‘Twas Ladies Night

If you were wondering what other exciting activities occurred during my trip to see Josh in North Carolina, there are plenty of tales for me to share. Not all of them are 18+ rated of course, but this one is.

Suffice it to say I ended up getting smacked in the crotch, but that’s for later.

I know I’ve mentioned my almost-in-laws before, but Josh’s sister-in-law Sami is pretty awesome. She’s itty bitty and packs a punch, and was all over a girls night out during my stay. So what do two bad ass ladies do on a bad ass evening? Go to the strip club, naturally.

To be honest though, I can’t really say “naturally” because as rad as we are, this was a rather new experience for both of us. Sami had never been to such an establishment. I’ve been several times, but only ever sat in the VIP room with a group of suave shady characters more interested in beverages and business than the ladies, poking fun at the B-list and waiting for the lights to go on to see who won an assortment of age related bets. (I kept some interesting company in my early twenties.) Either way, the idea of sitting right up front with no experienced posse was a new one. So maybe we were just the slightest bit nervous. But hello, what are vacations for? So off we went.

Firstly, before we set out for the night there was the task of selecting our venue. There is no Yonge Street to go between the Brass Rail and Zanzibar, or waiting cabs for a trip somewhere else. And with booze *obviously* on the menu, we wouldn’t be hopping about. We needed to find one place for our adventure, and we needed to find the right place. A place that was nice (but not too nice), and down with unaccompanied ladies. Apparently there are places where women are not allowed without male company. Also crucial was finding one that wouldn’t leave our respective men worrying about their unaccompanied ladies and what sort of attention they might receive from rather rough crowds.

This was not a job for the new girl and the new in town girl, and so we assigned our men the work of calling up their buddies for consult. I don’t know how much ‘work’ it was, really – picking out a strip club for your girl must be at least somewhat hot. And so it didn’t take long for them to come up with Pure Gold, in the next town over.

For this we needed Irwin, a somewhat stunted GPS with a bad habit of announcing turns after they’d been past. But we got there and managed to figure out the parking lot. It was wedged sort of under and next to a few other establishments of the more daytime variety, all with their own parking. The only spaces available to us was the valet parking, five bucks. Except since the spaces were literally right next to the door, all you really had to do was give the guy in the vest a fiver for the privelege of not letting him touch your vehicle.

However, as an amusing interlude, he did announce that it was his duty to inquire as to whether we were there as guests or applicants. Between surprised snorts, we managed to tell him that no, we were not there for jobs. But thanks. We parked and went in, paid the cover, found a seat and sat down.

Did I mention it was a Thursday at about 7pm?

It was very quiet, obviously without the regulars who would filter in as the evening went on, and for about half an hour we sat awkwardly sipping our mimosas. We had our fistfulls of bills ready to go, but it seemed the dancers were less interested in dancing and more interested in morosely leaning against things. We decided it was the first night out for many of these ladies and so sat back in our chairs to wait for someone a little more interesting.

I don’t know how many of you ladies out there frequent these establishments, but if you do I’m sure you know that we for the most part aren’t there for the same reason as a male attendee (except for maybe the squat lesbian in the corner who liked the chubby ones). You see, I’m not impressed by big jiggly boobies – I have them too. I can walk in heels and lean on railings and wiggle about in a skirt. What I can’t do is support my own weight around a pole or kick higher than my head. That’s impressive.

A few more drinks later and everything was far more entertaining. The A-squad started showing up in twos, with one girl in front and another featured in the background. That’s when Blue came out, a fantastically built lady with dark skin, big tattoos, and even bigger hair. She totally ruled, and before I could blink was not just up the pole but hanging from the scaffolding in the ceiling.

I don’t know if the standard reaction to a stripper is “Wow! Come here! Can I give you money?” but she was amused and let me give her a cute smack on the bottom along with my dollaz. She was an instant favourite, and the rest of the night was spent comparing everyone else. When I got back to my seat after giving some attention to the other ladies, Blue was there again to thank us for the tips. We fawned over her hair and skills, and she promised to come out again later.

At this point my drink was distressingly low. Naturally, the lady walking around giving out body shots had perfect timing. We decided body shots were fun – a quick dance with a drink at the end! Getting a test tube out from bra strapped cleavage is a fun endeavour and always a surprise as to what fun girly flavour your drink is going to be. Yes, it would be a fun night after all, and from then on we freely tucked bills into gstrings and waitress trays alike.

We didn’t want to spend too much on the alcohol given that Sami had to drive us back and also because more booze meant less thong-dollaz. So after a few more dancers we decided to get one last body shot. The last dancer had been a buxom asian girl with cute bobbed hair and lashes for days, and she had spent a fair amount of time in our general vicinity. When she came over after her dance to thank us, I asked her if she did body shots, but she didn’t. She did, however, do lapdances.

Apparently some ladies are more rowdy than others, and this is how I ended up getting smacked in the crotch by an overplayful stripper who couldn’t possibly have known that I’d left the Nair on just a liiiiiittle too long that afternoon. It’s also how I ended up with boob on my face while Sami had a good laugh at what I’m sure was my hilariously mortified expression. 

Well then.

Carrying on, we got to see Blue work her aerobic feats again while I ordered one last drink to lessen the sting. I thought it might be a good idea to take out a little more cash for a few more minutes, but the eight dollar service charge at the ATM quickly discouraged me. That and we didn’t want to stay out too late, it being a week night and all. Plus Sami agreed to wake up early the next morning to drive Josh and I to the radio show, so a relatively early night suited us just fine.

We made our exit a while later, right about the time the girls stopped dancing and just stood all together in a crowd on the stage. We weren’t sure what the purpose was, if were just supposed to buy one of them or something, so we made a quick trip to the ladies room before making our giggly exit.

Sami was fine to drive but I wasn’t much more help than the befuddled GPS on the way home. We got turned around a few times in a town that neither of us knew before getting back on the right highway. The men were still up waiting for us when we got back in, and we stayed up a bit longer drinking beer and exchanging tales of our evenings.

Eventually, tired after an eventful night, we all wandered off to our beds. Of course I had to explain to Josh why I was a little on the fragile side…

50's House Wife Wig - photo

You see honey, it started with this one stripper...

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