It has been quite the interesting weekend. Full of attending a wedding, doing some bar hopping and being mauled by a stripper.
That last part kind of makes you forget about the rest of what happened this weekend, doesn’t it?
Let me preface the story by saying I have never been to a strip club. Yep, that’s right, I’m a strip club virgin. Yet I’ve always been intrigued.
So on Friday night, I rolled down to the D along about 11 to meet up with DD and his friends. We decided to go to a bar down the street, which just happens to be across the street from the D-List strip club downtown. Which also happens to be on the same street I work. Yes, I work down the street from a strip club. I’ve walked by this club every day for nearly 4 years, always wondering what was inside.
As we were sitting outside of the bar, looking at all the people at the strip club, we tossed around the idea of heading over. There was one other girl in the group, a girlfriend of one of DD’s out-of-town friends. It was her first time in the group and I have a feeling she was just doing her damndest to fit in. So when the strip club came up, she immediately got on board. I said I’d be up for it, so I could finally see what all the fuss was about.
The strip club was no bigger than my little apartment, with just one small stage about the size of a large dining room table. We found a booth, ordered some drinks and settled in. DD and one of his friends turned their attention to the TV to watch the Tigers game (I love that he was more interested in the Tigers game than the half naked women), and his other friends headed to the seats by the stage with some dollar bills. I just sat back in the booth and watched in fascination.
All I kept thinking was that strippers have some serious athletic ability, and that this really isn’t as sexual as I thought it would be. I realize these strippers are by no means the best of the best, but still…they weren’t so pretty, didn’t seem at all into it, and even when taking their tops off, there was no mystery. The song ended, off came the top. That was that. Like how I’d take my bra off before getting into the shower. No theatrics. No panache.
Until Cinnamon came on. Cinnamon swung around the pole, climbed the pole, made the pole her bitch. The highlight came when she dived into the lap of the other girl we were with, who was sitting with the guys at the stage. Our mouths dropped, we laughed, and secretly I thanked God that wasn’t me. ‘Cuz who wants some stripper’s crotch all up in their face?
But then I made the mistake of making eye contact with Cinnamon.
She saw me and immediately headed across the stage and down the steps, which were near our booth. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet to take me onstage. What. The. Hell??
For those of you who don’t know me in real life, I’m not what you’d call a flamboyent sort. Some may even say I’m conservative. I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I’m definitely not someone who’s going to get up on stage at a strip club. Instead, I’m someone who thought she would feel very uncomfortable and awkward in a strip club, not to mention being pulled on stage by a stripper.
But there I was, walking up the stairs.
At first I protested, but then I thought “How bad can this be? I like to be the center of attention and I’ve always wanted to learn how to pole dance (well not always, there was a time when I was three and just liked watching David the Gnome, but you get the idea…)” So, I followed the woman on stage, grabbed one of the poles, still not quite sure what to do, when she began manhandling me. Or woman-handling me, I suppose.
I thought she was just trying to get me to get up on the pole, so I sort of started to make my way up by hooking my leg around it. In general, I was just do the things you do when you’re standing on strip club stage in front of a bunch of strange men. But no, ladies and gentlemen, she was not helping me up on the pole, she was helping me to the floor.
At which point I found myself in a girl-on-girl porn flick.
Except it was live. And we I was fully clothed. And we were in front of DD and allllll his friends. Before I knew it, she had taken me from being on my knees and flipped me onto my back and thrown my legs over my head (see? yoga really does come in handy! All that flexibility work pays off…you never know when you may have to be violated by a stripper!) In seconds it was over and I was left to crawl off the stage, numb with shock and awe.
DD helped me down and the first thing out of my mouth as soon as I could take a break from the laughing was “how much cash did you give her?!” He looked at me sheepishly and replied “$5”.
“Good,” I said. “She deserved it.”
And she did. She popped this strip club virgin’s cherry in a way I hadn’t expected. DD told me afterward that he was afraid I’d be pissed at the situation, but actually I found the whole thing hysterical. I was so out of my element and unsure of what the hell was going on, but at the same time, I do love being the center of attention. So it was OK.
Except that I felt the strong urge to take a shower.
And FYI, this quite possibly may be the most exciting blog post I will ever write. Because I can’t think of a situation that could happen to me that would top being mauled by a stripper.