• articles >
• Danielts

Danielts

California

I had no idea what I was doing.

I'd been contemplating visiting a strip club for a while, parking near this club or that, nervous as hell, never going in. I was in my 20s, absolutely no game with the ladies, the product of a sheltered suburban childhood. I got my first honest-to-god girlfriend at 22, and she'd turned out to be a complete bitch who I only stayed with because of FOMO.

But I was in Vegas. Sin City. No girlfriend. I was going to hit a strip club.

I selected Cheetah's because it was close to my hotel. I went in the late afternoon. There were only two ladies working the room. I ordered a screwdriver, the only drink I knew, and settled at the bar to watch a middle-aged blonde work the stage.

"This is a strip club?" I thought. "What's the big deal?"

That's when the second dancer approached me. I hadn't seen her, but she'd spotted the fresh meat. Walking behind me, she slowly ran a fingernail just above my belt, shooting shivers up my spine and back down again.

That moment. I've chased after it, like a drug. But nothing I've experienced has ever come close to the excitement I felt at that moment.

She led me and my screwdriver by the hand to a booth in the back of the room. Raven-haired, she was slim and exotic and exciting. I imagined her to be some sort of gypsy out to entrance me.

"It's my first time in a strip club," I explained.

"Oh, really?" she replied, hiding her amusement at my absolute lack of understanding about what to do. "Well, you came to the right place."
She rubbed my thigh encouragingly. Then she explained lap dances to me, and I admitted that I'd not brought enough money to afford much beyond the entrance fee.

She smiled, made small talk, and when she was told she had to go on stage, waved over the other dancer to take care of me. As I watched my gypsy dancer take the stage, the blonde rubbed her chest against my arm, but it was nothing like that thrill that the dancer on the stage had aroused. I fled the club before my gypsy could come back off the stage. Didn't want to inconvenience these dancers any more with my lack of funds.

I've been to many SCs since then, and through my visits have gained some confidence around women. I've found my share of both rude and generous, both sensuous and systematic dancers. But none have been able to replicate the thrill caused by a single, sensual fingernail running just above the beltline.