Secure in My Masculinity

From a series of recent emails:

"Take this as a compliment....you write like a woman"

I do, indeed, take it as a compliment. She's not necessarily a fan, my new email friend. Mostly she's finding insight from these posts about male behavior. But I appreciate that she included that thought.

That email, plus a recent 2 hours of wasted time watching late-night VH1, reminded me of the first time I met My Lovely Dancer.

I had stumbled into a relatively new club late into the night shift. Dancer asked if she could sit with me. And somehow what often happens with me happened: we sat at my table at talked. Oh, eventually we danced a physical, grinding lapdance. But mostly we talked. And we really connected like two people meeting anywhere can. We talked about our interests and about books and movies. And as we were surrounded by flesh we connected our minds. Among her laughing and smoking and my gazing at her loveliness we discovered one thing we both have in common:

We both love the movie "Moulin Rouge". I happen to love musical theater and musical movies. She as well. In fact, she told me that she's always wanted to dance a stage set in the strip club to the song "Roxanne" from the movie. If you've seen it you'll remember that great flamenco dance scene to that song.

As I re-watched "Moulin Rouge" late at night on VH1 this week, in my living room - in my underwear, I sang "Roxanne" just for My Lovely Dancer. (There's a visual for you.) And I remember how we left that conversation, that late smoky night at the back table with the club throbbing all around us. I remember her smile and her laugh as she challenged me:

"Are you sure you're not gay?"

Oh, I'm sure. My arousal for her that night would have convinced her. And our many passionate lapdances since then have surely convinced her. I'm 100% hetero horndog.

But I took that as a compliment as well.

One last thing. My new email friend said this in her email as well:

"...you sound like you do understand, appreciate, and love womankind"

I do indeed. I love women. Mind and body.

The Feeling is Mutual

My Lovely Dancer, who I've paid tribute to many times here, apparently checked into DANCEFAN this week to catch up on my stories and left several terrific comments for me. Thank you, baby.

Since I don't expect you all to read back through every comment like I do I'll feature one of her comments here for you. She left this comment on the last tribute that I paid to her, Aug 10th, entitled "Have We Met Before?". Scroll down and re-read it. I did and I re-lived the experience with my sense memory. It was hot. I can feel her. I can see her. I can hear her voice, her laugh. I can feel her cheek against my cheek. She was quite lovely that night. Really lovely. I'm lucky to have been with her even in the fantasy sense. Thankfully it's mutual. Here's her comment:

"Just to let everyone know, this gentleman is a friend of mine. No, i dont have GFE with every person I dance for. I am just glad I have the chance to dance for him! People ike "dancefan" make my job brighter while mainly dark and cold with the lust for money that make it , at times, hard to come back to work the next
day.

I look forward to the days when I see his face in a crowd of men. He is a safe place to relax even durning a dance. Which by the way is very hard to come by. I trust him and know with my whole being nothing would ever hurt me while in his arms.

Everyone has faults, his may be finding women who are not
his wife attractive. But what man doesnt? He at least has enough balls to post and share his memories with those who care to read them and learn from them!

I for one care dearly for "DanceFan"!!
(just for you baby, you are
FAN-FUCKING-TAB-U-LAS!)"

Thank you, baby. You are a treasure and I'm grateful that you are my friend as well.

Red Pants, Pink Panties

Here's my two Hot DVD moments of the week. (I know, I'm a visual horndog):

1.) "Did you just spank me?"

Jennifer Anniston in "Along Came Polly". I finally got desperate at the video store and picked up this movie. The highlight comes in the scene where Jennifer takes Ben Stiller home to her apartment after their first visit to a salsa dance club. Apparently the salsa dancing got her horny and Jen drags Ben home and jumps his bones. She comes out of the bathroom in a loose, braless, top and tight short red pants (panties?) and climbs on top of Ben. Ben had been recently advised by a dufuss friend to spank a girl the first time he's with her. Will he follow the advice? The camera lingers on Jen's delicious, taut, red pants covered ass. Lingers lovingly. Oh yes, twin cheeks - perfectly shaped, peeking out from under the pants. Ben's hand resting lightly on the right cheek. Slap! "Did you just spank me?" The pause button was made for the lingering derrierre shot. Yeow!

The second scene where Jen's salsa dancing with Javier the gay guy is pretty hot too.

2.) Opening scene: a young lady laying on her side on a bed. Framed from her shoulders down to her calves. Naked except for a pair of tranparent pink panties revealing a perfectly horizontal ass-crack. Lingering to give you time to explore her back, her sexy hips fuller than the lines of the panties, the back of her legs. Back to the transparent delights that await. Makes you want to spoon right up against her and get busy.

That's the opening of "Lost in Translation", if you haven't seen it. And it's the luscious pink covered ass of Scarlett Johansen.

I love this movie but I think I'm mostly alone in this. The people who've told me they've seen it have hated it. Didn't understand it. Couldn't relate to it. Maybe that's why I like it because I can very much relate to it.

If you haven't seen it, Bill Murray's main character is in Japan for a photo shoot. He's all out of sorts and just wants to get home to his family. He has a strained 25 year marriage that's played out in phone calls and faxes from his wife. He's lost continually on the road and stranded in a hotel room. His work is his life. He isn't looking to get out of his marriage or even cheat. He's just lost. He incidentally makes a connection with the much younger Scarlett, who's also married and equally lost and stranded. They become lost buddies as they see the city together. The most striking thing is that they don't hop into bed. They connect emotionally and intellectually, but not sexually. Murray even has one meaningless one-night stand with a lounge singer, but not with Scarlett. Their connection is deeper, more real. Their scenes together are almost motionless as they experience growing desire and come to a line that they will not cross. A pivotal scene on thier last night together has them curled up in bed watching old movies, drinking sake, and talking about life and marriage. Murray is lying flat looking at the ceiling and Scarlett is curled up against them. As they drift off to sleep Murray tentatively reaches down and holds the only part of her that's touching him - her foot.

Bill Murray eventually has to leave at the end of his trip. There's a scene where they think they've missed each other and they're both sad. And then they find each other as he's leaving and they embrace. And the embrace and tears say it all. That they fit each other and if the situation were different they would be right for each other. But that they're both truly committed elsewhere and it's not to be. Powerful.

I like the movie because I get the movie. I am Bill Murray.

I've been lost as well on the road as well, many many times. Stranded on the road with a stressed marriage back home. Wanting to get back to normal without knowing how. Making a connection, emotionally and intellectually, with a much youunger women in a hotel for a week. No sexual or physical contact at all. But a real, powerful, connection. Sharing parts of ourselves that our others don't get or haven't seen. I even experienced that final scene of almost missing each other and then seeing her one last time. A palpable hunger between us. A unfullfilling parting. It's eerie how similar it was. So, I get the movie. I am Bill Murray. So I love the movie. And I definitely hit "Pause" on the pink panties.

Thank you, to the very lovely young Natalie. I'll always remember you.

Doctor DanceFan's Advice to Worried Wives

During the 10 months and many posts that I've been writing this blog about my experiences going to strip clubs I've gotten more than one comment or private email from worried wives. What are they worried about? They are worried that their husband is engaged in the type of behavior that I describe here. Here are two unattributed samples of their comments and questions.

First this one:

"does your wife know of your extracurricular actvities? or is it a case of willful blindness on her part, or is more that you are skilled in the art of
deception? i don't mean to ask in any judgmental way, i am curious about what
goes on in the mind of someone who engages in activities like yours.as a wife
myself, i'd like to know, not that i expect you to blow your secrets, but is
there a way to find out about a husband's activities? is there a reason to
prevent a husband from this? my husband goes to strip clubs occassionally with
his male friends, i have no problems with that, even lap dances are fine, but
your girlfriend experience would disturb me if it involved my husband. do these
behaviors reflect any inadequacies on the wife's part? i'd like to know because
it would help me, and other wives out greatly! "

and this one from a new reader:

"so enlightening...because I have a husband with the same habits. Travels,
loves family, yet does this too.

I'm learning all the time.

well..a little background first. Was reading .......... and was checking out links on that, and somehow came across yours. It was a jaw dropping read for me, since it's a semirecent revelation to me that this is something going on in my marriage.

Your description of your relationship with your family and how these are compartmentalized portions of your life was familiar. I was not familiar with all the workings of this other world..I was intrigued and unhappy both as I read...because this was the shadow side of my world that I vaguely suspected but never faced till recently.

Conclusions? None yet...I'm still fresh to working with this in my mind.

Not to pry..but I will! Your wife knows nothing at all? "

Wow. There is a lot there. Thank you for having the courage to speak up and ask the questions. I'll try to answer those questions as honestly as I can.

But first let me comment on one undertone to the questions. All of the women have indicated that occasional strip club visits, including lapdances, by their husbands would not bother them significantly. Bachelor parties or going out with the guys is forgivable guy behavior if I'm reading them correctly. It's the GFE (Girlfriend Experience) that I've described in my posts that makes them uneasy. It's going by myself and making an emotional connection over time with dancers, as I've described it in great detail in my posts, that causes the concern and disturbs them. I understand that totally. It's more than just lust. I've invested emotional energy in dancers. I understand that emotional investment is what is threatening.

Some quick answers on the questions:

1. Does my wife know? No, she does not. I wish she did and that the club scene was something we shared in our married life. I always envy couples who are in the club together and enjoying it together. But for us it's not something we share. This is not her thing and I don't push it on her. It is my thing and I compartmentalize it. It's my only real vice and I don't regret living this part of my life.

2. Am I skilled at deception? Unfortunately, yes. It takes some measure of deception to visit clubs on my own and to live this important but pervy part of my life. I'm not proud of that. When I'm not in the club I'm a regular upstanding citizen.

3. Does going to the club reflect on inadequacies in the wife? No. As JT said in a comment on my last post - "men need variety". It has nothing to do with the wife. Halle Berry's husband cheated on her, for God's sake. Going to a strip club is a chance for a man to experience being with a variety of women in a somewhat safe setting. It's not dating. It's not prostitution (although Jay at "Working Girls makes a good case for that being a healthy outlet in a marriage!)

4. Is there a reason to prevent my husband from doing this? Not really, in my opinion. It's harmless unless he's out-of-control in some way.

5. Is there a way to find out if your husband is going to strip clubs? Yes, but in defense of the brotherhood I'll keep that one to myself. Sorry.

I have to go catch a plane so I'll stop there for now.

Let's talk about this topic more, interactively. Thoughts anyone?

Have We Met Before?

I'd missed her. My Lovely Dancer. I know her. She knows me like no other. In our brief moments together we're meant to be.

She's here tonight. I see her name on the dancer sign-in board. But where? Not to worry - she'll find me.

So I settle in. Cared for by my favorite pretty waitress who greets me with a smile. "Mich Ultra?". Man, I love that part. She makes me feel at home, like Norm at Cheers. I take her recommendation and have a Corona. I particularly enjoy the lime.

The club is slow and quiet but my senses are alive. Many of my favorite dancers are in. Around me are 6 or 7 very young and really beautiful dancers in sexual poses. A community of flesh. A banquet of wonderful choices. Even a late shift dancer, in early, who looks gorgeous just sitting at the bar in her jeans. All but one are dancers that I've written tributes to here in these pages. I want to choose them all again. To revel in reconnecting with each one. To indulge my urges. But I wait.

And she finds me. Smiling and hugging and touching me as a greeting. Surpise to see me registering on her face. Her lovely face. Is it possible that she seems more beautiful with absence?

She has to go already - to dance for the guy she was sitting with. I understand. She's working. She'll be back. I pass the time watching the sexiest girls imaginable rotate through their stage sets. I take one lapdance, non-touch on an out of the way couch, with the one girl who's new to me. She was pretty, and naked, and very sexy. Long silky hair, trim waist and legs. She was skilled in the dance and it was very pleasurable. But I know now who I'm here for. And she found me again.

We sit and visit and slide immediately into familiarity. "Would you like a Red Bull and Vodka?", I ask. "How did you know? Have we met before?", she jests. It's like it was just moments ago that we were last together. I ask about her life and my questions take her back some months. "Have we known each other that long?", she asks me wistfully. Yes we have. And I'm grateful for that.

Talking and connecting as if we're the only two in the club. I lose sight of the stage. I'm only interested in her. Her energy as she tells her stories. Her elegance as she reclines in the chair smoking her cigarette. The refreshing way she sprinkles the word "fucking" through every other sentence. I love her voice when she says that word. I gaze at her lovely profile with her flawless makeup. Those lovely eyes. She's changed her hair and I really like this incarnation of her style: short and swept up in clips with wisps of hair framing her smile. Elegant. Sophisticated. Lovely.

I want her, but I have to wait. I greet her at the tiprail as she starts her stage set. She's sexy and confident on stage. Tanned and toned. Slim with a sexy voluptous ass peeking out of peek-a-boo skirt. And I relive that moment where she comes to me and cradles me into her breasts. She smells delicious.

"Did you get yourself worked up for me, for our dance?", I ask back at our table. "Are you ready to dance?", she offers. And I am.

And we dance. In private. In touch with each other. Total GFE. The GirlFriend Experience. We're way past all the beginner interplay on the couch. We quickly settle into our groove. Slow. Comfortable. No rush. Just touch. And I revel in the feel of her delicious skin. Slowly with my fingertips on her back. Light touches across her shoulders and down her arms. Across her belly. Tracing her hips. Cradling her derriere. Embracing. Caressing. Re-memorizing her with my fingertips. Aroused, of course, but beyond that. Cheek-to-cheek. Frozen in a passionate stillness. Purrrrrring into her neck as I take in her scent and her feel. Her hot breath on my ear. My lips pressed into her neck. Just being with her. Opening my eyes to just enjoy her beauty. Smiling. Laughing even, in the comfort we have with each other.

I missed her. My Lovely Dancer. Thank you, baby.

An Homage, A Death Threat, and an Unexpected Discovery

An Homage:

my award for best recent media depiction of girls kissing - which is, after all, my thing - goes to the Starsky and Hutch DVD. Carmen Electra and Amy Smart kissing around Owen Wilson on the couch. The kissing scene could have been longer, but Rwrrrr is it tasty! And that's what the pause button is made for. Enough said. Add Amy Smart to my list of celebrities that I would like a lapdance from.

A Death Threat:

to the hacker who's fatal virus resulted in the extreme termination of my last PC with a baseball bat. Okay, I didn't really beat it to death. But I wanted to. Instead, it's cannabalized carcass haunts my garage. The hacker, on the other hand, would not so easily escape the baseball bat should his or her miserable hide darken my path. Death to hackers!

An Unexpected Discovery:

of my recently developed ability to flirt with pretty girls.

Must be from the many hours in the dark at the back table talking to beautiful strippers. Several recent events provoked this recognition of my new ability. Here's two.

- flirting with a pretty girl in an hour long line at security at one of the many airports I've been through this year. Without anxiety.

- and realizing that a really lovely twenty-something young lady that I had been having conversations with in a "Lost in Translation" setting for a week was acutally breathless as she talked to me on the last evening. Not "I've just run up a flight of stairs" breathless. But the kind of breathless that I've been many, many times in my life as I've talked with pretty girls. The mixed attaction / intimidation kind of breathless. Wow! I caused that in her? Unreal. The circumstances are not important, just the realization by both of us that it was happening.

Where was this ability 30 years ago when it would have made a difference?

Red and White - Reunited

There was a problem with wetness. But I'll get back to that.

Red and White. My favorite double-dance partners. You remember them. "The Double Dance, Part II in Four Acts", April 16th. Scroll down and re-read it. It's worth it. I can't improve on that narrative. But I did repeat the experience.

It was a slow mid-week night. The road was long and the strip club was at the midpoint. A nice place to take a break. More than nice. A beer. Beautiful women. And passion for a price.

A warm greeting from Red. All smiles and hugs. Damn she feels nice up against me. Just to walk into the club and to hug her, full body, standing up makes my night. And makes me horny! What can I say. She's beautiful tonight, as always. My lapdance lover.

"Did you see who's back?", she asks me with a mischevious grin. Ah, White is back. She briefly left our little club. But she's back. Gloriously back. And I already know where this night is heading.

Lot's of pretty girls in the room in various states of dress. But I only have naughty thoughts for these two. They're special to me. I have a history with them and history in my case is a good thing.

*** Foreplay ***

White on stage. Sexy as hell with blonde pigtails on each side, a white tee, blue jean shorts cut deliciously high on her shapely exposed ass, and white lacing up one leg from her stripper heels. Damn sexy. Daisy Duke never looked this good. And it's working for her. Hanging extended upside from the pole by her ankles propped on one arm and removing her top with the other. Talent!

The guys at the tiprail have figured out the dancer-tipping-dancer scenario, and Red obliges. Multiple times. Red on her back on the stage with White crawling up her body teasing, exposing, and licking. Lingering lovingly on each tasty nipple with her delicate lips. Full body-on-body, a lingering soft kiss, with her spankable ass upturned in the air. Guy's throwing extra dollars on like it's a wishing well saying "She's not done yet".

Red at the tiprail with me, layed out in her chair, legs up on the rail. White bending over from the stage taking my $1 bill from Red's panties with her teeth. Hot! We are a threesome already.

Red on stage. White on her back on stage with her legs spread and lifted. Red moves between her legs and owns her. She grabs White's spread legs by her thighs and pulls her up into her. And she returns the favors for our viewing pleasure. And pleasurable it is. Biding our time.

*** The Dance ***

When they're both off stage they find me. Taking my hand we wind our way through the club to the private area. I feel like a rock star, or at least like Lex Konrad, as we three walk through the club together.

We sit together on the small couch as we wait for our song. Me in the middle. Beautiful girls pressed against me from both sides making small talk. I can't even think. I'm intoxicated by the feel of them in this most innocent of poses. Me. Sitting here with those beautiful girls. There for one purpose.

And we dance. And the girls dance with each other, on me and for me. Light on the grinding. Heavy on the viewing. My touch is incidental. A hand on White's back. Stroking Red's hip. Cheek nuzzling with each in turn. Taking in the essence of them: their hair against my cheek, their scent, their weight pressing deliciously into me as I easily support them both.

It's an act, of course. Paid for. Scripted. Maybe even rehearsed. But it's real also and it's passionate. There's no mistaking the passion in the kiss an inch from my eyes. Is there anything so beautiful, so passionate, so to-the-core sexy as two girls kissing? Softly, tentatively even. Wet tongues meeting. Heat rising. They're relating and I'm experiencing. And it's the sexiest thing I'll probably ever see.

Is it real?

*** The Problem with Wetness ***

"Ummm. Would you excuse us? We have to go change our panties."