Hobby_Guy said:
Oh well. I decided to take one for the team and stopped at "Cheers" on Rt 38 (on mile or so east of Rt 206) near Vincentown at 5 pm on a Friday. It is a BYOB with Fantasy Showbar theme. The talent was 8 or 9 girls. Only one or two of them was worth the effort (6's). The rest were 1's or 2's at best. (Ok, I am a tough grader).
The place is strange.
It's definitely "up market" from (and generally nicer than) many of the putatively similar venues in the area (such as the PH, the Erotic Cafe, and especially those atrocious "Fantasy Showbar" places with the huge black-on-white billboards/signs blaring out "Live Nude Girls!" in four-foot tall lettering. But OTOH, the operation is so transparently mechanical that it takes much of the fun out of it.
I was there (for the first -- and possibly last, but I've not really decided that yet -- time) a few weeks ago with some friends, late (perhaps midnight or so) on a Friday night. It was pretty busy, and the first seats we found were up near the runway/stage at the "back" of the room; but, despite being very close to the action, the view was actually so bad (in part because of an atrociously annoying blinding strobe light which is so badly aimed that it sweeps directly over the tables every few seconds) that we moved to the bar as soon as some spots opened up. That was certainly better in terms of relaxing and viewing; but the dollar-parade at the bar was downright brutal. The girls (which I would rate a bit more generously than you did -- perhaps 4-7 on average; but even at that, there were more under-par examples floating around than the few "maybe an 8, after I've had three beers" exceptions -- and the bartender was definitely
the cutest thing in the house) were coming around almost faster than we could stuff bills into their bras/thongs; and they were not at all subtle about wanting at least three of them each, in rapid succession -- then, boom, it was off to the next "mark" (which is exactly how this artless exercise made us feel
).
And of course, the hustling for couch dances was equally relentless. I was strongly considering foregoing that "pleasure" entirely, in part because of the aggressive/arrogant way it was being "pushed", and in part because of the near-usurious rates ($30 per song, with each "song" being a coldly calculated timer interval -- beyond the fact that it is arguably overpriced, I find this degree of cynical greed on the management's part to be simply insulting). If I wanted to be treated like cattle, I'd go buy an airline ticket.
But after a bit, I succumbed to a particularly stunning blonde (apparently Brazillian, but I didn't catch her name) in a low-cut black dress with a truly stupendous (but, as I was to later discover, man-made) chest. So off we went to the curtain area, with me silently promising myself that it would be "one and done".
However, it didn't turn out quite that way... Blondie was not only even better looking without (most of) her clothes, she was also a quite enthusiastic performer. She was all over me, including in some highly improbable near-acrobatic positions. Roaming was encouraged, which is what led to the inescapable conclusion that she had seen a
very good plastic surgeon. And before we were two minutes into the "song", she had my shirt basically off, my fly open, and was alternating between dry-humping my undies and some pseudo-Russian. This was all going well enough that when she issued the obligatory "Another?" invitation at the (apparent) four-minute (but it seemed like less) mark, I went against my better judgement (and my earlier vow) and said something to the effect of, "If you keep going further, I will."
Well, she kept going further.
Pretty much as soon as she had the go-ahead, the undies were pulled down, and the pseudo-Russian stopped being "pseudo-". My, my, my.
That magnificent chest was even nicer when presented this way. So nice in fact that, much to my own surprise (I'm usually a rather slow-riser, so to speak), I soon felt myself becoming ready to deliver unto her a protein present. I (briefly) thought about being the consummate gentleman and suppressing it; but then, that
was the point of those little curtained booths, right? So...... She actually seemed surprised, perhaps even a bit annoyed (probably because she knew her chance to milk me for a third/fourth/whatever-th $30 was now gone), as she looked around (unsuccessfully) for something to clean up with. Alas, I'm afraid she learned her economics lesson quickly; for a little later, one of my friends made the trip to Curtain Land with her, and wound up staying for something like eight "songs". I sure hope he got his money's worth.
Good luck to other adventurers.
Seconded, but with a caveat... I strongly suspect that one of the main reasons I was able to get the "mileage" I did, especially in only two "songs", was due in large part to Blondie's relative inexperience. Surely, before long she (and her compatriots) will master the fine art of extending the tease to lucrative (for her) proportions -- at which point, a mediocre value will become a decidedly poor one.
.
