Growing Up, Moving On #72: Gentlemen’s Night Part 6 – My First Lapdance

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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