Night at The Harem (Part One)

The following are exerpts of an email from a www.dirtydianasdiary.com reader about a night at an Ohio strip club. It was accompanied by a number of questions. The author said he wanted a dancer's perspective, but before I give him that, I'd like to get the opinions of some men. Is this guy missing the point or is he receiving something that most people miss out on when they interact with strippers?
Please give me your detailed and uncensored opinion.

I just returned from a seven-week road trip, and the last week I finally surrendered to my carnal desires and visited some strip clubs in Dayton, Ohio. I did not intend to spend more money than admission, buying a brew, and tipping a few girls a couple of bucks. The place is called The Harem, and once inside, I walked around, then gravitated to the far wall, along which were placed a half dozen or so very comfy looking sofa chairs. One was empty, so I eased myself down, and let the beauty of the female body works its magic on my senses.

There was a guy in his fifties (like me) in the chair next to me, just as heavy and flabby as I am, but a lot worse looking. He had this very perky dark eyed brunette sitting on his lap, and after a while, she left, did a dance, then came back wearing a very cute, slinky black and gold camisole. And she just draped herself all over this old man. It was just awesome. I nearly had tears in my eyes: I think I'd had a woman cuddled up against me that sexily on a couch only a handful of times in my life. I watched, mesmerized, as she caressed him, and whispered in (or nibbled on) his ear. Eventually, she led him back into the room for private lab dances (which was further down along the wall I was sitting against, so I could see right in), and I would occasionally watch her intently as she sensually gyrated on that lucky old guy. The way she moved, the way she caressed him, the pleasure she seemed to take in letting her body relax all over his, it was a work of art.

Sometime later in the evening, she came walking back, and I motioned her over. After she settled into my lap, I told her she had nearly brought tears to my eyes, and inquired “How much is it going to cost me to get the same treatment you gave that guy sitting next to me an hour or so ago?” And thus Jasmine began to give me the most memorable and erotic evening I've had in several, long years.

Jasmine took a little part of my soul, and even if it was all an act on her part, I don't begrudge her the hundreds of dollars she relieved me of. I love to touch and inhale a woman's body, but it is even more exquisite when they can make me believe that they want to touch and inhale me also.

I'm glad that I did tell her she was exquisite, using that exact word. It made Jasmine's eyes glow in that mystical way that only a woman's glow. Yeah, that's better than caressing a woman's body: touching her soul. I gave her a part of mine; I hope she reciprocated.