What happens at the gentleman’s club—STAYS there
She grabbed my hand and led me to the “champagne room.”
One could only imagine what glory awaited once we reached our final destination.
This particularly aggressive sista was thick and curvy. Her bikini top barely contained her medium-sized breasts, while her thong showcased her round, shapely ass.
Ol’ girl was born to administer a fierce lap dance.
Why should I resist? Even though it was my future brother-in-law’s bachelor party—why couldn’t I have a little fun too?
Speaking of my brother-in-law, I’d last seen him moments earlier—slumped in a bar stool, inebriated from the the prior drinking session.
Yeah, it was gon’ be a wild night.
Funny thing is: we weren’t even supposed to be there. My brother-in-law was marrying my sister the following weekend.
He vowed to her that he would, under NO circumstances, have any adult entertainment at his bachelor party.
Yet, here we were. At a strip club.
We’d originally planned to celebrate the end of his bachelorhood at a plush bowling alley.
However, my brother came into town and scrapped everything at the last minute.
He insisted on a titty bar—and none of us protested.
I guess, deep down, we all really wanted to go. He simply provided an opportunity.
Our destination? A seedy suburban strip club, once featured on the news for being raided by cops. Apparently the dancers were “a little too friendly” with the clientele and engaged in illegal acts.
We arrived at the establishment with our 6-man entourage, which included me, my comrade, my brother, my brother-in-law, and his best man and best friend.
Upon entering, I noticed several lingerie-clad women mingling with the patrons.
My brother, a strip club vet, was impressed: “This is my kinda place, bro.”
Later, my comrade was informed by a dancer that, for the low price of $300, he could take her home at night’s end.
Yeah, this wasn’t no ordinary gentleman’s club.
Soon the dancers mingled with our group. I noticed my brother-in-law, already destroyed from the pregame drinking festivities, slumped in his chair from drunkenness—it was time for his lap dance. I paid the dancer, who led him to “the champagne room.”
Soon I was being escorted to a separate room by the aforementioned dancer…
After some small talk, she got down to business: A lap dance would be $20.
However, “upgrades” were $40 or $60.
She wasn’t explicit in defining these upgrades, but she hinted that the $40 dance would include “oral satisfaction.” It wasn’t difficult to decode what the final upgrade entailed.
It’ll be A COLD DAY IN HELL before I pay for some sex; a simple lap dance would suffice.
She removed her top and thrusted her ass into my crotch, gyrating and bouncing to the music. She insisted that I upgrade the dance, but I declined.
Soon it was over. I returned to the group trying to conceal my huge boner.
Between the overpriced drinks, lap dances, and cover—my funds were drying up spectacularly.
My last singles were spent on a stage dancer with the prettiest, roundest ass known to man.
I was so distracted by ol’ girl that I barely noticed my drunken brother-in-law being pulled into the champagne room yet again. The dancer returned shortly thereafter; she wanted to give him a $40 dance. Obviously, I couldn’t allow that to happen. I paid for a lap dance.
However, in a shocking turn of events—my brother overheard us and insisted that he get the upgrade.
Dude was adamant that our brother-in-law get some head. And even pulled out his money to pay for it.
I had to calmly remind him: “Dude, he’s marrying OUR SISTER next weekend.”
He got the point.
Moments later, in the parking lot, everyone agreed that no one could know about the debauchery and sin that took place that night—the results would be catastrophic!
If anyone asked—we were at the bowling alley.
So, imagine my bewilderment when I got a voicemail from my distraught sister the next day—she knew EVERYTHING!
Apparently, my brother told a family member—who proceeded to tell her.
Upon hearing the news, she completely lost it!
The aftermath:
My brother-in-law was in the doghouse for a few days.
The best man was almost kicked out of his own home by his enraged wife.
And my brother was attacked by both my sisters for orchestrating the whole thing.
I’ll be damned.
After a few days of damage control, everything’s back to normal.
However, this entire fiasco could’ve been prevented had my brother obeyed the sacred man law: what happens at the gentleman’s club—STAYS there.
Sounds to me like your brother wanted to stop the wedding.
He changed the evening plans to include a strip club.
He was going to pay for the dance upgrade (more fodder).
He told your sister.
Or do I just have a suspicious mind?
G.
Gerardo Vazquez
July 15, 2009 at 12:32 PM
Very interesting, things like this are common. Even though it couldv’e been vice versa. It’s known that women strippers vs male strippers are more provacative when it comes to getting the job done. It could have happened to anyone. As far as your sister I hope that things went well and they will have a long and prosperous life together, I guess as long as you all have a understanding of the “Sacred Man Law”.
Lol!
Trice
July 15, 2009 at 12:43 PM
Nephew, sounds like an interesting evening. Hope your future brother-in-law had a good time. However, he needs to learn how to keep his damn mouth closed. There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun! It’s good he did’nt get the upgrade. But he needs to remember the sacred man law of keeping your damn mouth closed and enjoying the memories!
Uncle C
July 15, 2009 at 2:20 PM
He needs a violation from head to toe for breaking Man Law #3
as far as
“After some small talk, she got down to business:…”
That was way too much detail to be handing out there V-Dawg, we will have a Man Law meeting to discuss the amount of the penalty you have incurred for posting dollar amounts as well as future damages that may occur from this article.
=D
é
July 15, 2009 at 3:21 PM
Eli, you’re right.
I have broken several man laws.
And I’m ready to face my penalties like a man.
vondarrien
July 15, 2009 at 5:11 PM