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I had a large male review show at a country bar in Knoxville, Tennessee. Big Rob, a dancer himself whom I had worked with extensively, had booked me for this gig. I had been doing a ton of private parties in Nashville and the city had been treating me well but this show was supposed to be a blowout of epic proportions; well worth the trip across the state.


I meet Big Rob at the hotel which is conveniently located right next to the club; he greets me as I approach across the hotel parking lot in his country drawl.


“What’s up Big Dawg?”  Rob calls everybody Big Dawg.


It just so happens I had a private bachelorette party from one of my Nashville agencies at another hotel nearby that night as well. I knew Rob wouldn’t care but I need to see if he would be cool with me borrowing his van to get over to the party. I tactfully ease into my pitch.


“ Good to see ya man. Hey listen, could I borrow the van around nine to do a party just a few exits down the freeway. Be like forty five minutes. I’ll do my set on stage then jet over, do the party and be back before you know I am gone. Cool?”


Big Rob stares at me for a moment, expressionless. For somebody who didn’t know him this moment would be very uncomfortable. Big Rob is a mountain of a human being. Everything about him is big. He has bratwursts for fingers.


Big Rob cracks a slight smile and drawls “Yeah. I’ll put you up first so be ready right after the intro. Have those keys in my hand soon as you get back.”


“Absolutely, will do.” I respond as I turn to walk away.


“Hey, I got somebody I want you to meet.” Big Rob motions me back.


“This is my boy from back East, Larry. I brought him along to help us out. It’s going to be a big crowd tonight.” Rob motions at the tall, lanky dude with a crew cut who has just gotten out of the van. Larry approaches with his hand extended. “How are you?”


Larry speaks in a very formal tone; undoubtedly he comes from the nine to five world. He has the look of an accountant and my first thought is if he has any clue what kind of mayhem he is about to experience with six hundred screaming, horny Southern women.


“Hey man, what’s up?” I nod my head in recognition.


I turn to Rob. “Hey bro, does your boy have any clue what he is about stumble into? Is he ready for six hundred ravenous ho’s?” I am joking but there is a degree of seriousness to my question.


“He’ll be aaaiiite.” Big Rob drawls and shoots a knowing smile my way.


Six hundred and change are packed into the country bar and by seven forty five the natives are getting restless. The booze is flowing, the women are screaming for naked flesh and I am back behind the curtains getting ready. I am laying out all my gear; costumes and props in the order I will need them because there will not be much turnaround time. I will be the first entertainer; security will have to escort me through the crowd otherwise I will get stripped naked before I even reach the stage. I hear Big Rob warming up the audience; it’s almost go time. My heart races; adrenaline floods my system.


Security leads me through a mass of screaming faces and grabbing hands. Once on stage I am above the frenzy. It’s my time; fifteen minutes to be a rock star. I wish everyone once in their life could feel what this rush is like. I want it to last forever but fifteen minutes passes like fifteen seconds above a sea of screaming, grabbing women and waving money. I hear Big Rob call me to center stage for my bow out; I am dripping sweat and my pouch is stuffed with bills.


My thoughts are flying at me as I head off stage and hustle back to the dressing area. I throw all my shit in a pile and focus on what I need for this private party. I grab my cop outfit, the keys to Rob’s van and my party bag and quickly exit out the back of the club.

The party is at a hotel just off the next exit on the freeway. It is a regular bachelorette party; nothing out of the ordinary. Except for one thing; the girls just keep tipping me. Not a bad thing in the least except I told Rob I would be back before he knew I was gone. I look at my watch and I have gone way over on time and these girls keep pulling out more money. Fuck, far be it from me to walk away leaving chips on the table so I keep dancing.


Another half hour later I finally leave the hotel room drenched in sweat and well compensated for my efforts. I jump in the van, scream out of the parking lot on two wheels and prepare to face a pissed off Rob.


Sure as hell the show at the bar is over when I stagger up to the door out of breath. As I am standing there with my tongue in the dirt and my lungs about to burst I notice a quasi sexy blond staring intently at me. I am still panting and trying to catch my breath as she approaches.


“Your one of the dancers aren’t you?” She snuggles up next to me oblivious to the fact I must stink like a sack of sphincters from all the sweating.


“Yeah, I am.” I answer hesitantly because I am thinking she might work for the bar and realize I left and create a problem with Big Rob about it. Try to withhold pay or some bullshit as clubs are always looking for excuses to get discounts. However, the way she snuggles up I get the feeling she is a fan.


She is probably mid thirties, pretty, well made up, stylishly dressed with an air of self assurance about her. She is not super hot but the type of woman who probably gets hit on a fair amount in the street or in the workplace. A majority of guys would view her as definitely achievable but at the same time probably need a minute to summon the confidence to approach.


 As I am thinking how to handle this situation with Big Rob she just stands next to me jabbering away. “What are you doing later? Are you staying here tonight?” Her eyes have that fixed, googly look that I have learned to recognize. She is good to go. Now.


Amazing. Like fishing with dynamite. DTF ( down to fuck) with no zero effort extended.

 I must admit I have been so spoiled by the fringe benefits of this business. Like a park bear that has been fed by tourists I probably have lost my hunter’s edge and thrown out into the harsh reality of the bar scene would starve and die, pussy less. No, just kidding but for now this bear is going to enjoy the fuck out of tourist season.


“Here, follow me, sweetheart.” Without another word she is on my heel following my every movement. I turn to head for the hotel room when I remember I gotta get the keys to the van back to Big Rob. Fuck. Now I have to find Rob in a very crowded bar which is going to be a huge pain in the ass. I ask a couple people if they have seen him. No luck. For as huge a dude as he is you would think he would be easier to locate.


Finally, I spot him standing with Larry talking to a group of women. I work my way through the crowd and shout over the cackling groupies.


“Hey bro, here are the keys.” I stuff them in his monstrous paw.


“Aaiite, Big Dawg.” He doesn’t seem to realize how long I was gone and nor appear irritated in the least. We exchange nods; everything is apparently cool.


Blond Groupie grabs my arm and whispers in my ear. “Can we get out of here? That guy with your friend has been hawking me all night. He keeps trying to talk to me.”


I don’t even need to ask which guy she is referring to. I knew right away it had to be Larry. Poor bastard. It wasn’t his fault. He had no clue that all the social norms regarding interacting with women to which he was accustomed get thrown out in the aftermath of a male strip show. Women come to these shows to have fun with their friends and maybe live out a fantasy with some dude they will never see again. It’s not real life so all the bullshit legwork required in the “real world” for a dude to lay pipe isn’t necessary here. Guards are down and legs go up even for a bystander like Larry if he is sharp enough to realize his good fortune and cash in.


Now, if you’re the average dude reading this you say “Well, great for you dick cheese but I, like ninety nine percent of people have to operate in that fucked up set of norms that exist in the real world. In  Larry’s world. Where does that leave me?”


OK, well don’t forget I too have walked that path and felt your frustration; the real world’s social norms suck.  I fully understand the set of circumstances that exist after a male strip show are extremely unique; they are the creation of the conjoining of a number of rare factors that might as well exist in a bubble. However, do not despair. Even though you may never experience a “wonder bubble” environment where everyone just puts down their hang ups, restrictions, fears, bullshit, etc. in the interest of fun there is something to be learned here that can help you in the shit storm of real life.


First, and most importantly be honest and direct to the point. Whatever you want go after it with minimal fucking around. For example, look at what Blond Groupie said to me. “What are you doing later?” Right to the point. Leaves little doubt as to what her desired intentions are. Even if I am not interested I have to respect the fact she is not wasting anyone’s time.


Secondly, laugh and have fun NO MATTER WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENS. Live like you’re playing with house money because we all really are. This is key because in the “real world” (read fucked up world) you will encounter negativity, attitude, bitterness, jealousy, rejection, etc. when you’re honest and direct with your intentions. Don’t let this downer bullshit effect you. Remember you’re not fucked up; they are. Anyway, back to our story…..


Blond Groupie’s car is a bright red sports number and it is parked in the first spot outside the club. She is a bit drunk so she tosses me the keys for the fifty yard drive to the hotel.


I park her car and as we walk toward my room Big Rob’s van passes us in the parking lot. He looks at me quizzically and turns to Larry then looks back at me. I can’t hear what he is saying but he appears to be giving Larry a ration of shit for losing the pussy he was pathetically puppy dogging all night to some fuck who wasn’t even at the bar and swept in at the closing bell to snatch it away. It hasn’t been a good night for Larry.


I enter my room with Blond Groupie on my heels. Another dancer I met earlier in the day is passed out on one of the beds, it’s at least one hundred and ten degrees and the weed smoke is so thick I can’t even see the far wall. No matter there is business to take care of and I am locked in.


I lead Blond Groupie into the very small bathroom. I drop my jeans and she starts baby birding my dong. She mentioned earlier how she manages some business office during the day. I imagine we are at her office; she is in her business attire dropping to her knees bobbing on my knob. I am getting to see first hand the nasty little freak that her coworkers probably burn company time fantasizing about when she is all dressed up bossing them around during the day. They imagine that some lucky dude somewhere probably gets to bend her over, stick a thumb in her ass, horse fuck her making her scream without ever even knowing her name. Yes, tonight I am that dude.


She bends over pulling down her panties revealing a faded tramp stamp she probably got on Spring Break back in college. I slide on a jimmy hat and strap myself in for entry. I start doing her doggy style and she starts yelling loudly right out of the gate. C’mon it doesn’t hurt that much that quickly. It’s still on the slow stroke setting so if that is hurting you I really don’t know what to tell you. Now if all that carrying on is for the benefit of my ego you can save it; I have healthy self esteem so you don’t have to act like your fucking a Clydesdale to make me feel good about myself.  I can now hear some grumbling coming from the other room as the commotion must have woken Stoned Sleeping Dude. The harder I rock her ass the louder she yells and the louder the grumbling seems to get in the other room. It’s a vicious cycle and I am at the control switch.


 Now with an audience to impress and or annoy I turn up the volume. Like a mechanical bull that gets switched from a medium setting to turbo I kick into high gear. Blond Groupie is pitching forward barely able to keep her balance. Her head is driving into the shower curtain with each thrust. The flimsy plastic has reached it’s limit; one more good head thrust and here it comes…… crashing down on her back. She immediately begins to struggle and this only gets her more entangled in the plastic. Like a turtle flipped on its back panic starts to set in.


I suppose at this point I should have let her loose but I didn’t. I was simply having too much fun. I kept fucking away; she kept hollering and fighting against the plastic which continued to entangle her.


 I grab her hips tightly to try to steady them so I can hit that sweet angle and burst across the finish line. I take a step back to get better footing, stumble, fall backwards and crash into the door. I hang on tight never letting my dick slip out of her and by so doing I free her from the plastic. Even though undeniably self centered my desire for gratification produces an altruistic result. She now grabs the tub with both hands for support and keeps taking it like a champ. My legs are shaking as I guide us down the home stretch. I slap her ass with one hand and pound the wall with the other for extra effect as the goodies are delivered. Our now silent audience, listening intently through the wall, definitely gets their money’s worth.


I quickly rinse off and exit the tiny bathroom. Now comes the best part.


“What’s up fellas? Enjoy the show?” I smile at Stoned Sleeping Dude and another dancer named Troy who is sitting at the table in the corner of the room.


They both grin with distant, stoned expressions. “She alive?” Troy asks.


 Blond Groupie comes out of the bathroom and to her surprise sees the audience she has just unknowingly entertained.  I love to see the reaction when they realize a group of strangers just heard every audible detail of their porn star orgasm.


 You can cut the momentary awkwardness in the air with a knife. In a huff  Blond Groupie storms out the door  past the strangers who just heard her award winning performance. Sadly, she disappears into the night without ever seeing her scores. Stoned Sleeping Dude holds up a piece of paper with “nine point five” scribbled in marker. Troy is more forgiving; he holds up a “nine point eight.”


How the fuck can I ever go back to the “real world” after experiencing this life? Fuck that. LMAO.