Tales from the Boobie Bar!
First suck of the evening was from a younger guy.
Maybe early 20s. He can barely afford his beer, let alone tipping the girls.
Another dancer, C, goes around to him after her set, and they have a conversation.
C=Pretty dancer girly ^_^
FM=Fucking Moron
C=*approaches, smiles, etc* Hi!
FM=Hey there. You know what?
C=What's that, sweetie?
FM=Soon, I'M gonna be your boss!
C=o.O
FM=I'm buying this bar! (which is funny, since it's not for sale.)
C=*knows he's full of it* Oh, really now?
FM=Yeah, and I'm gonna make it better!
C=Oh! So you'll make sure when customers pull their grabbing bullshit, they get thrown out? That's great!
FM=Oh, I don't care about that shit. They can do whatever.
C=...then I know that *I* won't be working here. Nor will any of the other girls.
FM=*shocked look*
Yes-contrary to popular belief, we do not exist so that horny, lonely men have someone to paw on and try to fuck. We exist so lonely, horny men can actually see tits outside of a magazine or porno.
Hands up anyone who thinks that he only wants to own the bar 'cause he thinks he'll get pussy that way? *waves own hand*
Mr. SuckMyCock came back AGAIN.
He wanted me to sit with him, so I did. In conversation, we wound up realizing that we went to school with many of the same people (a conversation started merely by my noting the beer he was drinking, and him saying it was the last name of a friend of his, who wound up being a boy of the same name I went to school with). Okay, sure. I try to steer conversation away from that and back to normal light-hearted stripper stuff.
Every few minutes, he'd throw into conversation, "So, would you be my girlfriend? Or just my fuck friend, whatever works? Please?" And every time I reminded him that wasn't possible for many, MANY reasons.
So the night wears on, yadda yadda. At midnight, all the other dancers are scheduled to be off. Except me .-. One other dancer, a friend of mine we'll call A, said she'd stay with me until 2am, so I didn't have to try to entertain the whole bar on my own for two hours. So yay for A ^^
Unfortunately, this means I don't really have time to sit with Mr. SuckMyCock anymore-I'm getting onstage, dancing, going around for tips, running upstairs, changing my costume, running down, picking my music...and getting up again. All of which makes me a very busy and tired Squirrel.
After the bar died down a bit around 1:20am, the DJ threw some extra songs on between sets so I actually had time to return to the customer.
In that hour and a half, he'd become drunk and maudlin. He kept blathering about how he loved getting couch dances, but didn't want any from me because I didn't 'feel an emotional connection' with him.
Of course I don't, dumbass.
I didn't say that to him-I just shrugged and went off to pick more music out (and finally get a chance to sit the fuck down in the nice big comfy DJs chair ^_^).
Mr. SuckMyCock creeps me out. A lot.
And this guy just thought he was really smooth.
First, when I go around, he leers at me like any normal customer does, then tries to smooth-talk me into not wanting a tip from him ("Isn't my company tip enough, gorgeous?"). Which fails. He gives me a dollar.
Then he suggests I have a seat with him for awhile. I say okay. He buys me a drink.
As we're sitting and talking, (actually, more like HE'S talking-couldn't get a word in edgewise. I don't think he even knew my stage name) he's going on about how it's so stressful for him to own his own sucessful Fortune 500 buisness (which I highly doubt, with the Wal*Mart suit paired with sneakers, for Chrissake), and how hard it is to find 'a good woman to shower with diamonds and money'. He tells me how he has allll these hot womens numbers, but none of them quite meet his standards-waving his cell phone in front of me for emphasis (a cell phone I was amused to note had the logo of a popular prepaid-only cell company). I'm playing along, barely hiding my mirth at his attempt to appear to be something he's not (rich), as well at his juvenile ideas of what a 'good' woman would want.
Time passes. I note that every time a girl comes around for tips, he tries his best to ignore them. More time passes. I have to go up to the DJ booth to tell him what songs I want. I excuse myself, and pick up my money and drink.
Him=Oh, you can leave your drink here with me, sweetheart.
Me=That's okay, I'd like to bring it with me ^^ (I never leave a drink unattended with a customer.) I'll be right back, though :)
Him=I think you should leave it here. Don't be stupid. *is getting angry, which usually only means one thing...*
Creepy.
I sigh, and leave it there. I pick my songs, and grab my water bottle from a shelf in the DJ booth, and return to the customer. Being the paranoid girl I am, I didn't drink the drink I'd left with the customer. He seemed a bit miffed by that, but I just said the alcohol was making me more thirsty, so I wanted water :)
I do my set, and come back. He's getting pretty tipsy, and therefore more brazen. Now his main topic of conversation is sex. Specifically, how good he thinks he is in bed, and how lucky a woman would be to have sex with him.
By now, I'm giggling outwardly at him. He takes this as me being shy about sex, and continues. He's telling me about how he has a hard time finding a woman who can 'take all of [his] cock', 'cause he's just soooooooooooo big.
At this point, I'm turning red trying not to just flat out laugh at the guy. He continues, oblivious, nose in the air and gesticulating with his arms as he laments his sad, imagined life.
Then, quite suddenly, he grabs my arm as it rests on the bar, and pushes his face to mere inches from mine.
"I don't normally do this," he says, "but I feel a real...connection with you. How about...you and I, lets just blow this joint. I'll take you back to my place, and we can see if you're the woman for me." Earnest brown eyes staring into mine, a hopeful smile on his face.
...and I lost it. I just started laughing. I couldn't help it. I'm talkin' deep, head on the bar bellylaughs.
He looks confused and somewhat angry.
Between giggles, I say, "That was me saying 'no'."
I get up and move on.
The next girl that sat with him? Didn't even make it through his monolouge about how rich he was before she started cracking up.
Good times.