Good Vibrations

WELL, IT’S BEEN OVER a year and that is supposed to get me past the point where I’m too embarrassed by a situation to write about it. There are no fools like old fools!

It started the day I woke up and realized that no matter how peripheral it was, as a writer of erotica I was part of the porn industry—an industry that I knew little about. Of course, I’d read Jay Cantrell’s Daze in the Valley, but even he admits this is all fiction and not intended to be a documentary about the industry. So, I decided that since I was spending the winter in the Los Angeles area, I’d go to a few porn ‘events.’ Starting with AdultCon.

 

This is the LA porn industry show and I was like a kid in a candy store. Lots of beautiful women who would take five dollars to have a photo of them taken with you in any compromising position. Of course, they had to keep their nipples and pussies covered, but that wasn’t really much. One of the most popular booths was the CamGirl booth where a couple of dozen women were ‘broadcasting live’ from the show and doing their normal tease and chat routines while dealing with gawkers and fans.

Another area included hourly burlesque shows that were more entertaining than the average strip. Seminars on all aspects of sex were scheduled every hour. And the toy stores! I never really imagined the use of fucking machines, saddle vibrators, remote control vibrators, leather, lace, costumes, and intimate toys. Dildos? I’ve never seen so many different sizes, shapes, and colors. And masturbators for men.

Imagine this. Beautiful porn star smiles and invites you over to her 8x8 booth where, like many of the girls, she is selling photos, videos, and used panties.

“Hey, cutie. I’m running a special on my pussy,” she says.

“Uh…”

“See? It’s an exact mold of my little sugar lips and it usually goes for $99, but my special is just $79. You’d like to fuck me, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh…” She held up a rubber model of a pussy and demonstrated pushing her finger into the hole.

Yeah, faced with the reality of the porn industry, it was a little overwhelming. I realized what a neophyte I was in writing stories where a loving couple make love as the highlight of an involved plot. I needed a place to sit down. And sanitize my hands yet again.

There was a crowd gathered at one end of the show floor and I discovered an array of about eight stripper poles with dancers from various clubs around town doing their thing. Another couple of dozen dancers were circulating and doing lap dances on the sofas that surrounded the improvised club. There were probably also about fifty men and a few women standing around watching the show. I joined the group and just stared at all the eye candy.

Not that all of it was great. Strippers earn their money by being available, not by being beautiful. There were a few who had so many tattoos that you couldn’t see clear skin anywhere but their faces. Maybe the palms of their hands. There was one who had piercings and chains running all over her body, including a three-point that ran from under both sides of her bra and down into her panties. She was offering customers a chance to jerk her chains. Literally.

And then there was Savannah.

Of course, I didn’t know that was her name yet. What I knew was that this tall shapely brunette was stalking across the room and through the other men with her eyes locked on mine. I know what a rabbit feels like when it is about to be eaten by a wolf. Absolutely everything about her screamed PREDATOR, and I was the prey.

“You need to relax,” she purred as soon as she reached me. She embraced me in a hug that made me think she must have mistaken me for someone she knew. Her lips came to my ear and I shivered when she whispered, “I’m Savannah and I’ve been waiting for you all day. Why don’t you come over to one of the couches and let me massage you for a few minutes?”

“That’s nice to know. I’m Ari.”

I followed. A massage sounded good, if unlikely, but she pulled my arm around her waist and made sure I was holding her snugly. She pushed me down on one of the couches—really just padded benches by the wall—and pulled her shoes off. She dropped eight inches in height. Which just brought interesting things more into range. She settled onto my lap and reached around me to begin massaging my neck. Damn, she was good.

“I can do this until the next song starts. If you’d like, you can have a lap dance then for just ten dollars. It’ll be just like the club, except we have to keep our bra and panties on. Would you like to spend ten dollars on me to get the rest of you massaged?”

Oh, hell yes. I figured she’d just move into the routine sit and grind, but first she stood in front of me and removed her top and bottoms. Apparently, they were just a cover over her thong and light lacy bra.

 

A Long Time Ago: Minneapolis

I wasn’t a complete neophyte at strip clubs. That’s where I met Alice. But it didn’t start out with any indication that I’d one day date a stripper. It was far more mundane than that. I’d had a particularly hard day on set with my newest play, Fishbowl, and decided to just relax at a club in Minneapolis. I hadn’t had good luck recently. That was life with Belle. The dry spell was definitely affecting my mind.

I caught a bus up Hennepin Avenue and got off at one of the clubs I’d seen with its flashing neon sign for topless dancers and stage shows. I paid the five-dollar cover and went in to get an overpriced drink and sit at a table away from the stage a little. The experience was pretty much what I expected from having watched movies and heard stories around the theatre. It was like a cabaret. I’d seen the movies Gypsy and The Stripper, but I suppose their view of the club scene in the 60s was a little out of date.

So, a girl goes up on the stage and in a few songs gets down to a G-string and a smile while she sensuously wraps her body around a pole. Easy peasy. Another girl follows this one to the stage but doesn’t strip. She’s a singer and comedian who struts sexily back and forth across the stage while making suggestive remarks to the audience. Then came the big reveal. Off came the clothes and it was clear to see the bulge in the G-string where her cock was!

I have nothing against gays. They have every right to be married and to be as miserable as the rest of us. But the male equipment package just doesn’t do anything for me. I still tipped the singer, but left the club a little less than satisfied and mildly disturbed.

 

It wasn’t my last venture into the clubs. I got better at identifying what was a good deal and what was a come-on. I went to clubs in Vegas, Reno, Kansas City, San Antonio, Seattle, New York, Chicago, and Dallas. Over the years, I learned the rules of tipping and lap dances. Limits on hand positions and touching were strictly enforced. The girl could touch, about anything she wanted to, but the guy was safest sitting on his hands. I assumed that was how things were in the industry. Get entertained and get rubbed on. Enjoy the passing brushes of a tit against your lips and trust that you weren’t really kissing every guy in the room once removed.

 

Back to Savannah

Things here were a little different. Yes, Savannah sat on my lap—facing me—with her legs on either side of me. She returned to gently massaging my neck while she rocked back and forth on my lap and leaned forward to place a little kiss on my ear and whisper, “I like this. I get so horny sometimes.” Then she dragged my right hand, which was away from the crowd at the entrance, up to cover her left breast. “You have to feel how hard my little nipple gets when I’m dancing. Can you feel it?”

God, could I feel! I leaned forward and placed a little kiss at the hollow of her neck and shoulder and the squirming in my lap was intensified.

And then the music stopped. My response was automatic.

“I have another ten. Want to go again?”

“Oh, yes, baby. I like how you think.”

She didn’t lose a beat but lifted enough so I could reach in my pocket to adjust my cock to a more stimulating position. She took my hand again and pressed it open on my thigh, then started grinding on it. I could feel the moisture on her panties.

Neither of us climaxed, but it was extremely stimulating and we were both a little breathless when the music changed again. She turned to sit crosswise on my lap and looked down at her bulging breasts. The bra had been dislodged slightly while I was mauling her tit and the little brown nubbin was peeking over the top.

“Oh!” she gasped. “We’re not supposed to do that.” She raised a finger and began lightly slapping the escaped nipple. “Naughty, naughty nippy. You get back in your house!” The nipple did stand up straighter but made no independent move to return to her bra. She handed me her discarded top. “Help me with my top, please, Ari. Maybe you can push that naughty nipple down inside my bra while you’re at it.”

I did. Help her. And push the naughty nipple into her bra. After I’d given it a few little squeezes. It took a few minutes for Savannah to get her ensemble together and her shoes on. I handed her the twenty dollars and she handed me a card for free cover at House of Dolls.

 

“I work weeknights after ten. Why don’t you come see me?”

“I think I’ll do that, Savannah.” We sat and chatted for a few more minutes, asking where we were from and she found out I was an author, which made her squeal. I discovered she was a single parent of a ten-year-old girl and found working nights at the club helped her make more money than a regular job, so she could spend more time with her daughter.

Eventually, she stood up and took my hand to help me up. She kissed me on both cheeks. “Please say you’ll come to see me at the club,” she said.

“Definitely. If not tomorrow night, then soon. I’ll check the website on the card to see when you are performing.”

“Sunday through Thursday nights. Friday and Saturday are too chaotic, even for the money I could make. Monday is pretty quiet and I get to spend more time with guys. Come Monday if you can. That will work out best.”

I agreed.

 

A long time ago: London

As familiar and comfortable as I am in the porn world today, it wasn’t always so. In fact, it isn’t always necessarily so today. I try to know when I’m being played and when a woman is serious. I’ve fallen into the trap more than once. And that brings me to London.

There is one thing you need to know about strip clubs in London: DON’T!

It was another business trip to attend another conference I was to speak at. The rest of the conference, however, turned out to be incredibly boring. I found myself visiting some of my favorite places, like Kensington Gardens, the British Museum, and the Tate. But I didn’t take cabs. I walked everywhere. It was part of my assurance that I could always find my way back to the little hotel I’d gotten a room in. And I needed the exercise.

One hot afternoon, I passed a club with the obligatory pretty girl in skimpy clothes at the door handing out coupons for £5 admission to the show. I was hot and could use a drink so I went in, paid my cover and sat near the back. There were no women on-stage. Soon, a nice young woman sat beside me and got to chatting. I asked what the program was and she said they only came out when people sat up front.

 

I was a rube. I followed her to the front and sat down. A waitress was immediately at my side and presented me with a bill for £400. You have got to be kidding me! This was the price of sitting up front for a show. Plus drinks.

I got up to leave and was stopped at the door with a demand for payment. It could have gotten hairy but I think the guy at the counter recognized that neither he nor I were going to budge. I couldn’t. I didn’t have £400. Nor was I carrying a credit card. He took the £35 I displayed and the bouncer escorted me out. I’ve never been to a strip club in London since.

(Hint: At that time, you could get a pretty hooker delivered to your hotel room door for £100.)

 

Back to Savannah

I don’t go out much at night. I can see fine; I just don’t like driving at night. Especially late when all the crazies are on the road. I’m just at that age.

Which brings up the point of why a crotchety old man was going to a strip club fifty miles away late on Monday night to watch a twenty-something single mom take her clothes off. Old fools.

But the fact is that something had stirred when Savannah danced on my lap and when something down there stirs, I sit up and take notice. So, I walked into the club a few minutes past ten and handed in my free pass, signed my name on the register as the bouncer took down my license info, and found a seat. I looked around and there were only about twenty guys in the club. Nearly half of them were watching a football recap on a big screen TV. I didn’t see Savannah anyplace, but I relaxed and ordered a sparkling water from the waitress.

Okay, I got in with no cover, so I suppose I shouldn’t bitch about paying ten dollars for a glass of water. I also got a fistful of singles and as the dancer onstage was collecting her panties, I tossed one to her. Oh, yeah. This club wasn’t topless; it was all nude. There’s one thing that I believe whether I’m at a club or in a chatroom. The girl is up there working at entertaining me. I need to pay her. A buck to see a nice-looking girl strip off her clothes and encourage me to look is a bargain. And as strippers go, the ones I saw in this club were pretty good looking.

I watched another couple of dancers do their thing and tipped them for each song. Since I sat at a table instead of the tipping rail, I kept getting up to place a bill on the stage. That’s what most guys were doing, if they were paying attention at all. There was only one at the rail who just stayed there.

This time, though, while I was at the rail thanking the dancer, the announcer said “Coming to the stage now is Savannah. Savannah, to the stage.” I just plopped down in the seat where I was standing.

“Ari, you’re here! I’ll do my best for you, baby!” Savannah greeted me as soon as she reached the stage.

And damned if she didn’t. Not sure what was wrong with the other guy at the rail, but he hadn’t been tipping and apparently the word had spread. So other than her pole work—which was pretty spectacular—and a few trips around the stage to strut for the guys in the seats farther away, she focused most of her three-song set on me and I peeled off about ten singles for her. The rewards for being the guy who tipped her included squashing my face between her boobs and clamping her thighs around my head to hold it about three inches from heaven. Close enough to determine the fresh scent came from a recently bathed pussy.

When her set was finished, she stopped as she gathered the tips that had accumulated in front of me.

“I need to grab a shower. I’ll be out in ten minutes. Will you wait for me?”

“Sure I will. See you in a few.”

“Don’t forget to wash your hands.” Hmm. That was an interesting request. But if her dance at the convention was an indication, I could be touching some intimate areas. I hit the john and scrubbed up.

Of course, it was closer to twenty minutes, but that meant I had plenty of time to use the restroom and wash, plus three more sets of tits that I got to see on stage before she got back out. She pushed my table out of the way and sat on my lap. For a few minutes, she just cuddled. Then she said, “Would you like some private time”

“What’s available?” I asked.

“Well, it’s Monday night, so there are specials. We’ve got three songs for thirty-five dollars in the dance lounge behind you or a private VIP room for fifteen minutes at $155.”

“Why don’t we go get warmed up with the three-dance special?” I asked. She took my hand and we stopped at the register where I paid my $35 and the cashier wrote down her name and the total. Then she found us a place at the far end of the bench (there were lots of places available as not many men were getting dances that night) and stripped off her dress and shoes. Once again, she was wearing a very sexy thong and a bra: both were so thin they did nothing to either conceal or support. They were pretty, though.

And unlike at the convention, there was no requirement to hide the nips and pussy in the club.

She started with long slow moves up and down my body. She did the obligatory sit and grind her ass against my cock, but she also encouraged me to wrap my arms around her and play with her boobs. She pulled the bra aside enough that I could hold bare breasts in my hands, and when she turned to face me, she scraped her nipples across my mouth and teased my lips until I sucked them in. She was constantly snuggling her face against my neck and licking or whispering in my ear. It was beginning to have the desired (on my part) effect. She turned my hand up on my thigh in the move she’d done at the show, so I thought I knew what came next. This time, though, she’d pulled her thong aside and my fingers ran through the very wet folds of her pussy. While she masturbated on my hand, she returned a nipple to my lips.

Then she stood up. The three songs were over. Dang it! I started to suggest we go again and she leaned into me.

“You’re hard and I’m wet. Let’s get a VIP room.” $155. It’s only money and the way she was running, I might get to finger fuck her for a while. I followed her to the cashier and noticed she hadn’t bothered to reposition either the panties or bra.

 

A Long Time Ago: Dallas in San Antonio

After my first surprising visit to a strip club, I became more familiar with local customs in different areas. In some places, touching is not allowed, but is overlooked. Most places keep the touching in private rooms where you can touch anything a girl will let you. I was once in a room with a girl who told me to take my glasses off. I explained that I couldn’t see without them. She said, “You won’t need to see. We’ll go by feel.” Okay then.

And then there was Dallas. Not the city, the dancer. Like nearly everyone in the industry, it was a stage name. No one ever uses their real name, including me. And like Savannah, it seems many adopt a city or place name in some way or another. Savannah, Dallas, KC, Georgia, Kissimmee. I was in San Antonio for a few weeks to help a company with their eBook production. We worked hard during the daytime and then all the workers went home to their families while I went back to an empty hotel room and a room service meal.

I was bored.

 

So, I decided to make a circuit of San Antonio gentlemen’s clubs in my evenings. Not every night, but a couple of times a week. I didn’t stay long at any of them because I couldn’t afford to. There was usually a cover charge, a two-drink minimum, and tips for the dancers. You could feasibly get away for fifty bucks if you didn’t over-indulge. One night I did.

On slow nights and Sunday afternoons, the dancers get really flirty and do whatever they can to get a guy to pay for a dance. I’d tipped Dallas a couple of times, and Sheena once. I was sitting on a padded bench near the back of the club where I could see both stages when the two girls came up to me.

“Want a fantasy two-some?” Sheena asked. Dallas winked at me.

“I only have a fifty. Can you split that between you?” They got right to work. Both girls pulled off their bras and pressed their tits on my face from either side.

“All you need to do is whatever comes naturally,” Dallas whispered in my ear. Both girls were in G-strings but Dallas also wore a black cape. First Sheena and then Dallas warmed up my lap with her butt. Then Dallas spun around facing me and straddled my legs with her cape spread around us. Sheena continued to dance just beyond her and I quickly realized she was the lookout. Dallas pulled my hands to her breasts and then pushed one of them down to her crotch.

I don’t think I was anything special, but something (possibly Sheena) had gotten the girl turned on and I started stroking through her wet slit and strumming her clit while she pressed tits to my mouth and ran her hand up and down my cock. All too soon, the dance was over and at least two of us were panting. The girls accepted the fifty and cuddled up on either side of me. I’m not precisely sure how she arranged it, but Dallas maneuvered herself so her butt was in easy reach of my right hand under her cape. Then she wiggled around until my fingers were buried deep in her snatch. And I slowly finger fucked her.

In the meantime, Sheena had moved near me as if Dallas was just sitting there and Sheena was talking and whispering dirty things in my ear. It was absolutely assured that these girls had my rigid attention.

“You’re going to pop. I can tell,” Sheena whispered. “Tell me when.” She was right, of course. Without being touched any further, I felt the come rise.

“Now,” I whispered. Sheena must have done this with Dallas a million times to be as perfectly timed as she was. She twisted toward me and laid one hand in my lap, gently and rhythmically squeezing my cock through my trousers. With the other hand, she reached across and tweaked Dallas’s nipple. Dallas gasped and seized up, her pussy clamping my fingers deep inside as she came. I started spurting in my pants as Sheena held me and felt the pulses.

“Six good ones,” Sheena whispered to Dallas.

“Yeah, a good one. I need to go change my teabag,” Dallas whispered back.

“Me, too,” I added. The girls gave each other a high five as Dallas pulled her squishy cunt off my fingers. They leaned in to give me a kiss on each cheek and headed toward the dressing room. I gathered my hat and rebuttoned my shirt, which had somehow inexplicably come unbuttoned. Then I went to the restroom to wipe up a bit and left the club. I’d been in Dallas and San Antonio at the same time.

 

Back to Savannah

As soon as the money was paid, Savannah grabbed my hand and took me to a private room (just a heavy drape across the doorway, of course) and pushed me onto the sofa. I rid myself of my hat and glasses as Savannah made short work of getting fully naked. Then she surprised me by stepping up on the sofa and pressing her very wet bald pussy into my face.

Well, shit. I’m going to die of something eventually. It might as well be something that was fun to contract. I grabbed her ass and started licking that little pussy.

“You’re pierced,” I gasped out as I came up for air.

“Yeah, tug on it a little with your teeth. I like that.” I did and she obviously did. Frankly, I would have spent the entire fifteen minutes feasting on that delicious pussy, but Savannah had an agenda. She stepped back off the sofa and began unfastening the snaps of my cowboy shirt until it was wide open. As she kissed her way down my chest and licked my nipples, her fingers worked my belt and top button open. She got between my knees and chewed gently on my cock through my slacks. I’d gone down a bit while we were taking care of money and while I was licking her, but the little chewing motions were renewing life in my cock.

She unzipped me and had me lift so she could pull my pants down. She had a condom in her teeth and rolled it on quickly. She turned her back and settled down on my cock even though I wasn’t quite hard enough. She managed to keep it embedded, though, as she reached for her purse and pulled out a small cylinder. I was going to ask what she had, but I didn’t have that much breath left and was concentrating on keeping my cock in her pussy.

Then I felt the buzz.

She had a tiny vibrator held against her clit and I could feel it vibrating the bar through her clit hood.

“Yeah. Stay up in me. I like to come. A lot.”

I proceeded to get harder as she became more involved in her own little world of using my cock and her vibrator to come. I didn’t think the vibrator was doing anything for me, but the constant convulsions in her pussy were definitely moving me closer.

“Savannah, your fifteen minutes are up,” a voice said over a speaker in the room.

“Damn!” I groaned as Savannah started to get up. She hesitated before I was fully out and then slammed back down. The next thing I knew, there was a buzzing vibration pressed beneath my balls near my asshole. I erupted. “Oh, god!” Savannah jumped off and started dressing as I was still coming in the condom. As soon as I could move, I started pulling my trousers up and fastening my shirt.

Savannah had her thong and bra on and held her dress and shoes. She stood on tiptoes and kissed me quickly once on the lips.

“Thanks, Ari. I really needed a good come tonight.” She rushed through the curtains and into the girls’ changing room. I crossed the hall into the men’s room and after checking to see if anyone else was in there, unfastened my pants and stripped off the condom with a paper towel. I mopped up and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were still a little glazed. Once I was satisfied that I didn’t look too much like I’d just been fucked half to death, I left. Whatever I expected in coming to the club to see Savannah, it wasn’t getting fucked!

I grabbed a burger and fries at In-N-Out, which I thought was appropriate, and hit the road for my midnight drive back home.

 

There have been other strip clubs both before and since, but only one Savannah. I went back a couple of times, but seemed to always miss her. I wanted to take her with me when I went to the big show in Las Vegas in January, but that was not to be. Not that I was alone when I went, but I wasn’t with Savannah.

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