Marketing 101
reverendhornibastard
Depraved Deacon of Degeneracy
My first ever visit to a strip club VIP room was a marketing 101 lesson.
It was November 2008 and I had recently moved back to the USA from Indonesia. I was unfamiliar with Houston’s far north side but a friend who knew of my weaknesses had recommended a nice strip club on Rankin Road.
I had been out running errands when, on my way home, I saw the Rankin Road exit off of I-45. I had a little time to kill and decided to stop in at the club some of my friends had recommended to me. At first, I saw Houston Dolls (or something like that) at the corner of Rankin Road and the freeway. It looked entirely too scuzzy to be the club that had been recommended to me. So I drove a bit farther east along Rankin Road and soon discovered the club known to many of its patrons as “the Church.”
It was early on a Saturday afternoon. While the club was certainly large and nicely appointed, it was also dead at that hour. There were no dancers on the stage and I was probably one of only about 4 or 5 customers in the place. Nevertheless, I ordered a drink and settled in to see what this place had to offer.
Soon a very attractive woman in a long evening gown approached. Although she was beautiful enough to be a dancer, she seemed to be filling some other role. When she asked me if I was a regular at the club, I told her it was my first visit and that I had just moved to Houston from overseas. She proceeded to tell me about the club and introduced me to the VIP section.
I had never heard of or seen a VIP room in a strip club at that time.
She explained that only VIP members could access the VIP section. Even the dancers could not enter unless they were accompanied by a guest or were let in by one of the managers. She stressed that the VIP space was quieter, more comfortable and offered far more privacy than any other part of the club. She also said that memberships cost $1,500 (but the memberships never expired).
Since I was new to the area and it was my first time to this club, she offered to allow me to remain in the VIP section for free.
I sat there, all alone, in the quiet VIP room for about 20 minutes wondering what the fuck I was doing sitting up there all by myself. Eventually, the hostess/manager (whatever she was) returned and expressed surprise that I was still all alone. She said she thought one of the dancers was going to come upstairs to see me. She offered to send a dancer up right away and, of course, I said, “Sure!”
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door to the VIP room. I got up and opened the door to find a very attractive, slim young dancer. I could immediately tell she was a dancer because she was wearing a whole lot of not much. It looked very nice on her.
We sat upstairs and chatted for a while as she worked her way from a few introductory pats on the knee to a hearty stripper handshake. Once it was clear that she had my full attention, she popped the question, “Would you like some private dances?”
“I’d love some private dances!” I replied.
She immediately got up and began walking toward a dark corridor off in the corner. I thought she was going to the ladies’ room. I didn’t know there were private dance cubicles down that corridor.
When she realized I was not following her, she turned and beckoned me to follow her.
The dark cubicles looked like great places to have some serious fun.
But I still had no idea how much fun I was in for.
The first dance was great. Lots of contact and intimate grinding. When the song was over, she asked if I wanted more.
I agreed to another one.
The biggest difference between the first and the second dance was that the second dance was noticeably better than the first. My dancer encouraged me to let me hands roam. This was a new twist for me. The rules had been stricter when I last lived in the USA more than a decade before. Not only was she OK with me playing with her tits, she encouraged me to explore her goodies down below.
Again, as the song ended, she asked if I wanted another.
Duh!!!
Of course I said, “yes!”
The third dance was hotter than the second. Now we were into rampant through the pants stick shifting and prolonged boner massages. As my hands continued to roam, she made it clear that this was a “no-holes-barred” grope session. Before the song was over I was going in three-knuckles deep.
“Do you want another dance?” she asked again as the song came to an end.
I nodded affirmatively as she quickly turned up the heat further, mouthing my boner through my trousers. Finally, she looked up at me and asked if I would be interested in anything more than a dance.
I was surprised by this question and was not ready to agree to it. I guess I was just a little nervous. But I agreed to another dance. She immediately dropped her G-string making herself even more accessible to my wandering hands and probing fingers. More stick-shifting ensued with some through-the pants blowjob pretentions.
This was the best time I’d ever had in a club (not counting that one gloriously steamy frigid February night in Houston back in 1988).
Again, she asked, “are you sure you’re not interested in more?”
I finally gave in and said, “OK.”
It was so long ago that I honestly can’t recall what she charged for her extra services. I think it was $100 or maybe $125. But she opened my fly, pulled down by trousers and boxers to allow for better, more comfortable access and began giving me a fabulous blow job.
I was surprised that she had not insisted on using a condom.
I didn’t last long.
Three or four minutes later I blew my wad.
As she wiped up, I realized that I was wearing a condom! I didn’t recall her putting one on me. She must have had it in her mouth and put it on me as she began the blow job!
I thought that was an impressive skill and wondered if she featured it prominently on her résumé.
Now it was time for me to head back to the real world. I paid my bill and headed for the front door.
When I reached the foyer, I found the hostess in her elegant evening down chatting with the receptionist. She saw me leaving and immediately asked, “Did you have a good time in the VIP room?”
I admitted that I had a very good time.
“Do you want to buy a membership?”
In light of my recent experience in the VIP room, $1,500 sounded like quite a bargain.
So I bought my first (and only) lifetime membership to a strip club VIP room.
Driving home, I thought about what had happened to me.
An attractive woman in a formal evening gown gave me a sales pitch about a VIP room.
I was invited to enjoy the VIP room for free.
The hostess picked the dancer to join me in the VIP room.
That scantily clad (and eventually nude) dancer showed me why the VIP room privacy was worth its weight on gold.
I bought a $1,500 VIP room membership that barely 90 minutes before I thought was an outrageous extravagance.
Marketing 101.
It was November 2008 and I had recently moved back to the USA from Indonesia. I was unfamiliar with Houston’s far north side but a friend who knew of my weaknesses had recommended a nice strip club on Rankin Road.
I had been out running errands when, on my way home, I saw the Rankin Road exit off of I-45. I had a little time to kill and decided to stop in at the club some of my friends had recommended to me. At first, I saw Houston Dolls (or something like that) at the corner of Rankin Road and the freeway. It looked entirely too scuzzy to be the club that had been recommended to me. So I drove a bit farther east along Rankin Road and soon discovered the club known to many of its patrons as “the Church.”
It was early on a Saturday afternoon. While the club was certainly large and nicely appointed, it was also dead at that hour. There were no dancers on the stage and I was probably one of only about 4 or 5 customers in the place. Nevertheless, I ordered a drink and settled in to see what this place had to offer.
Soon a very attractive woman in a long evening gown approached. Although she was beautiful enough to be a dancer, she seemed to be filling some other role. When she asked me if I was a regular at the club, I told her it was my first visit and that I had just moved to Houston from overseas. She proceeded to tell me about the club and introduced me to the VIP section.
I had never heard of or seen a VIP room in a strip club at that time.
She explained that only VIP members could access the VIP section. Even the dancers could not enter unless they were accompanied by a guest or were let in by one of the managers. She stressed that the VIP space was quieter, more comfortable and offered far more privacy than any other part of the club. She also said that memberships cost $1,500 (but the memberships never expired).
Since I was new to the area and it was my first time to this club, she offered to allow me to remain in the VIP section for free.
I sat there, all alone, in the quiet VIP room for about 20 minutes wondering what the fuck I was doing sitting up there all by myself. Eventually, the hostess/manager (whatever she was) returned and expressed surprise that I was still all alone. She said she thought one of the dancers was going to come upstairs to see me. She offered to send a dancer up right away and, of course, I said, “Sure!”
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door to the VIP room. I got up and opened the door to find a very attractive, slim young dancer. I could immediately tell she was a dancer because she was wearing a whole lot of not much. It looked very nice on her.
We sat upstairs and chatted for a while as she worked her way from a few introductory pats on the knee to a hearty stripper handshake. Once it was clear that she had my full attention, she popped the question, “Would you like some private dances?”
“I’d love some private dances!” I replied.
She immediately got up and began walking toward a dark corridor off in the corner. I thought she was going to the ladies’ room. I didn’t know there were private dance cubicles down that corridor.
When she realized I was not following her, she turned and beckoned me to follow her.
The dark cubicles looked like great places to have some serious fun.
But I still had no idea how much fun I was in for.
The first dance was great. Lots of contact and intimate grinding. When the song was over, she asked if I wanted more.
I agreed to another one.
The biggest difference between the first and the second dance was that the second dance was noticeably better than the first. My dancer encouraged me to let me hands roam. This was a new twist for me. The rules had been stricter when I last lived in the USA more than a decade before. Not only was she OK with me playing with her tits, she encouraged me to explore her goodies down below.
Again, as the song ended, she asked if I wanted another.
Duh!!!
Of course I said, “yes!”
The third dance was hotter than the second. Now we were into rampant through the pants stick shifting and prolonged boner massages. As my hands continued to roam, she made it clear that this was a “no-holes-barred” grope session. Before the song was over I was going in three-knuckles deep.
“Do you want another dance?” she asked again as the song came to an end.
I nodded affirmatively as she quickly turned up the heat further, mouthing my boner through my trousers. Finally, she looked up at me and asked if I would be interested in anything more than a dance.
I was surprised by this question and was not ready to agree to it. I guess I was just a little nervous. But I agreed to another dance. She immediately dropped her G-string making herself even more accessible to my wandering hands and probing fingers. More stick-shifting ensued with some through-the pants blowjob pretentions.
This was the best time I’d ever had in a club (not counting that one gloriously steamy frigid February night in Houston back in 1988).
Again, she asked, “are you sure you’re not interested in more?”
I finally gave in and said, “OK.”
It was so long ago that I honestly can’t recall what she charged for her extra services. I think it was $100 or maybe $125. But she opened my fly, pulled down by trousers and boxers to allow for better, more comfortable access and began giving me a fabulous blow job.
I was surprised that she had not insisted on using a condom.
I didn’t last long.
Three or four minutes later I blew my wad.
As she wiped up, I realized that I was wearing a condom! I didn’t recall her putting one on me. She must have had it in her mouth and put it on me as she began the blow job!
I thought that was an impressive skill and wondered if she featured it prominently on her résumé.
Now it was time for me to head back to the real world. I paid my bill and headed for the front door.
When I reached the foyer, I found the hostess in her elegant evening down chatting with the receptionist. She saw me leaving and immediately asked, “Did you have a good time in the VIP room?”
I admitted that I had a very good time.
“Do you want to buy a membership?”
In light of my recent experience in the VIP room, $1,500 sounded like quite a bargain.
So I bought my first (and only) lifetime membership to a strip club VIP room.
Driving home, I thought about what had happened to me.
An attractive woman in a formal evening gown gave me a sales pitch about a VIP room.
I was invited to enjoy the VIP room for free.
The hostess picked the dancer to join me in the VIP room.
That scantily clad (and eventually nude) dancer showed me why the VIP room privacy was worth its weight on gold.
I bought a $1,500 VIP room membership that barely 90 minutes before I thought was an outrageous extravagance.
Marketing 101.
Got something to say?
Start your own discussion
3 comments