Assaulted

You may have noticed that I generally only write positive stories about my experiences with clubs and with strippers. That's just how I see things. The good and the great I remember. The poor and the bad I just shake off and forget.

But, there was one exceptionally bad experience with a stripper recently that I just have to describe.

It wasn't just a bad lapdance. It was an assault on my person. I think I could have called the cops and filed a complaint and gotten somewhere.

I was in a club, bored. It was at a lull between events.

The DJ had announced some $1 tableside dances, and all of the available dancers were circling the floor landing on guys for a portion of the song for a $1. I wasn't really up for it, but what the heck - it's a dollar. I can try out a couple of dancers and see if I'm interested in more.

Then Dancer descended on me. Literally.

I only had a minute or so to look at her before she pounced. Dancer was a mess. Physically and mentally, a mess. She had some crazy outfit on that looked like Miss Kitty night at the saloon. She had wild hair going every direction. And she had tattoos - many and awful. I generally like tattoos on a dancer - but not in this case. Really awful.

I knew from the first second that this was a mistake. But what the heck. It's only a portion of a song, after all. I can make it through. I thought.

Dancer had other ideas. She was determined to turn it into a $10 tableside dance whether I wanted to or not. Let's call it aggressive selling.

Speaking of aggressive - Dancer was in spades. I'm not sure if she was angry or deranged, but I'll put my money on both at the same time.

Dancer's concept of a lapdance was of the full contact type most commonly taught at a pro football training camp. Tackles. Grinding intended to erase my lap. Beating on my neck with shin bones. Bony knees and elbows pummeling me in a frantic contortionist routine.

Now I'm a big guy - 6'2" / 240 lbs. It takes some doing to shake me up. But Dancer achieved it.

I'm not sure how I came out of the "tableside dance" without broken bones. Bruised definitely, but not quite broken.

The funny part, if there was one, was Dancer's continuously running banter during the assault. "Do you want to come back to the lounge with me? I'm looking for someone to molest." Molest is right. I take her at her word. She was under the delusion that this was sexy. Coked up or deranged, I'm not sure.

The really funny part was that she found me again later. I had moved to a different part of the club and she found me again - only she didn't recognize me. She started the banter again. "I'm looking for someone to molest", she said earnestly. I just looked at her. You've got to be kidding me. I chased her away with the one surefire way to get a dancer to leave your table. I told her I was broke. Done. All my money spent. Finished. She said "bye" quickly and departed with mach speed - looking for the next guy to molest. Watch out guys.