Gentleman's Club

So I find myself out of town on a Saturday night in a town of 300 in a gentleman's club. I'm used to big cities. On a Tuesday afternoon there can be be 50 people in one of these clubs. Now it's Saturday night, I'm expecting quite a crowd. To my surprise there's only 12 people here. It's gets better, it's all nude. You can't imagine the benefits of an all nude club. Local law prohibits the selling of booze in all nude clubs. I know, benefit? The benefit is that right next door (the doors are literally 3 ft apart) there's a bar. So, you drink a beer; then go next door to look at tits, ass, and pussy. Then flip flop. The greatest part is that the whores have to go next door to drink as well.

I go next door in an effort to continue my buzz and who sits next to me? A whore. Immediately I feel as though I'm being interviewed. Bro had warned me that women in small towns are only looking for one thing, husbands. This explains the interview process. I politely explain to the young lady wearing the barest of essentials that I live with family out of town and am damn near the poverty line at 15k/year. In my mind this should've been enough to turn the young clothes shedder away. I guess I must be that good, because I could barely believe what happened next. She started buying ME drinks. This was the first time that I ever had a whore buy me a drink in a titty bar.

Since luck is on my side I decide that I may as well see exactly how far I can push it. Whore agrees to complete honesty and says she doesn't mind if I say exactly what's on my mind. 5 minutes and 2 drinks after meeting her I offer her $20 to have sex with me in the parking lot. Well I guess this is not etiquette in small town USA because she is put back just a little by my comment. She suggests that we get to know each other a bit and see where the night takes us. Under normal circumstances this would be fine, but I had been drinking for 10+ hours now. I know that my conscious time is limited now. I decide to go for it. Here I am getting stinky fingers and an over the clothes hand job in a tiny bar in a tiny town. I would love to report the rest of the evening, but unfortunately we shut down the drinking bar and the last thing I remember is scantly clad whore ordering me one more double shot. After that the evening is a blur. Maybe in the future I will ask Brother what happened at the end of that evening, but for now he was not much in the chatty mood. He had his hands full with cleaning up. Someone (he claims it was me) puked in his new truck and peed on the couch that I was sleeping on.