Purple Lights: The Stripper Adventure

“We fly high, no lie, you know this…BALL’N” As Jim Jones blares from the JBL factory sound system, Vik and I start our climb up the highway hill. The blistery 24 degrees didn’t stop us from rolling through the Toledo outskirts with our windows down. (A gesture we reminisced about from our high school days of gangsta rap)The drive from Loma Linda’s to Platinum seemed like an eternity. It didn’t matter, for all of us but Carl, it was our first time. As we approach the peak of the hill, a faint purple glow can be seen from a distance. Vik and I make eye contact, we’re close.

“So what time we going tonight?”

“I don’t know, maybe 7:30?”

“Alright that sounds good; Vik and I will drive separate since we won’t all fit into one car.”

“Do you just want to meet at the office?”

“Yea we better; Vik will be coming from Liptontown.”

“Ok, let’s be there at 7:15.”

Everyone clears the office and heads home. I’m not sure what everyone else was doing, but I was feeling like it was Christmas morning. The anticipation was building as each hour passed. A quick shower, a spray of Curve cologne, it hits me. What do people wear to a strip club? I remember from our conversation earlier in the day that Carl and Vik were going to sport Jeans and a button up. Seeing how that was the outfit of choice anyway, I headed to the clothing rack and picked out a black and white checkered premium Gap button up. I threw on some AE destroyed jeans and was out the door.

I arrived a few minutes early at the office and decided to take a piss. Vik was coming in the door as I was exiting the restroom. 10 minutes later, which was now 10 minutes late, Carl pulls up. Carl yell’s that we need to stop at Brooks house to pick him up. Vik and I jump in the Corolla and we’re off. A quick stop at Brooks and we’re heading down I-75. 20 minutes of small talk and Vik decides to call Carl. It wasn’t a call to discuss our plans but merely to play a Journey classic: Don’t stop believing. As Vik and I sing our little hearts out, Carl listens for a solid minute or two. Vik closes the phone and says what later becomes our theme of the night “whoa whoa whoa, we better settle down, don’t want to peak too early.”

By this point we are approaching I-475, which means only a few minutes before we reach airport highway. As we exit I-475, a long 15 minutes jaunt and we have reached Loma Linda’s. I was confused at as we pulled in for a few reasons. First, I thought the place we were going was called Lo Melinda’s not Loma Linda’s and second, there are like 100 cars in the parking lot. We pile out of the cars and enter the restaurant. This was quite the establishment which consisted of a large but separated eating area, along with a typical restaurant bar area. What’s the first thing we do when we get there? Get a beer? A rita? No, we decide that all 6 of us need to take a piss before we head in.

After a quick shake, we head into the bar area while we wait for a table. What are we here for? It’s Al’s 21^st birthday and we had to celebrate. Originally we had planned to rent a party bus and make a complete night of it. But with only 6 confirmed people going, the price of the bus would have been a steep cost. Everyone orders a beer besides Brooks and Chad. Brooks decides to start the night in the Cinco de Mayo spirit and orders a strawberry margarita. Chad on the other hand still has 3 weeks to go before his 21^st birthday; water would have to suffice. The first beer went down like water, at which time Vik and I decide a rita is in order. We both order a cheap $3.60 original frozen margarita. “Cheers” we both take our first drink. A hard swallow and we almost simultaneously state “It’s all tequila.” A few minutes of sipping on our ritas, our table is now ready.

As we circle the table and find each our seat, the middle aged waitress asks us what we would like to drink. Chad already has my rita sitting in front of him. I order another rita as does Vik, Brooks, and Al. Carl decides to stick with the silver bullet, Coors Light. This is where the night really begins for us. Thinking we have pulled a fast one over the waitress, she asks to see all of our ID’s. I motion to Chad to slowly slide the rita towards Brooks who now has two rita’s in front of him as well as just ordered another. Everyone presents their ID to the waitress, including Chad. She looks at his ID and states “you can’t be drinking, you’re not 21.” Sly as Chad is, he says back “I didn’t order anything to drink, I’m not drinking.” The waitress, now becoming agitated with the swift lies we have thrown at her, she says “You have a drink sitting in front of you and you’re not 21.” As she glances at the rest of the table “the owners are sitting in this room and can see whose drinking and who isn’t, can you please make sure he doesn’t drink any alcohol.” We all shake our heads as if we were back in 5^th grade and being punished. The waitress walks out and we do what any 20 something would do and call bullshit about the owners. This was followed by a few “fuck her” “we could drink anywhere else if we wanted” which was most likely a lie. All Chad had to do was smile and we were outted. I couldn’t say much, I’ve been carded consistently since my 21^st birthday. Doesn’t matter if I’ve been served 50 times before by the same waiter, I have to show my ID.

Fajita’s was the drug of choice for this dinner. Whenever you go to a new Mexican restaurant, you always have to get the fajita’s. This will tell you if any of their other food is worth the $.40 it costs to make. I’m first up to bat and decide to go with the steak and chicken fajita combo. Following my lead, everyone else besides Carl decides to have the exact same order as I. Carl decides to go with a chimichanga dinner. I figured since he had been to Loma Linda’s before that he was sticking to what he knew was good. Dinner was coming to an end. Each of us had now ordered 1 or 2 more rita’s and it was time to announce the birthday boy. Our waitress, who I figured was tired of us by now, brings over the sombrero and places it upon Al’s head. Not wanting to miss the moment, we each pull out our camera phones. A few bites of fried ice cream (which I was not pleased with) later and we were heading for the door.

I only had 3 margaritas and was feeling the buzz in my head and the slosh in my stomach. I couldn’t believe I felt sick from only 3 margaritas (each were more than likely 3 shots of tequila and a splash of lime on top). As I walked towards the car I made approximately 3 stops. Each time I had that familiar feeling of pre vomit. I managed to get to the car at which we left the parking lot.

Now on the road, we began our journey to the greatest location known to Northwest Ohio, Platinum Showgirls. As we drove on, I started anticipating what this place would be like. I remembered radio ads hyping what one would think are the most beautiful girls alive willing to strip down to nothing (that’s right, full frontal nudity). Phil Collins, Meatloaf, and Jim Jones; Vik and I are cranking what most would think of as shitty songs. It didn’t matter; we were on our way to Platinum. The long break between Loma Linda’s and Platinum was the longest anticipation of the night. Circling Toledo’s intertwined highways, Vik and I acted as if we were karaoking on stage. A few turns later, our stripper adventure motorcade was rising over the hill.

The purple glow that was only faint before is now illuminating the sky. As we descend from the highway and onto our exit, Platinum is now within a few hundred yards. A right, a left, we are pulling into what looks to be a strip mall (fitting) with Platinum Showgirls as the anchor store. We all exit our vehicles, Vik and I, Al, Brooks, Chad, and Carl. The first thing that catches my eye is what looks like a drug deal exchange between two thug looking gentlemen. As we pass one of the males, a loud “yo whats up” echoes as we follow him into Platinum. The entrance hallway is dark, backlit red, and lined with what could be the most muscular black man I’ve ever seen. Standing at a short 5’10, this guy looked like he should be playing linebacker for the Rockets. A deep “can I take your coat” leaves his mouth at which all of us quickly remove our coats for coat check. The hostess (that’s what I presumed you would call the girl taking the entrance fee) was a short, innocent looking blonde college girl. A nice curvy body from what we could see. Nothing special, a white sweater and probably some form of preppy jeans (AE, Abercrombie, or Aero). What was special however was the offer presented to us from the get go. For a small fee of $5, we could see the hostess’s breasts. We declined. Not that we didn’t want to see them, but rather wanted to see all the other strippers first. The cost of admission was a cheap $10 for each of us but Chad. Chad had to pay $20 because he was only 20. This was modest seeing how the local joint in Tiffin (Fantasyland) charges $10 admission.

As we step through the doorway, it’s like we entered some foreign land. It was exactly as you would imagine a fine establishment as this would look like. Different levels of flooring with tables all around, a DJ in the top left corner, private hallway behind the balcony seats, bar to the back right, and what we all came for, the stage. Six seats lined the right side of the stage as if God was telling us they were waiting for us. Chad, Carl, Al, Brooks, Vik, and I were the lineup. I slid in between the chairs and took my seat next to a younger couple. Well, she was young (28ish?) and her sugar daddy that looked closer to 50. The waitresses flocked to us like a fresh kill “would you like something to drink?” I declined; Vik, Brooks, Al, and Carl decide to start off with a beer. At $6 a beer I was happy with my decision.

My first touch of stripper heaven wasn’t really heaven at all. A tall, skinny, blonde haired (non) beauty sat down on my lap. The line which I’m sure has been used on a thousand guys before was vested upon me “Hi there cutie, how are you doing tonight?” As a person who doesn’t like to be patronized (unless you’re naked and that’s a different story) I wasn’t Mr. Happy-go-lucky. Short answers and quick responses shown I wasn’t interested in her. After sitting for approximately 5 seconds on my leg (not lap), Ms. Stripper asked what she was sitting on. Being the nice guy I am I placed my Chap Stick and key into my other pocket that was already occupied by my phone. Several minutes have gone by and I’m no longer paying attention to the half dressed woman on my lap. Strippers have now taken the stage and my train of thought has moved from this (ugly) stripper to the good looking fox now working the stage. Ms. Stripper whispers in my ear before she gets up that she will give me 3 dances for $30 anytime tonight because I am “cute.” For many men that’s a steal of a deal, I however am classy, I throw dollar bills to the strippers on stage. The first stripper on stage, we will call (Goth) is now into her second song which by strip club etiquette means clothing is coming off. Goth, who was one of the top 5 strippers at Platinum, was working the poll and the floor. Al and Brooks made eye contact with Vik and I for a momentary grin and laugh. We all knew what the other was thinking, which was (I want to put a dollar down so she comes pays attention to me). No one does.

A few strippers have now graced us with their presence, but none were worthy of our dollars. Then the low point of the night takes center stage. A short, good looking, large breasted black girl (we will call Precious) is grinding against the back wall of the stage. Not moving away from the wall, the not so eager stripper stays in one place for the entire first song. The second song comes on and we are anticipating nakedness. Nothing! She still continues her dance along the back wall. The men sitting around the stage are growing impatient. Then it happens, it was like every guy just said fuck it and sat back in their chair. Not a single dollar earned that round for Precious. Vik and I conversed about how pretty she was (not to mention wanting to see her big tits) and wondered why she didn’t take anything off. For a moment we were sad to see such an embarrassment take place.

Up next was one of my favorite strippers of the night. A short, curvy (I say curvy but really mean large tits and big ass) blonde haired girl is now on stage (White Trash). For some reason, I noticed her black stiletto’s trimmed with flames first. Possible the only downfall for me was those stilettos. While sitting by the stage all I could think about was why she couldn’t have just worn the clear plastic ones as all the other strippers? My attention to detail in certain times can be overboard. With a stripper sitting on Al’s lap now, I wanted to join in the fun and sat two $1 bills on the stage shelf. Only to be fitting of my first stage dance, WT spun me around in my seat and begin to slowly slide her head down to my crotch. I could smell her. Baby powder and perfume was now creating a sensory overload in my nose. I enjoyed the 10 seconds of pseudo 69 and figured a $2 well spent. Did I mention she nibbled my penis? I was now hooked; the first stage dance is always the first to get over. Now Al, Brooks, Carl, and Chad were all taking part in the debauchery we call a strip club. Stripper after stripper, each would throw their money down and reap the benefits of their singles. The third girl who caught our attention was who I named Star. Carl and I joked for months before with quotes like “now onto the stage is the SEDUCTIVE STAR.” This girl seemed to fit my fantasy of what a stripper looked like. Long and slender with decent sized breasts. Her main feature happened to be a tattoo that covered her back and wrapped around her hips onto her stomach. Vik spoke highly of Star several times. I do believe he has a fetish for large tattoos. Brooks wasn’t one to sit and stare and decided he wanted a little of Star’s attention. Putting down a single, Star came over and worked her magic for a few seconds before moving down the line. Al, Carl, and Chad all thought she was a worthy purchase and put down their singles as well.

Throughout the evening the women who were there to see the strippers would throw down a dollar or two. Strippers must get off when women put money down. Longer stage dances along with many of times the customer’s tits would not only be rubbed, but taken out for the entire strip club to see. We did not complain. One of the female customers got a little extra attention when her sugar daddy threw a whole wad of $1 bills on stage (I would guess 20). The stripper decided to pull the female onto the stage shelf and give a full body lap dance. Slowly pulling her shirt up, undoing the buttons to the pants, the female was now almost naked being licked head to toe. Similarly, the new couple sitting beside me wanted the same treatment. Handing what I believed was a hostess a $20 bill, a solid 5 minutes of grinding, touching, grabbing, kissing, and yes fingering took place. All within arm’s reach of me.

By this point Carl decided to buy Al a private dance for his 21^st birthday. Al had his eye on one of the first strippers we seen, Goth. Her piercing eyes must have gotten the best of Al. While Al was enjoying his birthday present, the rest of us were graced with what I rated the 2^nd best stripper in the club. The largest breasts of the night, tall, dark, big round ass, Ghetto had it all. If I had to describe her, I would compare her to the video girls you would see in a T-Pain video. I wanted in on this action and put $2 down on the shelf. Ghetto’s quick 2 seconds of breasts in my face was worth it. I got a piece of the best breasts of the night. Chad also found her divine and placed his single on the shelf. With a preshow booty shake, Chad received the same treatment as me.

Time was flying by. We got to the strip club at 10:30p.m. and it was now after midnight. I was starting to get cotton mouth and decided to purchase a water. I go to the bar and say

“Give me a water and the rest as $1’s.”

The bartender, a hot piece that should have been on the poll, says “you only get $3 back, you know that?”

“What! $7 for water. Why don’t you just rape me!”

“Do you want the water?”

“Yes, fuck”

As I take my seat by the stage, the most beautiful thing we’ve seen all night takes stage. At least 6’0 tall, slender build, great ass, and small perky tits, Santa’s Little Helper (for her Santa hat and Santa skirt she was wearing) was about to put us over the edge. She was by far the best looking stripper I’ve ever seen. Probably a rich high school girl turned bad after she graduated (I assumed daddy issues). To put it into perspective, she was giving so many stage dances she didn’t even get naked. Yeah that’s kind of bullshit, but o well, the stripper was hot. Chad needed some more action and decided it was his time to have a private dance as well. I wasn’t sure who he picked for his private show, but I would guess it was Ghetto. Carl was also enjoying a lovely stage dance from one of the many strippers who sat on his lap for half the night. This one however used a different technique than the others. She placed her head between Carl’s legs and flipped her body onto his. Her peebug was now directly pressing on Carl’s mouth. In one swift motion, she digs her heal into Carl and grabs his shirt. “You have two seconds to pull out the first $20 in your pocket.” Not wanting to cause a scene, Carl did as she said. The stripper thought Carl had licked her peebug. It was obvious that he didn’t and pretty much got suffocated by her roast beef tips.( I was unaware of this incident when it happened. I Told later)

Carl was ready to go but I had a few dollars left to throw away. The final stripper was on stage. Tall and slender but lacked in the chest. What she lacked in body she made up for with action. With $2 in my hand I watched in amazement of the contortions she could put her body in. What put me over the edge? In the middle of the floor while gazing in my direction, she started rubbing herself. I slammed down $2 and watched as she crawled over to my seat. Propping her legs up on the shelf, she grabbed my head and forced it to her crotch. She began fingering herself and then placed that same finger in my mouth. Now looking back, I should feel dirty and ashamed to have something that disgusting in my mouth, I do.

That was the final dance. It’s now 1:00a.m. and we decide to call it a night. As we grab our coats from the hostess, she asks us again, $5 to see her boobs. I put $2 down and everyone else chipped in the rest. From the outside it looked like a good investment; turned out to be the worst one of the night. The tits were saggy, small, and pierced, not a good combination. We walked out.

-Jack-

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