Let's chock it up to a life experience
Saturday night, Thackeray and I had a date. Actually our first official date. He made some arrangements, which involved telling all manner of story to some club management, and said he would pick me up after his softball game. So come 11pm, I was frocked up as well as I could manage (with a limited travelling wardrobe), trying to vamp and project some sort of sexy swagger, as I met him at his car. I inelegantly climbed into his truck, and attempted to recline with some grace. At this point, I, of course, awaited the compliments. Thankfully, they did come.
He drove us out to the club that he had arranged, which like most fancier things in Vegas, of course, includes Valet parking, and we were greeted at the door by the gentleman that he had spoken to earlier in the evening. We were then escorted to the VIP area, where we were afforded a view of the club, but were safely removed from the great unwashed. Seats were taken, drinks were ordered, and I relaxed into the club lounge to take in my surrounds. The club had a high vaulted ceiling, with elegant columns, and a sweeping curved staircase leading to the second level. The waitresses were elegant and efficient, and treated us with all manner of style. Dark curtains cordoned off other areas of the club, giving everything a dark, but classy atmosphere. A central stage featured dancers and a lighting display, all with a subtle DJ's pulsing beat.
Of course, it was a strip club.
While sipping my cocktail, I watched girl after girl enter the stage, and remove most of her, albeit skimpy, clothes, and then writhe around in heels and a g-string, garnering tips from anyone who dared. Meanwhile, closer to our table, people paid for the pleasure of having one of the many lovely ladies, dance privately for them. At this point, Thackeray asked me which girl I would like.
Now before I go on, I should qualify that I believe something like a person's sexuality should never be really defined in Black and White. There are many grey areas, and my appreciation of the female form, shall we say, is one big patch of murkiness.
So I proceeded to describe what I think is attractive and sexy. He summoned a waitress, and just like ordering a good steak, he placed an order. Within minutes, a woman was presented to us, fulfilling our criteria, and she began outlining her retinue of services and costs. Before I knew it, Thackeray was whispering in her ear, and exchanging a clutch of notes. She sat down opposite me, and introduced herself. Nervous as I was, we began chatting about all manner of things. She then disrobed to her g-string and began writhing all over me. Leaning in close, rubbing herself down my legs and enticing me. I kept looking to Thackeray, as he egged me on to enjoy it. She angled and contorted, and said nice things to me. Nothing filthy, just lovely compliments. Although I was taken aback when she picked my perfume and commented on my shoes (brand new Marc Jacobs - they are worth complimenting!).
At the end of our allotted time, she redressed and we continued chatting. Thackeray stepped aside for a moment, at which point she began to confide in me like old girlfriends, and gave me relationship advice on how to deal with "someone like" Thackeray. Considering the situation, it was most amusing.
He returned to find us giggling like schoolgirls and asked how I enjoyed it, and if I wanted more. To this, I was unsure what to say. The answer was made easier when he prompted by saying that it was "already taken care of". We then moved upstairs to the more private area, where she began a longer and more seductive version of that started in the first area. The whole time, I reached for Thackeray, and looked toward him. He kept encouraging me to enjoy it, which was a bizarre feeling in itself. I caressed her, and enjoyed her caresses. She felt soft and beautiful, and made me feel the same. But all I could think of was the amazing and sexy man to my right. I realised at the conclusion, that I think women are wonderful and sexy, but really, I do love men.
She again dressed, and sat between us to chat and laugh. She threw compliments at me, waiting for him to catch them and one-up. It was flattering to me. He was very simple in his receipt of all she said, and made it quite clear to her what he and I were quickly departing to go home for. And depart we did, with some sense of urgency.
The evening in itself was surreal and sexy, but turned funny when we finally made it to my room and began quickly discarding each others clothes. Hands on my g-string, he asked me how attached I was to them. I was confused. I was wearing them, so I was attached to them in a slightly physical sense. Before I really had a chance to answer properly, he began to rip them off my person and things rapidly moved from there.
I didn't mind too much going shopping the next day for some more g-strings.