The Only Fantasy is Thinking I’ll Ever Stop Coming Here

Pulled up a few Saturday nights ago with a buddy, both of us sober enough to make bad decisions and just drunk enough to not care. Usual drill with the metal detector and pat down by security. Cover was $30.

Place looks exactly like it always does: dark, sticky, and dusty. Briefly talked with another monger who told me that this place looks exactly how it did in the 90s. Fantasy Girls is very proudly rotting in its original sins. If Satan had a basement man cave, this would be it.

Surprisingly quiet for a Saturday night, but there were plenty of dancers on the floor. Body types ran the full fantasy to nightmare range with women who were skinny, thick, chubby, thick in all the right places, and a few wandering land beasts. Not as many land mammals on weekends anymore though, one of the dancers told me a while back that management’s been cracking down on the bigger girls Thurs–Sat nights. I guess the whales are on a weekday only feeding schedule these days. Probably a weight limit on the stage now. Gotta preserve the floorboards.