Sugars-Feminist Spotted. Yeah, Its Still A Great Club Though.

This was in mid-May. I decided to change things up and hit up a strip club in the evening rather than my regular opening time appearance. I’ve only been to Sugars twice so far, so I swing by to sample the offerings, hoping to run into the nasty slut of my dreams. Spent approx. $250. Cover is still the $11, plus the usual $5 for the sugar water I never touch. Six or seven sluts and a couple of fellow perv mongers in the dank shadows. Everything was going good, until I ran into a feminist.

Let me start at the begging. It’s 7:30, the sun is setting, and I pull up to the club. Because Sugars has no real parking, being situated directly on Aurora, I swerved into the parking lot by the hardware store a hundred feet or so ahead of the club. Luckily it’s mostly empty. No prying eyes. I hit the sidewalk and am greeted by the traffic. This is one of the irritating things about Sugars. Going in you’re always going to have the exposure of street traffic, probably full of soccer moms driving their glorified minivan SUVs, probably busy filing some petition right now to stop the “exploitation” of those stripper sluts by pervs like me who willing take exorbitant amounts of money for close to zero work. Some guy in a discount suit out of a made- for -TV mafia movie is smoking in front of the entrance. The manager by the looks of it. I head in and he follows to collect my cover.

I sit down on the couch right next to the stage and examine what I just paid $11 for. Well actually $16. Can’t forget that sugar water now. Skinny brunette working the pole. No ass or tits. Got a little bush going. Hard pass sweetie. Maybe if we were both stranded on a island together and you were literally the only pussy in a hundred mile radius. Couple of pervs sitting on the other side of the stage. Six to eight dancers. There’s probably a couple somewhere being choir girl saints in the LDA. Place is fucking dead at 7:40. Perfect, more room for negotiation. If the pervs aren’t here the sluts aren’t earning, and that means prices are dropping like the resell value of Land Rover. Barbie (yeah that’s her real fucking alias) is scrolling on her phone on the other end of the couch right next to the bar. Eye contact is made. I’m in for a sell by the looks of it. Just can’t decide if I’m buying yet.

Oh, it turns out she wants to have “fun” with me in VIP. Sweetheart, could you be less specific? I’m overloading on info right now. Really need you to be more vague. I can’t take in one word descriptions. Maybe a fraction of a word, like a tenth of one. What the fuck ever. Sure, but just a dance babe. I give the old bullshit line-“Not looking for VIP right now. Settling in still. Yeah, let’s do one dance….” blah, blah, blah. We head to the LDA. Grabbed her ass just a bit to test the waters. Song starts. Panty and bra drop. Fondling. Tits in my face action. The booty turnaround happens and I get in some ass slapping. She starts twerking. Yeah, her fav is definitely doggy style. Or maybe she’s just so ratchet that twerking on guy’s, uh, laps, is second nature for her. I don’t know. Who cares. Some standard stripper bullshit convo (“you’re so handsome baby”). Yeah, a used car salesman told me the same thing right before he tried to sell me a rebuilt title car…and he had more ethics. Song ends. Stick a forty in her panties as I watch her put on just enough to cover the goods and give my trademark final ass slap, letting her know who’s boss. Boring dance. I was enjoying tapping that perky ass though.

Settle back on the couch and spot the sweet, slim, and always charming Vee (don’t OD on the biting sarcasm guys) just a she spreads that pussy for some other perv sitting on the opposite facing couch. Just sitting back and enjoying the view when the feminist suddenly comes up. Pretty blondie on the slightly thicker side. She wearing a real bra and panties that cover all the goods. Ok, I’m digging it. The body I mean, not the I’m-the-good-girl bikini. I park a hand just a little up her leg. Some bs convo happens (“Where you from? What’s your name?”). Yeah, I’m definitely here for this stimulating intellectual conversation. Why else would I be in a dank club full of naked women other than to sharpen my aspiring art house movie tier conversing skills? I’m gonna to have to shut this shit down. “Yeah, you want to get naked for me babe? Lap dance? Yeah, let’s go?”).