Apparently another PL that believes Chris Rock

Apparently another PL that believes Chris Rock when he says “there’s no sex in the Champagne Room”.

From the archives of the TUSCL reviews for 2/1/16 of Centerfolds in Houston:

“…Visited Centerfolds during off-peak hours (about 2 PM on a Saturday). It was dead inside. I might have been the only customer in the place.

Worse yet, no dancers to be seen anywhere.

Bored and disappointed, I decided to chug my drink and leave. About then a feminine voice behind me asked if I wanted some company.

I turned around and saw an attractive mixed race girl. She was a just wee bit over fed but had a doll face. I would rate her a solid 7.

I agreed to let her sit down with me.

Almost immediately she sized me up and began the traditional titty bar under-the-table-leg-massage. Working ever farther up my thigh she asked if I was interested in having a few dances.

While I considered her proposition the under-the-table leg-massage took a turn toward the obscene.

My boredom dissipated and now suddenly filled with inspiration I replied, Sure!"

She suggested that we should go upstairs to the VIP section.

"What will that cost me?" I asked, my voice dripping with suspicion.

"$350" she replied while maintaining eye contact designed to melt away any will power I had left.

Considering that I had time to kill and that I had entered the club with my pants bulging with bad intentions and lots of cash, I agreed.

After paying my VIP fee to the hostess, I followed my dancer cutie up the stairs to the darkest VIP section I had ever seen. She proceeded to the farthest, darkest corner and took her seat.

I was about to take a seat beside her when she raised her hand like a traffic cop and said, "Wait! Before you sit down I have to know you're not a cop."

"OK," I said, "I'm not a cop."

I tried to take my seat but she persisted.

"I have to KNOW you're not a cop."

"I already said I'm not a cop."

"I have to see your badge first."

Now I was starting to get pissed off. I just parted with $350 to go upstairs with this woman only to discover she's a crackhead who doesn't make any sense when she opens her mouth.

"They don't issue badges that say 'I'm not a cop' on them!" I said, my irritation showing.

As I stood before her she remained seated calmly and insisted again, "First I have to see your badge."

She held her hand out, palm up directly in front of my fly."

Finally the lightbulb went off inside my head (it's only a 25 watt bulb).

"Oh! This little bimbo thinks if I unzip and pull out my kielbasa it will prove that I'm not a cop!"

I hesitated and looked around, checking if there was anyone else around who might see me exposing myself to this dancer.

She immediately asked what I was worried about. First of all, she pointed out that we were alone. Secondly, it as so dark up there in the VIP room that even if we weren't alone it was unlikely anyone would see what I was doing. Lastly, she said most guys would jump at the chance to "let their pee pee come out for some fresh air!"

Discounting the possibility that SHE might be a cop I chose to do something I'd never done before: I unzipped my pants and pulled my Oscar Mayer out for my dancer's inspection.

She initially took my vital statistic between her thumb and forefinger, first inspecting one side then the other.

"It's a nice badge," she said and then placing it into the palm of her other hand, gave it a couple of tender pats on its head.

Then she exclaimed, "Oh look! Your badge is getting fluffier!"

Sure enough, as she continued to hold it in her hands my badge got fluffier and fluffier. Within about a minute had gone right through the fluffy stage into full attention.

I'm sure to go back.

I wish I could remember her name.

I hope she still works there. …”