My Second And Final Visit To A Strip Club

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My first visit to a strip club was by accident but my second visit was not of my decision. I was tricked into going. Back in the mid-1970s my brother was living in Oregon. I had a weeks vacation from work so I went down to visit him. I had planned to stay four days. The second day there my brother asked, “Want to come with me to see a show?” I thought a movie. “Sure. I’m up to seeing a movie.” My brother made no remarks about that. So we jumped into his vehicle and headed down the mountain towards Salem. But when we reached Salem my brother turned north and drove out of Salem. “Where are we going?” I asked. “There are some movie theaters here in Salem, aren’t there?” “We’re going to Portland. There’s a better show there,” my brother said with a slight smile. When we reached Portland my brother drove around until we ended up in a seedy area of town. Then he pulled into a parking lot by an old rundown building. It looked like an old movie theater. “Is this it?” I asked. “Yeah.” “This is a pretty dumpy place,” I said. “They have really good shows here,” my brother said. As we approached the building I realized it was a strip club. “I don’t want to go in there,” I told my brother. “Come on, don’t be so wimpy.” “I’m not paying for this.” “I’m paying.” My brother grabbed my arm and pulled me through the entrance. He had to pay for a membership for each of us plus an entry fee. Inside the place looked like an old rundown theater. My brother and I took seats about five rows back from the stage. The lights dimmed. Then we heard yelling that sounded like women arguing. A man standing down by the stage raced behind the stage. The yelling stopped and a woman strolled out on the stage wearing what looked like a bathrobe. The woman pulled one side of the robe over one shoulder then the other. She opened it to show one leg then the other. Then she whipped it off. She wore a bikini under the robe. She slid one side of the bikini top up one of her breast, not quite exposing her nipple, pulled it back down and slid the other side up and back down. Then she yanked her top off. She danced around the stage then strolled down the stairs on the side of the stage and danced into the audience. As she danced a small pin-light followed her every move. An announcement came over a loud speaker. “It is illegal to touch the girls so do not touch them.” The woman went between the seats dancing in front of each man. I saw men rubbing the woman’s side and bottom, but she did not react to it. Men were also stuffing money into her bikini bottom. Then the music stopped. The woman leaned back on the seat in the row in front of the row of seats she was dancing. She stood in front of a man and started talking to the man like they were having a conversation in a restaurant or anyplace else. It really struck me as odd. Here the woman was with her naked breasts dangling in plain view and she was talking to this guy as if she was fully dressed. The music started again and the woman continued to dance down between the seats. Then she danced down the aisle and back upon the stage. Another woman came out and started dancing. Only this time the woman took everything off. She danced off the stage and into the audience. Again the announcement was made to not touch the women. She came up to the row of seats where my brother and I sat. She came down and danced in front of my brother then she moved over in front of me. She gyrated her “nakedness” six inches from my face. Then the music stopped. She leaned back on the chair in the row in front of me. “How did you get into do this?” I asked her. Apparently she didn’t like my question. She didn’t say anything–just gave me a annoyed glare. A “mind your own business” glare. The music started and she danced away. Several other women came out and danced. I don’t know how long we were there but it was nearly dark when we left. “I’m going to throw this membership card away,” I said to my brother. “Don’t do that,” he said. “It’s good for a year. You can use it again on your next visit.” “I don’t want to go there again.” “Give it to me then. I’ll give it to someone who will use it.” I gave him the card. That is how my second and final visit to a strip club went. Read about my first visit here: