I once went on a stag do to Newcastle, land of Brown Ale, Get Carter and girls with surprisingly large breasts. The night, which started brilliantly with pubs, bars and good food, ended with a complete mugging.
As the afternoon sesh ended and the evening sesh began, we piled into Diamonds Lap Dancing Club. A stunning brunette with full natural tits took to the stage, clad in a PVC nurse’s outfit. Now, I have a weakness for nurses. There’s something about the outfits. Maybe it’s the notion of being cared for by a beautiful woman, more than just the appearance. Besides, the uniforms worn by girls in the NHS wards look nothing like the Ann Summers sexed-up costume worn by this dancer. Either way, I find it a huge turn-on.
As she pole-danced, she spotted that I was watching and held my gaze. I told myself I wasn’t going to get a dance before I came in, but I could feel my resistance crumbling. After her song, she made a beeline for me, sitting as close as possible, pitching me. I managed to brush her off eventually and fight the urge, and we left the club to move on.
Later, though, we returned, and she spotted me again.
“Have you come back for that dance, Pat?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
“You’ve been thinking about it for two hours, babe!”
Eventually I gave in and asked her for a £40 2-girl dance. For those of you unfamiliar, this is billed as a “lesbian dance”, and the girls will strip each other, suck each other’s boobs and mime cunnilingus behind their hair. It’s sleazy but hot to watch. I picked out another girl and we went into the small, dimly lit booths at the back of the club. The show was good, but- a few minutes in- she made a fairly blasé comment asking if I wanted them to “carry on.” I said yeah, thinking nothing of it. After the dance, she asked for £80. I shit myself. I told her we’d agreed on 40, but she insisted I’d had 2 dances. Now, instead of kicking off royally and making it clear that I had no shame about going to the press, I scrounged some money off a mate and paid them off.
Later that night I had about 3 very angry wanks in the B’n’B.
I never called to complain about the club. I just thought, well, I was the idiot. This was wrong. I should have phoned the club and demanded £40 back or I’d go to the press. I should have risked my image and gone public. One thing I’ve learned through other, different experiences after this: if you don’t kick up a fuss, you get fuck all.
But a prevention’s better than a cure: if you go to a lap dancing club, be sure to check at each stage of the transaction exactly what you’re paying. Agree the price before the dance. If they fuck you about, go to the manager. The worst that’s gonna happen is he tells you to fuck off and you get shown the door. Then at least you’re buying a story with your dance and your £80.
It’s very possible, though, that the whole “lesbian lap dance” thing has been restricted due to Tory meddling. Can anyone confirm? Last time I went to a strip club I got nowhere near the filth I got in Diamonds.