By Paul McGuire © 2007
"Let's try Seamless," said Grubby.
Grubby was an explorer in a past life. I'm almost 100% positive. He always likes to try new things hoping to find a gem hidden among the rough. Seamless was located just a couple of blocks away from the apartment that I had rented during the 2007 WSOP. In fact, on the way over there, we passed the Redneck Riviera where I lived during the 2005 WSOP.
"Did you hear about that big drug bust?" said Grubby as he pointed to my old housing complex. "Thirty people were arrested."
We arrived at Seamless just past noon and wandered inside. It was a lame scene so we quickly left. That's when I suggested The Rhino.
The Rhino is the Bellagio of strip clubs. It's always crowded on the weekends, but shortly before 1 PM on a Saturday, it was empty. As soon was we sat down, three strippers from the afternoon shift appeared from the shadows. Two of them jumped up onto the laps of Grubby and Bad Blood as a waitress took our drink order. Red Bull and vodka. Breakfast of champions.
A tall blonde stripper sat down next to me.
"I'm Joey," she said.
"That's funny, because my name is Pacey," blurted out Bad Blood.
Blood knew about my morbid addiction to Dawson's Creek. I'd spent too many hours ripping bonghits and watching reruns of the Creek on TBS. I had an odd fascination with Katie Holmes (before she got brainwashed by Scientology).
"What do you do Pacey?" the stripper asked.
"I'm a hot air balloon pilot," Bad Blood quickly responded.
"Wow! That's so cool," she cooed. "And what do you do, Pauly?"
"I'm a striking Hollywood writer," I said.
"Wow! That's so cool. What have you written?"
"Daddy Daycare 2," I said with a straight face as the waitress handed me a drink.
"Daddy Daycare 2? That's my kid's favorite movie. Wow! That's so cool!"
Grubby quickly left with his girl to get a couple of lap dances and soon after Bad Blood disappeared. Grubby left his car keys and his drink. My stripper, Joey, was an admitted alcoholic and asked me if she could have a sip of Grubby's drink. I said yes, then worried that she might be giving him Hepatitis B.
Joey was the cream of the crop circa 1992. But now her looks have started to fade and she's slumming in the afternoon shift. The booze perked her up a bit and she told me the horror stories about the last few days. Cowboys in town for the rodeo didn't tip and took up all the seats. They liked to look but not pay. The Brits in town for the Ricky Hatton fight were a rowdy bunch.
"I can't tell you how many of them tried to stick their fingers up my cooch and in my ass," she said as Paint It Black by the Rolling Stones blasted on the sound system. "British people are supposed to be polite, but they were animals."
During my lap dance, we chatted about a few things like the most recent famous person who she had danced for.
"Do you know basketball?" she asked. "Wally Szczerbiak was here. He was such a nice guy. Very shy. He's so tall too. I asked him if he wanted a dance and he said yes. That's when I felt his dick. Ohmygod! He had the biggest dick I had felt in years. I kept calling my girlfriends over and screaming, 'Ohmygod! You gotta feel Wally's dick!' He was such a nice guy with such a big dick."
That's when someone walked into the VIP lounge and said, "Heya Pauly!"
The last time I was at the Rhino in Melbourne, Australia, I was recognized by a fan. Ah, but this time it was just The Mark, another member of the G-Vegas crew who arrived a little late.
I got my five songs for the price of three since I negotiated a better deal. It was the afternoon shift, and you can barter with the girls especially when it’s empty.
Grubby finally appeared out of the shadows with his stripper. I gave him the car keys and pointed to Joey who had stolen his drink. He didn't mind. His stripper excused herself. That's when Grubby pulled me aside.
"She squirted all over my chest," he explained.
"She was grinding me in her favorite position," said Grubby. "I heard her moaning really loud. Then she quickly shifted. She apologized and explained that she and her sister were the only squirters that she knew of. She wet herself. Then she pulled up my shirt and sat on my chest. It was all warm and wet. She squirted on me."
Wally Szczerbiak might have a big dick, but Grubby brought a Las Vegas stripper to a climax during a lap dance. That's talent. I was more than impressed. I was in awe.
As we left the Rhino, a faint trail of cheap stripper perfume followed behind as the harsh sunlight burned our sensitive eyes.
Paul McGuire is a writer from New York City.
January 01, 2008
Existentialist Conversations with Strippers: The Squirter
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