The next place was a dump. There was a dumptruck of a stripper onstage who looked like a bowl of pudding in a bikini. And the VIP rooms looked like bathroom stalls. There was definitely a chick on her knees in one of them. We had a beer and left, hoping to find a happy ending.
Neither Bryan nor I can remember the name of our final destination. But we both remember who won.
*Neither of us.
It was a place with private booths. It was $50 for 30 minutes in the room with a girl of your choice. So we both paid the $50 fee and got led to our separate rooms.
The room I was in had a twin-size bed, a low-slung chair, a door in the back of the room… and… and… and… I’ve searched for years for a way to accurately describe this thing that was in the room. The best mental image I can give you is a clear plastic Han Solo-in-carbonite thingy with a fleshlight apparatus in the scrotal region. So, my guess is that the girl would stand naked on one side, while the customer bangs away at the pseudo-fleshlight for a nominal fee. Needless to say, it freaked me out and before I even saw my possible companion I decided I wouldn’t be going anywhere near it.
The first girl who came in the room was short, stumpy, and not very attractive. The second girl was taller, skinnier, and much prettier. I should have taken the dumpy girl; everyone knows that bigger gals not only have better snacks at their house, but they’re more “open” to suggestions.
I made my erroneous choice and the skinny gal came back in the room and began stripping on the bed. I sat in the chair, watching. In broken English, she said that I could sit on the bed for another $10.
So I sat on the bed. And for another $10, I could touch her. I did away with the formalities and asked about the full enchilada. But it was no dice. Sadly, I settled for the “Go-it-alone” special. After finishing my business, I went back outside and grabbed a piece of pizza from a vendor outside.
When Bryan finally came down, we enjoyed some pizza and realized that we’d just spent about $100 each to whack off in a room with some strange Canadian lass.
Brian Simpson is a DJ at the active 95.7 The Rock in La Crosse, Wisconsin. He’s also a hardcore fan (having been to 50-odd concerts) and a hard-riding scooter biker (his scooter is fashioned after the Green Goblin).radio station