From The Inside A woman in a strip club
A few years back I had the honor of being asked, by my dad, to be the best man in his wedding. Actually, he asked me to be the “best person” but not one to conform to the ideals of P.C.ism; I went with best man. I’m sure when my dad asked me he never assumed I would take on the classic role of a best man; he was thinking of the wedding ceremony. I, on the other hand, was thinking about the bachelor party.

I didn’t tell my dad what I was doing because I knew that if he found out about it ahead of time he would put an end to my plan. So instead I enlisted the help of some of my male friends and my soon to be stepbrother. My father lived a few states away and I didn’t know the area very well, not to mention I didn’t know the first thing about planning a bachelor party. Coursing through the back of my mind were two things—beer and boobs—I figured if I had those two things, I was golden. The men I had wrangled to help me I put to work finding the best strip clubs in the area and I went to work on the rest.

My dad had no clue he was the proud recipient of a bachelor party until the minute I showed up. He opened the door, quite surprised, and asked me what I was doing there. I didn’t need to do anything other than smile (although smirk probably describes it better) and say, “Well I am the best man…” There was a look of fear, excitement, and apprehension, all rolled into one, on his face. I can only imagine what thoughts were running through his head. I mean come on; a man’s daughter shows up and says she’s throwing her father a bachelor party? You get the picture.

With in hour my male friends, my dad, and I were putting back the beers and awaiting the arrival of the limo. As soon as it arrived we packed the back seat with beer, waved goodbye to my dad’s fiancée and were off. I handed out the goodie bags (I’m a girl—I had to do something girlie), which were stuffed with dirty lollipops, lottery tickets and one dollar bills. I don’t think my dad realized until he saw the wad of bills that we were going to the strip clubs. His eyes widened and he gulped down his beer.

The first club we went to was fairly tame. My stomach was doing quick flip-flops in the parking lot. I was excited and anxious to finally see what a strip club was really all about. Inside was dark, yet shiny. It was early and there were few patrons (ok, guys) inside. We were a motley crew walking through the front door and everyone turned to look at us. But after a quick look over, everyone went back to what they were doing. Small stages jetted out from a long runway and topless women danced and paraded down each aisle. The women were all young and pretty and wearing nothing more than hot pants and heels that would kill the ordinary woman. Although there were boobs all around I didn’t feel at all uncomfortable. I didn’t even feel awkward about staring at the women—which I couldn’t help but do. Here was this bevy of women to look at! Little known fact: women are constantly comparing their bodies to other women. There is no sexual undertone, at all, we simply compare, and that is what I did.

We had more clubs to go to so within an hour we were paying our tab and heading out. I couldn’t help myself and as we were leaving I scurried over to one of the dancers and said, “I LOVE your boots!” I think she was a bit surprised, but quickly smiled and replied, “Thanks!”

Next on the list was a gentleman’s club. The ambiance was different and it was noticeable as soon as you walked in. The club was large and lit to show that it was more of a dance hall than a bar. It was completely packed with men, a small sprinkling of women added to the mix. The dancers were all dressed in long, elegant gowns, at least while they were on the floor and mingling with customers. When the girls got on stage everything came off. Of course I did more comparing. I was also slightly aroused, not so much by the women themselves but by the sexual energy that was flowing all around me. At one point while in the bath room (let me tell you ladies—short to no lines in women’s bathrooms at strip clubs—you don’t find that every day!) I was hit on by a very attractive woman. And as they say, although you might not want to go to the party, it’s always nice to be invited.

The last club we went to was like nothing I have ever experienced before. Seedy is the best way to explain it. Even from the outside you could tell it wasn’t going to be pretty. The worn brown exterior and broken blinking neon light made me want to rethink the idea and possibly stay in the limo. I’m a trooper though, not to mention that my curiosity always gets the better of me. When we walked in we paid the cashier and then had to weave out way through an adult shop to get to the back room. It was a bring your own beer club and if you had ten or more people in your party, you could bring a keg. Again, I should have known. My friend parted the curtains to the room and the first thing I saw was a woman pumping herself with what had to be the largest dildo I have ever seen. Men hooted and hollered, getting more and more aroused with each thrust by the woman. To the right, but also on stage, was another woman, her legs spread wider than I thought humanly possible. She held the lips of her vagina open as she allowed for men to throw quarters into her crotch. And she caught them! I’ve never had an experience that left my mouth hanging open—until right then. I was gawking at what I saw all around me. I grabbed onto my friend and refused to let go. The club was packed and reminded me of a fraternity style keg party: sweaty, dirty, dark and dismal. The titillation and excitement I felt earlier at the other clubs was gone. There is sexual excitement and even dirty hot sex, but this? This was just dirty. Everyone I was with knew this was just not cool and I appreciated the fact that they realized that. So we left.

We finished off the night plying ourselves with greasy diner food and more beer. I fell asleep on the limo ride home, but before I did my dad leaned over and said, “You know, you didn’t have to do this. I mean this is all a bit weird. But thanks.”

I wouldn’t mind going back to a club again. Not that I have any sexual desire to be with a woman, but I can still appreciate a woman’s body. I might also add, when you’re the only woman customer in a strip club, the opportunities for free drinks are endless!

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Ladies (or even guys, if you want to share), what's your view on Gentleman's Clubs? Have you had any desire to venture in and see? Would you want your boyfriend/husband to invite you? Post/Read Comments Here.