I have never been to a strip club to see exotic dancers. I like burlesque, but burlesque is different from go-go dancing for dollars. At least to me it is. I could be wrong. Maybe I've gone over the deep end. Thoughts?
I finally convinced D. to take me to a strip bar in the middle of the raucous biker weekend in Wildwood. It was a $5 cover for each of us. I promised him it would be worth the Hamilton so that I could finally have this experience.
I guess I was expecting, like, the Bada Bing or something - seedy, smoky, scary. But it was a small place, not smoky, mostly bikers, about 25% female patrons, with a couple chippies on stage, pole dancing to bad music. Unlike the fictional Bing, the dancers were what I would call fully clothed - bikini tops and bottoms and shoes. And unlike what I had heard or seen in the movies, all the dancers were attractive with very nice hair.
So we belly up to the bar, and an affable woman in slight french maid attire greets me like she's been waiting all night for me to show up. She hugs me and welcomes me. Aww, that's so sweet. Thank you, I say.
D. and I moved to an excellent vantage point so I could check out the scene. Lemme tell ya, this was the most un-sexy place I have ever been. This was SO FREAKY. I'm watching the two dancers on stage and half the crowd basically ignoring them. If I were up there, shakin' my booty like my life depended on it like they were, I'd be so pissed if I didn't have the full attention of every man and woman in the place.
Then a girl approached me, wearing a striped bikini and high heeled shoes with the lucite heels - total stripper shoes. Love it.
She said: "Hi! I'm Jordan! What's your name?"
I said, "Laura," because that's my name.
Jordan: "Hey, would you like to donate to my plastic surgery fund?"
Me: "Why do you want plastic surgery?"
Jordan: (pointing to her small bosoms) "I can't do much with these flat things!"
Me: "I'd be so happy to be your size! You look great! I've had surgery to reduce mine."
Jordan: "Really???! Wow, can I touch them?"
My first conversation with a professional go-go girl and I immediately start trying to build up her self-esteem and I share intimate secrets with her. Which I'm now sharing with you because, what the hell, I've already told Jordan, whom I've known for 30 seconds.
Also, I don't know why Jordan wanted to feel me up.
Me: "Sure." Whatever.
Jordan: "Here, feel mine!" Wow. They were flappy. Maybe she's right, she needed to do something with that bikini top, maybe some of those flesh-like inserts.
Me: "Where were you when I got mine done, I could have shared with you!" ah, the common banter between full-figured and small-figured women.
Jordan: "I know, right?! So how's it going for you tonight?"
Me: "GREAT. It's my first time in a bar with dancing like this!"
Jordan: "Awwwww! Yay! Are you shy?"
Me: "Yes." (actually no, but I don't know how to answer her question.)
Jordan: "Ohhhh, c'mere, gimme a hug!" Whatever. I hug her.
D. gives me a few singles and I take that as a sign that I was to pay her so she'd go away. I guess our bonding is over. So I handed her two dollars and she said, "Put 'em in here and wish me luck!" and that of course was her bikini top.
She walked over to the couple next to us and started up again.
I said to D., "So, guys pay to get in here, they buy drinks and then they pay women for conversation???"
He said, "Yep."
Huh.
You know, some people feel badly for women who work in strip bars. I don't. These chicks know exactly what to do to rake in the bucks. Men are the total pathetic suckers who fall for it.
And then, amazingly, Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher" starts up and two new girls walk on stage and start going wild. They're very bendy. They must have callouses on their hands from swingin' on those poles so much. I wonder if any strip clubs use the uneven parallel bars on their stages in place of the vertical poles. I hope to hear some Motley Crue tonite, too.
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