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A Steamy, Frigid February Night in Houston

reverendhornibastard

Depraved Deacon of Degeneracy

Yes, it was uncommonly cold last week in the deep south including in the Houston area. The Houston metro area received snow all the way down to the beach at Galveston.

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As I lay in bed last week, worrying that my water pipes might burst and that I would have a hell of a mess and repair bill after the ice thaws out and the water gushes everywhere, I remembered a steamy time I experienced in a Houston strip club on a frigid February night many years ago.

That was way back in 1988 when I’d never even heard of TUSCL. If I remember my TUSCL history correctly, TUSCL wouldn’t even exist for another 14 years.

I was living in London (married to Mrs. Hornibastard #2) at the time, but was in Houston on a business trip. Late one night, I got the urge to go out on a prowl through Houston’s more delightfully depraved nightspots. Since Mrs. Hornibastard #2 was just under 4,900 miles away and I didn’t have a cellphone (I was not on a first name basis with anyone who had a cellphone in 1988), I felt that I could wander through the night and no one who cared would ever be the wiser.

The Houston strip club scene was already well developed in 1988. The dancers were hot and a good-grind was virtually assured in most clubs. But, as far as I knew, “in-club extras” were not yet widely available. I had certainly never enjoyed any in-the-club extras during that era. Moreover, I had never been to a strip club that had a VIP room. Strip club VIP rooms were completely unknown to me until I returned to the Houston on business trips from my overseas locations after the year 2000.

But there was one club just off Houston’s Northwest Freeway that I had learned to love before I moved to London. I can’t remember its name and couldn’t come up with it despite online searches. I only know that it no longer exists. I believe there is another strip club at or near the same location but operating under a different name and in a building that is totally different from the one I knew back in the late 1980s.

What set this club apart from the other Houston clubs I was familiar with back then was that this club was reliably a high mileage club and, even though there was no VIP room per se, there was an upstairs balcony that afforded the privacy one now expects to pay extra for in a VIP room.

Boredom and hormones were driving me nuts that night. I thought it would be fantastic fun to show up at that club off the Northwest Freeway at 10 or 11 PM and stay until closing. But the Houston weather that night was miserable. There was freezing drizzle and all the news channels advised staying off the roads.

I thought about it but at first decided it was not worth the trouble.

I don’t remember for sure, but knowing me, I probably masturbated (at least twice) in the hopes of being able to fall asleep.

But it wasn’t enough.

I kept thinking about heading out to that raunchy but reliable club off the Northwest Freeway.

Peering out the window of my hotel, it was evident that most people were heeding the warnings and staying off the road. The roads looked practically empty.

I was desperate for a little fun. So I got dressed and headed out onto Houston’s icy freeways, making my way to the Northwest Freeway, exiting at Little York (if memory serves me correctly).

The parking lot at the club was as deserted as the roads. I thought the club might have closed early due to the icy weather and lack of customers. I feared I might have risked life and limb on the freeway for absolutely nothing.

But having come this far, I parked my car anyway and walked through the freezing drizzle to the front door. As I approached the door I could hear the music from inside the club. My travel along Houston’s icy freeways had not been in vain.

Because there were so few cars in the parking lot, I assumed the club would be dead and worried that my love safari might still end up being a waste of time. But I was dead wrong. It was perhaps the best evening I ever had at a strip club in the USA. It was also my first time to receive any in-club extras. If there had been a TUSCL site in those days, I would have posted this experience for sure.

There was very little evidence that a good time would be available when I first entered the club on that frigid February night. There was no dancer on the stage and I only saw two customers sitting alone at their separate tables. I took a seat and tried to warm up. A cute waitress named Myrna came and took my drink order. Myrna looked like she could be a dancer and I told her so. With more than a little pride in her voice, she said that she used to be a dancer, but was now an assistant manager and was waiting tables because none of the waitresses had shown up that evening.

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Before Myrna returned with my drink, a dancer took to the stage. She was a hot, young, slender Latina. She looked like she could be no older than 21 or 22.

For all I knew, she was the only dancer in the club that night. I had to make my move quickly before either of the two other customers got their dibs in.

Even though it was her first dance and she hadn’t even unbuttoned or unzipped anything I went to the stage and tipped her $20. When she took off her top, I returned and gave her another $20. When she peeled down to her tiny G-string, I gave her yet another $20.

It was obvious I had made a favorable impression. She kept her eyes on me for the rest of her time on stage, smiling my way and pulling down her G-string as far, or even a tad farther, than the law allowed. She knew where the money was to be made that night.

After she got off the stage there was another long lull in the dancer action. While I was waiting for my lovely, lean Latina dancer to come join me, another dancer turned up out of nowhere and joined me at my table. This dancer was a bit older, maybe 27 or 28, probably mixed race Hispanic or white with African American. She had a more alluring, and curvy figure and a more beautiful face than the slender dancer who had just left the stage.

Having already dropped $60 on the slender dancer, I was not sure if I wanted to chance it with this more curvaceous café au lait beauty. But she was busy giving me a delightful stripper handshake under the table so I didn’t run her off.

One of the other two guys in the club folded his tent and left the building.

There was a long hiatus with no activity at all on the stage. Finally another dancer who I had not yet seen took to the stage. She was your typical cowgirl type, overfed with garish tattoos, enormous titties and an even bigger ass with stretch marks. I had no interest in her whatsoever.

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The only other customer left in the place evidently felt the same way. He stood up, chugged what was left of his beer and headed out the door leaving me the sole customer in the place.

My slender, $60 Latina investment finally came out of the back room and joined me at my table. Her name was Rosita. The name of the other dancer at my table was Giselle. Rosita and Giselle seemed to be good buddies. Maybe they just had no other choice than to be good buddies at this juncture. After all, I was the only customer they had left.

Rosita was the first one to suggest that we go upstairs where it was more private. Giselle agreed and led the way, pulling me gently by the bulge in the front of my trousers as we went up the stairs.

Once upstairs, I offered to buy Rosita and Giselle a drink. They called out from the balcony to Myrna and ordered their drinks. A few minutes later Myrna came upstairs to deliver their drinks and the bad news.

“Bill says we’re going to close early tonight.” Bill was apparently the manager on duty.

Rosita and Giselle were disappointed to hear that news, almost as disappointed as I was albeit probably for different reasons. They both insisted that Myrna ask Bill to keep the club open for another hour or two. Myrna agreed to see what she could talk Bill into.

A few minutes later, Myrna returned with the verdict. Bill was going to turn off the exterior lights and leave. He planned to leave the keys with Myrna and instructed her to lock the door after he left the club and to make sure everything was locked down and turned off before she left later that evening. Bill was taking all the cash with him, so all club charges going forward had to be on credit cards.

As Myrna put it, Rosita, Giselle, Myrna and I would have the club all to ourselves!

Thus began my best night ever in a strip club (at least in the western hemisphere).

I slipped Myrna a $100 for her efforts at keeping the club open for what would now become my private party.

Myrna suggested that Rosita, Giselle and I take our party downstairs so she wouldn’t have to trudge up and down the stairs to bring us more drinks. Initially, I was not too enthused about going downstairs. I felt like we would have less privacy since Myrna, the assistant manager and, with Bill’s imminent departure, the on-duty manager, would be able to see everything we were up to.

But Rosita and Giselle were enthused. They insisted that Myrna would not pose a problem. According to them, Myrna was “very understanding with the dancers.”

I was still skeptical.

Giselle pointed out that there was a long couch against one of the walls downstairs where we would all have plenty of room to get “comfy.” Rosita also pointed out, that once the exterior lights were turned off and the front door was locked, she and Giselle would be able to provide some extra sexy dances on the stage.

I was convinced. So Rosita, Giselle and I followed Myrna down the narrow stairs back to the main part of the club and got cozy on the long couch by the wall.

A few minutes later, we saw Bill speaking to Myrna near the front door. He already had his coat, hat and gloves on. He was ready to go home. He handed the keys to Myrna and left. Myrna locked the door behind him.

Rosita and Giselle both celebrated Bill’s departure by quickly getting naked and cuddling up to me on the long couch (presumably for warmth). They said they were mine for the next hour or so for $200 each. I pretended that I thought that was a bit much and they immediately dropped their prices to $150 each. They both guaranteed my total satisfaction.

I was expecting hand jobs, maybe blow jobs. I was not sure exactly what, but I assumed it would be terrific. But instead, Rosita got up on stage and began dancing with nothing but her boots on.

It was not what I was expecting, but it was certainly a damn fine show. We had the entire club to ourselves and had a cooperative assistant manager on duty.

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As Rosita was gyrating naked on stage, Giselle began relieving me of my clothes.

I glanced nervously toward Myrna She seemed to be busy cleaning up behind the bar. But she also glanced over at us just as Giselle was stripping my jeans off me.

Myrna just smiled.

As Giselle pulled down my boxers, Myrna raised her glass of wine as if offering a toast. She seemed to be wishing me a “bon voyage.”

Despite that I was now down to unbuttoned shirt and my socks, instead of providing what I had imagined the world of “extras” would be all about, Rosita suggested that Giselle and I get on the stage and dance with her (Myrna had left the sound system running with a long playlist). Giselle thought that was a great idea.

I didn’t think it was such a great idea. I’m not much of a dancer and I had never been half naked on a stage with my boner jiggling all over the place.

But Giselle got up on the stage, now fully nude, and beckoned me to join them.

They both looked smoking hot.

So finally I joined them on stage. Rosita quickly took over and we did some truly dirty dancing.

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As delightful and dirty as our dancing was, amazingly, I managed not to cum. I didn’t want the party to be over so soon.

But after 2 or 3 songs of increasingly dirty dancing on stage, Rosita decided it was time for even dirtier back on the couch.

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It turned out to be a good thing that I had already flushed out my pipes a couple of times before I left my hotel That gave me more stamina here in the club.

Finally Rosita delivered her coup de grâce.

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This time I finally lost it.

Rosita took my load in her mouth.

This was my first ever in-club “gland finale.”

Giselle helpfully handed Rosita her drink to help wash it down.

The three of us then relaxed for a while on the long couch, engaging in some post-orgasmic cuddling (plus, we all appreciated the warmth).

A while later Myrna approached us to see whether any more drinks were needed. At this point, she found one naked customer enjoying the company of two naked strippers. By now, Giselle was standing on the bench seat, straddling me, her pussy planted on my face and her hands on the back of my head, while Rosita sat close beside me, whipping my love muscle back to attention.

Myrna asked if we needed anything else. Each of us asked for another round. Since my mouth was otherwise occupied, I signaled my desire for another round by flashing a “thumbs up.”

Myrna said she’d be back in a jiffy.

When Myrna returned with the drinks, she also brought one for herself which she set down on a nearby table, took a seat and lit up a cigarette.

“Don’t mind me,” Myrna said. “I’ll just watch if that’s OK with you. That’s a hell of a show you guys are putting on. Kind of reminds me of my good old days.”

Giselle and Rosita raised no objection. My mouth was still busy licking Giselle’s pink pudenda so I was unable to voice any objections.

It wasn’t too long before the current activities got my motor running again.

Giselle got off her feet and sat astride me on the couch grinding away, positioning herself for penetration.

I was concerned about the lack of a condom, but was too horny and too drunk to behave sensibly.

Giselle’s artful “lap dance” eventually led to my second gland finale in a strip club.

Rosita and Giselle were both terrific, but on balance, I preferred Giselle.

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Although I’ve had lots of fun over the years in lots of different clubs, none of them was as exquisite as that steamy frigid February night in Texas.

Perhaps best of all, as an added bonus, I didn’t get any unusual rashes after that.