight out of sex and sensuality. My hands tightening into
the couch's loose fabric, the heat obvious between us, my body
undulating just enough for her to notice "Ooh, yeah," came out of
her carmine lips more than once (did she do that to the men, I
wondered fleetingly?), and I was in lust heaven, her face near
mine, her breasts and belly along my chest and up toward my neck,
her whole body laid out over me she stayed intimate, never turned
her ass to me, stayed in my eyes "I can't wait to get the three of
us alone", I told her, holding her eyes back, playing the seduction
game as well, one of my favourites. The song ended far too soon,
and though I would have liked to stay it seemed time to leave. "Was
it good?" she asked. "It was worth the wait," I told her, asking
"Can you kiss me?". She looked for any management types before
responding. I pointed to my neck and she quickly kissed-licked-bit
me, leaving a lipstick smear I didn't know about until Krys found
it the next day (Thank goddess for honesty!). 

I was hot and high all the way back home, through the night and
still through this moment. I can't decide if I just want to have a stripper 
or also want to be one when when I grow up...

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