Spot: W on 30th and Lexington
Chic: 26, Native American/Scottish
Occupation: Stripper
Now this isn’t my first foray with a stripper outside of the clubs, but it was definitely memorable. I picked up the scent of a gold digger when I spoke to her earlier that day. So I figured I would wine her, dine her and of course 69 her (that is a side note).
I get to the hotel bar, I picked her out from behind, great legs and a nice posture. Decided that tonight I was going balls to the wall, all out.
Eased up behind her and whispered “can I buy you a drink” into her ear, while gently resting my hand on her hip.
Without flinching to my touch she says OK.
First off she has that annoying central Jersey Accent, imagine being on a date with Fran Drescher the Nanny.
Now I have never done coke, but been around many that have, so I can usually tell when someone is coked out or coming down.
Anyway we are drinking, I’m still deciding if she is worth me getting a room at the W. She is telling me that it is pretty hard working in the strip clubs, being on your feet for hours on end (beats laying on your back like a whore) these days because none of the bankers are coming in. It’s called a recession you stupid cunt!
Here is where it really went downhill for me;
1. She had no etiquette
2. She slurps
3. Her pictures were hot and she wasn’t
4. Her lips were minuscule, to the point where like other women she made them bigger with her lipstick. (Ladies you know who you are, get fucking collagen)
All of the above made me do one thing, drink!
Goose after Goose she started to look better and better till after my fifth or sixth drink she was Bo Derek from 10.
Decided that she isn’t worth the headache of talking to anymore, our wait for the check consisted of Yes or NO conversation on my part. And she wouldn’t shut the fuck up!
Finally the check comes and like every other chic in NY she sits there like a paraplegic, just looking at me pay the bill. (before you bleeding heart mother fuckers say anything, I have nothing against paraplegics) Really? It’s not like I would even let you pay, but the simple “act” as if you would try to pay goes a long way.
Being the whore she truly is she invites me to her place for a drink or 2, thoroughly drunk I agree. Get back to her place her room mate is laid out on the couch with a half bottle of Absolut left and seriously stunning.
This chic tries leading me to her room, but how could me of all people, be rude to her room mate and not sit for a bit to chit chat. First question, how do you know her, the room mate says, oh we work together. That was the answer I was looking for, 2 strippers under one roof. We continue to talk and she is actually smart, goes to Law School on the side. All of a sudden we hear “Oh fuck” so we got up to check on my “date”, turns out she gambled and lost.
For those of you who know me, well you know what that means.
For those of you that don’t, she basically tried farting but some shit came out.
She jumps up and starts freaking out, runs to her bathroom, I go to the living room and start drinking more with her room mate, within minutes, the room mate and I are under the blanket on the couch playing tonsil hockey.
My x-date comes out to catch us and says I don’t usually mess myself.
I say, I don’t hook up with chics that shit themselves.
Apparently stripper number 2 decided to grow a conscience and take her friends side.
Figured that it was better to cut bait and leave.
I walked out and haven’t heard from her….
Note to self, maybe I should start walking around with wet wipes?

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