My Strip Club Cherry

16 Apr

Dolled up in fishnets and six-inch heels, I tottered into my first strip club last night.  The Lucky Devil Lounge hosts an annual Portland Pin-Up contest and I wasn’t about to miss it.  How could I say no to cute Portland girls in their lingerie?

The Lucky Devil was packed to the gills with bearded hipsters, corseted dames, and a motley crew of Portlanders just looking to have a good time.  As a small venue with only a handful of tables and an undersized bar, this club just wasn’t built to handle the sheer volume of people who turned up for the show.  Nevertheless, my two best friends and I eventually managed to find a decent vantage point.

As a strip club virgin, I didn’t know what I was about to witness, but after rubbing shoulders with a couple deliciously scandalous damsels at the bar, I was ready for anything.

Even though it turns out that the dancers were keeping things on the innocent side for the competition, (or as close to innocent as one can get when flashing a crowd), I found the performers to be quirky, eccentric, and sexy as hell.  With the exception of the girls who decided to mimic getting lewd with each other on the stage (if they hadn’t been so skanky I would have been drooling) the entire club exuded personalty and confidence.  Anyone who condemns stripping as a whole has clearly never been to a good strip club.  The women getting naked were in the ones in charge.

But let’s not forget that this was a competition.  The judges certainly didn’t, as they feasted like a group of Roman elites and slapped people’s legs in order to get a better view of the stage.  One would think that a group of judges who took their seriously enough to act like a group of royalty would have wanted to make more of an effort at being near the stage.  But what do I know?

My night came to a halt when one of the dancers barreled her way through the crowd with a saddle, knocking people to the ground in her eagerness to reach the stage.  At that point, I had been jostled enough and decided that it was time to leave the crowded bar and head home.  With a bit of a buzz and some interesting new experiences under my belt, I had some fodder for thought.

I just can’t stop thinking about the exotic comfort I felt through my entire night at the contest.  It felt natural to be in a room with naked women and their lavishing admirers. The crowd was hands-on in the politest way and I caught more than one patron comparing panties with some eager strippers.  I’ve always been intrigued by stripper memoirs and the act of stripping itself, but I don’t think I can go back to passively enjoying the culture after my experiences last night.  Even though I haven’t fit into a pants size in the single digits since middle school (blame the booty) and my breasts are slightly different sizes, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be turned down for my looks.  The truth is, the crowd seemed to get the most pleasure not from the women with the tiniest waists and protruding rib cages, but the women who enjoyed their bodies the most.  The heaviest stripper probably raked in the most tips because she owned her round butt and tiny breasts.  That said, somebody get me some heels and point me in the direction of a pole!


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