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Why You Should Stop Going to Strip Clubs When You Reach a Certain Age

S. Paul Bowen

    Brian always found a girl’s face more important that her body. So while the other guys were whistling and cat-calling at every pair of double-Ds or every firm ass that danced onto the stage, Brian patiently waited for the one with the girl-next-door look he so loved. Girl after girl they came up, usually accompanied by a raunchy heavy metal song or a rap song that made you want to shower as soon as the sound hit your eardrums. But Brian’s hopes were raised when the seventh girl of the evening was announced and her music began to play.
    “Gentlemen, you’re in for a real treat tonight,” said the deejay, as the opening guitar strummings of Patsy Cline’s “She’s Got You” was butchered by the blown out speakers. “Please take your hands off your junk long enough to put them together for Kelly!”
    When she walked out, her reception was lukewarm. And why not? The girl was a bit on the thin side. Which would be okay were ass and tits disproportionately large, but they weren’t. If she were lying on her stomach, Brian’s wood-working level could have spanned from her lower back to her thigh, and he was sure the bubble would be right there in the middle. Her breasts were paltry things; she could probably fit them into a training bra and have room left over for the sympathy singles the guys in the front row gave her.
    Kelly didn’t even have the presentation required to make a good stripper. Her hair was flat and somewhere between a plain dark blonde and plain light brown. She wore little make-up and even eschewed the glitter that lit up the faces and bodies of her colleagues. As she danced, she lacked any of the acrobatics that the other girls brought to the stage. For virtually everyone else in this dump, she was just a reason to go outside for a cigarette break or hit the john to take a squirt.
    But while Kelly may have lacked in every other department, her face more than made up for it. To Brian she was beautiful, in that familiar girl-next-door way. She had large brown eyes that gave off a certain sadness (read: she couldn’t act). Her nose pointed slightly skyward. She pouted her thin lips to make them appear fuller, but only creating a somewhat petulant look. Her skin had the color of coffee that would be too sweet to drink, but that is beautiful to look at.
    Kelly was the one that Brian wanted.
    She gyrated her hips for the crowd. She flirted with the removal of her bikini top, but nobody seemed to care one way or the other. When she finally shed her top and revealed her breasts—no big surprise there—a few guys half-heartedly whistled, what passes for chivalry at a strip club. She made like she was going to take off her panties and when she didn’t, there wasn’t even that disappointed groan that usually accompanies such a tease. Tough crowd.
    At the end of her set, most of the patrons applauded politely, but Brian stood and pounded his hands together. Some of the other men looked at him as though he were nuts. “What the fuck, is she your daughter?” asked a no-neck biker, to his cohorts’ pleasure. But this didn’t matter as Kelly’s eyes met Brian’s and she gave him a crooked grin. Good, thought Brian, she was sure to find him when she came out later.
    Having found the girl he wanted a dance from, he strolled over to the bar to wait for her to come out.
    He ordered a beer and tried to strike up a conversation with the bartender, a woman who looked to be an over-the-hill stripper.
    “Busy night,” he said, after paying for his drink and leaving a dollar tip.
    “I haven’t seen you around here before,” said the bartender.
    “My first time here. First time in Boise, actually.”
    “Then how would you know it’s busy?” She clearly wasn’t into small talk.
    “It just looks busy,” said Brian. “Forget it.”
    The bartender walked away to fill someone else’s order and Brian scanned the place looking for Kelly. It was too early for her to be out, but he looked anyway.
    The bartender came back. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to be rude. Been a long night and most of the guys who come here are kinda assholes. I’m Rudy.”
    “Nice to make your acquaintance.”
    “So what’s your story? Where you from?”
    “I make my home in a little town outside of Chicago. Greenvale. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”
    “’Fraid not. What are you doing out here?”
    “Would you believe I’m a traveling salesman?”
    Rudy arched her eyebrows. “Really?”
    “One of a dying breed. Who needs to buy a product from a man going door to door when you can just order stuff off the net?”
    “Amen to that, my friend. Our industry is suffering, too.”
    Brian laughed. “I bet.”
    “I used to know a guy who would make sure to screw a pretty girl every new place he went to. This what you do? Hit a titty bar wherever you go?”
    “I never thought of it, but yeah, I guess I do. Ever have a job that keeps you away from your family?”
    Rudy shot him a look that said, You kidding?
    “Well, it’s lonely business. I got a wife and daughter at home—that’s not entirely true, Julie goes to Northwestern now—but I got a wife at home anyway, and, hell, I just get lonely when I’m out here all alone.”
    “She know you come to fine establishments like these?”
    Brian shook his head. “I don’t really think she’s mind, though. I’ve never slept with anyone while on the road. I just want to feel someone else’s body, you know? Hell, why am I telling you all this?”
    “I’m a bartender,” laughed Rudy. “Bartenders got two purposes: pour drinks and listen to people talk about their lives. Anyway, I can dig what you’re saying. Human contact. You know, I heard about studies—long time ago, wouldn’t get away with it now—of comparing babies who get touched and babies who don’t get touched. The babies with no contact get all weak and don’t mature like the other babies. Just because we aren’t babies doesn’t mean we can get along without contact any better.”
    “No, I guess not,” said Brian. “Physical contact, too. Talking’s not enough.”
    “Put your hand out,” said Rudy.
    Brian did. She took it with hers and held it for about ten seconds. As she held his hand, they stared at each other. It could have been awkward, but it wasn’t. Now Brian took the time to really look at the ex-stripper. She wasn’t the type of girl you would normally be attracted to, but she was prettier than he originally gave her credit for. The makeup she wore was tasteful, only enough to fill in her few wrinkles, and her face was naturally pretty. She did have very large breasts, which, Brian thought, always seemed to pull the attention away from a pretty face.
    When Rudy pulled away, she said, “That’s a freebie. Best offer you’re going to get in here tonight.” She smiled and winked at him.
    “Thanks,” he said. “It helps more than you know.”
    Rudy walked away to help the other clientele—they had gotten restless as she humored Brian—and he turned around to look for Kelly. She still wasn’t out, but since Rudy was busy, Brian watched the stage.
    Four songs and eight overly large tits later, Brian saw Kelly come out of the backstage door. Her hair was teased out now—maybe one of the other girls took pity on her and gave her some tips. He considered getting up to meet her, but thought that might come across as creepy so he sat at the bar until she made her way to him.
    After a few minutes of flirting with a handful of men only to walk away with no more names on her dancing card, she finally neared Brian. Upon seeing him, she walked straight toward him.
    “Hi, handsome,” she said.
    “Hello.”
    “Did you like the show?”
    “You’re very gorgeous.”
    She smiled and her smile looked familiar. Just from seeing her on the stage, he told himself. “You’re cute,” she said.
    “Thanks,” said Brian.
    “Want a dance?”
    Brian’s smile faltered. These girls could never just talk to him for a little while before they tried to sell themselves. He knew he wasn’t dating the girl or anything, but couldn’t she act interested in him just a little longer? But he answered, “Sure.”
    “Twenty dollars a song in the corner, clothes stay on. Or we could go to the champagne room . . .” she said.
    “The corner is fine.” He tossed another single on the bar for Rudy, thanks for her human contact.
    Kelly took Brian’s hand and led him to a corner. She sat him down and danced a little in front of him. “This song is half over. I’ll start at the next song.”
    “Okay.”
    “What’s your name?” To be heard over the music, she had to have her face directly in front of his. Her breath smelled of whiskey and cigarettes.
    “Brian,” he said.
    “Mmmm, that’s a nice name.”
    “Thanks.”
    The next few minutes passed awkwardly and Brian saw that Kelly was just as pretty up close as she was from the stage. He was again struck by the sensation that he knew her.
    “I’ve danced for you before, haven’t I?” she asked.
    “I don’t think so. Have you danced at other clubs?”
    She shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on his. When the song ended, Kelly slid her body against his, snake-like. She pressed her tits into his face and he could smell the mixture of heavy perfume and light sweat. He breathed it in. “You like that?” she said.
    “Yes.”
    She turned around and pressed her ass into his crotch, grinding.
    She laughed. “I guess I don’t need to ask if you like that.”
    Brian, never certain what to do with his hands, lightly grazed them up her legs.
    “You can touch me,” she said. “Just don’t pinch or slap. No rough stuff.”
    Breathless, Brian nodded, then realized that she couldn’t see the nod with her back to him and he cleared his throat and answered. “Okay.”
    As she grinded, he moved his hands up her thighs, up her trim stomach, and before he could reach her nipples, she turned to face him and squatted between his spread legs. She moved her head like she was blowing him and he ran his hands through her hair. As her head moved, her fingers slid up his stomach and undid a couple of buttons. She slid her hand under his shirt and gently scratched his stomach and chest, playing with his sparse chest hair.
    When the song ended, she stood still as though the lack of music precluded her from dancing. “Another?”
    Brian nodded. He felt as awkward as she looked. He was never able to de-humanize strippers the way many of the patrons could. So rather than keep up the illusion that she was there simply to please him, he treated her like what she was—a working girl on a break.
    “Are you in school?” he asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “What are you studying?”
    “Bio.”
    “That’s interesting. What do you plan on doing with your degree?”
    “Is this really what you want to talk about?”
    Brian shrugged. But before she could answer, the next song came on and the illusion was recreated.
    As she rubbed her body against his, Brian only wanted to kiss her. When her face was before his, he leaned into her lips, but she put a finger over his and shook her head coquettishly. The more she grinded against him and guided his hands over her body, the less he wanted anything sexual. When this song ended, Brian decided he would sit through one more and then go to his hotel room.
    As she stood before him, the silence became unbearable and he once again struck up the small talk.
    “Did you grow up around here?”
    “No. My parents divorced three years ago and my dad and I moved here to be with this family.”
    “Are you a daddy’s girl?”
    “I guess so. But mostly I went with him because my mom went kinda crazy and started going through this weird midlife crisis thing. I had to get away from that.”
    “I like to think that my daughter would side with me if I ever got divorced. Not that I think things are going in that direction.”
    Kelly just looked at him.
    “Where are you from originally?” he asked.
    “Little town. You’ve never heard of it.”
    “Try me. I’m a traveling salesman. I’ve been to a ton of places nobody’s ever heard of.”
    “Greenvale, Illinois.”
    A cold sweat immediately broke out on Brian’s skin. His eyes widened and he had to swallow before he spoke. “Amanda? Amanda Green?”
    Her eyes narrowed and searched Brian as though trying to figure out how he knew her real name. After a moment, it hit her and her mouth and eyes were matching Os. “Mr. Andries?”
    She jumped away as though he were on fire and he jumped up, too, overturning his chair.
    “Oh my God!” he said.
    “Jesus!” she said.
    On either side of Brian materialized a burly man with a skin tight black Security tee-shirt.
    “This guy bothering you?” one of them asked.
    “No. No, he’s okay. I gotta go.” She ran to the talent entrance without asking for payment.
    Brian was embarrassed and in shock, but he did not want to go without paying for what he bought. He picked up his chair again and sat down as though he planned to watch the rest of the girls dance. The burly men did not wander far from Brian and he could feel their eyes on him constantly.
    After about ten minutes, Kelly, now Amanda, came out wearing a pair of jeans and a Boise State University sweatshirt. She strolled over to Brian and asked, “Mr. Andries, want to go get a coffee?”

*        *        *

    Half an hour later, Amanda and Brian were sharing a slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie and a cup of coffee at the only 24-hour diner around. In a few hours, it would be filled to capacity with the college kids turned away from the bars after last call, but now there was only the stripper, the salesman, and the waitress.
    “I’m really sorry I freaked out on you like that,” said Amanda.
    “It’s okay. It was a shock for me, too.”
    There was silence, except for the sounds of forks clanking on the plates and the soft hum of the diner’s AC unit.
    “This is going to sound stupid,” she said, “but, I always liked you when I was growing up.”
    “I liked you, too. You were a sweet girl and you were Julie’s best friend.”
    “No, I mean I liked you, liked you. I had a bit of a crush on you.”
    “Oh,” said Brian.
    “You don’t have to feel awkward. I’m over it. Besides, it would be really weird if you felt that way about me.”
    “Mrs. Andries never liked you,” said Brian. Then after a moment, “I don’t know why I told you that.”
    Amanda laughed. “That’s okay. Is it true?”
    “Yeah. She thought you were a bad influence on Julie.”
    “Well, I did get her into smoking cigarettes. And we stole some of my mom’s pot and smoked it a few times. Jesus, I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
    “It’s fine. Believe me, I won’t be telling Julie or the missus about our meeting.”
    Amanda blushed. “I appreciate that. Not that I’m ashamed, I just . . .”
    They said nothing for a moment. In its own way the diner was as depressing as the strip club. The smell of burnt grease hung in the air. The waitress stood behind the counter looking as though these two pie-sharers weren’t worth her time. Perhaps she was only relaxing before the rush. There was an old jukebox in the corner, but it sat as quiet and alone as the waitress. Maybe it would get some play when the college kids came, but it looked like it wanted to be alone.
    “You have some pie on your lip,” said Amanda.
    Brian licked his lips but managed to avoid the pie.
    Amanda giggled. “Here, let me help you.” She took the napkin from her lap and, reaching across the table, wiped the bit of strawberry from the corner of his mouth. When it was gone, she left her hand there and caressed his bottom lip with her thumb. “You’re still pretty handsome.”
    “You’ve become a beautiful young woman.”
    She began to withdraw her hand and he grabbed it. Gently but firmly.
    “I’m sorry about your mother,” he said and kissed the tips of her fingers.
    “Thank you,” said Amanda.
    Brian released her hand and she placed it in her lap. “Isn’t there a better way you can make money than this?”
    “Do you have any idea how much a dancer makes?” asked Amanda.
    “I’ve heard stories.”
    “I’m not even a popular dancer, but I make more in a few hours doing this than a full day at any other job I’ve ever had.”
    “I see,” said Brian.
    “And I’m not ashamed of it.”
    “Yeah, you said that.”
    The plates were empty and the coffee cups nearly so. The waitress was in no hurry to refill them.
    “Do you want to go back to my place?” asked Amanda.
    “God yes,” said Brian.
    “Oh, I didn’t mean like that. I just—have you got a hotel room?”
    “Oh. I see. Yeah, I’m set up for the night.”
    “Okay, good.”
    Brian reached into his pocket and left a twenty on the table. Then he unrolled four more and held them out to Amanda.
    “What’s this?” she asked.
    “For the dance.”
    “No, I couldn’t.”
    “You earned it. And you left with me before the night was done. I probably cost you much more than this.”
    She stared into his eyes until she realized that he wasn’t backing down. “I’ll take it, on one condition.”
    “What’s that?” asked Brian.
    “Come back to my place.”
    “But I have a place to stay.”
    “But you don’t have anyone to stay with,” she said. She bit her lower lip. “Besides, I was lying: I did mean it like that.” Amanda stood up and held her hand out to Brian. He grasped it with the hand holding the cash and slid out of the booth.

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