Goddamn Brownies

After working an exhilarating day in the world of reality TV, sigh, I gave one of the guys a ride home. Somehow we got on the subject of strip clubs and I recalled my first, and only, lap dance.

This was at least three years ago and around Christmas. The girl I was seeing at the time and a couple of friends decided to head for The Clubhouse. It was ladies night so they got in free. This place is all nude so you can bring in your own booze. I like that a lot better because I don't need mixers and that small bottle of Jameson was just right. Because of the free women thing there were a bunch of very butch lesbians there. I thought men were bad! These women were hooting, hollering and slapping asses while never spilling a drop of their classy Keystone Light. Ha!

On with the story. My female companion decided to buy me a dance, and after much protesting I let it happen. There was just something weird in my head about a woman rubbing herself all over me while three friends watched. I was right. What an awkward song. I thought they had to keep their underwear on, but evidently this girl did not know it. Before long she was wearing nothing but her heels and rubbing her bajingo all over my leg. Hmmmm. I looked around nervously and my buddies were just watching. As if it were not bad enough already the girl reeked of baby powder. I really don't want to be reminded of babies when some girl is working her daddy issues out on my knee.

At least it was only one song, then I could get back to my real love of the evening - the DJ whose feathered hair, sunglasses and leather jacket proved he was stuck in 1988. Sweet.