Naked Came The Poker Player

OK, I admit, the title of the post is somewhat misleading.  There are no naked poker players in this post.  And  that’s probably a good thing, generally speaking.  It’s just that I’ve had that title running through my brain for some time now, and I really like it. And since I’m not very likely to ever have a post that really fits that title, why not use now, in deference to Stripper Week. (Links to the other blogs that participated in Stripper Week are at the end of this post)

“Stripper Week”?  What’s that you ask?  Well, the idea was hatched by JT88keys on his blog this week, and it was sort of a follow up to last week’s “Hooker Week” as explained here.  “Hooker Week” was conceived by grrouchie but he said it was inspired by me.  Anyway, it is thus “Stripper Week” in the poker blogosphere and I will put all the appropriate links to other “Stripper Week”-appropriate posts at the bottom of this post, and I will keep updating this as the posts come in.  So plan on checking back here later.

Unfortunately, it’s been many, many years since I’ve been in a strip club, and the best story I have from such an establishment is one I heard second hand.  But when your country calls, you have to answer, and thus I give you this post.

Back in the early days of my Vegas visits (like early 1980’s), my friend and I always visited together.  On one of our early visits we dropped into the Palomino Club in North Las Vegas.  I’ve already discussed this establishment a bit in this post here when I discovered that they now had nude male dancers on the weekend and that one of the regular players at the BSC was in fact a nude male dancer there.  But in the ’80’s, only women took their clothes off there.

The most unique feature of the club was that unlike most strip clubs that had full frontal nudity, it served alcohol.  That really wasn’t much of a factor for us anyway, as my pal didn’t drink at all and I could pretty much take it or leave it.  I believe our first visit was during day time because we had our doubts about the quality of the neighborhood.

The show was ok, nothing out of the ordinary until a big blonde came on stage.  She had a western outfit on, had big hair, had big tits, and much to our surprise, had a microphone and began doing a “routine.”  Rather than just take off her clothes and dance, she actually had a sort of a comedy act.

When she spoke, she had a sort of twang like Dolly Parton, who was very big at that time.  With the hair, the tits, and the voice, I immediately referred to her as “The Dolly Parton of Sleaze.”

She told some jokes and talked a lot about cowboys.  Oh and somewhere along the way she got completely naked. She then picked a guy from the audience, someone sitting right on the stage (or the runway, as we called it then) and did a lot of schtick with him.  She asked him if he was a cowboy or made him a honorary cowboy or something like that.  Then she tied his hands behind his back.  Then she said something like, “You know what a cowboy wants to do after a long day of herding cattle?  He wants to eat a big meal!  He’s hungry.”  She asked the guy whose hands she tied if he wanted a snack.  He of course said yes.

Then she said, “You know what cowboys like to eat after a hard day on the ranch? Peanut Butter!” From somewhere, she whipped out a jar of peanut butter.  And she dipped her fingers in the peanut butter and began to spread it on her inner thighs.  Her upper inner thighs.  Leaning the stage, she put her legs on the guys shoulders in such a way that the guy’s face was extremely close to the stripper’s bush (back then, all women had them).  She said to the guy, “Come on, cowboy, eat up!”  And then with her hands on the stage and her legs on the guy’s shoulders. She started bouncing and writhing around like crazy, thrusting her inner thighs, and a lot more I’m sure, into the guys face, who was presumably licking up the peanut butter….and probably something else.  The way this looked from our seats, there was no way the guy didn’t get his face into the “promised land” repeatedly. It was hard to consider this as anything other than a sex act.

I said to my pal, “I think we’re actually witnessing an act of prostitution.”  Now I don’t know if lap dances existed back then, but for sure I had never heard of them, nor had I ever seen anything quite like this in a public place. But this was well beyond any type of lap dance I’ve heard about since, and the guy didn’t even pay for it, other than the same admission/2 drink minimum we all paid. I can’t say I didn’t find it interesting.  Anyway, after a few minutes or less, she stopped, got up, sorta cleaned up the guy’s face, which had peanut butter—at the very least—all over it, took a bow and thanked the guy for being a good sport!

We left soon thereafter as the rest of the girls did much more routine sets.  But we couldn’t stop talking about “The Peanut Butter Lady.”  It was certainly unique.  Sure the “in your face” part was interesting, but we both enjoyed that she actually was an “entertainer” and not just a stripper, and we figured we might return there on her next visit to see if we could see her or some other girl put on a show above and beyond just taking her clothes off and dancing naked (not that that isn’t a good thing in and of itself). 

So next trip to Vegas we returned to the Palomino Club.  We didn’t see anything like the Peanut Butter Lady (then, or ever again).  Instead, we saw something better.  Much, much, better.

We’d been there awhile and they introduce the next dancer, “Angela.”  I’m using her real stage name here because, well I suspect she wasn’t really named “Angela” and besides, this was a long time ago and I have to assume she is no longer taking her clothes off for money.  Anyway, Angela comes out in a Western outfit, chaps, etc, much like the PB Lady.  But she was a brunette, long dark hair.  And she was wearing a 10 gallon cowboy hat.  And just looking at her with her clothes on, she made “the Dolly Parton of sleaze” look flat-chested. 

And then, at some point, as strippers inevitably do, she took her top off.  This was a good thing.  This was a very good thing.  This was a very, very good thing.  There were audible gasps.  Tongues were on table.  It was a sight to behold.

There is no way for me to describe Angela that will do her justice, and no way to describe her without lending credence to the notion that I am “obsessed with bosoms” as announced here.  But Angela had the most awesome looking breasts I’d ever seen in my life, before or since.  They weren’t just big, but they didn’t sag, they didn’t droop (except the tiniest bit, perhaps) and they were perfectly shaped.  And they were natural.  How could I be sure?  Because of the way they moved, because they were “breast-shaped” and one other reason I’ll get to shortly.

Once she was more or less completely naked, it was obvious that Angela had the best looking female body I’d ever seen in my life.  Because aside from her incredible, natural chest, she was actually kind of skinny.  Almost too skinny, except for her chest.  Oh, to be sure, she had shapely legs and a nice ass, but she also had a totally flat stomach, narrow waist.  But when those tits moved out of the way, you could see the outline of her ribcage.  Really, she was a total freak of nature.  Women who are that naturally that big on top tend to be a little bit on the heavy side else, since breast tissue is basically fat.  Not Angela.  The best way to describe her may be to say that she was basically a real life, human version of Jessica Rabbit.

Oh and by the way, she had a very pretty face as well.  We kind of thought there was a resemblance to Lynda Carter, and this was not far removed from her Wonder Woman days when she was looking mighty good.  So imagine Lynda Carter with the most spectacular body you could possibly envision.  Yeah.  She was that sizzling.

At one point, Angela did a bit where she took off her 10 gallon hat, stuffed her tits into it, and of course, it stayed up perfectly, no hands.  She probably could have kept a much bigger hat up.  Then she walked around, stark naked save the hat covering her chest, and shook her ta-ta’s.  It was quite an interesting sight, but she took the hat off after a short while, much to the delight of everyone in the crowd.

Now the first couple of times we went to Palomino Club, we actually saw no one tip the girls.  Apparently that idea hadn’t taken hold yet.  So Angela went over to random guys sitting at the runway and did something I’m sure they’ll never forget.  She grabbed their heads and stuck one of her tits in it.  I didn’t see anyone complaining about that.  I believe our friend and I were not lucky enough to be chosen for this experience the first time we went.  But when we went back on our next trip (oh yes, we went back), we saw guys tipping the girls and realized that now, the way Angela thanked the guys who tipped her was to shove a tit in their face. This only cost a buck, and after experiencing this, my friend and I both agreed that this was “the best buck we ever spent.”  There was no better value in Vegas, I assure you.  Anyway, this was the proof positive that Angela’s breasts were “original factory installed equipment” and not “after market.”

Angela made such an impression on us that from then on, every time we went to Vegas, we called over to see when she was working and made sure we went she was there.  She never disappointed. And we never saw any other girls there that were even close to as memorable as she was.  When she stopped working there, we stopped going there.  By then, more and more of the girls had only those “after market” breasts to ogle, and neither of us were fans of some plastic surgeon’s work. 

So my last stripper story probably took place before the ones above, and happened to someone else, a friend I’ll call Matt. Matt was dating a girl I’ll call Tiffany, because that sounds like a stripper’s name and Tiffany was not a stripper.  If I recall the story correctly, Tiffany had been in some kind of traffic accident and had scars over her body and was very sensitive to how she looked naked.  Despite that, or possibly because of it, Tiffany had a fascination with strip clubs and strippers.

She kept begging for Matt to take her to a local strip club in L.A. and one day he finally gave in.  Matt wanted to sit away from the runway but Tiffany insisted that they sit on the runway.  I believe a comment was made by someone how unusual it was to see a woman on the runway.

So at one point a girl comes out and she gets completely naked and her thing (maybe all the girls at this club’s thing) was to get down the stage, hands behind her on the stage, and spread her legs right in front of certain guys on the runway so that these guys got a really good look at “the promised land”.  I don’t remember if these were guys who put dollar bills on the stage or they were picked randomly.

Now the girl was showing her goods to either Matt or the guy on the other side of Tiffany.  And Tiffany apparently found this particularly part of her routine rather amusing.  Involuntarily, she let started to laugh

The girl with her legs spread did not appreciate that.  Without moving her body, she managed to turn her head in such a way that she was looking directly at Tiffany.  And, according to Matt, she shot Tiffany one of the all time great, “if looks good kill” looks.  It was so severe that Tiffany put her hand to her mouth and stopped laughing immediately.  There was a kind of deadly silence for an instant.  I’m guessing Tiffany was trying to figure out if and how she should apologize.

So Matt leans over to Tiffany and whispers, “You’ve just learned a very important lesson in life.  Never laugh when a girl shows you her vagina.” 

Posts celebrating “Stripper Week” are below:

http://jt88keys.blogspot.com/2012/03/stripper-stories.html

http://craftysouthpaw.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-stripper-story-and-my-apology-to.html

http://jt88keys.blogspot.com/2012/03/two-more-stripper-stories.html

http://veryjosie.blogspot.com/2012/03/best-intentions.html

http://goberude.blogspot.com/2012/03/stripper-story.html

http://lightning36.blogspot.com/2012/03/strip-joint-story-yes-place-was-as.html

http://veryjosie.blogspot.com/2012/03/up-close-and-personal-with-male-hooker.html

http://grrouchie.blogspot.com/2012/03/stripper-confessions.html

http://musingsofacrankycaregiver.blogspot.com/2012/03/twofer-hooker-story-and-stripper-story.html

http://goberude.blogspot.com/2012/03/strip-club.html

http://sirfwalgman.blogspot.com/2012/03/stripper-week.html

Now Carmel has weighed in, be sure to read her two hysterical entries in this order:

http://bebopcarmel.blogspot.com/2012/03/its-not-destination-its-journeymy-strip.html

http://bebopcarmel.blogspot.com/2012/03/and-then-what-had-happened-was.html