Strip clubs are seedy dives, places where the stage is behind the bar, the customers are only allowed to look, and everyone seems a bit sad. My buddy Dave is a stripper connoisseur, and drags me along once in a while. I don’t have extra spending money, and I’m not enthused to pay too much for my drinks. Particularly in a bar where the women are off limits. It all feels like a tease, harder to get drunk, and impossible to get laid.
We are just out of college, on one of the ill-advised road trips that will turn into stories decades later. Dave has a strip club stop all planned out. I’m not particularly excited, and angry Mike, the other guy on this trip, wants no part of it. Mike and Dave argue, it gets heated, and Mike stays in the hotel bar while Dave takes me on “an adventure.”
Our road trip has taken us out of state, and the clubs are different than Dave’s usual dens of syphilis and depression. The girls here are scorching hot, and they dance right in front of you. They drape a leg over your shoulder while you slip a bill in their garter or their waistband, and the over-muscled bouncer doesn’t bat an eye.
I’m a big man, a big boy at the time. Twenty-two years old, a decade of Andre the Giant jokes and “why don’t you play basketball” questions haunt me. I’m a bit self-conscious about my height. Dave comes from a moneyed family, he’s not careful with his cash. I am. As I see the gorgeous dancers in the club, I resolve not to break my trip budget on night two. It would be easy. This is a time before “making it rain” was a thing, but the money flows in these joints.
A couple girls are wandering the floor. The place is pretty crowded, a couple dozen fellow degenerates sit around the bar. The stage begins behind the bar, and extends out. A few dozen chairs line the stage edge, but we decide to stand at the bar as a girl finishes her act, and the deejay summons the next dancer.
Mercedes takes the stage as our beers are served. Super cute. Her dark hair is in a bob cut, striking red lipstick, and porcelain skin. She’s wearing a black panties and stockings, precariously balanced on four inch heels. She’s wearing a lacy stretchy black bra that is losing the battle against a pair of disproportionate boobs. Without the heels, Mercedes is 5’3”, and a small framed girl, petite. She’s got a nice butt, but the D-cup tits on her tiny, toned frame are the focus.
She takes off the bra for her second song. I’ve never seen tits like this in real life. Round and firm, nipples pointing up. I’ve seen bigger, but on this short thin girl the D cups look enormous. I’m impressed. So is the crowd, Mercedes is popular. She takes off her panties for her third song, but the boobs were the main attraction. She finishes her set, carefully navigates the steps in her crazy heels, and makes her way around the bar collecting tips. Dave talks to her for a long time, dollars flowing. I tip her, we chat a moment, but my attention is back on the stage.
The DJ’s voice warbles through the sound system, telling me to put my hands together for Amber, and telling DeeDee that she’s on deck. Amber does not immediately command my attention. Shes very attractive, don’t get me wrong. But she’s conventionally hot, which isn’t my thing. A cheerleader type, wavy dirty blonde hair, 5’8”, and a thousand watt smile. She takes the stage in a plaid skirt, white shirt, and high socks. She pops her ass, shakes her titties, and swings her hair around. She knows what her crowd likes.
She’s definitely Dave’s type. She moves to her pop-dance music, and she’s decent on the stripper pole. She’s very nice to look at, but I don’t want her. I begin to regret letting Mercedes walk by. Amber is nude on stage for her third song, Tom Petty’s American Girl, wholesome and dirty at the same time. Amber finishes her set, and the crowd is in love. In lust, I suppose. She’s perky and breathless as she collects her tips, but I don’t see any of that, the next girl has my full attention.
DeeDee takes the stage. If you’re a stripper called DeeDee, guys might expect boobs. DeeDee is not giving you what you expect, she is a flat chested girl with long, straight, brown hair. She’s all legs, and looks almost a foot taller than Mercedes did. She’s perfectly toned and fit, not a visible bit of fat on her. She is wearing what I will later learn is called a slingshot bikini bottom. There is no waistband, it goes straight from crotch to shoulders. The yellow straps are complemented by the electric pink bandeau top.
She is statuesque, a goddess of a woman. And then she moves. She’s a dancer. A trained dancer, not a thrashing haired stripper dancer. She twirls into a split, she flows across the stage like water. Every move is graceful, magnified by long legs and lean body. Unlike Amber’s thousand watt toothy smile, DeeDee is thoughtful, unsmiling. The lights go out, and she disappears. All that is left under the UV lights are her white heels and white garter, the deep-vee lines of her slingshot bottom are electric yellow, and the wide stripe of her top is a glowing pink. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, pop art brought to life.
The regular lights come back on for the second song, and she removes her bandeau top. She’s flat chested, I’d be generous to call them A cups. She’s got big nipples, protruding pencil erasers, somehow more erotic than if they were on bigger boobs. She climbs the center pole, and leans back, her hair cascading. She descends, slowly twirling around the pole. Back arched, one knee raised, and somehow spinning in time to the music. She ends on her hands, dismounting the pole gracefully, legs swinging over and down like a gymnast.
The top came off after her first song, and her slingshot bottom is removed at the end of her second. Her third song is by a hair metal band called the Cult, a song called Edie. It’s not a style or a band I like, but I love that song even now, decades later. DeeDee dances nude to that song. It’s a slow song for a rock band, but faster than her previous choices. Her pace increases, a beautiful, graceful, ethereal 5’11” woman wearing four or five inch heels that make her at least 6’3”. Her perfect body and aloof face and effortless grace drive a red hot railroad spike of lust directly into my brain, searing it all into place, images I will never forget.
As she leaves the stage, Dave is the first guy to talk to her. I’m uncharacteristically angry. She’s mine, dammit. I suddenly understand animals fighting over mates and territory. Nine minutes on stage, that’s all I’ve seen, and I’d spend all my money on her, or beat the piss out of someone if she asked. My young brain is not prepared for something like DeeDee.
She leaves Dave, giving a long stroke of her perfect hands down his arm as she walks away. A handful of undeserving perverts are between me and this goddess, giving her dollar bills and making pathetic attempts at small talk. Hurry up, losers, I’m waiting.
She twirls away from the man to my right after he puts a bill in her garter. She takes the wad of singles and fives and puts them in her purse before walking up to me. She caresses my shoulders, pressing her body into my back, and whispers “you’re a tall one, aren’t you? Stand up for me.” I stand and turn around. In the heels, she’s just a couple inches shorter than my 6’6”. She’s wearing almost nothing and has a ballet dancers physique and poise… she seems taller, somehow.
I tip her a five, and I ask her some dumb question, making some feeble attempt to be cute or clever. I panic briefly, worried that I’m no better than the other primates around the stage. She looks at me, and she smiles. She smiled at that garbage line? Her smile has turned my mood instantly. I’m making confident eye contact and pulling her close. She’s only got eyes for me, I’m feeling good.
She asks if I want to go to a private room. I say sure, I’ve got a hundred on me, without even thinking. She says “let’s go”. As we walk back, she talks to an older lady at a table in front of a beaded curtain. “Room 3, a half.” Older lady looks me up and down and responds “him? really? I would never guess.” I’m sure this is some stripper code, and I’m not interested in figuring it out. I’m mostly paying attention to DeeDee’s ass, and she’s holding my hand leading me forward, like some puppy dog.
We go into the room, I sit on a large leather couch. She closes the door, and she straddles me, her perfect legs spread across my lap. She grabs my shirt and pulls me forward, and asks if she can have it. “You want my shirt?” “Yes,” she says with a hint of irritation. My brain isn’t working, it takes me a second, then I comply. I struggle to take off the shirt without standing, I’m enjoying a lap full of DeeDee. My struggle was wasted, she gets up once the shirt is off. She corpses the small room and hangs my shirt over the camera on the wall. Then she returns to my lap.
I start to say “Was that a…” but she interrupts me with a “shhhhh.” She leans into me, and kisses me, a hand on either cheek. Her kiss is on my lips, which surprises me, but I kiss back. It’s hot, and she starts biting my lower lip. My brain says “holy shit this is hot” and a deeper part of my brain that I ignore a lot says “this is a bad idea.” She is kissing me deep and hard, and I am kissing her back, as best as I can. As we kiss, she is grinding out a symphony on my pants, working me into excitement.
I tell her “you are gorgeous, I wish I had a chance to do more than a couch dance.”
She looks at me for a moment then replies “we’ve got a half hour in here big guy, and no camera.” She stands, then goes down to her knees between my legs. She unbuckles my belt, unzips me, and pulls down my pants. She leaves me in a moment of anticipation before pulling down my shorts. My little friend has never been so hard. She asks “do you want me to strip for you?” and I nod.
She stands in front of me and stretches. After a few steps in front of me, she, gracefully removes her stretchy strapless top, showing her cute nipples. Then her slingshot bottom. She bends at her waist, away, showing me her perfect ass. I see she’s shaved clean, something I’ve never seen this close. She twirls, and straddles one leg, grinding. She puts my hands on her chest, and I roll her nipples with my thumbs. She’s enjoying it, or great at faking it, it’s all the same to me.
She stands again, and bends at the waist toward me this time. Her hair falls forward, a curtain at my waist. I feel her hot breath on my cock, and her hands on my legs. She arches her back and stretches forward, leaning into me.
She slides to the floor, and rubs my cock with her hands. She presses it against her cheek, then holds it to her chest. She tells me it’s huge, I think she’s exaggerating. I don’t care if it’s lies or truth, she’s naked. My dick is so hard it feels like it’s going to tear free. She licks my cock, from base to tip, slowly, before taking it into her mouth. She begins bobbing up and down, shallow strokes, picking up speed before abruptly stopping. She reaches into her purse and says “I wish I had a better one for you” as she rolls a condom down my cock. It’s tight.
She rubs my cock a bit, and rubs her fingers on her own pussy lips. She stands, so fucking tall in her heels, and bends facing away, her head almost to her knees. She traces a line between her lips while bent over, putting two fingers inside, sliding them out, tracing little circles around her clit. She turns and straddles me. Her face is in my face as I feel her grab my cock and guide it into her. She moans, and slides down half way. Her voice is scratchier, breathier now, “you are a big fucker,” as she starts riding the top half of my dick. She is tighter than my ex girlfriend, and as she leans back, I can see her lips stretched tight around me. Jesus.
She leans into me, grunting now, still working the top half. I wonder if she’s teasing me again somehow, some stripper thing. She’s grunting and pushing on my cock. The too-tight condom is giving me staying power, and I’m loving this. She is no longer the thoughtful looking dancer she was on stage. She is grunting and gritting her teeth a bit and I catch her saying “big fucker” one more time before she gets all of me into her. She slides up and down a few times, squirming and shimmying a little. Then she settles down onto me, and breathes out.
“Oh, you’re fun” she says, as she starts moving her hips back and forth. I can feel her firm ass pressed down on my hips. She is rocking without sliding up, grinding her ass back and forth. It’s wonderful for me, and I don’t realize how hard she’s grinding her clit into me. Her nails dig into my shoulders, I don’t care. She looks at me, determination on her face, as she writhes and grinds. I’m amazed I haven’t popped off yet. She puts my hands on her ass to speed her rocking, closing her eyes and moaning. In moments, she shows me the best fake orgasm I’ve seen. She’s a stripper, it couldn’t be a real orgasm in the private room with some guy she’s just met.
She flops her body into mine, still impaled on my cock. I can feel the heat of her, and I hear need in her voice. “There’s just five minutes left, baby, how do you finish?” How do I finish? I tell her I’m usually done by now. My mind scrambles for what might get me off, “I’ve never tried reverse cowgirl.” She laughs and stands up. My dick slides out of her and slaps loudly onto my stomach. “Well, you’re trying it now”.
She turns, grabs my dick, a bit roughly, and sits on it. She goes deep much more quickly than before. She puts her hands on my knees, facing away, and starts aggressively slamming herself onto me. My girlfriend likes missionary mostly, never doing anything like DeeDee is doing to me now. The dancer is rising up and sliding down with a purpose, long deep strokes, a loud slap each time she takes it deep into her.
It doesn’t take long, and I tell her I’m ready to come. She doubles her speed, and I pop about three strokes after that, grabbing her hips and holding her down on my spasming cock. I hold her on me until I feel my dick start to flag and soften. “Damn, baby, that thing gets even bigger when you come.” I’m really eating up her stripper flattery.
She dismounts as a voice crackles “two minutes, DeeDee.” She catches my cock and carefully takes off the condom. She helps me clean up, private room etiquette, I suppose. I dress, and she puts her stripper gear back on. She is almost eye to eye as we stand. She drapes her arms over my shoulders and kisses me again. DeeDee is in the middle of saying “Highlight of my week” as the cracking voice comes over the speaker again, “times up”. The door to the room opens slightly, the room is no longer private.
We leave the room, and DeeDee gives me a peck on the cheek before heading to the girls’ dressing room. I watch a couple dancers with Dave, and I see her come out 15-20 minutes later. She’s wearing a lime green string bikini, still fucking gorgeous. She’s talking to the other patrons. Dave is grinning like a moron, and now I’m bored with the strip club. We leave, and pick up poor Mike before we go to the regular bars.
Hours later, we are at a well known bar in the beach town when a pair of girls approach us. Dave orders drinks for all five of us. The short girl looks familiar, the other one is facing away. She turns to me and flashes her thousand watt smile. “I’m Lisa, and this is Jen” she says as she winks. She’s Amber, and Jen is Mercedes without the ruby red lipstick and the tottering heels. Their shift is over, and Dave is a fucking gifted talker. Lisa says “Woo, big boy, Dee loved you.” Mercedes, sorry, Jen, cut her off, “if I thought you’d drop a grand, I’d have taken you back there first.”
I blink. I am pretty fucked up, we had been drinking for hours. I wasn’t trying to pick up, so I match angry Mike beer for beer, drinking hard. Did that girl say a grand? I only had a couple hundred on me, I couldn’t have spent more than a hundred and twenty. Dave sees my drunken confusion, and shakes his head, signaling me to let it pass.
Lisa, Amber, tries her hardest to get angry Mike to flirt with her, but he is embracing his inner demons. Jen is adorable and chatty, but my mind is still on that goddess. I ask Jen why DeeDee didn’t come out, she says DeeDee never comes out after the shift. She goes on, telling me that a lot of girls, like Lisa/Amber, are willing to risk things and fuck customers in the rooms. DeeDee isn’t one of those girls, she’s stuck up, she doesn’t go out for drinks, and she never breaks club rules. The conversation moves on, to shallower things.
I rolled through that town for a weekend every summer after that, for six years. I went into that joint, and called ahead, and tried to cross her path again. Never saw her, but I can’t hear that song by the Cult without remembering her. I’m sure Dave paid that grand to her. I know she fucked me for the money, but did she *enjoy* it for the money too? The thousand dollar experience? I’m not completely deluded, but there are parts that feel real to me, even now, decades later.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/av8ntu/the_private_rooms_at_the_bar_mf
Great story!