My Night at Porkies
Part 2
After my musings had stopped I could see my stripper queen in all her beauty. True, she was carrying a bit of weight but it was firm from all this dancing. Sure, she had sideburns, but I could sense that I’d be growing them soon so she could teach me how to keep them so well trimmed. Okay, her scarred prostitute’s body was a little more ‘weather-worn’ than I expected my first lady’s to be, but you have to make these sacrifices for maturity, and think of the stories she’d have! I pushed all these misgivings from my mind and set about thinking how tell her about my parents. Then suddenly it was like she was gesturing for me to leave; this couldn’t be right, perhaps just another formality? No, she was definitely trying to get me to go; she was sort of pushing me while trying to replace her underwear, which gave me my first flash of vagina (which I’m also going to describe as weatherworn). I had no choice, clearly it was so dark in here she’d forgotten about my Ben Sherman and probably couldn’t see my man-face while glugging this beer. Maybe she was suspicious that this beer hadn’t gone down despite me repeatedly swigging it throughout the dance. If only I could pretend to smoke that’d reignite her interest, but I was fresh out of candy sticks.
The curtain was still closed, we were still alone, I had one last option: I began to dance for her. I don’t know if it was the newly liberated button, or the sporadically long, lone chest hair poking through, but for some reason she was enjoying it. She’d taken my seat and was clapping. My hips were whirring, thrusting the air, and she was mine again. I’d entranced her with my hand moves, hypnotised her with all this gyrating and was ready to explode with desire and I knew she couldn’t be far off. I began to unbutton my jeans.
Quickly as that, with barely two buttons undone, her smile disappeared, the clapping stopped and she pushed me out of the room through the curtain. I was very much caught off guard by this sudden change of reaction – it takes some double standards for her to disapprove of my dance being too raunchy from the undoing of two buttons. And being hastily pushed through the curtain I was still trying to re-button my fly in front of the assembled strip club clientele; partly because they weren’t aware it was an essential part of my routine, and mostly because they were strip club clientele, it probably just looked like I was enjoying a little self pleasure… which I wasn’t.
Besides, all this was probably just a formality. If I’d have waited around she probably would have met me around the back after her shift when her boss wasn’t suspicious, to tell me in broken English that it was all a clever rouse and she couldn’t let me know just in case I gave the game away. Then I’d say that we should go back to my hotel and the next day she could meet my parents on the jeep safari. Alas I couldn’t stay – I had promised my parents that I’d be home early because we had a jeep safari the next day, also I don’t think the bouncers were in on the rouse because they were looking at me like we weren’t friends.
I didn’t have any money for ice-cream the next day but I did have memories, memories of the woman I let slip right through my fingers. You can’t buy that, except for thirty Euros. I was also trying to convince my dad that a lizard had eaten all my holiday money some time during the night.
Photo by BRH Images.
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