Flash Fiction Friday - Two Sides to Every Story - 8/9

• Required Phrase - advertisement and/or flyer
• Word length - 320 (3 songs for $20)
• Forbidden words - Stripper, bastard, appetizer
• Bonus Points - reflect the viewpoint of both women
• Extra Credit words - Tell us worst experience with a stripper or at a strip club (50 words) and/or, your best (25 words)

Jenny went through the motions, and her listless performance did nothing to wake up the crowd. The place reeked of stale smoke and cheap booze, and even the few women who’d showed up looked bored. Women in the audience could generate a certain level of excitement, but not tonight. The men didn’t just look bored; they looked defeated.

And that’s how Jenny felt; defeated. It was her fourth set, and there just was nothing to work with. Tips would be sparse tonight. She tweaked her nipples to make them erect, and wished her tits were big enough that she could lick the nipples. Some men found that exciting, though she didn’t know why.

The woman sitting with the man in the tie who’d been pounding gin and tonic all night stood and walked toward the stage just as her last number was winding down. This could be interesting.

Carol hadn’t wanted to come to the dance club, but Gary (Professor Turner in class) had insisted, saying it would be fun. All he’d done was scowl, though. Oh, yea, this was a blast!

The flyer said dances were 3 songs for $20; she decided she’d buy a set for Gary. Maybe that would charge him up and they could get out of here. The sex wasn’t great, but it would be better than staying here.

Gary gave her a questioning look when she stood, but she ignored him. The dancer had looked bored before, but now interest shown in her eyes. “What can I do for you, honey?” she asked. Her sultry voice sent unexpected shivers and tingles through Carol.

“Are the dances still 3 for $20?” she asked, puzzled by her own reactions.

The dancer smiled. “That’s for the men. They’re free for you.” Carol gaped at the suggestion, but it only took her a second to decide. She allowed herself to be led to a room behind the stage.

“I’m Jenny,” she said, closing the door and motioning Carol to sit in the chair.

“I’m Carol,” she replied, hesitantly.

“Is this your first lap dance, Carol?” Carol nodded. “Okay, just relax and I’ll take good care of you,” she said, smiling.

Carol’s eyes flicked over to the sign by the door: No Touching! Jenny followed her gaze, then turned back to her and smiled. “That’s for the men too, baby,” she whispered, leaning in close.

I went to the strip clubs off post a lot when I was stationed at Fort Knox. Usually I’d go with a crowd of other guys, but once in a while I’d be horny and bored and go by myself. Alone, I was always too self-conscious to enjoy myself, though, so I didn’t do it often.

The best stripper experience: She was several years older than me (if you allow me a liberal definition of “several”) and a friend, Brad, and I had spent more than several dollars (see above) at the club. She came to us that first night trying to get us to buy a lap dance or overpriced drink (that she’d get a cut of), and though we begged off she wound up sitting with us and talking. Her daughter worked there too, and before long the both of them were at our table. Brad fell in love with the daughter and somehow talked her into a date, but only if I’d take the mom to make it a double date.

I was willing (she had a pretty good body for her age), and so we took them to dinner one night when they were both off, then went back home with them. Brad and the daughter went to her bedroom while the mom and I made out in the living room. I fingered her to a few orgasms that first night, but didn’t get anything in return. She promised more the next time, and sure enough she kept that promise. We dated for a few months, then we just sort of lost touch.

(Brad’s experience wasn’t as good: the daughter kept telling him how broke she was, and hinting that if he could “lend” her some money she’d show her appreciation. Some $500 later, I think he finally got one shot at her, but then she stopped answering his calls. The mother told me (and made me promise not to tell him) that he was just so bad the daughter wasn’t willing to fuck him anymore. I felt bad for him, but later he stole money from me, so fuck him!)

The worst stripper experience: The worst time I ever had in a strip club was when a fight broke out right behind us, catching us between it and the stage. Drunken rednecks (mostly townies not in the military) were swinging chairs and throwing bottles, not really caring if they were hitting the guys they were mad at or us.

I was with a group of 8 people, but when we got in there weren’t two tables at the stage together. So four of us sat on one side and the others sat on the other side. I don’t know what caused the fight, but there was beer and blood everywhere within a few short seconds. The four bouncers were going ape-shit, and rushed into the melee trying to break it up, but they were outnumbered and had a bad plan of action.

See, in a near riot like that, their job isn’t to be peacemakers and get everyone calmed down. When you have 12 or 15 people wailing away at each other, your first job is to get them out of your fucking building! The bouncers were big enough that they should have each grabbed a miscreant and thrown their asses out the door, then rinse and repeat until no more drunken rednecks.

But the bouncers waded in with the idea to pull the fighters apart then move on to the next fighters. Imagine ten ball magnets in a bowl. Pull two of them apart and set them off to the side of the bowl and then pull two more apart, and so on. How long do you think it will take to separate them all while keeping them in the bowl? Exactly; it ain’t gonna happen!

The fight was spreading out more, though, and getting dangerously close to us. I got the attention of one of my buddies and the two of us picked up a table and used it as a shield while we edged around the stage. The other two of our group on that side saw what we were doing and followed us, and we made it around to hook up with our group. I wanted to rush over and help out the bouncers, but one of the other guys said it would be a bad idea. In the heat of the battle, the bouncers wouldn’t know who was “helping” and who needed a hard knock upside the head. Good point.

The best thing about a large group of drunken rednecks fighting is pretty soon they run out of steam. And just like that, the fight was as good as over. The bouncers started pushing them out the door, and as soon as they were cleared out the announcer told everyone else to leave too. They were done for the night. When we got outside, most of the troublemakers were driving off, but I saw two of them over by a pickup talking and laughing.

I recognized them as two of the ones who’d been wailing away at each other inside earlier, so I walked over and grabbed a beer from their six-pack. I explained that they’d cost me the beer I lost inside when the fight started, so I figured they owed me. The agreed readily enough and apologized, and offered everyone else from my group one (they had a cooler full.) We drank until someone came out of the club and run us off.

While we were talking I asked them what started the fight, but they couldn’t tell me. One of them told me they came in as a group, as usual, and two of them were arguing over something so everyone picked a side and started swinging. “It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again,” he said, grinning. They got in the truck and drove off.

I’m trying to remember, but I’m almost positive we never went back to that particular club.

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