Strip It Down

I dressed for that night; slightly faded black jeans, dark gray what I call my "religious" cowboy boots, which have twelve tiny crosses inconspicuously stitched all over each one.

A dark purple lace front thin strapped camisole, slate gray men's dress shirt, dark gray and silver cuff links, paisley dark gray necktie- slightly loose at the collar, and as a belt I tied a solid dark purple necktie into a Windsor knot around my waist.

I was going for a little masculine, a little feminine to match my powerfully turned on mood, looking for a new memory for my highlight reel.

I'd been in Strip Clubs before but with male partners, then we would go back home, and recount the experience to heighten his release.

I wanted a solo night, I wanted to be the center of one of the dancer's attention, and I was packing -one hundred dollars- sixty in singles, and two twenties I was on a mission, I wanted my own heightened release when I got back home.

I thought about going to one of the big flashy ones, where the women are "Oh My God" beautiful, but I was feeling hot and dark, where the women are pretty enough in low light.

I was prepared to use one of my twenties to get in the door, but the security guy just waved me in, I suppose better to spend it on alcohol, and the girls then on him standing sentry, just inside the bright pink and white chalkboard advertised "LADIES NIGHT" but, isn't every night "ladies night" in places like this?

Being rendered almost deaf by a Metallica song, I played charades with the bartender to get my two drink minimum of double Jack and Bud Light, I made my way to the right of the stage, away from the blaring CD music box.

I noticed all the chairs were that popular u-shape, with brass studs holding together fake leather, the small round fake wood table was just wide enough for four drinks, supporting a tiny glass bowl with a tinier lit candle in it, as I settled into one of the two chairs accompanying the table I chose, I saw her- the new addition to my highlight reel.

She walked right in front of me, surrounded by a cloud of white feathers- at least that's what her short wrap looked like in this lighting- we made eye contact, I gestured toward the vacant chair next to me, and she slid into it.

Her fire red wavy hair kept her neck warm, her eyes reminded me of seaweed, but she smelled like delicate flowers, and her voice fell so softly upon my ear that, I had to lean in close to hear her ask me if I wanted a "Private Dance" in the VIP Room.

She was definitely easy on the eyes; with slender limbs, breasts that were a handful for the right size hands, an ass that I would have followed straight into hell, a waist corsets were made to emulate, and a cute sparkling navel piercing.

As soon as my twenty appeared, it disappeared into her G-string, in the VIP booth I blended with the shadow that the overhead fake red velvet awning provided, she played the perfect song for what she was about to do- "Strip It Down" by Luke Bryan.

Her body swayed, with that mesmerizing mixture of sensuality and sexuality that makes you feel; heated when you're already hot and soaked when you're already wet, her body was soft and warm when she pressed it against me, I wanted so badly to touch her but that was forbidden.

With each removal of an article of "clothing" and with each bump here, and grind there, my exquisite ache drilled down so deep, that I was glad that women can experience "the little death" and no one else is the wiser.