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Strip Club Diary 1

tehposts

California

Note: Names changed to protect the not so innocent.

As I enter the strip club I’m feeling confident and ready, though a bit jittery. I'm not used to doing coke and it has my thoughts racing a bit. As I approach the bar I end up next to a skinny mixed race girl in lingerie and make a snap judgement: she’s cute enough. I ask her how her day is going, what time she started working today. The goal is to be charming while subtly making the girl acknowledge that she is in fact working a job, preempting any attempt by her to be fake or take on a stripper persona.

I ask her name, then ask how she chose it. Abey, she says. It’s a Native American word apparently, and she picked it because she has some of that ancestry. There’s something about her that is strangely familiar but I'm sure that I’ve never met her before. The coke has my questions coming slightly too fast and I will myself to slow down and be smooth.

I buy her a drink and she just wants a soda, she doesn’t drink alcohol apparently. I probe that further and learn that she doesn't smoke weed either. Or go out and party. Or even drive a car; at 26 years old she doesn't even have a license. "I'm pretty boring," she admits, a little sheepishly. I'd normally agree, but our conversation has been flowing smoothly so she's interesting enough. She's got a tiny waist and a genuine personality, two things that I like a lot.

She says that she's thankful she has me to talk to, even if I don't end up buying any dances from her, and motions to the dozen or so bored looking girls in the place. Our talk turns back to her work and we get to discussing the mechanics of the job, and how she prefers the day shift when the guys aren't as drunk and aggressive. She has two friends from back in high school that dance at the same club, she says, but they moved to night shift and prefer it, it's more money but more rowdy. She's kind of glad that they moved because her friend Bella can be annoyingly aggressive and try to butt in on her customers to upsell them on a double dance.

I'm very startled when I hear her mention Bella's name but I hide it well. I know exactly who Bella is. I know that Bella works on Wednesdays and Thursdays and that her shift starts at 9pm, but that she usually arrives early to stretch. I know that Bella is a vegetarian. I know what Bella sounds like when she has an orgasm. I know what Bella’s pussy looks like with my cum leaking out of it.

The Bella I know is relatively submissive so it's surprising to hear about her antics here, but they make sense. She’s is impressively fit but doesn't have big tits or a head turning ass like many of her coworkers do. In order to survive in this environment, she'd have to adapt.

I spend the next hour chatting up Abey and throwing back vodka sodas in an attempt to combat the cocaine comedown I'm now feeling. At one point she references how her friend Bella takes contortionist classes and is very flexible during her stage shows, and I have a flash memory of Bella twisting herself into a naked pretzel just to mess with me during one of our hotel room hook ups. I have a strong desire to tell Abey about my relationship with Bella, but decide against it, better to not kiss and tell.

Abey finally makes her move and asks me if I want to buy a dance and I oblige, forking over $100 to get us a back room for about 10 minutes. She undresses and I touch her all over, slow and sexy, dragging my fingers across her stomach, teasing the edge of her mons, playing with her breasts but never pushing things too far. She leans back into me and I run my lips against her neck, not quite kissing her. She seems kind of into it and I think she finds me attractive, but ultimately I don't think she's truly turned on, or at least not enough to do anything about it. Maybe she's just not that into me, strippers can be hard to read. The lapdance ends and she doesn't offer me her phone number and I chalk it up as a loss, though a reasonably fun one, so I give her a tip and a goodbye hug and decide to head home.