Thursday, February 27, 2014
It's been too long, walking through this door. I have a few minutes, and a hundred dollars in my pocket, and I need a new memory.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Getting to the GFE
It is an amazing thing, this: I keep getting older, but the dancers never do.
I remember this club, this city. It makes me comfortable and I know how it works. 3 stages and a back private area. Dollars out here. Twenties in the back. A good mix of young lithe dancers. It works for me tonight.
I got there too early, I see. Not enough dancers. Not enough crowd for me to hide in. Maybe I should just leave after one beer. Like that's going to happen.
I know this is going to be a quick night. Pick a dancer. Do our thing. Back to the hotel, lonely and remembering dancer. That's how it works. Let's get on with it.
I moved to a stage with the singles that came with change for my beer. A dancer was finishing up, and I knew it wouldn't be her. But, a single and some boobs in my face were a good start.
As dancer took the stage I knew I was smitten. Lovely. Impossibly young and lovely. Leggy. Blonde. A high-wattage smile turned on me.
No need being shy here. I tented up a single and placed it on the rail and over she came early in her first of two songs. Dancer parked herself in front of me with her legs straight up in the air, twisting slightly. Long enough to give me a good look at the panty-covered cookie. Then CLAP! as she smaked her thighs together. That got my attention. Smooth. Dancer sat up and cradled my face to her soft bosom. Nice. "Thank you, honey", and back to the pole in the center.
No one else at the stage, so soon she was looking at me again - asking with her gaze. No need being coy. she works for me, and is the one. I placed a $5 on the rail to draw her back to me, which works immediately. Legs in the air. CLAP! Cradle. And the $5 is swept away. Smooth. "Will you dance for me?" Sure, and she seeks me out before I even get back to my table and takes my hand and walks me back to the deep red room with the side-by-side red couches. She snuggles up to me pre-dance.
"Remind me how this works again. It's been a while."
"Let's get everything out of your pockets. First. $20 a dance. You can touch, you just can't touch my pussy."
I can work with that. I am a gentleman. No need to get handsy too soon. I'll be here a while.
Dancer spreads my leg as the first song starts and pulls me forward into a more laying back position. She's in charge. For now, anyway. She pulls off her bra and stradles my lap reverse cowgirl. Head away from me. Looking down at her perfectly-shaped derrierre over her lovely back and shoulders to the blonde hair swept down hiding her face. She needed that time to establish the pace. A slow grind on my lap. Reaching under herself to draw one finger tantalizing me over her panty-covered crotch. Pausing to rub slowly, for my benefit. I benefitted, no doubt. And I began a light touch, fingertips only, along her hips and the back of her thighs. Delicious feeling.
"Let's keep going", I whisper as she turns to face me for the second song. I let her settle comfortably on my lap facing me, keeping her distance still. That's okay. There's time. My fingertips gently trace her sides, her ribcage, her hips. Tracing. Tactile memorization - for later. This lovely young lady spending time with me in the dark, getting comfortable with each other, unrushed, for $20 a song.
"More", unsaid, as she leans into me for song three. Ah, there it is. The GFE. The girl friend experience. The pure gold. I don't need the lap grinding that is for much effect any more anyway, although I was stirring under the influence of 20mg of a certain little pill. Skip the grinding and just nuzzle my neck. Just brush that long luscious hair against my face. Just breathe on me. Just rest your weight on my chest. Nice. Very nice. Heavenly.
"You smell nice", she whispered as her cheek brushed against my cheek. She relaxed, and slowed her pace and just was. Still. Against me. My hand found her soft round breast and cupped it. Soft nipple between my fingertip, not pinching - just slight pressure. Not squeezing just holding, as my other hand traced her shape - fingertips only. Still. Comfortable. GFE.
Readjustment for song four. Dancer stood and readjusted her g-string under her panty. Two layers! "I get camel-toe bad. Sorry". No problem. I adjusted my package as well, not that I cared. I watched her and touched her as she moved back into her moves on my lap. It gave me a look at her smile and her beauty. Real ethereal beauty.
Song five was back to the GFE. Still and slow. Her soft full breast cupped in my hand. Her cheek against my cheek. My lips grazing her throat as her soft hair covered me. Her weight full on me. Comfortable. Insanely sexy. In the moment, for that brief moment.
"Thank you, baby. I'll stop there." Great restraint on my part. 5 songs - $100 with an extra $10 just because tucked into her G-String at her hip.
And I was out. Back to my hotel, where a suite with a hot tub awaited me. Arousing jets and lonely nakedness. Self-pleasure, with the delicious stripper-scent still lingering in my nostrils and the feel of her young soft skin under my fingertips filling my memory. Lubricated release. Then sleep.
Thank you, Dancer. I enjoyed that time with you. It will hold me for a while. And I will remember you.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Making Choices in the Dark Again
I had a reason to celebrate. Some money in my pocket. And an unaccountable night out of town.
I say all that by way of explaining why I walked purposely into my favorite strip club at 9pm one night and treated myself to another memorable night spent in the company of a lithe and lovely young lady, and left smelling of that delightful stripper scent.
It's been awhile. 3 1/2 years since I've been in any club, and longer for this particular club. I had a plan, and the long dormant club knowledge to execute it. I dressed well, in casual business attire with nice shoes. (Dancers notice that). I shaved, to have a fresh clean cheek for dancer to nuzzle against. I had breath mints in my pocket to not smell of beer. I want to be a pleasant customer for my dance partner.
I pull into the gravel parking lot and walk under the purple lighting into the just-constructed-looking entry foyer. Five buck cover, and I'm with a ten and a five in my wallet with the twenties. I'm going to need some singles.
It all comes back to me as I walk into the club door at the back of the room. The sounds from the DJ booth. The lighting. The club layout. I'm back, and I soak it in. The stage in front of me has a lovely dancer circling a pole. Bar right center. Private rooms at the back of the room next to me: table dances upstairs right and longer couch dances off to my left. That's where I want to end up. The manager of the rooms greets me with a handshake and asks if he can help. "What are the dance prices?" I ask, to see if they had changed since last time. They hadn't. $30 for a single song upstairs. $150 for a 1/2 hour and $300 for an hour in the VIP lounge. More in a ultra private room with a bathroom and a bed - much more. I'm thinking a half hour is my goal, and I need to manage the next hour well to make that happen the best that I can.
I survey the room as I head to the rest room, washing my hands thoroughly as I left. I know where my hands are going to be, and it's courteous. It's a small amount of men, and a quiet room. Must be early. Almost one guy per dancer, and that's not a good ratio. It means the dancers will be sizing me up and approaching me soon. I stand out like day-glo in my white dress shirt in the club, and I see dancers looking my way.
I know that means that I will be making choices quickly. Managing your night in a strip club is all about making choices, which means managing your money. I had two constraints: I could spend under $300 and in less than 90 minutes. Money can go fast in there if you are careless. I have spent too much time in this club to be completely careless. So, I made my first choice of the night as the DJ was announcing last dance of the night for the sexy young lady on stage, and that choice was where to sit. Doesn't sound like a hard choice, but it is an important choice.
I chose a table two back from the stage and waited for my waitress. She brought me a Sam Adams for another $4 with a dollar for her. She left me a stack of singles in change for my twenty. Ah, now I'm in business. I looked over the room again as I poured my beer in a glass. I was fairly sure that it had been long enough since I had been here that it would be new dancers, and it was. So, who to choose for my 1/2 hour dance? How to choose from this sexy group of semi-clad young ladies walking around me? Two or three seemed to be wrapped around regulars. One at the bar being fondled by a really old guy who was all hands.
I moved quickly to the tip rail to start meeting dancers. Up close and personal. A dollar at a time. The lovely girl dancing came over to me and swept my dollar away as she sat on the rail stradling me. She moved off the rail and into my lap and pulled me into her pillow-soft breasts. Wow. I remember this. How did I let it get away from me? Choose her, I thought? Maybe. I stayed hands-free with Dancer, letting her move on me, unlike the guy down the rail who groped away. It's a "touch" club, but not yet. I'm not ready yet. Be a gentleman in a gentleman's club.
Dancer number two was up, and she shook her derriere seductively at me as she used her first song to wipe down the poles. Enticing attire, with unique fishnets, not in hurry to get them off. Song two came quickly, and she was in front of me soon taking my singles. Laying on her side, showing me her delightful curves. Oh, I like this one. She's not the youngest in the room, and that's a plus. I want someone who has been here a while and will read me right. Someone who understands and can deliver the Girlfriend Experience. I live for GFE. Someone with her full shapely ass. "Come get some boobs before I leave", she whispers. Okay. "Would you come sit with me for a while", I ask. She smiles. I'm thinking that she's the one for the 1/2 hour. We'll talk at my table for a while, we'll do the 1/2 hour, and I'll be out. This choosing is working well.
As she goes off the back of the stage to dress, I head back to my table to wait for her. Oh, but I only barely made it there when the DJ announced a club special. Two-for-one dance, with a dancer parade. The first dancer down the stage passes me, and then circles back. "Would you like the two-for-one?" Yes. Oh yes. We can do this before my dancer comes back out, I think. Then I'll sit with her and do the 1/2 hour. Less than a half hour in and I have a slim young lady leading me upstairs.
Dancer has me pick a couch and settle in, while she disrobes. "Welcome to my naked office", she laughs as we're the first ones up there. We make small talk while the room fills up. Yes, I've been here before, but it has been a while. Yes I know this room. No, I was not in earlier this week. And as we chat I am visually taking in her delightfully naked body. Young. Tight. Sexy. Several tattoos discreetly placed. Lovely. She looks at me and tells me her dancer name, and it's one of the many that fade into each other. I hear her but don't register what she said. I am mesmerized by her young beauty. Dancer is really an exceptional beauty.
Our songs start and dancer goes into her routine. Expert. Energetic. Gliding over my lap, first facing me an then away. Wow, that is a beautiful derriere grinding on my lap right in front of me. Indescribable, but hot. Dancer leans into me and I nuzzle my nose into her neck, hands still at my side. I know I can touch, but I don't. I just want to see her beauty. To take it in. To nuzzle my face grazing into her neck. I just want to experience her. To marvel at this exquisite young lady naked with me. She stands over me and I see her shaved lips right above my eyes. Heaven. But it's that trim firm ass that has me in a trance. It's the pinnacle of sexiness.
And in that moment I make my final decision. Her. This is the one for the 1/2 hour. I could spend the whole night searching and deciding and not find another dancer as fine as this one. She's a little energetic for me. But that's okay, and worth it.
I offer. She accepts. We pay our way out of the upstairs room and move across the room with here still naked to the VIP room. "Hide me", she says as she tucks into my side. Isn't that cute? She was naked upstairs, and will be naked with me still, and has been naked in her stage dances. But, she's shy to walk across the club naked. Hide her I do, until we're through the curtain and on the red couch.
Two, count them, two managers come over and give me "speech". It consists mainly of touch rules. You can touch, just not boobs or crotch - as the demonstrate with waving hands. I know the rules, and believe me I want to touch - but not yet. We settle in to the couch and wait for the songs to start. More small talk with a naked young girl.
"Be careful with this area", I show. "I just had got a tattoo today".
"Get out of here, you did not!" she squeals as she thumps me in the chest. "You do not look like a tattoo guy! Show me!" I disrobe some and show her enough. "You are a surprise, mister." I like being a surprise. I like to see here smile. It's sexy, as she positions her lovely body on my lap for our extended dance. Good choice. I am going to enjoy this.
Dancer stradles my lap, with her crotch planted where my johnson should be and begins a focused grind. I feel the heat in my lap and she brings me to a joyous firmness. She's leaning over me and I nuzzle into her soft hair and cheek and neck again. This is what does it for me, not the grind. This is what I live for. If she could get off grinding on me, that would be great. I have no expectation for getting off. Just for experiencing her nakedness.
"You can touch", she says as she slaps her hip. "Just not where they said." No worries. I am a gentleman. I've been invited now. That makes a difference. And touch I do. Lightly, very lightly. Just my fingertips, tracing her figure. Experiencing. Enjoying. Memorizing.
As the songs play out, I touch. I feel. Her skin and muscle tone delicious to my fingertips. Wow. I trace over down her ribcage and along her hips. Over her thighs, and back up again to do it all over. Across her belly when she's grinding on my lap facing away. Along her spine when she's tucked into me. Down to cup here delicious ass with my happy palms. Yes. That ass. That small tight ass. Indescribable, but strangely familiar. Where have I seen that shape? Felt that feel? I know that lovely behind. "That feels nice", she says, and I believe her.
We grind on into the songs, with the managers appearing now and then to give her signals on how many songs left. Dancer is aware of the room, joking with the dancer grinding a guy next to us. I'm in the moment. Reaching between us to adjust my package for maximum contact in the grind. She is completely comfortable with her nakedness and my package and the grinding. Nice.
Last song. "Can we just cuddle for this one?" I ask. I don't need more grinding. I need nuzzling. GFE. Intimacy. I'm practically laying down on the couch now, and dancer hugs up on me, with her cheek against my cheek. My fingertips tracing her sides and back and beautiful skin. Nice. Bliss. She looks up at me in this intimate position and says "I feel comfortable with you. I don't know what it is, but you make me feel comfortable." That's my thing. I'm a gentleman and you can trust me. Trust goes a long way in the club.
I'm spent. Dancer has made some bank and I've spent the amount that I wanted to. Time is up. It's time to leave, and dancer walks me to the door.
I'm embarassed to ask this, but I ask anyway. "Tell me your name again?"
She does, and I know that name. "There used to dancer here years ago with that name. She was amazing. She looked a lot like you."
Dancer knows who I mean. They're related I think. I missed the relationship, but it's there.
And that explains why I recognized that perfect ass. They share that trait, that shape, that lovely shape. And now I've experienced it twice. Wonderful, that.
I got in my car and, in that close space, was awash in that intoxicating stripper scent from dancer. I love that smell, but it's on my clothes. It could get me in trouble, but I don't care. That smell is full of memories, and it's locking in this memory.
Thank you, Dancer. You are lovely beyond lovely. You made my night. Maybe my year. I will remember you...
You Don't Forget...
You don't forget how. It's like riding a bicycle that way, coming back to a strip club after a long absence. Only sexier.
I'm back. And I have a tale to tell about the lovely young lady that I spent time with in the dark....soon....
Until then, find my archives on the right side of the page. Start at the beginning. Read some sexy stories. Relive those moments with me.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
"In the back, In the dark"....again
Dancer passed by my table, eyes searching the club for a customer owed a dance.
Oh my God, I thought as I watched her glide by me. Pick me instead. All of my resolve to take my time in choosing a dancer for a private dance was gone 5 minutes into the club as this beautiful young girl stopped at my table having not found her target.
She was striking. The perfect picture of a stripper. Tall and pretty, with waist length blonde hair. Dressed to arouse in a mini school-girl skirt, barely covering a perfect and sexy ass, and knee-high leggings. And she was staring down at me.
"Would you like a dance?" Ahh, that question. So quickly posed.
"How much?"
"$20 a dance". "Absolutely, let's do it." She took my hand and we were striding off with a purpose.
"Where are we off to?", I innocently asked.
"In the back, in the dark, because that's the kind of girl I am", she said with a sweet smile.
Ahhh. And that's the kind of guy I used to be. So, why again? What brought me back? It's not what you think. Not lust. Not escape. Let's call it research of a medical science variety to benefit my marriage.
Flashback to earlier in the afternoon when a package arrived in the mail. Little blue pills from India. I've been looking forward to getting those since I ordered them a couple of weeks ago. Do I need Viagra? Well, in short, yes. For a couple of years now, ever since experiencing severe complications during a vasectomy, I haven't had the confidence that I need to have in an erection. Not that that's stopped me. I have skills in the bedroom, manually and orally, that are well above average and I'm capable of delivering a pleasant experience and multiple orgasms to my partner, firm boner or not. But it helps to walk into the situation confident and I'm not averse to taking the pills. A Viagra hard-on is an awesome thing.
So, I got the pills in the mail. The only question: would the generic version from a foreign lab be effective? Would the dosage required be the same?
Only one way to find out, really. I showed Mrs. Dancefan the package, took one in front of her, and a half-hour later we had a pleasant late afternoon "nooner". Rare for us, but certainly welcome. But, here's the rub. A half hour into our celebration of each other's body, her three orgasms ahead of me, I recognize that the pill does not seem to be providing the full strength experience that I've had before on the regular prescription Viagra. Am I imagining it? We had to quit where we were at to get the kids from school, and I'm left wondering: is the pill working or not? Am I going to get the full raging 4-hour boner that is the miracle of modern medicine? I want to know.
One other way to find out. I excused myself and went out for an "errand". And so I found myself walking into a strip club with the sun still shining outside. (Isn't there a Chris Rock routine about that? "Guys, if you're in a strip club and the sun is still up - you have a problem." Funny.)
In the back, in the dark, with the beautiful and sexy Dancer. A test, for medical science. What would arousal tell me?
We had the VIP to ourselves, and some time to talk as the current song played out.
"Wow, I just got here.", I said as we were settling in. "I haven't even had a beer yet."
She giggled. "And I just swooped you up." Thank you for that, I'm thinking. I'm a very lucky man to be swooped up by this lovely young girl.
It had been a while, but it was all coming back to me. The sense of being in a strip club. A beautiful semi-naked dancer snuggled up against me. Dim lighting. Pounding music. Ahh, yes. I remember this....
"What are we listening to.", I asked as she snuggled a knee up against my thigh.
"Kid Rock"
"Yes. He's got a new album out".
"Really?" She said, puzzled. "I think this is older. Maybe high school"
"Not from my high school days", I smiled at her.
"Oh, what was from your high school days?"
"Bee Gees", I said seriously. She punched me in the side playfully. "No way!"
"I was thinking Poison or Motley Crue for you. 80's stuff".
"Earlier", I said. Just enjoying being this close to her and talking casually. "Think 70's."
"Wow", she said. "You wear it well." Isn't she nice.
And our song began.
Dancer stood before me to begin, and it's apparent that not only is she fabulously sexy but that she has skills. Lapdance skills. Just the way I like them.
Teasing erotic touch. A foot gently playing in my lap. Straddling me on my lap, gliding not grinding. Gentle GFE cheek nuzzling with her face grazing mine and then down to play her soft soft lips against my neck. Her long hair engulfing me as she turns on my lap. Yes. Very nice. Her wonderful soft breast stroking my face.
And there, yes there it is. Dropping onto her knees between my spread leg. Finding my aroused "unit" with her hands and blowing hot vibrating air against it through my strained slacks. Unbelievably erotic. And a visual treat.
"Let's keep going", I say. And I enjoy myself. Enjoy the sight of Dancer's taut but feminine skin at her naked hips. Enjoying the sight of her lovely derriere pressed against my chest as she straddles me. Oh my. Lovely. And there for me. Enjoying her playing against my neck with her delightful lips.
Three songs. Bliss. Enough to know what I need to know. "Let's stop there", I say.
Dancer is slower than most to disengage. Keeping her hands on me. Rubbing against me with that delicious body. Engulfing me in her beautiful hair as she nuzzled into my neck.
"You smell wonderful", she said smiling up at me. "Really very nice." She was enjoying this unexpected moment. "What are you wearing? I recognize all of the common colognes, and this is not one. It's nice".
I paid the money, said a nice goodbye, and exited out into the bright sunlight - back my wife, knowing what I need to know.
For the record, the generic pills from Asia were not providing the firmest results that I was hoping for - despite the expert ministrations of the lovely and sexy and talented dancer. Maybe a higher dosage. Maybe there's no substitute for the real thing.
And, in case you're wondering - I was wearing "Afta" brand after shave from Mennen. Original scent in the green bottle. $2.12 at Walmart in the shaving lotion aisle. My all time favorite scent.
Dancer was wonderful to spend time with. Thank you, baby. It was a pleasure to meet you.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Stay and Read! 200+ Strip Club Customer Posts
I love strippers! And strip clubs. It's a world I traveled in for years, enjoyed to my fullest, and wrote extensively about here on DanceFan.
There is a lot here for you to enjoy. Over two hundred posts covering:
- positive tributes to many of the lovely dancers that I enjoyed time with
- observations on the strip club experience (couples, babes with belts, etc.)
- meeting porn star feature dancers in person
- my advice for how to enjoy a strip club (tipping, etc.)
- and one hot story about taking a stripper back to my hotel. You'll have to find it!
Scroll down and read. All 200+ posts are scrollable. (You don't have to go to archives.) In fact, scroll all the way down and read my first post for my explanation of why I started the blog. The first few posts are some of the best.
Or you can jump to some of my favorites:
My Beautiful Companion
Double-Dance Part II in Four Acts
Southern Comfort
Three in a Booth
My Passionate Catwoman
and a bonus for you bloggers who dig spanking:
Babes Wielding Belts
Stay and read. Bookmark and come back. There are some good tales here of my time in the dark, with the music thumping into my chest, and beautiful young ladies spending time with me. Enjoy! I hope you enjoy reading the experiences as much as I enjoyed re-living them.
Please leave a comment on any story that spoke to you. I'll see them.
And who knows. The next time you are out in a strip club, DanceFan could be the guy sitting by himself at a table in the back.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Stick around DanceFan's Lair
Yes, this blog is retiring. But don't leave just yet.
If you just found it through a link that is still open on another site, stick around for a while and read some of my posts.
There are over two hundred posts on this site about my experiences for 20 years as a strip club customer, most related to a binge of attendance over the last two years.
There are tributes to the lovely dancers that I met. There are observations on the club scene. There are even a couple posts mixed in of memorable erotic encounters.
So, scroll down to the bottom and read from the first posts - they're some of the best.
As you read, picture the setting. The dimly lit club. The thumping music. The lovely dancers. The private lounge. The almost-makeout.
If you like one of the posts, leave me a comment. I'll see it. Or email me (talk2me_dance4me_online@yahoo.com). Tell me what you liked or didn't like about a story.
Enjoy.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Postscript 2: My Kinky Backpack Finds a Home
Closure. Sweet closure, to the tale of my kinky backpack, as told in my post "Bondage in a Bag", . You remember, the backpack full of fun that rode around innocently in the trunk of my car for five years - unfulfilled.
Ahhh. It has found a home. My mind is at rest.
My solution came to me during a visit, a farewell visit, to my favorite strip club. To see her. To say goodbye to her. To experience one last embrace in one of her amazing hugs.
An all start cast was there that evening. The Queen of the Club. An angel. Cavegirl. All there. All gorgeous. All off limits.
No dances. I promised.
But I could talk. And so we met again at one of our tables. I waited as she went off to please some lucky guy in a two for one dance. And she was back. With me. In my own little world for an hour.
Passion. My favorite. In the end I come back to her.
She was beautiful. Confident. Radiant. And a deligt to chat with. All topics. Many topics. Confessions. Fantasies. Kink.
And that lead to the topic. My backpack, and it's kinky contents.
And that lead to the solution. Passion should have it. Finally, someone to enjoy it.
And maybe, she suggested, to share it. Enter Spirit, sitting on my lap. Talking with me about B.O.B. s (battery operated boyfriends).
With the solution at hand, and holding strong on no dances, I left.
So, I stopped back tonight with my backpack in tow. Full of all the contents I described in my last post (leather restraints, rope, whips, etc.) - plus some extra toys I threw in from another inspired trip to the adult store. A B.O.B. for Passion and two more adventurous toys for her to share with Spirit.
So. Not only is my mind at rest with the backpack out of my car trunk at last and in the hands of a beautiful young lady who may find pleasure from it. It is also inflamed with the thought of the two of them, Passion and Spirit, finding pleasure together from my donation. Visually inflamed.
So. Goodbye backpack. Goodbye Passion - a deep well of intense beauty. Goodbye Spirit - the sex pixie.
I'm left with my memories, and the fantasy of Passion and Spirit and the backpack.
Who knows - maybe they will favor us with an after-action report.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Postscript. Plus a Guest Blog
Hey, what are you guys doing here reading this? DanceFan's retired already!
Just kidding. I'm just stopping in again to feature a guest post from a DanceFan reader.
I hope everyone is having a happy (and horny) holiday season. I am, well the happy part anyway!. I'm getting to spend good time with my family. And, I'm behaving. I haven't been to any strip clubs since I made my decision to stop going. No adventures. No music thumping me in the dark. No lovely dancers. It's tough because I regularly travel near one of my favorite clubs now. But I'm holding firm. And it's okay. I'll live on the memories I recorded here and not generate new ones.
My blog email (talk2me_dance4me_online@yahoo.com)is still open. A couple of you have written to me since I stopped blogging, which I appreciate.
So, on to the guest post.
If you ever read the comments on Dancefan you've met one of my regular readers - my virtual friend Don. In the comments on my last post, Don left this question:
"Is it too late to submit a guest blog?" (I assumed it would be about a dancer.)
The answer is that I'm glad to do it. So, without further ado, here is Don's guest post submission, which he titled "lasagna_tattoo".
Lasagna tonight! But first, a trip to the store. And before that, a quick stop by my favorite titty bar. As Ronnie brings my MGD, I sit on the stool next to Teak, a new dancer, playing ‘Food and Wine Trivia’ on the video game. Her filmy red top does little to hide her small but perky breasts. I give her a hug from the side, then let my hand slip down to her butt. “Don!”
What? I say, expecting a rebuke.
“Could you rub me, I have a tight muscle?” Sure, show me where, I say, relieved. “Right here,” She puts a finger on her back, I start rubbing. Gentle or hard? “Both. If you rub this knot out, I’ll love you forever.” I’ll do my best. “Can you feel it?” Right here? “Yeah….” I start to rub, wishing I knew more about massages, but she seems content. “That feels better.”
Then she sits next to me, bums a smoke. “Will you be my Daddy?” I think it’s a little late to be your father. “No, I want a tattoo. TODAY” What’s the problem? “I have to be twenty-one, or have a parent.” You have two parents. “Don, you fuck, I need you to be my step-father, I’m only 19.” What am I going to get out of this? “Depends on what my boyfriend says.” Ronnie and I look at each other, knowingly, how much will it cost me, Ronnie? “Probably about fifty. There’s a place on Kay Street, Anna’s T’s, just down the road.” What time are you off, Teak? “Three.” It’s two, I really need to get stuff for lasagna, then make it. “PLEASE, Daddy?” Well, okay. (An adventure, I think.) “Please hold my hand?” Okay. “Will it hurt?” Don’t know, I’ve never had one. I think it just tingles, at first. “Just hold my hand?” Then she goes to dance for the few customers.
Three. Teak has changed into street clothes, braless in a white knit top, jean shorts. “Ready to go, Don, Dad?” Not till I tip Ronnie. “You could stiff her.” No, I can’t. RONNIE! “What do you want, I’m busy.” Too busy for a tip? “You have an MGD, up.” Sell it, we’re out of here. Ronnie takes my whole stack, “Thanks, Don!” Ronnie! “Okay,” she throws some bills back on the bar, “Get out of here, take that bitch with you!”
I follow Teak’s blue beater to the tattoo parlor. “Xxxxx Xxxxx, that’s my real name.” We go in, the manager is a big guy, but really nice,) “The artist will be done in a few minutes.” Cassandra asks him “I’m dancing tonight, do I have to wear a bandage?” “No,” he answers and leaves. Want before and after pictures? “Good idea, Don!” I take a shot with the Polaroid, she’s pointing to a spot on her right leg. “I want bite marks, right here.” Then the manager comes back with the release form, points. “No, our last names aren’t the same, he’s my step dad.” she explains. “Can’t do it, then, he could be anybody.” Then I want the release form back. “Why?” I don’t want my daughter’s identity stolen. Now he’s not as nice, “We keep them on file. And you, you took pictures, against the rules. Now kindly leave!”
I take her hand, we go back to the lot. “You going back to the Cove?” No, I still have lasagna to make. Sorry, sweety. “Not your fault. You tried, Daddy.” Kiss and hug. And from that time on, she always calls me Daddy.
Anyone else got a story about a dancer in them to tell?
What? I say, expecting a rebuke.
“Could you rub me, I have a tight muscle?” Sure, show me where, I say, relieved. “Right here,” She puts a finger on her back, I start rubbing. Gentle or hard? “Both. If you rub this knot out, I’ll love you forever.” I’ll do my best. “Can you feel it?” Right here? “Yeah….” I start to rub, wishing I knew more about massages, but she seems content. “That feels better.”
Then she sits next to me, bums a smoke. “Will you be my Daddy?” I think it’s a little late to be your father. “No, I want a tattoo. TODAY” What’s the problem? “I have to be twenty-one, or have a parent.” You have two parents. “Don, you fuck, I need you to be my step-father, I’m only 19.” What am I going to get out of this? “Depends on what my boyfriend says.” Ronnie and I look at each other, knowingly, how much will it cost me, Ronnie? “Probably about fifty. There’s a place on Kay Street, Anna’s T’s, just down the road.” What time are you off, Teak? “Three.” It’s two, I really need to get stuff for lasagna, then make it. “PLEASE, Daddy?” Well, okay. (An adventure, I think.) “Please hold my hand?” Okay. “Will it hurt?” Don’t know, I’ve never had one. I think it just tingles, at first. “Just hold my hand?” Then she goes to dance for the few customers.
Three. Teak has changed into street clothes, braless in a white knit top, jean shorts. “Ready to go, Don, Dad?” Not till I tip Ronnie. “You could stiff her.” No, I can’t. RONNIE! “What do you want, I’m busy.” Too busy for a tip? “You have an MGD, up.” Sell it, we’re out of here. Ronnie takes my whole stack, “Thanks, Don!” Ronnie! “Okay,” she throws some bills back on the bar, “Get out of here, take that bitch with you!”
I follow Teak’s blue beater to the tattoo parlor. “Xxxxx Xxxxx, that’s my real name.” We go in, the manager is a big guy, but really nice,) “The artist will be done in a few minutes.” Cassandra asks him “I’m dancing tonight, do I have to wear a bandage?” “No,” he answers and leaves. Want before and after pictures? “Good idea, Don!” I take a shot with the Polaroid, she’s pointing to a spot on her right leg. “I want bite marks, right here.” Then the manager comes back with the release form, points. “No, our last names aren’t the same, he’s my step dad.” she explains. “Can’t do it, then, he could be anybody.” Then I want the release form back. “Why?” I don’t want my daughter’s identity stolen. Now he’s not as nice, “We keep them on file. And you, you took pictures, against the rules. Now kindly leave!”
I take her hand, we go back to the lot. “You going back to the Cove?” No, I still have lasagna to make. Sorry, sweety. “Not your fault. You tried, Daddy.” Kiss and hug. And from that time on, she always calls me Daddy.