An Only Takes One Experience In the 2020s

Rather than post this as a review, I'm posting as an article precisely because it doesn't really make sense as a review. There is a club I used to go to during business trips during the 2010s. This club consistently exceeded expectations on looks and mileage, being very close to a local university. The recruitment of gorgeous short, petite, college playboy spinner models was unbelievable. The natural exploratory attitudes of the dancers and club management made mileage levels go through the roof in the heyday. The club itself was very laid back and chill, though with a subtly but strongly x-rated vibe. Stages were way closer to PLs than most usual clubs and the degree of exposure on stage was deliberately or accidentally quite explicit. The PLs were also quite "normal" in the sense of being average to above average income professionals who may have had their carnal reasons for visiting, but never ever had issues with bouncers or dancers. Prices were shockingly low for service as well.

New PLs of the 2020s have no idea what you missed out on. After the pandemic and with the rise of Onlyfans, the dancer pipeline at many clubs began to suffer. The few 8s and 9s who were at this club started charging double or triple the club's CSRP. If you thought eggs were expensive, the total outlay at this club on a night went up orders of magnitude if you wanted something close to the 2010s experience. But it was never quite the same, because between looks, mileage, and price, you were forced to trade something off. As the economy got shittier in the 2020s, the 8s and 9s gradually left and consolidated into other clubs where the baseline was always low on mileage and high on price. This redistribution effect has affected a lot of cities where getting an 8 on looks and 8 on mileage was once financial feasible is now only feasible at the one or two clubs that charge $50-$60 cover just to get in.

Nonetheless, business brought me back to town, so I thought I'd TOFTT to see how the place was. This was a place that had cars overflowing on street parking back in the 2010s. Now, sometimes you might only see 3-4 cars parked there. I happened to have a car rental for work and they gave me one of my favorite car models. The moon was out with a bright full moon too. So I thought maybe luck was on my side that night.

The club itself physically looked no different from the 2010s - that's part of how the clubs are surviving. PLs don't even realize they're blowing cover until they go inside. A cover that was once $15 was now $50. Thanks to hyperinflation and fewer PLs & dancers going in probably. As soon as I walked in, I felt my pants loosen up from my happy fellow shrinking like a frightened turtle. I did not see a single dancer above a 4. With the dark lights, my eyes had to switch to deeper levels of vision as I’m Robocop scanning the entire place looking for some hope of an attractive dancer. Sometimes I struggled to distinguish the dancers from the PLs. Because you see, the PLs had changed too. No more professional business types in suits smoking cigarettes. It was all blue collar folks, which is totally cool, but it indicates a change in the club environment. The bouncers had to hover a lot more than the old days, because this clientele just statistically violated rules at the stage and got themselves in trouble more. More so than the blue collar guys who maybe just ogled a bit too much and got too close at the stage, there was a new cadre of virgin freshman boys all around the club. I don't really get why they showed up now with a $50 cover but didn't come when the girls were more attractive and cover was $15 in the 2010s. But they really killed the vibe by congregating in big group huddles right in front of each stage, which surely turned away a lot of dancers as well. It was just a more depressing feel from the playboy model factory this place was in the 2010s.

So I set a timer on my watch. If I didn't spot an attractive dancer by the time it rang, I'm sinking the $50 cover and leaving. But then it happened. Around 15 minutes before my alarm went off, I felt a disturbance in the force. I look way across the club and spot a short petite thin girl walking into the dressing room with blonde hair and a black skirt. WTF. Was I starting to hallucinate? I kept looking for any sign of her again but started to wonder if I really was losing it. At T minus 2 minutes, my penis is on life support and I’m preparing to finish my drink and take off.

Then it happened. Just like in Back to the Future when George kisses Lorraine and Marty springs explosively to life, so did my penis. While I was losing hope, I totally missed a girl come on stage. Oh shit, it’s the cute petite spinner girl with the blonde hair and black skirt! Holy fing shit. She’s absolutely drop dead gorgeous. She’s probably about 5’1 without heels and about 5’6 with them. Long perfect blonde hair with a shockingly cute face. Perfect athletic shape and flawless skin. Muscular shoulders, washboard abs, thin thighs, a super tight ass, sculpted legs, and incredibly cute feet. I don’t have a foot fetish, but her feet were turning me on. There’s a line from the Sopranos about how a big chest and tiny feet can satisfy any man’s needs. My mind started to race and my heart started to pound. Why the fuck is there a 10 in a club with all other 4s and 5s? My cynical mind then concluded, she probably has some weird body flaw or is a really bad dancer.

Nope. Top comes off on stage and they’re spectacular, firm, and natural. Perky and pink as they say. She starts doing one of the most acrobatic stage dances, esp compared with all of the previous dancers who were 50-100 pounds overweight. She’s got perfect teeth and a lovely smile, playing with the PLs at the tip rail. Her dancing is graceful, again, hearkening back to the days of the playboy models from the 2010s. As my mind struggles to comprehend what is going on, another surge of blood rushes through my veins. She drops the black bottoms. There is audible silence in the room with nothing but the DJ playing Dua Lipa’s Dance the Night blasting out of the speakers. My mind keeps throwing up reasons to be disappointed, like maybe she’ll be really modest on the last song without bottoms. Nope. No modesty whatsoever. Perky and pink all over. All with nothing but the sweetest and prettiest smile.

She does the usual slow stage crawl to pick up the trillion dollars of tips she’s gathered. I figure I might get fucked over by an aggressive tip railer who asks her to go into the VIP. But this is where the relatively economic weakness of the audience might have been an advantage. Zero takers from the tip rail. She collected her money to head back to the dressing room.

I had to collect my thoughts. How did I spend over an hour disappointed to finally see the only perfect 10 in the club that night? I knew I had to cock block the entire club and get her into VIP. So when she came back out, I pulled my usual PL moves and took her aside to a booth on the floor to keep her away from the rest of the club. I braced for someone awkward or an obvious ROB. Nope. She grew up in the Midwest and started dancing after high school a year ago. She decided to try out being a traveling dancer and works clubs across the country. We compared notes on clubs in different cities and it could not be more chill or cool. She had the voice of an angel and having this thin athletic blonde goddess on my lap was exhilarating.

After a decent amount of chit chat, she went in for the kill and asked what I wanted to do. I asked her for her prices. Fuck me. She wanted triple the CSRP. I guess kudos to her for starting high. I got her down to a little less than double CSRP. Beggers can’t be choosers, and when there’s one 10 in a club full of 4s, you just have to put up or shut up. Before closing the deal, I also asked her about her rules, in case there was a catch. She smiled coyly and confirmed there wouldn't be too many rules.

The VIP has been lamed up too, where they used to have large rooms with many couches. The new VIP was smaller but sufficient. I feared that she was lying about mileage. Nope. It was like I got into a time machine and went back to the 2010s. There are a variety of terms to describe this level of mileage, but usually it's just called “high mileage.” I won’t list all the specific acronyms involved, but there was no intrusions from bouncers, no boundaries with her, and she left me more than satisfied. The pauper definitely left a king. For a few minutes, I felt younger and like I was living in the past.

We had a pleasant goodbye and I walked back into the club with the aggressive testosterone rush of conquest. After an hour of disappointment, I somehow got one of the best VIPs in terms of looks and mileage ever. But it was totally a "only takes one" experience. Any other night, time, or dancer, and the experience would be nowhere near as good. And here's the best part, she's a traveling dancer, so I can't even bank on her coming back to the same club again ever.

Truth be told, the top 3-4 memorable VIPs were all probably "only takes one" experiences where going back to the same club might not have yielded the same experience again. It's one of the reasons that ATFs are so important, because if you find someone you like and works the same place consistently, it removes all this randomness from the picture. But that's a bit of the irony of review sites. You're trying to spot a pattern from others' reviews, but how much of a pattern is there really? You could go to a club with great reviews on that one bad night or go to a club with shitty reviews and have a "only takes one" experience that wipes the floor with other nights. Aside from a known ATF, what really is it about the club experience that is repeatable enough that you can review and pattern out? In the end, maybe life in the club, and life in general, is more random than we think, and you just have to hope for that once in a full moon night of having a "only takes one" experience.