I showed up at 5 on a rainy Friday. There were at least half a dozen dancers. And maybe two patrons. Lithe, sexy M -- who I have met before -- was on stage when I came in and made lots of eye contact when I sat down. I ordered a lager and enjoyed the view. A curvy dancer named C came over to chat, then sat on my knee. She was giving all the signals I needed. But them M. came down and sat on my other side. She was giving all the signals I needed, too. Life was very good. I passed time tucking singles into tops and bottoms. Being the center of attention wasn't bad. In fact, it was pretty f-cking good. I bought M. a drink -- some weird blue thing. Then I bought C a twisted tea. I watched the stage show. My hands did a little roaming. Life was good. One of the dancers who'd been on stage can around for a tip. Surrounded on three sides. Out numbered 3-1. Life was really good. Then M. bought me a shot -- double. Woah. A dancer bought me a shot? Life was really, really good. Good things can't last, but how long can I postpone the inevitable? I should get a dance from someone. Someone new or someone familiar and talented? It was hard to make a decision. But if a girl is nice enough to buy you a drink, you really ought to buy a dance, right? So I gently excused C. and went off with M. M. works on a fixed price arrangement. Same price for the private rooms as the common room, no matter the dance count. Seeing as I was the only guy there, it didn't really matter private vs. common. And I like the open room, couch on the right, all the way back. If anyone comes in, I'm part of the show, right? We had a nice conversation and sang some duets, one by a bard of Levittown Long Island and another by a guy from Hoboken. She really hit the notes pitch perfect on the NJ tune. Life was good. After the final chorus, I retired to my former seat. I watched a couple of dancers and tipped a few as they came around. I needed to metabolize before dancing again or driving. Eventually, a trim young lady with green hair and lots of ink got up to dance. She had some kind of glowing jewels on her landing strip. I complimented her dancing (she really had moves). I texted across the bar with M. I thought about another dance, but it was getting late and I needed to go back to being that respectable suburban guy who coaches kids soccer. So I packed up my inner horndog and left with a smile & some great memories.
