 No Sex In the Champagne Room.... There's a song by Chris Rock. "No Sex In The Champagne Room". I was thinking about that song tonight.
I've been working for an ISP in Iowa for 2 years now. It had been a long time previous to that that I was in a job that I loved as much as I loved this one. When I got my divorce, I got the bills. 1/2 the income, all the same bills. I trimmed as much fat as I could, keeping only my XM radio as my "Splurge". It's $9 a month. I would spend more than that on beers on one night at a mid-range bar. Anyway, I'm all over the place. I asked for a meager raise. I just wanted to be where others in the department were. "Cutbacks" was the reply. Other things went down. I won't get into them here.
Today was my last day at the company. I got a new job in Cedar Rapids, working for a great company at a SUBSTANTIAL pay increase. When I say substantial, I don't mean 20% or 50%. I mean TWICE as much as what I'm making now. I start on Monday. It was a good parting from my company. I left on good terms and put in my full effort up until the very last moment. The last moment I spent packing the last of my belongings. You may or may not believe how much stuff one can accumulate on their desks in that amount of time. I even had an extra PC of my own there.
I met a lot of great people at that job. Some people are just acquaintances.... but most of the people in my department are true friends. I got wonderful compliments today about how I deserved the job and that they really wished the best for me and that they were going to miss me. I can smell a lie like a fart in a car-- and these people were serious. It wasn't until I got home that it really hit me that I was actually going to miss that place and being with those people every day and sharing what I could of my life with them. I have NEVER in my life met a more talented and genuine bunch than the people that I worked with. Never.
I had just returned home, and was sitting on the couch when it hit me. I had made some sort of an impact on more than one person in that department, and had truly deeply affected more than one. One person almost cried. It was touching to me to see that I had personally and professionally made that sort of change in someone's life. Sometimes-- rarely... but it does happen-- I have a hard time comprehending how it is that I deserve the wonderful friends that I have. Some of them go back more than half of my lifetime. And in 2 years, several of these people joined my "inner circle" of people that I have let into my life and into my heart.
After a couple of hours, I was picked up by 3 other guys that worked with me.... the closest of my friends there. They decided to take me out for a nice celebration and a night on the town (so to speak.) So we went to have some good food at Daytona's.... it's a little wing joint supposedly owned by the same people that do Hooters, but the waitresses don't act like strippers whose boob jobs had gone wrong. No offense to the girls that work there. Seriously. I love Hooters, and I love my wait staff, and I tip VERY well... but when I'm having dinner, I came to eat. And I can EAT some chicken wings. You'll lose a finger if you get too close. The point is, however, don't come to the table calling me sugar, or rubbing all over me or trying to give me a lap dance to increase your tip. It's not going to work. I tip WELL when I'm served well. You'll get at least 25%, and sometimes as much as 50%. You can EVEN sit down at my table. You can have a conversation with me. I'm not an asshole, and never turn down good company, but you have to hold up your end of the bargain. So anyway... we went to Daytonas. Had great service, my drink was kept filled, and so were my guests. I bought dinner tonight. When you get a raise, YOU pay. I have been fiscally blessed lately. Not that I don't deserve it, it's been a long year. Anyway, Daytona's was good. The waitress got 30%.
Then we made a couple of stops and picked up some beer. Long story short (too late) we ended up at "John's Gold Claim". I'm witholding the real name. It's a strip club. I was NO fan of strip clubs. My take on strip clubs is that it's an exercise in futility. It's like ordering a pizza, and then the pizza guy shows up, shows you the pizza and then runs away. You get to look at the pizza, smell the pizza-- maybe (if you're lucky) even TOUCH the pizza. But you never get to seal the deal. I'm not saying that I prefer HOOKERS any more, because I don't. Hookers-- call girls, whatever you want to call them-- they have their place. But it's not my style. I like a woman that likes me because I'm funny, intellectual and sensitive. She wants to be with me because of who I am and not the size of my money roll. The first time I was ever at a strip club was when I was 30 years old. A few good friends took me there. It was okay at best. There are those that say that strip clubs are a place to go and objectify women. I'm on the fence. Despite my negativity towards such places... these women can make a pretty decent living doing it. They are comfortable with their jobs and many of them absolutely love it. To make it clear, I didn't have a great time on my first experience at a strip joint. I was pretty well opposed to the idea of going tonight. The others sounded like they really wanted to go, and anyone that knows me knows that I have the most fun when others are too. My take is "Laugh with me or laugh AT me... as long as you're laughing." So, I reluctantly gave in.
John's Gold Claim was actually a nice place. It was clean, but rather warm inside. I guess it's because the women aren't wearing much. ::shrug:: Anyway, people are smoking and drinking (you have to bring your own) and having a good time. The women are attractive-- quite a change from my first visit to a strip club. The music was loud and they had a good selection. The women get to chose their own music, and I must say that they did have impeccable taste.
It wasn't long before one of my friends said "C'mon," and dragged me up to the stage. Of course all of the women had fake names like "Alexis" and "Tori" and "Paris" and "Champagne" and shit like that. But it didn't bother me, really. It was just kinda stereotypical. One thing I instantly noticed was that there were 2 plasma screen TV's on either side of the stage, each with its own programming going on. I said, "Who the hell comes to a strip joint to watch TV? How does that make any sense?" My friend replied, "There are no kids, no interruptions." He was only half true. There were PLENTY of interruptions that night. He threw a dollar up on the stage in front of me. It didn't take long before the woman came to the edge of the stage where I was sitting and showed me everything nature gave her. Then she turned around to face me, and motioned for me to stand up. I'd heard stories about how the strippers like to make fools of the men that get too close. A friend of mine was beaten senseless with his own belt by a stripper once. He enjoyed every minute of it... but if I had wanted any of that, I would have stayed home and watched weekend television. Any way I started to kind of back away in my seat a little bit when she grabbed my head and thrust it into her breasts.
Now to be honest, she had great soft skin, and it wasn't totally unpleasant. I didn't have any illusions that I now had a stripper girlfriend. At least I still had SOME dignity left. This happened twice with the next dancer. My friend seemed to be getting quite a kick out of my statue-like poise. When I'm with a woman that I care about, I know what to do. But I was out of my environment, and it was evident. He just lauged. I went back to my seat in the back corner and sat there-- and watched some TV. I felt somewhat-- guilty? about watching these women. I just felt like it wasn't my place. After about 10 minutes, one of the women walked up to me and she sat on my lap and nestled her head on my shoulder. It was strange. It actually felt kind of normal. I still had no delusions that I now had a stripper girlfriend. She asked me some questions-- where I was from, what my name was, what brought me to the club, and so on. Then she just got up and left. I was okay with that. 2 minutes later, she was back again. Before I knew it, I was getting what is referred to at this club (at least) as a "dollar dance" It's basically like a 1-minute lap dance. It's much like simulated sex, but with all of your clothes on.... all of YOUR clothes on. She had some on, but not much. I didn't know what to do. I basically would glance at her and then look around... I would look at anything... other people, beer bottles, the TV. What the hell did I know about this little section of the world? When it was done, they said to me, "You know, you're supposed to LOOK at her when she does that." She sat down on my lap and just said "Look, it's okay. It's my job, I love it. I'm here for you to look at. I'm here for you to touch. Loosen up. You look like someone kicked your dog." Everyone lauged and she left.
It didn't really stop there. There were at LEAST 4 other girls that came up asking if they could get a dollar.... they would come up and sit on your lap and ask all of the requisite questions and call you names like "baby", "sugar" and "sweetie", etc. Others would just come up and say "Want a dollar dance?" and then leave. When I looked around, I didn't notice that any other men were getting that much attention. I'm a people watcher, it's what I do. I didn't see ANYONE getting nearly that much attention. I didn't know that I was quite that handsome or mysteriously intriguing. Truthfully, I probably just looked needy, or was the kind of mark they can recognize as someone that doesn't do these things much. Now I don't know why, but I actually PREFERRED when they would sit down and talk a bit. I can't really figure out (even when being honest with myself) if it was just the company of an attractive woman, getting to ask some interesting questions to satisfy my insatiable curiosity, or both. Maybe it was both, and maybe I am trying to rationalize all the dollar dances I got tonight. And I didn't get just one or two. I got at least a dozen. And I didn't spend a dime. My friends bought me SO many dollar dances, it was practically one right after the other for the entire time I was there. I got lap dances from every dancer in the place, save two.... yeah... it was two. There was "Paris" who had really huge breasts. She was very popular on stage. Made a lot of money. There was some other girl, but she looked very young and was very popular for that reason. She made even more money than "Paris".
About half way through the night, one of the ladies came up to me and said "Follow me for a second." And my friend just grinned from ear-to-ear. He was loving it. She took me behind this partition and for a whole song, basically gave me a topless dance. I was instructed, "You can do anything you like-- except touch my pussy or bite my nipples." Well, that told me all I needed to know. I was a rank amatuer. She was a beautiful girl. There's no denying that. She had made me feel quite a lot more comfortable after our first meeting-- the first "dollar dance". I just went with my instincts. I just treated her like she WAS someone I cared about. Just for the moment. Just like she was doing to me. She did it for the money, I did it BECAUSE of the money. Someone spent 25 bucks on that shit, and so I wanted to have a good time. Yeah... I didn't pay for that one, either.
The seemingly never-ending stream of dollar dances continued, and later on, my old familiar dancer came back over to me. She sat on my lap, and we started chatting again. After touching just about every single one of the dancers in the place, I had decided that she really was my favorite. The reason why is quite hilarious. She had great skin. That's it. She was pleasant to look at, and she had great, soft skin. Anyway, we chatted for about a minute. They're like salespeople, those dancers. They know exactly what to ask and what to say and they get RIGHT to the heart of the matter. She whispered in my ear.
So here we are. The old Chris Rock song. It's from back in the mid 90's, I think. Something like that. Anyway, Chris says, "No matter what a stripper tells you There’s no sex in the Champagne Room.. NONE! Oh there’s CHAMPAGNE in the Champagne Room But you don’t want champagne.. you want sex And there’s NO sex.. in the Champagne Room." So I guess technically he's right. There's no sex in the champagne room. We could pull Bill Clinton into this and argue all day long... but what line must be crossed in order for it to be called sex? I'm wondering. There's NO sex in the Champagne Room at John's Gold Claim, either. There's HAND JOBS in the Champagne room. There's you and a dancer completely naked and a happy ending for you in the champagne room. There's a "Cumming good time" (according to the dancer) in the Champagne room. There's "No fucking or sucking" (according to the dancer) in the champagne room. Also, I don't know where the $200 a pop (pun intended) sex is, but it's apparently not in the champagne room. I tell NO lies here. Not even an embelishment.
Well, that part of the story has come to a climax (pun intended again) so fast forward to the end of the night, we leave. As we're driving the hour home, one of the friends is sitting on the driver's side back seat, and we're talking. He's going on and on about some of the problems he is having in the job. Because he's so drunk, he's repeating the same things over and over again. All of a sudden he says "You know, I hope that when you start your new job on Monday, it just scares the shit out of you.....because that would mean that it's a challenge... and you deserve a job like that." Wow. I thought that was pretty amazing. He continued, "Your marriage went bad, you had a job that you loved most of the time and couldn't stay at because they wouldn't pay you. I've never seen you TRULY happy. You've never been sad, but I know that I've never seen you TRULY happy since I've known you. I hope that this job opens the door for you so that you can pursue and secure your true happiness." I was stunned. This started at 10-minute ORGY of perfect clarity. He said some very nice things. It made me feel good.
So few people really know what a friend truly is. Even fewer, I fear, have a true friend. I am blessed with MANY such friends....TRUE honest-to-goodness friends. When I reach a point in my relationship with someone that I would die in their stead, I know that this person is my friend. When I find out that they would never let me, I know that I am theirs.
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