Jeez, what an awful place this...

Jeez, what an awful place this is. I went in on a Sunday night, and only because the other two strip joints in Fayetteville were closed, and this was my only option to scope some blorts. I had been here 5 or 6 years ago when it was called somebody's "House of Dolls" and it was so grungy and lame that I never really considered going back. Yet here I was. Its still kind of run-down with a grimy stage at one end of the room, and the pole is at the back of the stage near the wall, instead of up front where you could see the dancers. Duh. The DJ was shouting into the mike in a rapid-fire style that was completely unintelligable. Honestly, he was more like a SNL parody of a club announcer, just a sleazy jerk. He and the music were so loud it made my ears ring, and talking to the girls was virtually impossible. The dancers here must wear that horrid band-aid nipple covering, and for some unknown reason they also must stick an additional strip of band-aid from the bottom of the nipple down to the base of the breast. It is distracting and very unattractive; a crime against nature, really. There were 9 dancers, only a couple of whom I found attractive. There was a black dancer with a nice body; and a cute chubette I think was named Jersey or something (couldn't understand the DJ) who I would have sat with except she spent almost all her time offstage in the dressing room. There was a cute athletic-looking dancer named Buffy with a bored, insufferable stage presence. Then there was Precious, an adorable petite cheerleader type who danced really well and came over to thank me for tipping her after she'd finished her set. I so enjoyed talking (as best I could) with this forthright, down-to-earth young woman that I went to the couch dance room with her for a $20 air dance which she told me right out front "wasn't worth it." I sat on one of the three totally broken-down couches, four feet away, while she performed the same dance she had just done on stage. No touching whatsoever. But she was so nice, and great-looking with that tight cheerleader bod and curvy legs, and we talked the whole time, and it was almost worth the twenty bucks, no kidding. Then we went back out into the main room where the lame-o DJ was still screaming gibberish into the mic, and I bought Precious a $7 vodka tonic (that contained very little alchohol). We tried to talk, but it was no use.

She finally got up and moved to another table (the tables and chairs are incredibly beat up here). I hung around a few more minutes hoping Jersey would come out and play, but no use. It didn't seem worth the trouble to ask somebody to go get her. I stood up and stumbled out into the parking lot, ears ringing. Precious is the only thing that keeps my rating of this tragic place from being lower. It'll be a long time before I'm tempted to return to Stephanie's Cabaret.