Four of the Best

30 girls. 30 beautiful girls. The spectacle of 30 beautiful semi-naked girls simulating having fun in a high energy club greeted me as I walked in. A delightful menu of dance partners.

And I chose, or allowed myself to be chosen by, and got dances from four of the best.

Best is clearly a relative term in a strip club. All of these women, well most of them girls, are spectacular women in their own right. They are pretty. Quite pretty in fact. They are shapely. They are dressed in alluring attire. They are sexualized in every aspect of their behavior and manner at all times in the club. They project confidence and an ease and grace with sex and a comfort with their ubiquitous nakedness. And they are all worth it. Worth my time. Worth their pay for their moments of pretend intimacy with me. Worth it.

Having said that, and meaning it, there is still meaning in the phrase “the best”. The best intrinsically, in and of themselves. The total package of looks, skills, confidence, technique, moves, sales pitch, table talk, etc. And the best in terms of “fit” with me, the customer. Fit with my likes and dislikes and with generally being “there” with me – present in the encounter.

I’m a club veteran. I can evaluate a room fairly quickly as I enter and know with a reasonable certainty who among them is the best, although granted that with 30 gorgeous dancers the task can be daunting. But I evaluate and I know quickly how I will focus my attention and what will maximize my opportunity of being with the best any given night. I know how to say no to even the most tempting offers if it’s not what I want that night. And I know how to make it work if it is.

And so it was on a memorable night with four of the best.

The first, a lovely young dancer who was the first to find her way to my out of the way table. An Angelina Jolie type, tall and pretty in pink with a double ruffled skirt and long flowing dark hair. Ample assets and a megawatt smile. Quickly I was in the game. Some small talk, a shared drink, and a comfort level established – we danced. A table dance on the edge of the main floor, turning into two dances. A visual treat as she danced – out away from me and back – teasing me with that luxurious hair as I watched and enjoyed and memorized. Succulent full breasts. Amazing toned stomach. Well proportioned hips.

The second, a diva. Petite. Sparkling jewels and pearly white teeth set against deeply tanned and soft skin. A mix of Gina Gershon and Nicole Ritchie. Aloof, yes. But coiled sexuality and playfulness there too. Contact – safe, but with a hint of promise of naughtiness. Horizontal barbell piercings in each breast teased and displayed. Very naughty, this one.

The third, the jewel of my night. Elegant and hookerish at the same time, emphasis on the elegant. Dancer was long and lean with an absolutely perfectly slim derriere on display in a bright green neon spandex cutout chaps with a matching green G-string showing through. Table talk and a table dance as an appetizer, with a special 2-song private dance as the main course. And in the blue-lit booth, wedged in to capacity with other grinding duos, Dancer showed me what “the best” can mean. I’ve had many pleasurable “no touch” private dances, but Dancer was the best. Starting, as many have, facing away from me with with that exquisite derriere buffing my lap – the lightest of friction. But continuing that long after others would have moved on, and returning to it often. Not neglecting the cheek nuzzling and other delightful frictions. But excelling in the slow circles. Incredible.

And finally, the fourth. A pixie. Suntanned and petite with short black hair and an elegant tattoo between her shoulders. A last minute pleasure, born of persistence as she returned again to forestall my departure with her very reasonable question: “are you going to buy a dance from me?”. My gain, that she came back and that I did.

Four of the best. Thank you ladies. I will remember you.