LadyLee and The Male Strippers, Part II

for part I, see LadyLee and the Male Strippers, Part I

Well, we were walking down Bourbon street and I was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other without falling.

Oldboy was pretty helpful, like a good crutch or something.

Then I saw a flashing sign in a window.

MALE DANCERS!

I pointed hard at the place.

"I want to go in there!"

I let go of Oldboy and staggered across the road, bumping into people as I went.

"I want to see the Male Dancers!"

Oldboy shrugged his shoulders. "Okay."

Now, that stopped me cold, and I turned around too fast. Oldboy had to catch me before I hit the ground.

"For real?" I asked.

"Hell yeah," he said. "Come on."

So we walked into this place. It was VERY dark, and some slow bass driven song was blasting from the speakers. There were quite a few men seated at the small tables scattered around the large room. All of them were staring at the dimly lit stage. I was following Oldboy, gripping the tail of his shirt, trying my best not to fall.

But I stopped.

Right in front of the wooden stage. . .

And stared up some woman in a sequined green g-string slung high up on a pole.

"That is NOT a man!" I yelled.

"Girl, come on," Oldboy said. He grabbed my arm.

"They said MALE DANCERS. That is a woman up there!" I yelled.

"The male dancers are in a separate room, in the back looks like," Oldboy said.

I continued to stare at this woman as she scooted higher and higher up what looked to be a ten foot pole. Her g-string was stuffed with a lot of cash. Money fell from her g-string, and floated to the floor like leaves blowing in a breeze.

"Oldboy!" I yelled. "She gonna fall! Oh Lawd, she gonna fall from the pole!"

"No she ain't," he said as he tried to pull me away from the stage. "She know what she's doing."

"You too high up on that pole, girl! You gonna fall down!!!!"

I don't know what my problem was. I fell into a panic or something. This chick was WAY up on that dayum pole and I got scared she was gonna fall and bust her ass and die. I smacked the stage hard with my hand, trying to get her attention.

"Shut up before you get us thrown out of here," Oldboy said. He drag me away from the stage and towards the back of the club. A makeshift black and white sign hung over a door. It was the doorway to another room. It was seperated from the main room by a black curtain.

We went through the curtain and into a room much smaller than the room that we had just left. A gray stage was in one corner of the room. A gleaming silver pole was in the middle of the stage.

A VERY tall skinny white dude with long jet black hair was onstage, dancing and swinging hard around the the pole. If that wasn't bad enough, he was dressed in some leather S&M looking skimpy gear, and he had on a leather police cap.

I stopped and stared. I pointed.

"What the hell is that?!" I yelled.

Some women sitting in the club laughed hard.

"Girl, what is your problem?" Oldboy said.

I have NO idea what song was playing, but it was some Prince song. All I know, dude was swinging on that pole hard. I was trying to leave, but Oldboy grabbed me by both arms and pushed me down into a chair.

A waiter came to our table and said that there was a two drink minimum per person. Oldboy ordered a couple of beers.

Then dancers migrated towards our table. One guy, a white Justin Tim.berlake looking fellow in a pair of green speedos, placed a stool in front of me and got real close to me. He was whispering some ish in my ear. (I was appalled. I have NO idea what he was saying).

I looked him up and down. This was not the Chippenda.le type of dancer I was expecting. Now, my husband Oldboy was a big bulky brother. I could've just taken him home and watched him dance for free instead of paying this slight man.

Oldboy gave him 10 dollars and this guy started to dance. I shrank away as much as I could from this whole scenario. The Just.in dancer was straddling my lap, and took my hand and placed it on his hairy chest.

"Ooooooooh...that's soft," I said.

Oldboy laughed.

This guy continued to dance for another couple of songs. Thank goodness I had on some jeans because there is NO way someone should be all up me like that. UGH.

(But shorty had the soft chest hair. Sigh)

Then, some black guy came over. He was the only black dancer in the room. Skinny as hell. He had on a pair of black spandex speedos and a black cowboy hat. Had the nerve to have on a pair of black cowboy boots with white stitching.

He tipped his hat and smiled. He had the nerve to have a gold grill.

"Howdy," he said. "My name is Ten.nesee Williams."

I fell out laughing.

This dude placed a stool in front of me and proceeded to do a handstand and dance right in front of me. His "package" was all up in my face. I didn't know WHAT to do. I know I was ready to leave. Oldboy had ordered some Crown and coke, and I was sipping on that. So let's just say, I was still inebriated.

Ten.nessee Williams stop the handstand tricks and sat up in my lap.

"Touch me," Ten.nesee Williams said. He smiled, flashing his gold grill again.

"Uh, no," I said.

Tenn.esse Williams began grinding up against me.

"Grab his ass!" Oldboy said.

I looked at Oldboy. "Wh-, what?"

"GRAB HIS ASS!" Oldboy yelled. "This here cost money, girl. You better feel on that man!"

So I palmed this strange man's bony behind.

The women at the next table were laughing a bit too hard at me. My experience was providing much more entertainment for them than whatever was happening on stage.

Ten.nesse Williams was in my lap, grinding away, rubbing his chest up against my own.

Then I saw something I will never forget:

He had a small picture of himself, a woman and a little boy hanging from a black chord around his neck. They were all smiling and dressed alike in black and yellow and red plaid button down shirts and black jeans. The background was the typical blue background of pictures taken at a photography studio.

I held the picture in my hand, peered at closely.

"Who is this?" I asked.

"That's my wife and my son," he answered. He continued dancing, grinding on my lap.

I looked over at Oldboy, who was paying me no attention at all, as he was yacking it up with the waiters. I glanced back at the picture, the three of them smiling, looking like a happy black family.

I then noticed the wedding ring on his finger as he lifted his hand to touch my face.

"Why are you up in a club dancing like this?" I asked. I didn't mean to ask, but when I get liquored up, I get talkative as all get out.

He sat back on my lap and started massaging my shoulders. "Gotta do what I gotta do to take care of my family."

Goodness.

I was not expecting to hear that.

Man. I think I quieted down after that. Ten.nessee Williams continued to dance, flashing his shiny gold grill. That man did some acrobatic craziness I tell you. I was suprised he wasn't off in someone's circus somewhere.

He made his money that night. I think Oldboy gave him 30 bucks.

I think we must've stayed there for an hour. When the black leather clad tall skinny white dude who'd been working the pole when we first got there started harrassing us for a dance, well, that was it for me. I was ready to go. Pronto.

I'd sobered up a little on the walk back to the car (not much). I was shaken up by Ten.nessee Williams. Not him, but by the picture of him and his family.

On our way home, Oldboy, who fancied strip clubs himself, said "That wasn't so bad, was it? Just entertainment. Nothing serious. You seem to have fun."

"How much did that cost?" I asked.

"Around 65 dollars."

"Oh."

I realized the light bill was due, and it was about that much.

A waste of money, if you ask me.

"That dude had a picture of his family around his neck," I said. "That is sad. He out dancing in a damn club, and he got a wife and kid at home."

Oldboy laughed. "All kind of folk strip and dance. You done heard me tell you about the women at my club."

I remember those stories. Stories of women who were working their way through college. Women who had day jobs bus stripped at night and on the weekends for the extra money. Then there were the chicks that had the crack and heroin problems. And Oldboy told me that they had a gril at his club once who was really quiet and a good stripper, gave no trouble at all. Come to find out, when the club was raided, they found out that this woman was a fugitive on the run: there was a warrant out for her... she was wanted for murder.

*crickets*

What a life. I guess you do what you gotta do.

Then there was Ten.nessee Williams, who talked with much pride about his wife, who was a nurse, and his smart little boy.

I must have thought about that for months. Too much for me to deal with.

All I know, that was my first and last stripper experience. I could understand how people liked that "entertainment".

But it ain't for me.

Give me a good book to read, some good crochet yarn, a good movie or a football game.

I'll leave that stripper business to chicks like That Southern Black Gal...