My First Visit To A Strip Club

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My first visit to a strip club was actually an accident. I know you’re not believing that statement so here’s the story. Back when I was either nineteen or twenty the drinking age in Idaho was nineteen. One Saturday night a friend of mine and I decided we would go bar hopping in Idaho. We couldn’t do it in Washington state because the legal drinking age in Washington was twenty-one. So we set off on our adventure. We ended up in Coeur d'Alene. We went to this bar and that nightclub. We spend maybe an hour at each. At about one in the morning we headed home. On the way home we decide to stop at a little out-of-the-way bar just to see what it was like. We were looking for a different place to go for the following Saturday night. We poked our heads in and was told there was a two dollar cover charge. We told the guy we were just looking. What we saw was a dark place with a bunch of tables covered with lit candles. Only a few people sat around talking, mostly men. Nothing was happening on the stage. We just thought the stage was there for a band to play. I guess it escaped us that there was no dance floor or instruments on stage. It was late and we were on our way home. So we left and decided that’s where we would go the following week. After all, we didn’t want to pay a two dollar cover fee and only have one drink. At the time they quit selling alcohol at two in the morning. The following week we drove to the bar. We paid the two dollar charge and sat at a table about halfway back from the stage. We ordered a couple of beers. As we sat there talking, music started playing and out came this woman on stage, dancing. “What if she starts taking off her clothes?” I joked with my friend. “She won’t do that,” my friend said. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.” The woman twirled around and I thought I saw her bare bottom. But I wasn’t sure since the split dress she had on quickly covered her backside. Then she whipped off her blouse and threw it on the stage behind her. Then off came the dress. She danced wearing nothing but a bra and G-string. In those days there were no poles for them to whirl around (or at least this place didn’t have one). Then, whoosh, off came the bra! The woman started shaking, making her breast flop this way and that way. My friend and I sat there with our mouths hanging open. Of course, being two red-blooded American young men–we couldn’t look away. She pulled down on her G-string. Next thing I knew she whirled it over her head–naked as a jaybird. She let it fly across the stage. Gyrated all over the place. The men in the bar whistled, shouted and threw money on the stage. The music stopped. The woman grabbed the money, ran across the stage picking up her clothes, then disappeared behind a black curtain. The whole thing probably went on for fifteen minutes, but it seemed to only lasted two or three minutes. I glance at my friend. “Let’s drink up and get out of here,” he said. “You don’t want to see what happens next?” I asked. “No.” We finished our beers and left. And that was my first visit to a strip club. Now the place has been rebuilt into a huge place with signs everywhere advertising it’s a strip club. But I have never been back to the place since my first misguided visit. Have you ever gone somewhere where you thought was a certain type of business only to learn it was something totally different?