The Club Was Colder Than The Dance

I was staying close by 'Taboo' and decided to kill a little time on a Monday night. In hindsight, I should have spent the money on something to eat and a movie. Even though 'Taboo' is off the freeway, you still need a map and 2 u-turns to find the place. Cover and a drink and I'm sitting a row off the stage. I always tip each dancer and each dance, but I don't need to be right up front. (I'm generally killing time and deciding if I want a lap dance or not.) There were more women in the club than men when I was there; I didn't know if the group of 5 girls was watching a friend or deciding who (and how many) were going to take the plunge and start stripping.

It wasn't long before a live one came down and sat next to me. Honestly? It's my least favorite part of every night. Who am I? What do I do? Yadda Yadda. Who I am and what I do varies on the day, and at the end of that day, all I really want to know is 'how much'?

A dance for $20 or a few more for $60. Whatever. $60 is fine. (I was bored.) In hindsight, deciding on that upfront can always be really hit or miss, and tonight it was miss. (You don't know what you're getting until they're in your lap.) In this case, I could touch her ass only. Ah man. I'm a boob guy. That's really all I want. You can shake or rub or do whatever you want, but all I'm really there for are your boobs. So now I've spent $60 for a mediocre dance at best, and I can't even touch them. I always ask what a dancer's rules are upfront. I'm really pretty easy. How much, what can I touch? Sounds good.