Bit of a mixed bag...

Took advantage of the light holiday workload at the office and stopped into Pandoras around the end of the day shift. The space is fine as far as I’m concerned: clean enough, chairs work for sitting, tables work for setting drinks on them, etc. There are two stages, and girls rotate through them. There is a VIP with high backed love seats, known as the “playroom” or something like that. $10 to get in, $5 for a non-alcoholic drink. 8-10 girls, probably the same number of guys. The talent consists of a range… 4-7, mid 20’s to mid 40’s, with a few mixed race girls, a couple AA girls, and some of the goofiest stereotypes of white strippers I have seen working under the same roof.

Let me elaborate… you had a couple of huge thick tall white chicks that could body check a truck, take your pick between monstrous floppers or monstrous fakies. Yikes! You had your Whitesnake video reject, coke thin with tats, tan, fringe, and mini nerf football fakies... the kind that taper back to the chest, like they really are inflated each night. You could tell when she was up next because the Soundgarden would come on first. Not since high school, thanks. You had your totally puzzled esl eastern euro chick who kept getting up on the stage when it wasn’t her dance, so the DJ and other dancers kept having to tell her that it wasn’t her turn. That was pretty funny to watch. Ha ha ha, …and Pass. You had a tall super skinny black haired goth with weirdly perfect gumdrop fakies who could probably get a gig in a Tim Burton movie. She was actually pretty cute but I couldn’t get her attention… she kept beelining back to some ATFing bro in the VIP. That sucked… I was the one who got passed on in this case. There was a promising curvy blond who got on stage and pulled off her top to reveal some kind of plastic surgery disaster. Boobs gone wrong. Hard pass. The only type that was missing was that super cute all natural white girl next door… so no Caucasian action for Drew this night. Fine. One super cute AA gal came up to me, initiated polite chit chat, and then informed me in detail just what she would like to do to Drew Jr, but I was put off by the 45 degree angle bagel shaped fakies stuffed in her otherwise enticingly pendulous pair. Bummer. Might go back for some of that yet. Another AA girl, early 20’s, had what we used to call a “natural” hairdo back in the 70s, and a pair of lovely danglers that kept flopping our of her cross top swimsuit. I also couldn’t get her attention. I’m probably older than her dad, so I get it.

Then I caught sight of the lovely T, a girl that Iceberg Slim might have referred to as a High Yellow, maybe a touch AA, Latina, and East Asian as well? Not sure. Complete with doe eyes, cute stonery smile, perfect natural C/D’s and an unsparing culita, I gave her a VIP area test drive at $40 for one dance. Which was just OK. Her grind was weak, but the curves on this 24 year old (I inquired) lovely were pleasant enough to work with and certainly open to gropin’. My inquiry about extras was met with some vacillation, which I took to be a negotiating tactic. A move to a more private VIP locale was briefly initiated by T, and then aborted for some reason... "not today". Always the gentleman, I smiled, paid, and bid her a good evening. Back at my table, my soda water nearly gone, I had nearly an hour sunk into the club, and another fail chalked up with the gumdrops goth: I was despairing to split. Then out of the blue, T was back, claiming that previously she was simply hangry, a sandwich had set her straight, and she was ready to upgrade. I double checked that she was ready for what I was looking for, and her affirmative was enthusiastic. Back in the VIP, I requested my usual covered HJ, and she quoted me $300, her lack of game face told me that even she didn’t believe that one. I said “no”. She then countered with a sheepish “$200?” To which I offered to maintain the current $40/dance rate, but guarantee 3 dances regardless of how quickly things wrapped up. The deal was struck, and we set off down the road to happy town. Unfortunately, her poor grind was a strong indicator of the half-assed no rhythm limp grip HJ I was about to receive. Despite some gentle but encouraging guidance on proper stick shifting technique, your correspondent finally had to come to Drew Jr’s rescue and tee things up for Miss T, who was able to limp it across the finish line. $120 +$10 tip was handed over, we thanked one another, and went our separate ways. I guess that I could have gotten a bit more effective mileage from one of the blondasauruses, or perhaps from Madame Bagels, but it was the young cutie that piqued my interest. In hindsight, it’s unsurprising that a younger model wasn’t well versed in the stick shifting arts, but I was hoping for a bit more. 1 hour of my life, $185 all in, probably not worth it.