some sex in the champagne room
I feel just awful. No, not from the money I lost in Vegas, or the hangover that had me swearing Id never go near Coronas with lime ever ever ever again. No, but from the flu/cold that I got over 2 weeks ago which decided to come back yesterday and punish me for staying up gambling/drinking/smoking until 8am on Saturday.
So here I am at work feeling lightheaded and as congested as Ive been in while, feeling mopey because I lost money and cant afford lunch and I think Im going to go home.
But first lets talk about strippers.
Four old friends from Berkeley, Stee, Jeff (whos getting married next weekend), Derek (got married a couple weeks ago), Greg, and one outsider friend of Jeffs from work named Matt whos nice enough but fancies himself a high roller and is basically the type of guy Id never be friends with the type of guy who never wants to wait in line for anything (actually thinks he should be able to go ahead of everyone) and you just feel uneasy talking to the five of us leave Mandalay Bay (where we sit around watching stars leave the De La Hoya fight man Kirstie Alley is huge) and exit the cab 10 minutes later at a place called Cheetahs. We each pay our 10 dollar cover and walk through the doors, music pounding around us as we make our way to the bar. My eyes finally adjust to the dark.
The room is filled with half-naked women.
Id never been to a titty bar before because I was sure that Id be watching these pale, vaguely attractive but used and blank-looking women sliding down a pole with their butts and feel just yucky and sad for them sad that theyll always be known as strippers and probably were abused when they were younger and most likely will shoot up with their abusive boyfriends when they get home. And as I stood near the bar watching women in g-strings crawling across the stage, someone grabbed my head and I turned around and my face was between two huge breasts rubbing over me. And as the woman on the bar-stage held her g-string out for me to slip a dollar into I felt lightheaded, shocked, and tingly. I knew right then that I was going to like this place.
(It is a bit of a disappointment to realize I am no better than any other heterosexual male, but I dont suppose its my fault, but rather biology or chemistry that makes us want to pay 20 dollars to have a topless woman named Tiffany (real name, Eleanor Wittenstein) rub her butt on your clothed genitals while your friends watch and high five each other.)
After watching from the bar for a bit, we all find an empty table and sit and order drinks. Matt pulls out a wad and starts buying lap dances for Jeff. Im sitting right next to Jeff so Im getting ass in my face, big fake breasts in my face. It was pretty surreal to watch and I felt actually embarrassed being six inches away and staring at their breasts as they laid across his lap and pinched their nipples and spread their legs and ran a finger slowly across their crotch while they stared into my eyes. But by Jeffs 3rd or 4th lap dance, the embarrassment was pretty much gone.
Being in a strip club is a little like being in a used car lot youre constantly being approached by people who want your money, and until youre sure you want to buy, you have to find a way to deftly fend them off and without (if youre a sensitive guy like me) making them feel bad. After a bit a little blonde thing comes and sits on my lap and I realize its the blonde who stuck her breasts in my face as I stood at the bar. Her name is Tina. Well, her "name" is Tina. So this naked 20 year-old woman is on my lap and what do I do? I talk to her for 15 minutes. I learn that shes a dancer (no, really), came from Texas, and plans to move to Seattle by the end of the year. She says that she can earn 1000 dollars a night and is saving all her money like a good girl.
Here are couple things I learned from talking to her and a few of the others:
Strippers dont understand irony.
So the night wears on and Jeffs now had about 12 lap dances and Derek and Greg both had one and Matt has disappeared for a while into the back room. A beautiful brunette sits on my lap and I figure, OK, what the hell. We talk for a bit as one song ends and then comes my song. She whips her top off, kisses me on the cheek, and begins.
I dont remember much of the next 3 minutes of my life, other than I enjoyed it. I was very surprised how much intimate touching there is. Without being too graphic, my lady concentrated on a certain part of my anatomy, rubbing with her breasts, her butt, even her lips. I was really shocked. I mean, I actually felt a little guilty, even though I only got one lap dance, didnt go into the back room with anyone, and am 27 and have only been to a titty bar now a total of once. I mean, M. knew I was going, but still Jeez.
And Im curious, what do you women out there feel about your man going to a strip club? Do you know very beautiful women in g-strings and nothing else are basically dry humping your man? Is this OK with you?
As an actor Ive done many things that you involved, non-acting folk would never get away with. Ive made out with beautiful women every night right in front of my girlfriend. Ive held naked breasts in my hands. Ive pretended to have sex with women. I suppose it doesnt bother M. as shes also an actor and has likewise done similar things (except for the naked breasts in hands, though thats a play I wouldnt mind seeing hell Id direct that sucker). But we actors are weird. But in the grand scheme of things, why does the notion that youre "acting" somehow make it OK to get busy with someone else? The guise of "character" doesnt suddenly mean that theres not someone elses hot tongue inside your mouth. And then which is worse, dry humping a naked woman because its an acceptable practice, or fondling someones breast because your director tells you to? Im sure I dont know.
By the way, next time youre in Vegas, go to the Cheetah and ask for Amber. You wont be sorry.
The Larry King Happy
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