A High Priestess

Sunday was a good day for stopping here to check out the lineup. After the doorman barks "Look Alive" the girls emerge from their booths.

I picked Cataleya, a hot Puerto Rican honey who gave me the fully-nude lap dance. But to call something that is practically simulated sex a "lap dance" is like calling an erupted volcano a popped pimple.

She was an ocean of motion, her butt moved like the rhythmic crashing of waves against a beach -- the beach in this case was my (regrettably clothed) lap. Though my lighthouse was standing tall and rigid, it couldn't hold out too long against her relentless storm surge. She was like a tidal wave, an overpowering tsunami. Maybe that night's once-in-a-lifetime super-full moon/eclipse was the catalyst for her super performance.

This was free time well-spent, considering I dropped my wife and kids off to see the pope's once-in-a-lifetime Philly visit.

I got the better blessing, I'm sure.