8) Getting a stripper kicked out of the Strip Club.

Once upon a time, I had what may have been the most koosh job ever working outside sales for a fiberglass insulation contractor. Granted, it didn't pay for ****, but I pretty much had free reign over my schedule. I would literally clocked in and clock out by Nextel. As long as I showed up at the office at least once during the day, made sure everyone saw me and shuffled a little paperwork I was good to go. I learned early on that I needed to go in early if I planned to get drunk at lunch and go directly home. I'm pretty sure this did irreparable damage to my work ethic.

Got a phone call one day from one of my best friends telling me he needed a drink. Luckily I'd already made it into the office that morning so it was on. So we met up at Hooters down on Gessner for lunch and some beers. Evidently he'd been terminated from his corporate sales position at Cingular Wireless that morning and wanted to put a few down before going home to tell his newly pregnant wife. Now I'm all for drinking away your sorrows, but what really cheers me up when I'm down are half naked 18 year olds with a coke habit and daddy issues. So I suggested that we take the party from hooters on over to Centerfolds.

We roll in and find a nice spot just off the main stage. They had some pretty good talent working for the lunch hour, so I assume it must have been a Friday. We ordered a round of drinks and I gave the waitress my credit card to start a tab. And as is the standard in most strip clubs, she promptly put the tell tale tag on the table to let all the girls know we had an open credit card. Wasn't long before we had two lovely young ladies stop by the table and ask if we would like any company. Of course we said yes. Sat down with us, had a few drinks and chatted a bit as is customary before they pull out the "Would you like a dance" line. But when they finally did, I was all for it. Being the good friend I am, I also ponied up for my newly jobless pal since I figured he should probably save his money until he got a new job.

Now usually I'm used to the stripper taking me back to an empty corner somewhere and just grabbing the closest chair, but they began leading us to the stairs. Luckily I was already familiar with the "Champagne Room" there, so I new it was nothing more than extra space upstairs for a little extra privacy. Or so I thought. When we reached the top of the stairs there was a corner booth almost directly in front of the stairs. Really just a little off, but enough to see straight down the stairs as I was placed on the end closest to the stairs. My buddy was literally placed right next to me, and I noticed there was already another dude on the other side of the same corner booth getting a lap dance as well. It was definitely no where near as private as I was used to, So I was a little caught off guard when I found my cock in her mouth.

I looked down at her and she looked back up at me and asked, "Would you like me to stop?" I thought for a split second, gave out a small sigh, and replied "Nooo....How much?" Now I can't remember what she quoted me, but I'm 99% sure it was too much for a BJ, but no way in Hell I was gonna stop mid BJ, that's just un-American. Pretty sure she knew this and had used this ploy before. But anyways, I of course agreed to her terms. At that point I figured I was paying to save myself from a severe case of Blue Balls just as much as I was paying for a BJ. Keep in mind, I was still in a booth in plain sight of at least 4 other people. Looked to my right at my buddy who was obviously just waiting for me to look at him. He had a **** eating grin on his face and gave me an approving nod. I made a pre-emptive point to clarify to him that I was only paying for his dances. My buddy's stripper didn't seem to have a problem with the goings on next to her, but the other one we intruded on seemed a little offended and promptly left as soon as she was finished with her dance.

About a minute or so after that stripper left, I noticed the manager wandering towards the bottom of the stairs. I guess that's the good thing about overlooking the stairwell. Gave her a quick tap on the head and told her, "Hey, Jose is about to come up." So she quickly untucked my shirt, covered up my manhood, and hopped on top as if she was really only giving me a lap dance. I somehow got the feeling she had done this before. Jose made his way to the top of the stairs and walked right past us to do his rounds. But on his way back he gave my stripper a quick tap on the shoulder, mid grind, and told her he needed to talk to her real quick. So he waited at the bottom of the stairs until the song was over and she hopped off to go see him. At this point I decided it might be a good idea to put my dick back in my pants.

A few minutes later she comes back up noticeably pissed off. I ask her what was wrong and she said, "I gotta get out of here, Jose kicked me out." I asked what for and she said "For blowing you. That ***** ran down and ratted me out." I didn't know what to say other than apologize. "Oh, sorry about that." Then she told me, "I don't have a cell phone, but here's my girlfriends cell number. Call her and I'll get back to you and we can finish this." In my drunken state, I was more than happy with that arrangement. I decided that was the perfect time to close out and go back to the Apt. Apologized to Jose on the way out, who in turn apologized to me for interrupting. Evidently he only stopped it because the stripper that ratted her out was a royal ***** and pain in the ass and he had to do something to shut her up.

Parted ways with my buddy and made my way back home. Figured I'd better strike while the iron was hot and called the number she gave me. Went straight to voicemail, so left a message with my info in hopes that she'd actually call back. Considering that she blew me out in the open, I was extremely curious as to what would happen behind closed doors. I had high hopes, but after a couple hours, I knew she was leaving me with my dick in the dirt. I mean, who knew you couldn't trust a stripper? So I hit the shower, scrubbed down my junk and called an ex-girlfriend to come over and finish what the stripper started. By this time it was close to 5pm, so I checked in on the Nextel and clocked out of work.



[This message has been edited by Catch (edited 8/9/2011 9:18a).]