To set the stage: I have a friend who is a dancer at a strip club out around my way, and of late I've been dropping in on the place mostly out of boredom and also because my best friend, who recently went through a messy ending to a long (5+ years) relationship has had some desire to get out of the house and "see the sights", as it were. Now, I've never been the biggest fan of strip clubs: they're pricey (10-15 dollar cover at any decent one around), the drinks are expensive, and plus the whole enterprise is just a giant hustle to get your money, the dances are a tease with no sex, there's that palpable air of desperation coming off most of the dancers that mercenary motives, and not actual pleasure in the job, are what's keeping them there, the other patrons being creeps or jerks or just indifferent, and so on and so forth. Going to this one place has been more due to the fact that it closes about three hours later than any bar out here and I have a friend on the inside so why not? This past weekend, though, stepped the game up a notch and into the "I better check myself before I wreck myself/am I dreaming?" zone. There was a goth-punk burlesque/performance art-y show rolling through the club, and being a guy with some familiarity with that scene (lot of black in my wardrobe and a lot of punk and metal in my music preferences) I figured I'd go and see some girls more up to my standards (alternative-y) than the usual strippers. Speeding it along: My friend and I missed the first show we tried to get to on Thursday (it was running all weekend) because of snow and late work schedules, so we ended up stuck there at 2 in the morning with few others ( week day snowstorm keeping the crowds at bay) with little to do except wait at the bar and talk to the bartender, who remembers us whenever we show up thanks to us being fairly atypical looking compared to most patrons and because we're friends with a dancer. About an hour later, I notice a dancer getting on stage that I'd vaguely remembered from a brief sighting the last time I was there, and who fit my standards perfectly: raven hair, tats, and piercings and a wonderful body. This, of course, got me away from the bar and towards the stage for her set. It was good, and of course I showed my appreciation. I tipped well and complimented her on her Misfits skull tattoo, and that seemed to get her, because she found me later and we got to talking for a bit. She offered me a private dance, so I said sure. We went back to the area for that, and the grinding began. Full nude by the way. And then she found my cock. Well, to say the least her reaction was pretty emphatic: "Oh WOW, my god!" And while you never know with a stripper or anyone trying to sell you anything...it seemed pretty genuine. After a while of grinding and dirty talk and kissing and so forth, I decided to call it a night. She invited me to come back tomorrow so I could catch the show, and I said I would. Jump to the future: Friday rolls in, and in Groundhog Day like fashion, the same events of yesterday repeat themselves: snow, my friend getting off work late, etc. But we make it in time and we happen to run into my stripper friend (off work at the time) randomly there with one of her friends at the club so we sit near each other out on the floor. I'm not seeing my new stripper friend at all, until someone randomly comes up behind me and kisses me on the cheek: there she is! She goes off to work the floor, and I'm waiting for this show to get going. It isn't until around 3am that the meat and potatoes of the show gets going...and it is a spectacle. Bondage, fire-shallowing, grinders sending sparks flying, chicks whipping out dildoes and sucking them off on stage, etc. By this point my stripper has found her way over to me and is grinding away for the entire hour on me alone, and it's feeling pretty good. The show ends, I head back to the bar...and then another attractive stripper, this one a beautiful black girl, starts chatting me up at the bar, complimenting me on my looks, etc. I'm wary but engaged, wondering if this is someone trying to string me along for some cash, when Goth/Punk Stripper lets call makes her way over. Now I'm being taken back for a two on one scenario. What followed was vigorous, and included everything from grinding and dick stroking to at the end some pussy licking on my part to them and them to each other. Damn. My cock and my looks are a topic of conversation throughout this, something I'm pleasantly surprised about. What happens next is where the story goes off the rails. They stop this, and then offer to go back to the "very" private area: The Champagne Room. Now, I know what Chris Rock says to the contrary, but there can most definitely be sex had in the champagne room. For a price. And that's where I got hit with the offer. Man, let me tell you...tempting though it was, I had to turn it down that night. While I still would have money in the bank and my sex drive was at overheating...I pulled back from the brink. I gathered up my drunk friend, paid up and we hit the road. Of course, while promising I'd be back to G/P stripper. And I most likely will be.