Meet DanceFan

I'll start my blog by saying this: I love strip clubs. I have for 20 years.

I love almost everything about them.

Of course I love the ladies that are the center of the universe of a club.

But I also love the music, the refuge that's offered, the fantasy memory that's created, etc.

Am I a club addict? Not really. At least I used to not be. I used to visit clubs only on business travel in whatever city work took me to. A few times a year, no more. Some really nice clubs and a couple of dives in a lot of cities.

I am, however, just coming off a 7 month binge. A perfect storm of high work and family stress, a work project that took me out of town weekly with a nice club halfway on the road, and a midlife crisis brought on by a 25th high school reunion resulted in an unanticipated binge.

And what a binge it was. But well talk about that.

We'll talk about topics like: is it cheating?, life in the club, the music, going alone, my fellow citizens, to drink?, and on and on.

And, of course, the ladies. Let's start with that.

My Dancer tonight sees me as I enter the club. She runs to me. A kiss on my cheek, a hug and a squeeze, a squeal and a "hi"! Never had that happen to me before. She calls me by name. It's nice. I ask her to stop and see me after I settle in. With a beer in hand I begin to watch the stage show.

A half hour later she's back. "Do you want a dance?"

We've danced a few times before, the tame version. On the couch, no touch, $20 a song. Dancer has a style that I'm comfortable with. Slowly at first, facing away, rotating her hips slowly grazing my lap. Warming things up. Not too hard, gentle and pleasing. The tattoo, tribal on the small of her back, mesmerizing me as it appears beneath her waistlength hair. Then facing me, straddling me, leaning into me. Close to me. Warm breath on my ear. Ahhh, now I'm aroused and there's no hiding it. A hand grazes down (she knows it's there!). Nuzzling our cheeks together, that's what I like most. The almost kiss. Wow. Now around, reverse cowgirl, leaning back on my shoulder. Cheek to cheek again, stoking nipples for me. Rocking into my lap (It's still there).Up again, standing over me, leaning into me. The cookie at eye level. Look, don't touch. Is she aroused? Too much to hope for. This is a show. Back straddling me, arm around my back, pulling me close. Ragged breathing in my ear. Grinding on the wood. Bliss. Then recognition, the song is over. My thinking impaired, I say what I know I shouldn't: "Let's do 1 more". $40 but worth it.

That's not the plan tonight, however. VIP. Touch - no private parts. 1/2 hour. A sensous time indeed. I'm a gentleman, but I touch, and she appreciates how I do. Very sensous, erotic, caressing with my fingertips. Mind-blowing. For a brief moment, maybe a song, she lets herself go. The grinding is for her, the breathing short and urgent. I think it's real. At least I'll hold on to that illusion. It brings me back.