Truely strange experiences in a club.
tropicalH2O
I've tried a few clubs and spent some time in a few more, but always just enough to get by, I'm not greedy I just like making fast money and having time to myself the rest of the week.
This first post is a repeat of a post I did on a local club website, this last summer. A semi-regular customer took me to the couch. He used to work at nuclear power plant and looks a bit like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons. I danced about 3 songs for the guy and at the beginning of song number four the guy, touches himself for a just a moment and ejaculates thick custard onto my tan belly. I quickly excused myself, went to the ladies room where I grabbed a paper towel to clean off the ooze. Just then a gabby dancer friend launches into an entire conversation about something trivial (while I have a paper towel poised over the mess). I finally leaned over to her, and interrupting her said, "hey "so-so" just came on me and I need to wash it off". She said, "oh, honey let me help you and she got some paper towels wet and we wiped up the mess together. (The funny part is that I wanted desperately to get the stuff off of me and was stuck in front of the sink and mirror with my mind only on the idea of getting clean while she was going off at the mouth at about a hundred miles an hour about something that I couldn't and didn't want to focus on.) From then on and to this day we call him, "Nuclear Custard."
This first post is a repeat of a post I did on a local club website, this last summer. A semi-regular customer took me to the couch. He used to work at nuclear power plant and looks a bit like Mr. Burns from The Simpsons. I danced about 3 songs for the guy and at the beginning of song number four the guy, touches himself for a just a moment and ejaculates thick custard onto my tan belly. I quickly excused myself, went to the ladies room where I grabbed a paper towel to clean off the ooze. Just then a gabby dancer friend launches into an entire conversation about something trivial (while I have a paper towel poised over the mess). I finally leaned over to her, and interrupting her said, "hey "so-so" just came on me and I need to wash it off". She said, "oh, honey let me help you and she got some paper towels wet and we wiped up the mess together. (The funny part is that I wanted desperately to get the stuff off of me and was stuck in front of the sink and mirror with my mind only on the idea of getting clean while she was going off at the mouth at about a hundred miles an hour about something that I couldn't and didn't want to focus on.) From then on and to this day we call him, "Nuclear Custard."
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One odd story relates to an experience many years ago in Dallas. We stopped one time after a basketball game for a beer in the neighborhood where we played. The "bar" was really a strip club and one of my friends who was a church deacon was with us and started talking to the "waitress" who then had to go up on stage. He left very embarrassed. Next week he's working in the ER when the EMT's bring in this girl for passing out.(You could always tell the dancers in that it was 100 out and they'd have a blanket on.) Anyway she jumps off the cart with only a bikini bottom, gives him a big hug and goes" Dr. H its so good to see you again". The whole ER crew cracked up.
The other experience involved the manager at my favorite club asking me to look at a boil on a dancer's ass to see what she should do about it. The words you never want to hear in a strip club. "Does this look infected to you?" Its not the way to begin the night.
Hey friend, where are you to validate my interesting life? Remember though, to refer to me as TropicalH2O and not by my stage name. -T
I was working with both of them a few days later when the hostess of the party got in the other girls' face and started screaming about her going all the way with the other girl's man. I guess that there were supposed to stop at a certain point and one of the girls crossed the line. They had this blow-out argument in front of me and one left the shift early. It was really uncomfortable to be near this conversation, but boy did I get an earful of information that wasn't mine to hear.
Another well-known dancer had a contest out of town and had her significant other paint her up with this permanent tanning dye. He got excited looking at her all painted up and he went down on her. The next day and for almost a week later the tip of nose was brown from the dye.-T
Another time in Archibalds in DC (I'm sure AN knows the place) a dancer who was sitting at the bar passed out and landed on the floor (their bar stools are pretty tall.) Two other dancers carried her off into the dressing room. She was out cold. She'd been having a good time up to that point, but I'd guess that more than alcohol was involved.
Oh I just remembered another one. Years ago there was a very nice cocktail lounge in DC, it wasn't exactly a strip joint but the waitresses and barmaids all wore skimpy see-though shortie nighties. One night a group of Japanese businessmen came in and tried to hire several of the girls. It created quite a ruckess, they thought the place was a whore house. Everyone in the place was laughing at them by the time they left, empty handed I might add. Guess they didn't understand our customs.
There was a dancer I knew from ballet school. We worked at a topless club together and started spending time together. One night she spent the night at my house and she pleasured me. The second time she spent the night at my place; there were nude girl-on-girl pages from Penthouse or Hustler on my windshield. Apparently her boyfriend knew where I lived and was probably listening jealously at my front door or under my windowsill and later placed the magazine pics to let us know that he knew.
A few years later she seduced me twice in a day; once in the afternoon and then a second time at night to get me to work at another club with her. After the first time she called me at home to ask me when I was going to come in and audition and I said I wasn't sure.
She came right over to change my mind and it worked. It was a one-way street though. I wanted to return the favor but she only liked to get me off.
How about the one where you and a dozen dancers go home for a lingere slumber party, start pillow fights and get so hot and sticky you all jump into the shower to clean up. Then the baby oil comes out...
Story #1 A young customer gave me $10 for a dance and I walked him back to the couch area. He was wearing shorts, and as I shifted my weight to straddle him he pulled up his shorts and the longest cock I've ever scene was flacidly hanging there, I almost lost my balance and I don't know where these words came from because I didn't think about it, "Put your cock away and I'll dance for you." is what I said. I danced the song for him and at the end of the song he gave me another $10 and told me that he liked the way I told him to put his cock away.
#2 (and I do mean number two) There was a miserable hag of woman named, "Mona". She was Asian, and looked good for her 40 to 50 plus years. She never smiled and looked completely miserable all the time. Sometimes guys would try to joke with her or give her extra money to improve her mood - nothing worked to improve her attitude, not even for a brief moment, EVER.
I was dancing for a guy and did 2 or 3 songs, when he excused himself away to use the bathroom, admitting that he was having intestinal problems. He sat and watched a few girls on stage then left the club.
Mona sat on the chair the guy was sitting on and apparently sat in something and started muttering loudly to herself then smelled her hand. Apparently this guy had had diarrhea and she had sat in human excrement and got it on her stockings and leotard. When she tried to identify the substance she got it on her hand then inhaled it deeply into her nostrils. She was fit to be tied, screaming and swearing, and completely hysterical. She left the club immediately but returned the next day. I'm not a mean person, but this scene actually brought me quite a bit of pleasure because she was so unpleasant to work with. Even writing about it now makes me laugh!
#3 Another dancer, beautiful, large, and sensuous like a younger version of Della Burke used to ease the night away with at least 5 or 6 Southern Comfort's on the rocks. At the end of onenight she was quiet hammered and ended up with this guy on the couch. I had talked with the guy earlier and he had scabs on his face, not acne scabs but probably impetigo (in the daylight it probably looked like Syphillis chancres). Well, this sweet, natural large breasted, intoxicated woman turned her back on this man and while the rest of us were getting dressed and ready to go home she comes screaming back to the dressing room. Apparently, while she turned her back on him he jerked off and ejaculated on her back. Poor dancer, I hope that his ejaculate didn't have scab seeds in it.
God, what an awful club that was to work in - the worst!
I had a favorite at my local club a few years back, and we really clicked personalitywise. We used to have a great time talking and laughing, I took good care of her, great situation overall. Once we got on the topic of stupid guy tricks in stripclubs. One of her pet peeves was guys who blew on her box. This was a no contact club so the shows got faily pink and up close. It was inevitable I guess but her beef was "exactly what do these guys think it's going to accomplish?" I joked they thought it'd make her want to take them home, after all if they can get her so turned on with just their breath, I mean come on. We laughed about it. One night when I was in my cups I decided to be a jerk so as I tipped her I blew on her box. She whipped around and shot me a look as if to say "I can't believe YOU of all people did that." I just mouthed the words "you want me" doing my best lounge lizzard immitation. She had a laugh, gave me a wet willy the next time she sat down and I didn't think any more of it.
About a month later when I was waiting in line to tip her the guy in front of me blew on her box. She turned around and in a voice loud enough so that everyone at her stage could hear started in on the poor guy, her voice dripping condecencion "Oh yeah baby, blowin' on my box makes me Soooo hot. You must really know how to treat the ladies. I wanna party with you... can I have your number?" As the guy slinks away to the laughter of all (she had great comedic talent) he looks over his shoulder, and she crooks her hand to her ear in the universal phone gesture and mouths "call me". The whole stageside erupted in laughter. I felt a little sorry for the poor sucker, but it was absolutely hillarious.