Not a bad evening at all

The second after dinner glass of rum sealed my fate… Pandora’s loomed between me and home, and I wasn’t going to be able to resist a visit. After a series of stops in an Uber looking for non-stripclub cash machines (part of the plausible deniability campaign I run on Mrs. Carey) I arrived at the now familiar venue with $220. The basics include a single room, with 2 stages that girls rotate through, a VIP-ish lap dance section with high backed love seats, a sadly enthusiastic DJ, and a bunch of strippers. It’s not fancy, but it gets the job done. $20 got me through the door and a glass of sparkling water sans sparkle. Who really cares about the quality of a nonalcoholic tap beverage anyway?

$220 - $20 = $200

Moments after sitting down, the girls began to pounce: some with a line, some straight to the point, and one with a pretty funny standup-esque bit. I’ll call her The Comedian. The Comedian was tall: 5’ 10” or more, white, A’s, and a healthy amount of physique not uncommon in the norther latitudes of Europe. Meaty hands. She really was funny, and I told her she should be doing Standup somewhere, a point which she seemed to consider. Stripping is actually a rich vein if you think about it. Between the timing (too early), the A’s, and the not really very slutty way she draped her hand over my knee, I decided to politely request some time to watch the show and please try back later, thank you very much. I did a lot of this over the evening… a kind of aggressively awkward Asian spinner who seemed like somebody’s bratty kid sister (hence force The Brat) came by demanding hugs, and began sort of verbally jousting with me. I deal with verbal jousting nonsense for a living, and generally avoid spinners, so I politely passed with the same come back later line. About this time Girl #1 hit the main stage… tight, young, curvy, and a bit Eastern Mediterranean looking, with lovely puffy nipple A’s. I concluded that I may as well get started, and as soon as she left the stage, I gave her (henceforth Medi Nips) a smile, and the inevitable journey back to the VIP began. Red flags went off when she struggled to make conversation in the 45 seconds of downtime before the next song, and admitted to only having worked at Pandora’s for 2 months. Young + new + awkward seldom equals dirty. The dance was ok grind-wise, and she did let me feel her up, but the puffys stayed wrapped up. Feeling a girl up over her bra was kind of interesting in a high school revisited sort of way, so I went with it, leaving my fin-de-soirée expectations on the back burner. Finishing the dance, I paid Medi Nips, complimented her, hugged it out, and split.