From: MrParallax <mrparallax@my-deja.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.strip-clubs
Subject: ASSC: Through the Looking Glass
Date: Thu, 30 Sep 1999
<Physicists have often claimed that the known physical universe accounts for a very
small amount of the available mass in existence. If this is so then there may be other
dimensions, placed parallel to our own, where the established laws of reality may work
very differently. Join me now (please!) for a typical trip to a strip club, through the
looking glass...>
--
Four regulars are up on the stage. I'm dancing with them. It's a typical Saturday night
and the club is filled with exotic dancers looking to spend hard-earned cash on us ugly,
drunk, sweatty, men. I'm dancing with the other guys on my shift, trying my best to think
of anything other than the dozens of beautiful women in the audience who want to sleep
with me. Like any of them actually had a chance at getting into my boxers...Hah! Oh well,
a guy's got to make a living. So anyway, I was shaking what my Momma gave me when I saw
Tanzi walk into the club and take a seat on pervert row.
Tanzi is a real piece of work: She's a gorgeous quarter-Hispanic girl with eyes so green
they shame the emerald heath of Ireland. She has a bod that won't quit, resembling that of
a Playboy centerfold, rich chestnut hair cascades down her shoulders, and she moves with a
grace midway between that of a jungle cat and an acrobat. As you might expect she's not my
type at all, but she has a nice personality. Geez, just once I wish some ugly girls would
come into the club...maybe then I could actually enjoy my work.
Tanzi leans in against the tiprail, pressing her lush, firm, breasts against it, and
offers me a five dollar bill. I shrug, but only on the inside, and lean down towards her.
She dutifully takes my wallet from my pocket and stuffs the fiver' into it. Her eyes meet
mine, I offer her my best heart-breaking smile, and she looks away blushing. I have that
effect on women. They take one look at my unathletic ass and they fall in love
immediately. I can't help it. It's a curse. Mother always told me I'd find a job where I
could cash in on my bad looks. She never knew how right she was. I offer Tanzi a brief
kiss on the cheek and sashay to the opposite side of the stage. It's the third song of my
set, time for me to get nekkid'.
I arch my back and lever my body around the pole on center stage as I slowly shimmy out of
my slacks and Tommy Hilfiger shirt. The strippers in the audience scream and clap as my
clothes come off. I feel so cheap. If only I had gone to one of the good schools I
wouldn't be here today. After an eternity the song ends. I collect my clothes, and my
tips, as I head towards the dressing room. The next regular, a fat truck-driver named Bob,
leaves the dressing room and heads towards the stage. Bob's a cool guy, and his beer belly
is natural, not an implant like some of the other regulars have. Some guys will do
anything to make a little extra money. I'll never mutilate myself that way.
"How are the suckers biting tonight?" He asks.
"Oh, the usual. I'm gonna' make out well though. One of my weekly dancers just came
in."
"It's not that Tanzi chick is it? She always gets really grabby in the champagne
room. I hate it when dancers grab my cock!"
"Yeah, me too. But she's got a lot of money, and I've got to feed my kids...you know
how it is..." My sentence trails off, dancers will never understand the regular
mindset, but it's something that goes unspoken among the men who dance at strip clubs.
"...anyway, Bob have a good night."
"'Back attcha' bro'"
He steps to the stage, I glide to the make-up mirror in back of the dressing room. I check
my look, change into that sexy Hawaiian shirt number that I know Tanzi likes and head out
of the dressing room. Now it's time to make some serious money.
--
Tanzi meets me before I'm halfway to the bar. We hug.
"Hey MrP. would you care to join me in one of the private rooms?"
"Sure darling, you know how much I love dancing for you!...just let me get a shot or
two of Tequilla first!"
"Of course Sweetie..." She says "Oh, please put your money away, let me buy
those for you. You know I take good care of my all-time-favorite!"
She likes to call me her "all time favorite" for some God awful reason. Maybe it
has something to do with that ASSC thing she's always blathering about. She buys me my
shots of "liquid courage". I slam them back, preparing myself for what's coming
next, then I take her arm and lead her to the nearest private room. The huge lady bouncer
pulls back the curtain for us and we step inside. The shadows swallow us up, as I sit down
in her lap. I'm a good regular. I always wait until the start of the next song before I
start dancing.
We chat for a bit about her week. She tells me all of her troubles. I do my best to soothe
her pains. She's a really good looking girl, so she doesn't date much. I'm probably the
only ugly guy she's had near her since the last time she came in. I almost pity her, but
she's always so sweet to me. As far as dancers go she's a good egg. I know my wife
understands what I do, she's not the jealous type, but I think it would hurt her feelings
if she knew how intimate the dances get with Tanzi.
The DJ calls out the next song, and the available drink specials, her words are glib and
very witty. Just once I wish I could work in one of the good clubs where the DJ's are real
assholes, that sell drugs to the regulars, and say mindless bullshit. Ah, well...maybe
someday. A boy can dream can't he?
I begin my hour-long session with Tanzi: We start slow. She likes it that way. I peel off
my clothes. As I move against her I can feel her body heat rising. I run my hands over her
body and she returns the favor. Her hands touch me between my legs. Normally I never let a
stripper touch me there, but Tanzi is a special case. Sometimes I actually feel really
sexy when I'm dancing for a stripper. This is one of those times. The minutes fly by like
angels, eventually Tanzi shudders and moans with soft release. I kind of like making her
do that. I don't consider it cheating or anything, it's just my job to make the dancers as
happy as possible. After she takes a moment to collect herself she takes out my wallet and
places three one hundred dollar bills in it.
"You're the best..." She whispers, she's still a little breathy.
"Thank you darling..." I kiss her cheek "...Will I see you next week?"
"Of course."
--
Later, I watch her leave the club. She's just another lonely stripper on a Saturday night.
For what it's worth I do like her, and I gave her my best, but I never, ever, date the
clientele. This is my living, not my lifestyle.
I wander back through the club. So many suckers so little time, and It's still hours till
tip-out. I pick the nearest group of strippers and sit down with them.
"Wannadance?" I say.
<We know return you to the real world. Where things work differently>