Archive for January, 2009

Short Break

Posted: January 27, 2009 in Musings
Tags: , , ,

Alright folks, I was away all last week and have run out of comics to post up. So I’ve decided to take this week off to recharge and get some drawings done. I’ll try and talk Jack into doing something for Sunday, but it takes a hell of a long time to motivate him. Seriously. Like trying to get a walrus to ice skate.

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And that’s how my New Year started. Let’s hope the rest of it is as eventful.

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It’s all true.

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Dude can do action, can’t fault him for that.

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Before Christmas, we got the house a 360. It’s been bloody good fun, but Jack’s addiction to massive role-playing games is pretty obscene.

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Please welcome Nikki into the GUMO family! She works with me at the store and she’s an absolute treasure. We’ll be seeing a lot more of Nikki in the coming months, methinks…

On another note, I hope you enjoyed last week’s experiment. It was a fun challenge to put together and a good story to tell. We also passed three landmarks: numbers 69 and 70, as well as my 100th post on this blog thing. Good stuff all round. More experiments in future? If you liked that one, maybe I’ll think up some others.

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This is what he was doing while I was terrified out of my mind in a booth. Sly fox.

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All in all, we had a simply smashing time and cannot wait to repeat the experience in the new year. The reason for this delay is that, while definitely worthwhile, the world of gentlemen’s clubs is very expensive. Our total spend for the night was close to £180.

And we regret nothing. I must urge you to visit such an establishment as soon as possible. There really is nothing like it.

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The private booth was very small and dimly lit. One small yellow bulb provided enough light to see the dancers in something approaching natural colours. The booth itself was wide enough for the dancers to move around with grace and ease, but small enough to place hands and feet on the walls without losing balance or stride.

The speakers in the booth continued to play the music that was pumped throughout the venue, allowing the dancer to time her movements to the song. (It was especially good if you were familiar with the song!)

There was a comfortable padded leather bench for seating. I awkwardly took a perch on the edge and said to Kira, “So… um, what do I do?” She instructed me to sit with my back to the wall and to place my hands out at my sides. I obliged. She then requested that my legs be parted for the experience. After three attempts of opening my legs wider, I finally got the correct space.

“And now wha-” I began. I say ‘began’, dear fellow, because before I could finish the sentence, Kira had started her dance and thrust her heaving breasts directly into my face.

As nervous as I had been before – rambling on in an Edwardian dialect – this was something else. Something entirely new. In pure terror, I slammed my mouth shut and stared straight forward.

Her skin was absolutely incredible, a body lotion smelling lightly of coconut that made the dance moves slide so, so gently across one’s face as if they were velvet. So soft. So wonderful. Indescribable.

As enjoyable as this was, I had several thoughts running through my mind, all fighting for attention at once. The bouncer’s words echoed, growing steadily louder and more infuriating: NO TOUCHING OF THE GIRLS.

As Kira took her clothes off and continued to dance in nothing but a pair of dangerously high stilettos – dangerous because I always worried about their ability to pierce flesh when placed upon my thigh – it suddenly dawned upon me that I could not interact with this beautiful Latino woman in any way. She raised her leg and rested it against the wall behind my head, moving her womanly parts mere inches from my face. The words grew louder. NO TOUCHING OF THE GIRLS.

All I had to do was extend my tongue, or sneeze, move forward in some way, and I would be face-deep in Heaven County, population: Me.

However, the words echoed on forever in my mind and sheer terror froze me to my spot. The song finished. Kira kissed me on the cheek and thank me. I thanked her back and left the booth, deeply shaken but utterly grateful.

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With the private booths all occupied, Kira and I took seats while waiting. Conversation was made – she was very at ease with the art of interrogation. The same cannot be said for myself, so terrified at the prospect of what might lay beyond the heavy black curtain hanging over the entrance to the booth that I could only speak in stilted Edwardian tones.

The conversation took a turn as I accidentally insulted her and had to be comforted. Awkward and slightly soul-crushing as it was, the moment was swept quickly aside by a booth becoming available.

Taking me by the hand, Kira led me inside the chamber of woman.

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