It time to talk about strippers again. And weight loss.

In order to best set the context for this story the first thing I must do is set a bit of background information. This background story concerns my very good friend Number 65, at strip club which we frequently frequent. I must also add that although I was not actually present for this background story, I did have the honor to witness one of Number 65’s many masterful retellings. I doubt that my prologue will do justice to.

The scene is set, once again in this very same club of which I speak. Most unusually Number 65 was approached by a female, who, after extensive verbal foreplay, “hello my name is so and so, where are you from, what do you do etc…” quite literally asked him if he wanted to watch her “get hot and horny.” I myself am no novice at the whole strip club experience, and know that this aggressive method of picking up a customer is quite unusual. As Number 65 is a true connoisseur of the customs of the gentlemen’s club, it was only natural that his interest be piqued by this female’s direct methods. Since she was hot, he naturally accepted her offer to go upstairs for a feel. Now understand that in the Montreal strip clubs, during a lap dance, customers are allowed to touch the stripper anywhere with exception of the g-string. Furthermore, no contact is allowed involving tongue, nether-regions, etc… The stripper of course is allowed to basically do whatever she likes.

Number 65’s experience was unusual, firstly from the forwardness of the stripper in question, and the fact that during her “dance” she asked him to spank her again and again, pleading that he hit harder and harder. Obviously he found the experience, uncomfortable, and so he did what anyone with a naked woman in front of him, who he is paying to be there, does. He laughed his ass off. I might add that whilst the males find the story quite fascinating, a female or two has been rather shocked by this story, but I am digressing as usual.

I should also add, before proceeding that several months ago I found myself in conversation with a male and female acquaintance of mine, who’s fake names I’ll not mention, discussing the etiquette behind the lap dance. The feminine friend of mine related that she had received a lap dance from a girl who proceeded to ask her for her telephone number. Whilst I asked her weather or not the stripper had in fact de-clothed herself completely, my masculine friend and female friend both looked at me like I was asking them something unusual. Turns out they had never received lap dances which didn’t involve complete nudity of the stripper. I admit that a small part of me was saddened by this fact. After all no stripper removed her string for me.

Since then, I’ve lost 14 kgs for unrelated reasons, which I’ll not go into right now. My story begins several months later; this past Saturday night in fact.

Number 65 and myself found ourselves out, as is our custom during the weekend, consuming various alcoholic beverages. A few drinks later, we both had the same idea on our mind, but neither of us gusty enough to go beyond the odd joke about frequenting the peelers. Several drinks later, found our courage, and we promptly exited out watering hole in search of another kind of hole. This we found in our friendly downtown strip club which we so do adore.

After sitting down, and discovering that straight alcohol is much cheaper than the carbonated alcoholic beverages which these institutions try to pass off as beer, we were approached by a rather attractive, tall platinum blond, who introduced herself by some name which I do not recall. When she asked Number 65 if he came here often, he responded with a, “Nope, this is my first time here, but it looks very nice!” I know my friend well enough to know that he was being sarcastic, and just as a tomahawk missile slams into an unsuspecting Muslim dude, I knew that this was the, “Spank me” chick.

Her approach was very smooth. She made light conversation, and then showed us this neat little trick involving flexing one boob at a time. Number 65 related that he had once seen a clown do the same thing when he was a wee lad of a mere ten summers. He also added that the experience had scarred him for life. I was reeling with delight at his wit. He was truly on the ball, so to speak, and I had consumed just enough vodka to find his shit not only funny, but outright hilarious. Finally the girl quit her small talk and outright asked us if we wanted a lap dance. I think her exact words were, “So which one of you two is hornier?” His answer went something like this. “Well you know when I’m in a grocery store I don’t like buying the first this I see on the shelf. I like to browse around first.” BOOM. I must say I am still in awe of my friend’s balls. The girl recovered quickly, having the good taste to eschew a token giggle at my friend’s burn, and turned her attentions towards me. She was hot, and I wanted to see if she would let me spank her. I like spanking. I was game.

The platinum blond got completely naked. Score! Unlike most of my previous lap dances she spent a long time complementing my physique, and licking my ears. Now I’ve been known to hit the peelers from time to time, but this was way unusual for me. She asked me to spank her. I asked her weather or not she was trying to get me kicked out. She insisted. I obliged. Without offending Number 65 I will say that after the first slap she didn’t ask me to do it harder. Likewise I didn’t wait for her to ask me to do it again. She asked me if I was single. I said yes. She asked me why. I said it was convenient for me to be single. She said she that explained why I was in a titty bar. I said that relationships never really stopped me from frequenting titty bars. She said that was good, since the last place a man was going to get sex was in a strip club. I agreed, with her at the time. I later discovered that she was wrong. Perhaps she was on the defensive. Eventually I lost track of the number of dances I had had. I seemed to have been sidetracked. She lied and told me I had had five dances instead of four. Number 65 later confirmed this to me since I genuinely didn’t know at the time. I paid, and returned to my table reeling at the unique experience. Totally worth it.

Number 65 and I then began discussing prostitutes, and he confided in me that he was not accustomed to being propositioned by sex workers in general. This is the sort of thing which happens to me all the time. I’ve always had this feeling that women look at me and see sucker written on my forehead, since they’re always coming to for some favor or demeaning proposition or something rather. I’m probably reading too far into it, but I am slightly bitter. Following this conversation I ordered another vodka, and Number 65 went off to hit a girl who had caught his fancy, leaving me all alone to fend for myself.

After bouncing two strippers a skinny black chick comes up to me. She outright asks me if I want a dance, to which I reply, “I’m good.” She says, “I don’t think you are.” I say, “Ohh?” She says, “You’re not good until you’ve had some chocolate baby, and you haven’t been with me yet.” I say, “Sounds like a challenge.” She says, “Yes.” I oblige.

She begins talking about how horny she is, and how hot she finds me. She asks me if I’m single. I tell her yes and she moans with delight. She strips her clothes and starts feeling me up. She pokes a my pocket. “Ohh that’s your wallet. I thought it was something else.” Actually it was my ipaq, but I don’t correct her since I don’t wanna appear too geeky. Then she grabs my crotch and asks me how big it is. I consider telling her she should find out, but realize that I am paying for a fantasy here. My silence is rewarded with her asking me if it is bigger than her wrist. It is. It tell her. She gasps. I tell her she has small wrists which was true. I’m laughing on the inside. Then she tells me how horny she is and takes off the g-string. She starts fingering herself and says she wants to get fucked. This sort of thing never happens to me, but I take it all in stride telling her she is trying hard to get me kicked out. I’m desperately trying to appear smooth. She tells me she wants to go to a hotel. I coyly tell her that a hotel is beyond my means. She is still playing with herself, and I’m grateful for the black light which is hiding my furiously blushing face. She makes me spank her. She grabs my hand and forces me to choke her. She grinds her string-less crotch against mine. I’m trying very hard to look comfortable. When I finally tell her that I’m ready to stop she plays with my hair and begs me to leave with her. I’m not stupid enough to think that she’s not trying to make more money. I thank her for the lovely time and move… quickly.

I ran into her a little later and she bit my left nipple through my shirt with a smile. I’m still sore.

So that was my very unusual stripper experience. I completely blame the fact that I’ve lost thirty pounds. Now I’m not going to suggest that I’ll be going to the peelers more often because truth be told, the whole thing did make me a little nervous, and to tell you the truth I wasn’t really turned on by the whole thing. On the other hand my ego did take a bit of a jump because of this story. Guys are weird that way.