Striptease

My sister decided to go out?!?!  She is far from someone that just goes out and drinks for the night.  It isn’t a bad quality; I have a lot of fun with her at our houses, playing cards or just hanging with the boys.  I felt I needed to jump at this particular opportunity to actually go out with her, but there was a catch in the evening.  My sister wanted to go to the Male Review at the local small town bar.

There are four bars in my town.  We have two stop lights and about five thousand people.  The bars are pretty segregated.  It reminds me of The Outsiders.  We have one bar for the preppy people, one for the middle class, another for the vets, and one for the diehard rednecks.  We joke about easily bar hopping in our tiny town in which even the wealthy are a little redneck; this only emphasizes the term “diehard rednecks.”

The RatTrap is the middle class bar, but on the night of the Male Review, women from every social class and every age were present.  When my sister and I arrived, the performance had already long begun.  The men had already redressed for at least a second time.  The women were wild.  Upon on our entrance and lame cover charge, another friend mentions that one of the strippers picked her up.  My sister and I laugh and find stools, so we can sit down with her and some of her friends.  I am not introduced to the girls, but as the night continues I know we could never be great chums.

At this time the strippers are dressed in various outfits, like the Village People: the policeman, the cowboy, and the construction worker.  One “man” in a sequined vest yelled into a microphone, “Ladies, what’s better than one dick?” pauses for effect and answers himself, “ Four dicks!”

The crowd goes wild, and the strippers  rip off their pants, exposing their undies.  One stripper has on a thong with an extra long, clearly fake, package hanging to mid thigh.  They start through the crowd, dancing with the women, dry humping people, tucking their thumbs into their boy shorts, and definitely driving the women crazy.

I am just taking the whole scene in.  One girl seems quite forced into allowing the stripper to kiss her neck.  While another girl was screaming in excitement as the stripper lifted his leg over her shoulder. Another girl was desperately trying to back up as the cowboy stripper, only donned with a cowboy hat and boy shorts now, shook his ass in her face.  When I look to my left, I see the thong stripper who now definitely reminds me of Mr. Clean with his bald head and tiny gold hoop earrings (side note: his beer gut was unlike Mr. Clean’s).  Mr. Clean proceeds to pick up a small girl a few tables away and lift her to his shoulders.  Then in the midst of the whole sight he rubs his entire face in her crotch!

I ask our friend, “When they picked you up, is that what they did to you?”

She nodded, “I didn’t see what you saw, but I am sure it was the same thing.  They caught me off guard.” She shrugs in acceptance of the embarrassment she had to face.  I could tell she would be paying better attention from now on.

At that point, only ten feet away from this poor forsaken girl, I knew I had to get away.  The strippers were converging on me like wolves from all sides.  Knowing I could be the weak link and not sure that I could get away without resorting to violence, I instantly move to the door, away from my sister and the other girls.  One of the other girls was now spread eagle by unidentified stripper that had lost all of his accessories.

I leave just in time because Mr. Clean is coming to the girls directly in front of our group.  I learn later that he actually pulls one girl’s hair at the table.  Her BFF, in tight white shorts and a flowering busty tank top, jumped up in her defense ready to throw down, but the stripper was smarter than that.  He moved onto our group.  This was when my sister joined me at the door.  The one friend there who had already been molested darted through the girls around her that she knew, skirting any contact with the strippers.

We are safe for the moment.  My sister is trying to snap pictures of a stripper rubbing his junk in a girl’s face.  She seems to be enjoying it since she is grabbing his ass.  We order drinks, safe at the bar, near the door.

Now the stripper has moved onto dry humping the next girl in my very old group of associates.  My sister and I start our trash talking instantly, checking this guy out.  We can be pretty funny when we want to be…maybe a little mean, but funny.  Harmless…  Anyhow, we don’t have a lot of work we need to do more than observing him.  His shaved legs, tattoos, boy shorts…..and the hunting boots do it all on their own.  He grabs the girl’s ass, as his stripper’s friend tucks his thumbs in his shorts revealing his plumber crack.  Some of these girls are wild.  We are the only ones hiding at the pool tables and the bar.

But wait, I am wrong.  The dance floor is packed with girls, while all the strippers are parading themselves through the audience.  After a quick snippet of “Humpety Dump,” the dance floor clears and the men begin to sell tickets for their undies.  Who wants some stripper’s sweaty nasty boxers?

The doorman tells me that I can get my own ticket for $2.  I explain that they couldn’t pay me to take a ticket.

Soon numbers are called and the lucky women are rewarded with the experience of dirty dancing with each stripper, removing their tight boxers, revealing again the boy shorts and Mr. Clean’s thong.  What’s worse than winning the men’s underwear?  Having to remove them in front of 100 screaming girls!

The show is clearly winding down.  The strippers complete one more circle around the room for last minute tips and good-byes.  I am positive some numbers are traded.  Heck, Mr. Clean just gets dressed and hangs out for the rest of the evening.

A girl who won a goodie bag from the local sex shop stops by the doorman.  Pulling a box from her bag, she smiles at my sister and I. “I just won my very first dildo!” she exclaims.

My sister inquires if that is really true.

“I have always just needed these,” she says as she shakes her fingers in the air.

We all laugh.  Someone tells her she will never go back, and we laugh louder.

The night was supposed to be funny.  I was sure that we would spend the evening laughing with our new friends and AT the strippers.  I guess I was surprised that we were only a few of the people there for that purpose.  Some of the girls had every intention of enjoying the erotic evening with Mr. Clean and his friends.  I had no idea that I would be fearing for my life, clinging to my sister for strength in numbers.

As the bar clears out, literally all the town’s players shuffle in trying to get the last of the horny girls.  The night continues with my sister and me.  Of course, most of the topics discussed are off topic of this particular blog; another time if you’re lucky. For now, my sister and I are much closer and probably should have a monthly outing minus the nasty strippers.