"I'll tell you, it's a nice little place!" George had said. "A young fella like you will have a great time there!"
I remembered his words as I looked down at the scrap of paper with the address and then back at the garish neon sign that shed a purplish glow on the storefront and sidewalk. The painted graphics on the front of the place and the line of eager young men disappearing into the open door seemed to confirm that this was indeed a "Gentlemen's Club." George had been my last appointment of the day. I was making a swing through southern Ontario, calling on customers and prospects, and would be staying the night near Toronto. After learning that I was from out of town, George was kind enough to steer me toward the best places to stay, eat and be entertained.
I had been to Toronto many times for weekend excursions, mostly with my college buddies or occasionally a girlfriend, but had never ventured far from the city. Normally, I'm not much on strip clubs and usually go only when one of my buds has a special birthday or is getting married. But being footloose on a cool Spring evening and not seeing much worth watching on cable at the motel, I decided what the hell. Why not sample some of the nightlife on the north end of Yonge Street.
Just inside the doorway was a small lobby with a stairwell leading down. The smell of stale cigarette smoke and spilled beer greeted me as I followed the line downstairs. The loud pounding beat of AC/DC reverberated from inside. As the bouncer checked ID for the group of guys ahead of me, a couple of cute young women hurried up the stairs.
"You're going the wrong way," said the guy in front of me, gaping at the young lovelies.
"Ooo! Fresh meat!" exclaimed one of the girls.
The other reached out and lightly drew her hand along my cheek.
"Don't worry, Honey. We'll be back," she laughed and just like that they disappeared into the cool night air.
Some of the guys ahead of me were underage so they were all turned away. As they shuffled back up the stairs, one of them mouthed off to the bouncer. Bad move, I thought as the bouncer stood up from his stool. The size of a football lineman, he held a hand up to the protesting youth.
"I don't care if you know Jesse or not. If you're too young to get in, you're too young to get in. Why don't you be a good boy and go home and spank the monkey!"
The kids moved silently up the stairs and into the cool night air.
"Punks!" said the bouncer shaking his head as I approached.
He looked my ID over, surely noticing that I was from the States, and looked me straight in the eye.
"Your first time here?" he asked.
"Yeah. Just traveling through. This place was highly recommended."
He said nothing in return and just looked me up and down. People often remark that I don't look my age, but I know I don't look young enough to get carded, especially over here with a lower drinking age. Apparently satisfied that I looked trustworthy, he finally waved me inside. Once inside, the music was louder and the smell of cigarette smoke and beer was much stronger. There was also that telltale odor of cheap perfume and wet snatch wafting through the air. The room was jammed. I wedged myself up to the bar and ordered a Labatt's. Grabbing the ice-cold bottle, I moved off to look for a place to sit. There was a main stage in the center and two smaller ones well of to each side. Each one featured a young woman in various stages of undress writhing more or less in beat to the hard driving rock music.
The naked girl on the main stage was full figured, but in a very pleasing way. "Fleshy" a buddy of mine would say. She was on her knees showing the guys seated directly in front of her exactly what she had going for her, and was obviously very much into her work and enjoying it. The girl off to the left was beautiful, a tall and slim brunette with a beautiful all-over tan, and long straight jet black hair that flowed about her shoulders like a waterfall. But she moved very woodenly and didn't look like she was having much fun by the grim look on her face. A guy walked up and slipped a bill into her garter. She gave him a cheap superficial smile and went back to her wooden dance routine. The girl on the right was just pulling the bra from her ample bosom and letting the dainty garment fall to the stage. The loud round of applause and cheers brought a sweet smile to her face and she proceeded to jiggle and strut her stuff.
My eyes had finally adjusted to the dark bar, and I began to notice other details around the place. There was a large area in the middle of the room with easy chairs where the guys were getting lap dances. With the black lights set up around there, it was easy to see the white towels that each girl had spread on their customer's lap. The girls working the floor were mostly naked and sat and wriggled and or stood and jiggled or kneeled and wiggled. There were large video screens set up around the bar showing a porno movie, although the one by the bar had on the Blue Jays baseball game. It looked like the guys around that set were more interested in the game than the young lovelies. There were better places to catch the game with more affordable beer, but hey, how they spend their cash is their decision.
Overall, the girls on stage and the floor were beautiful and numerous with at least one to please everybody's taste: tall and slim, petite, full-figured, blond, redhead. They were dressed (or undressed) in lacy bras and panties, stockings and garters, skimpy bathing suits, or nurse's uniforms. There was one who looked awfully young who had the schoolgirl thing going with the short pleated plaid skirt and white knee socks. As I caught myself smiling at this bastion of male fantasy, I noticed that many of the guys didn't look real happy. There were very few smiles. Seeing a bunch of pretty young women parading and dancing around like this always brought a smile to my face. I couldn't figure out what they were doing wrong.
I found a ledge to lean on just off the seating area where I could follow most of the action. The girl on the main stage was seated now, with her legs spread out, rubbing her fingers all over her twat. The guys seated around her were tossing bills up onto the stage. First her fingers, then her entire hand began to disappear into her cunt. Miss Wooden was still dancing her ode to minimalism. The other was dropping her linen and keeping on a grinnin'.
As I looked around, I noticed that many of the guys were talking to each other or watching the video screens. It seemed like such a waste of all the female beauty surrounding them. Maybe it's the curse of being older (not old, mind you), that I've reached the point in life where the wiggle of a pair of fine breasts and the smile of a pretty girl can turn a bad day around and I try to appreciate every opportunity. In fact, at the end of the tune when the announcer called out the names of the girls and asked for a round of applause, I was one of the few who did so, along with my patented wolf whistle. I shrugged my shoulders when some of the guys gave me a dirty look as if I was interrupting their train of thought as they watched the Blue Jays game. What ever!
Off in the back corner of the place there was an archway with a red neon sign flickering that read "The Clubhouse." Every once in a while I noticed that one of the girls would pass through with a guy in tow. Only the guys seemed to pass back through to the barroom. I figured that it must be where the personal dances were presented and that it must have a back door that lead to the girl's dressing room. Oh, to be a mouse in this house!
The music shifted gears to another tune and the girls changed shifts on the stages. There was a large group of guys crowded along the walls. Standing out near them was a short skinny girl with big hair dressed in a tight sweater and short skirt. She stood slinging a long neck beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She noticed my look and nodded toward me, blowing the smoke from her cigarette in my direction. She began to stroll my way and put out her cigarette in the tray next to my beer.
"Come here often?" she asked.
"No, this is my first time."
"Oh," she said looking disappointed. "Have a good time."
She strolled away and disappeared into the crowd. I wondered what that was all about. A hooker? A neighbor hood girl on the prowl? I let my eyes drift up to the main stage where Miss Wooden had taken her place. In the brighter lights you could see her deep all over tan more clearly. She had the figure of a lingerie model, tall and slim, with beautifully round breasts that pointed upward slightly. Her motions were a little more animated on the main stage, but she still wore a frown. Maybe she didn't like the work but needed the money and was just going through the motions. I was thinking of pulling a bill from my pocket to stuff into her garter, hoping to get close enough to give her my "It won't kill you to smile" line.
Suddenly I felt a breeze next to me and the touch of a hand fell lightly on my arm. I turned in that direction to see a lovely woman smiling at me. Although she was standing somewhat in the shadows, I could see she was dressed in a little floral print bikini that nicely cradled her boobs and barely covered her pussy. She was short, maybe five foot even but with a real pretty face and dark eyes and long streaked ash blond hair that flowed down past her waist.
