What a difference a club makes

A few weeks after my excursion into Mundo Bizarro, I had an opportunity to visit my usual haunt on a Saturday, my usual day to haunt. In spite of the loud dance music, the atmosphere was so much more mellow and calm than the craziness of the other club. There were a few patrons scattered throughout the room and a few dancers were casually drinking at the bar, some with their regulars.

I got my drink and sat at a table near the stage waiting for my eyes to get adjusted to the dark. A blonde dancer with a few extra pounds on her (but nothing like the women hustling their flesh at the palace) was moving around slowly on stage. You couldn't really call it dancing. I went to the stage and she came over slowly and lay on her side in front of me and went through her moves, raising a leg, running her hand down to her thong, pulling the waistband out inviting me to stick my dollar in.

She kept her distance and didn't attempt any kind of contact, nor did she encourage it. For a second I thought there might have been some crackdown on the rules or some other change in policy because I'm used to a more up-close-and-personal situation from the dancers here. She half-heartedly asked if I wanted a private dance, but I begged off saying I just arrived and wanted to get settled. I went back to my table hoping for something or someone to liven things up.

The next dancer, a tall black woman, went through the same slow motion kind of moves on stage. Maybe there was something in the air that made everyone lethargic. I went up to the stage but she pretty much ignored me. She went over to a couple of other men at the stage but she didn't seem very enthusiastic to anyone. After sitting there for about five or six minutes with no indication she would come over for a tip, I went back to my table to wait for the next dancer. At least I wasn't spending much money.

I watched the blonde chat with a couple of men and then sit by herself a few tables away. At one point she was kneeling on a chair with her elbows on the table, swinging her ass around slowly in the direction of the bar. I was thinking of asking her for a dance in spite of her indifference earlier. That could have been a waste of money since she gave no indication she would do what I expected dancers at this club to do. She got up and went into the dressing room.

Since my time was running short, I had to decide what to do - either wait for the blonde to come back & ask her for a dance, wait for the next dancer onstage to see if she would be more enthusiastic, or leave. There was a fourth possibility that I hadn't counted on.

The blonde came out followed by a long-haired brunette who sat down next to me and said a cheery hello. Things were looking up. She introduced herself as G, a woman who gave me a very memorable dance a while ago. I told her so and I could see her ego inflate visibly as she got more friendly, cuddling and stroking my leg. I did the same. It wasn't long before we agreed to head to the private booths.

G is a rather thin, but nicely shaped woman who is probably pushing 40. As I followed her and watched her bikini ass sway back and forth, I remembered some of the slander about her on an Internet strip club forum. She has worked there since the club opened, starting as a bartender and moving into dancing, and she has outlasted other women who have reportedly been in fights with her. Nasty remarks about her doing the club manager were cited for her longevity there.

She did seem to move around with a sense of impunity. They expanded the private dance area, adding a short row of booths in the back of the original room with a dogleg turn in between. In the middle of the turn there was a booth in the dark corner where G led me. I knew then I was in for a good time. I sat down and she took off her top (violating the bikini bar's rules) and her short shorts and sat next to me in her thong waiting for the next song to start and making me feel very comfortable.

The next song started and I adjusted my cock so it would point to my chest and not to my knees as she went into her routine. Using her knee and her ass she brought me to full attention. She gave me full access to her nicely-shaped natural tits - just like Goldilocks, not too big, not too small. When she rode me I had her pencil eraser nipples in my mouth and when she switched around I softly pinched them with both hands. Luckily there was no sign of any bouncer.

A couple of times she would start with her tits in my face and slowly slide down making sure there was enough friction to keep me up. As she finished the slide she would discreetly use her hands to jerk me off over my pants. When she had a chance she would bury her face in my neck and breathe heavily all the while keeping contact somehow with my cock. I was able to rub her clit through her thong but I was too polite to try to get a finger inside her.

Finally, I realized why I remembered why my last dance with her was so memorable. At the end of one of her slides she spent time using her chin and forehead on my cock like she had done before, even biting it. It drove me nuts then & it was doing it now. I grabbed her head and guided it as if it were a real blow job. She backed off once or twice, letting me catch my breath before she went down again. It was just too much and I let go. She knew it and relieved her pressure a little giving me a chance to fill my pants.

We cuddled a little more before I collected myself, combed my hair, tucked in my shirt, paid G for the wonderful time and walked into the bright sunlight. I think next time, now that she may recognize me and that she may be racier than the club allows, I may ask her for something more explicit like a hand job or maybe letting my hands explore a little further. She may be able to get away with stuff the other less connected dancers couldn't. My kind of girl.