Richard Thruster

Reader B writes:

You mentioned how crazy it was or some such thing and said to remind you for a review…well, here is a reminder! I always wondered about that place, went in once, played a game of pool and it felt like another dimension. my friend was asked if he had any coke and if he wanted sex – in a matter of 45 minutes. jeez!

Yikes!  I’ve wondered about that place for a while now too.  My experience wasn’t nearly that interesting, but it was certainly a curious one.  I was in there back in July or so.  Weird weird place.  First off, it’s located in a weird spot on 3rd Ave underneath the Golden Dragon.  Second, there always seems to be zero traffic.  Third… well, let me tell you my story.

Like I said, this was back in July.  It was the same night I reviewed the Cabaret I.  I’d strategically parked my car on 3rd so I’d have to walk back by Carnaval on the way back.  Walking in, I could tell this would be a different experience.  The guy at the cash register asked for a $7 cover, which for a juice bar is extremely cheap.  I paid my admission and walked around the screen into a nearly empty room.  A suicide girl was on stage twirling glow balls and trying to look artistic while naked.  Like Jenny Gump meets Elvira or something.  Only she had a short bleach blonde pixie haircut.  And she was thin.  Next to no body.  Sometimes those things haven’t developed when you’re underage.

Anyway, there was no one at the rail.  Just a couple toward the back and two slack-jawed teenagers off to the side who never blinked.  Judging by their look, I’m guessing these may have been the first naked girls they’ve seen.  That took me back.  I made my way over to the bar for the requisite gouging.  The server told me it would be $3 for a cup of Diet Pepsi.

Three bucks!  Wait a minute!  $7 to get in.  $3 for a soda.  And no one at the rail.  How do these people make their money?  Something’s fishy.

I parked myself at the end of the stage nearest the door and waited for the show.  Next up was Mercedes.  A Brunette, as I recall.  A good looking body, but she wasn’t that into me.  Instead the couple from the back of the room made their way to the stage and took in the show.  Fine, I figured.  More time to check the place out.  Along the north wall there was a series of small rooms for  the private dances.  All of them had doors for privacy.  In most places, even the VIP room isn’t completely walled off with a door.

Mercedes left and up came The Fat One.  I can’t remember her name, but I do remember the baby phat oozing off of her from every angle.  She took an immediate interest in me and started hammering me for a dance.

“What’s involved in a dance?” I asked.

“Well,” she replied, “we go back into one of those rooms.  I get naked.  You get naked.  And we play with ourselves.”

“What?” I asked and she stroked my head with one hand and her breast with another.

“We’ll have so much fun,” she purred.

“What if I don’t want to get naked?”

“You don’t have to.  You can do whatever you want.”

Yeee….  I didn’t plan on it, but evidently I’d wandered into one of those “jack shacks”.  No further explanation needed.  I’d heard about these places, but had never actually been in one.

I let TFO finish her dance and waited for Chloe to hit the stage.  Chloe was by far the cutest of the bunch.  And she was friendly too.  Not TFO friendly.  Just friendly.  She also worked me for a dance.  I thought I’d give it a whirl with her, only I’d be keeping my pants on.

“How much is one of these private dances?”

“Well, we can do a half-hour for $150 or fifteen-minutes for $110.”

!!!!!!!!!!

“I have a little vibrator I put on my clit,” she continued, “it’s a lot of fun.”

“I bet it is, but I think I’ll pass.”

Wow.  Now I understood where the money was.  $150 for a half-hour and she won’t touch me?  Huh.  If you go to Craigslist, you’ll find any number of girls willing to do a whole lot more for the same $150.  I’ve never done anything like that, but like any other single Craigslister, I’ve certainly checked them out.  It’s just like reading the old Willamette Week.

No one offered me any drugs or any sex.  I could see though where a place like that may lend itself to such activities.  Wow.  I guess I’m gonna have to be a little more selective about some of the places I visit.

Reader Matt asks:

What club would you recommend for the best couch dances..preferably offering the the most contact and nude.

That’s a complicated question, filled with a lot of ins and outs and what-have-yous.  There are a ton of factors when considering the best couch dance in Portland.  Are you looking for contact?  Are you looking for nude?  Are you looking for nude contact? Each of those three categories brings to mind a different club.  So let’s take them in order.

Best couch dance (full-contact):  The Dolphin II.  A year ago, I would have said the Dolphin I, but all of their best dancers have moved to the Beaverton location.  The remodel at the original location may perk things up over there, but at the end of the day it’s a difficult place to get to.  Anyway, make sure you bring lots of Jacksons and ask for Roxxie.  It’s well worth the extra cash to take her into the VIP room.  Good times will flow.

Best Couch Dance (Nude):  I’m gonna go a little off the reservation here and suggest you check out the 505 Club.  There’s something about sitting back in an easy chair and watching a girl straddle you that gets the heart pumping.  They’re not the best looking girls out there, but for all-nude dancing, there are few better places.

Best Couch Dance (Nude and full-contact):  The OLCC is pretty strict about what you can and cannot do inside a strip club that serves alcohol.  That’s what makes the juice bar a different beast.  I’ve been reminded a couple of times that I need to do my write-up of Carnaval.  That will come this week, I promise.  In the meantime, if you’re looking for naked contact, may I recommend Jiggles.  Yes, the cover is steep.  And yes there’s no alcohol.  But if nude contact is what you want, you have to go where it is.  And Jiggles has it in spades.

Now.  There’s another place you need to check out if you’re looking for occasional random contact.  That place is the Dolphin 1.  Last time I was in there, I got a face full of breasts out of the blue.  And every now and then, you’ll get a random girl-on-girl show.  Again, out of the blue.  These aren’t things you can request.  They just sort of happen.

So there’s my brief guide to the best couch dance in Portland.  Or best lap dance in Portland.  Whatever.

Is there someplace or someone I’ve missed?  Let me know in the comments!

You’re no doubt heard about it. Here it is! [NSFW]

Is it her? You tell me…

According to Local News Daily, Exotica Club For Men has been fined a little over $6400 for some OLCC violations including fights, bitings, stabbings, and use of firearms.  Yikes!  They were also a little lax about letting underage dancers out on the floor.

From what I saw earlier this summer, most of the required changes have already been made.  It seemed pretty sedate.  I’ll have to make my way back in there again some Saturday night to see how things are.

It’s been a long couple of weeks.  While I haven’t had time to write, I’ve definitely had time to check some places out.  Reviews will be up shortly.

No doubt by now you’ve seen the Britney Spears video from last weekend’s VMA awards down in Vegas. If you haven’t, you can see it here. She’s been getting absolutely pasted in both the press and the blogosphere. She definitely sleepwalked through the whole thing and I suspect would have rather been anywhere else. But Girlfriend’s gotta make a living, and so a living she makes.

The other major criticism centered on her appearance. They say she looked fat and jiggly. Personally I didn’t see it that way, but that’s just me. Could she have worn something different? Yeah. Clearly she doesn’t have the body for that outfit, but compared to the majority of American women, Britney is still looking damned good. She should be an inspiration to baby’s mamas nationwide.

Why invoke the name of Britney when I’m getting ready to review another club? Well, as I sat at the rail tonight, all I could think of was how Britney would stack up with the girls of East County. I gotta tell you, she’d look pretty good.

The 505 has been on my list of places to check out for a long time. I always stumble across it when I’m trying to get from one place to another and make a note to come back. Before tonight though, I couldn’t have told you where it was. It’s here. Basically I drove out Division until I got bored, then turned left. A quick left on Burnside and I was there.

Like most clubs in the area, the 505 appears to have had another intended use at one time. I’m gonna guess it used to be a Skippers. Maybe a Wendy’s. Whatever. You can still see the drive-thru running along side the building. I think that stuff is kinda cool when I find it. It’ll never beat watching girls dance across the buffet table at the old North’s Chuckwagon, but it’ll do.

As with all clubs, I never quite know what to expect walking in. It being a Friday night, a cover of some sort is certainly the norm and I was prepared to pay. As I entered, I looked immediately for a bouncer and a cash register. What I found was a guy leaning up against a video poker machine and a girl thumbing through the jukebox. No bouncers. No $5. Just a couple of pool tables, a couple of stages, and a bar. No frills. It’s places like this that I could seriously get used to.

I sat down at the middle stage with my beer (a 22-plus ounce glass of Coors Light for $3.75! I defy you to find a better bargain anywhere in town) and proceeded to check out the show. Evidently I came in at the end of the current set. The girl hurried over to me, sat down on the rail, and immediately gave me a shot of her crotch. She is the first dancer I’ve ever seen who hasn’t shaved a thing down below. I was taken aback for a moment. Wow. I was going to make a bearded clam joke, but I’ve been told that’s beneath me. So I won’t.

She quickly left the stage and the next girl popped up. There was no dj to announce the rotation and there was no intermission between songs. It all happened bang bang bang. So I have no idea who was who in there. I’m still not sure what to think of the no-dj thing. It’s like being in the Bada Bing. Only without the mobsters.

The next girl was a little younger than the last. Probably early-20s. Shoulder-length curly brunette hair. Iset my dollar down on the rail and before I could reach for my beer, she had her butt right in my face. She wore a matching outfit with a cherry theme. Cherries, at least in the adult industry, are used to infer a certain innocence. It’s been my experience however that nothing could be further from the truth. Please witness the slutty goodness of Cherry Rain and the one-trick-pony known as Cherry Poppens. In the case of my new 505 girl, the stretch marks up and down her torso tell me her innocence has been gone for some time. Be that as it may, she gave a decent show with plenty of the eye contact that drives me wild.

As cherry-girl did her wiggling for guys down the rail, I took a look around the place. There are three stages placed in a row across the seating area with a couple of tables off to the side for folks who don’t want to tip. It’s not especially well lit and there are no lighting effects like you might see at the D2. The walls, ceiling, and stages are all painted black. I was hesitant to use the restroom, but found it clean and stocked. For a neighborhood place, it’s pretty decent.

The music struck me as kind of annoying. It was a lot of early-90s “alternative”. Heavy on the Alice In Chains and Nine Inch Nails. I thought about that for a second and realized those tunes are to the 20-somethings what Motley Crue and Def Leppard are to guys my age. That said, if you’re not gonna play hip-hop (I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain’t one!), butt-rock is the only way to go. But that’s just one man’s opinion.

The stage had cleared out by the time the next girl came up. Her name, I found out, was Nicole. Not an especially creative stage name, but whatever. It was gonna be her and me for three songs. She wore a short nightie that went just past her waist and a bikini bottom. Honestly I thought she was with child when I first took a look at her. About 4 or 5 months. But after a few minutes, I figured out it was the Britney effect. Only she didn’t look as though she’d had a kid. She was cute though. Dark skin. Beautiful breasts. And some shimmery lipstick completed her look. Since it was just her and me, she spent the whole set either lying on the rail in front of me, or bent over holding on to the pole.  It was the best $5 table dance I’ve ever received.

At the end of the set, she leaned over and asked if I’d like a private dance.  Well, of course I would.  But only if I could bring my beer.  She assured me I could and away we went.

The private dance area is kind of funky.  It’s basically an easy chair in one corner, slightly obscured by a curtain of beads.  We headed back, hand-in-hand, only to find the chair already occupied by an older gentleman waiting for his dance to begin.  It’s a little disconcerting to look and find another man sitting, legs wide open, in a seat you’ll soon be occupying for the purposes of receiving a dance.  I suppose it’s not unlike sitting on a couch at the D2 or anywhere else, but still.  The site of another man about to receive a lap dance is a buzz kill.  Nicole turned and let me know we’d have to wait a few songs for our moment.  So back to the rail I went.

The next girl had yet to begin her set.  She was busy wiping down the edge of the stage where Nicole had recently been.  I chuckled a little before heading over to the video poker machines.  I held my own for several minutes before Nicole came over and asked me to join her.

I took my place in the chair and we chatted while we waited for the next song to come up.  Nicole tells me she’s been at the 505 for about six months and she liked it so far.  Actually she clasped her chest and announced she loved her job.  If she liked it there, where half the patrons paid no attention to the stage, I bet she’d really like it somewhere else around town.  But it’s Gresham, and really…why leave?  There was a civilian in there who was wearing the same hairstyle she had in her high school yearbook circa 1989 along with the same sweater.  If Gresham is good enough for her…

Soon the song changed and Nicole immediately disrobed.  Butt naked, as an old friend of mine would say.  She then placed one foot on each arm of the chair and proceeded to give me an up-close look at every square inch of her body.  Whenever our skin touche, say arm to leg, she’d flinch and apologize.  There are OLCC rules about such things, whereas at Jiggles, naked girls can climb right up into your lap.  So Nicole went through her paces.  Halfway through she turned around, bent over and jammed her crotch right in my face.

“Well hello,” I said.

She giggled.

I thought briefly about blowing on her, but thought better of it.  The girls go through enough in there and don’t need me blowing on their genitals for a thrill.  Besides as I’m finding, you treat them with a little respect and you’ll be rewarded handsomely.

Our time ended, she put her two-piece back on, and headed back to the stage.  Things were a little busier this time around, so the show wasn’t as good, but she did convey her appreciation to me.  So that’s always nice.

When she left, I only had a single dollar left.  The next girl earned every last bit of it.  A petite blonde with freckles, she put on a show on the pole.  She did the Jewel “hang upside down from the rafter” thing which is always nice to see.  She didn’t do it nearly as well though.  She came over to me, turned around, and threw her body back into mine.  Rubbing my head, she gave me her best fake-pornstar moan and blew into my ear.  Nice, I guess.  But I just wasn’t into it

My last dollar spent, I headed back into the night.  The 505 is actually a pretty decent place.  There are plenty of beers on tap and the kitchen looks to be open all hours.  The girls are a step-up from the Cabaret II and you can’t beat the lack of cover.  If you find yourself in East County, you can do worse.

A quick hello to everyone visiting from Jack Bog’s Blog and OregonLive’s Reddit.  Thanks for stopping by and thanks also for the kind words.  It’s been an interesting day.

Hopefully you’ll bookmark the page and check in often.  There’s still lots of places around town to check out.  If you have a favorite I haven’t seen yet, let me know!

I honestly don’t know how many strip clubs there are in the Portland area. 50-plus, would be a good guess. Each has their pluses and minuses. Everyone has their favorite and that preference is primarily decided by comfort. If you find someplace you like and where you feel at home, the more likely it is you’ll be back. The Dolphin I used to be that place for me. Now it’s the Dolphin 2.

It was my intention Friday night to check out Stars in Beaverton. And I will soon. But my car ended up driving itself to the other side of 217 and straight into the arms of my new favorite.

I pulled in about 10 to find the parking lot only about half full. Weird for a Friday night, I thought. But with football season starting, school starting, and the news from Wall Street this week, I think folks may want to stay in for a little while. Just a hunch.

Anyway, I paid my $5 cover and walked into the room. Jewel was finishing up her set on the back stage, so I parked at a side table and figured she’d be along shortly to say hi. She’s really become one of my favorites. She’s a smart one. And beautiful. Somehow she’s managed to avoid getting any tattoos or surgery. A rarity in the industry. I like that.

As her set ended, another dancer stopped by and sat down. Her name, I think, was Cecilia. She’s blonde. Early 20s. Great smile and very easy to talk to as well. It’s always awkward for me when girls sit down at my table. They’re really only there for one reason and I’d say about 80% of the time, they’re not going to get what they want out of me. But I’m polite and hear them out. Cecilia never really put the screws to me or anything, but I also never told her flat-out “no”. Preferring to drink my beer and think of new ways to turn her down. I told her my 401k had taken a hit that day and I wouldn’t be buying much of anything. She didn’t like that one at all. Too bad.

We kept up with our little verbal dance until it was time for her to go on stage. I felt bad, because I know she’s running her own little business in there. As the DJ reminds us at every chance, dancers are working for tips and tips alone. And time is money for them. So it would behoove them to move on when a guy says no. When they don’t? Hey, that ain’t my problem. What is my problem though is the rest of the night, I kept running into her and we kept having an awkward conversation about a sale that just wasn’t going to happen. There’s a business metaphor in here somewhere, I just can’t figure out what it is.

As Cecilia went to her stage, a girl I hadn’t seen for a long time moved to the center stage. It was Candy from Medford. Freaking weird. She was in town in early August for some competition that she ended up not entering. I moved over to her stage for a couple of reasons. One, she’s cute. Two, I’m a sucker for redheads. And three, on a slow night such as this, it’s best to hang close to the stage so no one will bother you incessantly for a couch dance. Or more.

Candy had a fourth thing going for her. She was wearing this choker that reminded me of my favorite porn star on the planet, Aurora Snow. I first caught Aurora in what turned out to be her second (I think) movie, which was shot on her first day in the industry. It was Real Sex Magazine #32. And I was hooked. She was brand new to the industry and it showed. But unlike some girls who’ll fake their way through a scene just to get it over with, Aurora gave 100% effort even though she wasn’t 100% sure what she was doing. Her effort in Ed Powers’ More Dirty Debutantes #152 was equally great. The girl had literally gone from zero to porn star in the space of a day. And for me, a big part of it was that choker. I have no idea why, but it really did it for me. So Candy had the Aurora choker on and her long hair matches that early Aurora hair. I’m telling you, spending a few minutes with her on-stage was almost like spending time with Aurora herself. And I’m all for that.

After her two songs, Candy exited and it was time for Misty.  She’s really grown on me in my last few visits.  She’s a petite blonde with a cute face and a beautiful ass.  She’s clearly getting more comfortable on stage.  When I first saw her, she kept her butt covered almost the entire time.  Now she seems to be a lot happier with her body.  And whoa is she flirty.

She and I had the stage next to the video poker machines all to ourselves and she put on a great show for me.

“It’s almost like getting a own couch dance, isn’t it?” she cooed into my ear.

Yes it was.  She gave me all her angles and plenty of close-ups.  When you go out there, and I can’t recommend highly enough that you do, make sure you grab her and take her back to the couches.  You won’t be disappointed.

After she left, I worked my way back over to the poker machines.  I had zero luck which was compounded by one dancer literally draping herself over me, asking me to “celebrate” back in the VIP room.

Celebrate?  What, exactly?  That I was getting mauled by a machine?  Very nice.  But like I said, it was a slow night and a mark is a mark.  So I cashed out and headed straight back to a stage.

Right as I sat down, the DJ made a cryptic announcement.  Something about “Darius”.  I looked over to the entrance and there in a red baseball jersey and St. Louis Cardinals cap was Portland Trail Blazer Darius Miles.  He and former Blazer Zach Randolph gained well-earned reputations for showing up at various strip clubs around town.  I was bound to run into him sooner or later.

He took a seat at the end of the bar nearest the door and just chilled.  After a few minutes a security guy showed up with at least $500 in fresh singles and handed them to Miles.  Darius divided the stacks and gave one to each of his buddies.  It was “make it rain” time.  Unlike other lame attempts I’ve seen in other clubs though, this one was gonna be the real deal.

Each of the guys worked their way around the various stages, stood behind an empty chair, and watched as the girls worked the pole.  When the moment was right, they’d peel off several bills and throw them into the air.  $20, $30 at a time.  They didn’t spend a lot of time in one location, preferring to move.  One guy came over to the stage I was at and took up a position straight across from me.  He peeled off a few bills and threw them.  Then the girl sat down on a chair and opened her legs wide right at him.

“Just throw ‘em right in there!” I yelled over the music.

He looked over at me, smiled, took half a strap and did just that.  We nodded to each other and he was off to the next girl.

All the while Darius sat at the bar and talked up a couple of folks.  I have no idea who he was talking to or what about.  He did look to be in much better shape than when Jack Bog took this picture of him at the final home game.  What this means for his status this coming season?  I haven’t a clue.
A quick note on the “Jail Blazers” and strip clubs.  Players going all the way back to Bill Walton have lived very full lives while in Portland.  Jerome Kersey and Cliff Robinson both had grand times in the late 80s and early 90s and both may one day find their numbers in the Rose Garden rafters.  So don’t give me this line about how Zach and Darius showing up in strip clubs is a bad thing.  It’s no different than any other team in pro sports.  I’m sure even a few members of the sainted San Antonio Spurs have spent some time in one of Portlan’s fine adult establishments.
I think Gavin Dawson put it best a few months ago when he said neither Zach nor Darius has been convicted of anything, so it may be time to just give them a pass and leave them be as far as their extra-curricular activities go.  I’m inclined to agree.  That’s not to say I don’t believe both need to go.  Clearly, I think, they do.  But not because they enjoy strippers.  As long as it doesn’t affect their on-court performance, and I don’t believe enjoying the company of females does (see also Johnson, Ervin “Magic”), and they’re not breaking the law, then I think players off-court hobbies should be left alone.

Darius only stayed for about a half-hour.  Despite a couple of nudges from the DJ, he didn’t spend any time in the VIP room, much to the disappointment of the girls.  There will, no doubt, be other nights.

By now I’d switched from beer to water, anticipating the drive home.  But between Jewel and Misty, I couldn’t peel myself away.  I was sitting at a table with one girl who could tell I was distracted by Misty, so she nudged me up to the stage.  Misty asked if I was following her.  I said I was.  She said “good” and smiled.  She then came across the stage and nearly rested her head in my lap.

“You’re just a tease,” I said, “I know your type.”

This got her going.  She stroked my head and smiled that smile.  It was clearly working for me.

“Yeah, I’ve met girls like you before.”

And she purred.

Man oh man.

Turns out aside from the fact she clearly wanted to take me out for pie and hot chocolate, she was also giving me extra attention because the group at the other end of the stage weren’t tipping.  And when you sit at the stage and don’t tip, you’re gonna pay.  Somehow.  One girl a few songs later literally didn’t take her clothes off in protest.  Now that was funny.

I ended the night by talking with both Jewel and Misty for about 20 minutes.  Jewel had told me Misty liked my review and wanted to meet me.  When I finally told her who I was, she lit up.

“That was you?”

“Yeah.”

She had no idea.  And as happy as she was to see me before, she was even happier now.

We talked a little about the blog and what I was up to.  She’s pretty savvy when it comes to the ‘net.  A smart smart girl.  Not quite Jewel smart, but right up there.

I finally got out of there just before the lights went up.  I’m telling you, if you want the full meal deal, it doesn’t get much better than the D2.

Two great things that go great together.

For some reason, I’ve been looking forward to this NFL season.  I’m into it like never before.  I made sure to clear my schedule for tonight’s opener between the Colts and Saints.  I was jazzed, I tell you!   And ready to hit the town.

Jody’s has made a point the last year or so to advertise on 1080 The Fan, the local sports talk radio station.  They’ve been telling me they’d be my NFL headquarters for the season and “the view” would be spectacular.  Well, combine my already rock hard feelings for football with girls, and I’m totally there.

I made a quick pass by the place, out at 122nd and Glisan to see how the parking lot looked.  Deserted would be a kind way to put it.  It was only about 5:45 and all, but c’mon.  Football!  So I doubled back and parked out front.  As I mentioned last night, sometimes the parking lot can be deceiving.

It wasn’t.  I walked in to find a lonely dancer working the center stage and one guy in the back playing video poker.  That was it.  I made my way back to the bar to order my customary Coors Light.  Took a quick look at a couple of warming trays letting off some steam.  $2 all-you-can-eat tacos.  Classy.

I turned to find a seat with a good view of all the screens.  The Indianapolis and New Orleans wasn’t the only game in town tonight.  The Oregon State Beavers were on ESPN in a Thursday night game.  I figured I would centrally locate myself to watch both games while keeping an eye on the stage. The dream would finally come true.

I grabbed my seat and started looking for a game.  From left to right, the TVs showed “King Of The Hill”, the TV Guide Channel, “Law and Order”, tennis, and finally the OSU game.  I couldn’t believe it.  There are signs everywhere announcing football season was here, and I got stuck watching Hank Hill.  I suppose I could have said something to the help, but they looked less than happy to be there themselves.

So I sat at my table and did my best to avoid making eye contact with any of the dancers.  The day shift was on and they were a rough bunch of phat girls.  They did their best, but even they got bored a few seconds into their sets.  I bet it’s hard to get up for an empty room.  There seemed to be a shift change going on right about 6 or a little after.  A couple of the girls who’d been on stage headed out the door in their street clothes and a few others were coming in.  I didn’t recognize any of them from the website.

A few other guys staggered in, but they seemed more interested in the tacos than the girls.  None made any attempt to put the NFL game on.  At halftime of the Beavers game.  OSU was down 10-3.

I made my way down 102nd to Club 205.  Surely they’d be a little more on the ball.  I had a great time the last time I was in there and besides, I wanted to check out the menu.

The parking lot was pretty full, which I’m beginning to expect from the 205.  Walking in, I could tell I’d come to the right place.  I grabbed a table, looked up, and saw two screens.  One had the Colts and Saints, the other had the Beavs.  And just off to my right, a tight little blonde taking her clothes off.  Honey, I’m home.

I ordered the mushroom cheeseburger and a beer and commenced watching Peyton Manning, my fantasy quarterback this year, dismantle the Saints.  It was a thing of beauty.  After a few minutes, my meal showed up.  The burger was monsterous.  The bun fresh, the beef patty the 1/2 pound that was advertised.  A few pickles on the side and crinkle cut fries, and you’ve got a meal.  And I think it was only $4.95.  Not even Vegas can beat that deal.  I’ll definitely be back the next time I’m looking for cheap eats.

But that’s not why we really go to strip clubs, is it? No.  We go for the girls.  They had six working tonight.  Not bad for 7:00 on a weeknight.  All but one were blonde.  And most were tight little hardbodies.  They’re not generally my type, but when that’s all that’s on the menu, it’s not too shabby.  They’re all cute and friendly.  But not overbearing, if that makes any sense.  It drives me insane, for example, when a girl starts incorporating my beer or my hat into her routine.  Seriously.  Knock it off.

I sat at the center stage for the most part.  As I said, each of the girls was friendly and took a lot of time with each guy.  Giving us all the angles and a smile.  They’re particularly fond of crawling on the tables, so be aware and watch your beer!

After one rotation through the girls, I finally tired of watching my Beavers get pounded and headed for the door.  I thought very briefly about heading west and seeing if Jewel was working tonight (or perhaps Raquel! oh Raquel!) but thought better of it.  There’ll be other nights.

When I first started this back in May, it was my intention to compare everything against my Rosetta Stone of strip clubs, the Dolphin I.  The D1 has been there for me from almost the day I turned 21.  Our relationship has survived girlfriends, more than one religious freak-out, and leaving town at least three times.  She’s always been there for me.  Welcoming me back.  Always with a new treat.  A new twist.

I haven’t been back since the first night three months ago.  I’ve certainly meant to.  There’s still a comfort knowing the D1 is out there, but I’ve been in the mood to explore.  Tonight, I came home.

The parking lot is always deceptively full.  I’ve never figured it out.  Whether it’s jammed to the gills on a Saturday night or like tonight maybe half-full, I always expect to walk in and find a crowd.  Tonight I walked in to find a crew of guys working on the women’s bathroom.  At 9pm.  On a Wednesday.  Interesting hours, to say the least.  But they’ve done some very good things with the restrooms.  The old trough is gone in the men’s room.  Replaced by three wall-mounted urinals.  It’s also way better lit.  Could the guy handing out the mints be on his way back?  Either way, they’re putting some money into the place.  That’s a good thing.

We’re not here, of course, to discuss amenities.  We’re here to discuss… pardon the alliteration… we’re here to discuss her titties.  See what I did there?  Ah forget it.

The room was maybe a quarter full when I walked in and seemed to thin out over the next hour.  Two stages were in operation.  There were probably 10 or 12 girls working.  More than enough for me.

I sat down at the center stage in time to check out Mia.  She’s a tall blonde.  Well built.  Not a skinny one, by any means, but she’s definitely in shape.  She looked younger than 21, but I saw her walking around the bar area, so obviously she’s older.  No worries.  Her face and eyes were what got me.  We all have certain things that turn us on.  It’s different parts on different girls.  With Mia, it’s her face.

She gave me a good look at her breasts and a sweet smile.  Never did take her bottom off.  In some states that’s no big deal.  In Oregon that’s almost a cardinal sin.  But it was forgivable.  Her butt looked spectacular through her underwear.  She’s also a good flirt.  And was one of few who asked me for a couch dance.

Next up was Cody.  A compact little brunette with a butt.  Oh my her butt.  She shook it and thrust it every which way.  One of the other girls came over with two of her guy friends and hooted and hollered for her during her entire set.  I’m not into that, but whatever.  She put on a good show and made sure to pay attention to me.  Like Mia, she was rocking the ass antlers.  Are people still getting those?  Or has that passed?  I sure hope so.

Berlin gave me the show of the night and almost got into my wallet as a result.  She’s another brunette.  Taller and sturdier than Cody.  But oh my.  It started when she took her top off in front of me.  I’d leaned into the rail, beer off to one side.  Smiling.  She came over and put her chest right into my face.  My glasses were pressed back.  I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.  All I could smell was cigarette smoke and soap.  But the warmth.  Mmmmm….

She quickly figured out I was OK with whatever she wanted to do and wasn’t gonna go all hands on her, so when she came back around, she gave me the same show, this time with hair over my head and a full back scratch.  Oh man.  I’m all for that.   I was trying to put myself back together when she leaned over and asked if I was ready to get naughty.

Yes, please.

Only her version of naughty and mine are two separate things.  And speaking of naughty, remind me some day to tell you about Carnaval in downtown Portland.  You want to get naughty?  There’s where you get naughty.

Back to the task at hand.  As the first three girls worked the center stage, there was an interesting sideshow going on in back as two of the younger girls were in the back working on their pole skills.  No one was around or paying any attention to them.  They were just trying to figure out the x’s and o’s of the whole thing before they went on stage.  It was almost like watching the JV practice.  It was sort of hot.  That is until a manager appeared to shut them down after a while.

Britney, the girl who was hooting and hollering next to me came up after a little while.  To say she was popular is an understatement.  The stage had been pretty much empty most of the night.  But when she took the stage, it filled up quickly.  I almost felt sorry for the girl on the other stage.  Britney is a hot little number.  Tight and toned.  Short.  She had some spunk in her presentation.  She definitely looks like she should be in a magazine and she may well be on that road.  Her pole work was exquisite as was her floor work.  She didn’t have a ton of time for me because of the crowd, but she made me feel like the only guy on Earth for those few seconds.  Oh Britney.

The last girl of my night was Electra Blue.  I’d panned her the last time I was at the D1.  After watching her a little tonight, I think I may have to change my opinion.  Is it annoying to watch her act out songs?  Absolutely.  But oh my God is she a cutie.  Long curls framing an angel face.  No wonder she has those wings tattooed on her back.  And her pole work was excellent as well.  They all seem to be taking lessons from one another.  There’s a lot of artistry and posing and such in the pole work at the D1.  Whereas my girl Jewel at the D2 makes the whole pole thing an athletic event.  I’ll still take Jewel (again, personal taste) but the girls at the D1 are something else.  And Electra Blue was a pleasure to watch.  Next time I’m in, I’ll make sure and hit her up for a couch dance.  Oh my.

So that’s that.  Football kicks off tomorrow night.  Think I’ll go check out another place and see how pigskin and dancers mix.