[DruulEmpire]

Duchess.  It's an odd name, as she's very down to earth, nothing aristocratic about her, but she's a HIGHLY obliging girl who reminds me a lot of Memphis Monroe (a feature who was just here).  Duchess gives a TOTALLY good private dance.  Freedom: check.  Variety of excellent poses: check.  Sheer heat: check.  The Dow may be suffering, but in one night my stock in her skyrockets -- and I go out into the night happy.

This week was way too busy, so I had to hang on till yesterday -- Friday, 9/14 -- and devote that exclusively to seeing Carmella Bing.  I've been with Shyla Stylez -- I'm looking at my Polaroid with her right now -- but for me Carmella's a bigger star because she's in these various vignettes which I always find intriguing and worth downloading: Dr. Bing makes an unusual diagnosis of her male patient, Ms. Bing keeps a student after class to talk with him alone, that sort of thing.

Carmella's a good enough stage dancer, though there was nothing really involved -- or even promotional -- about her work.  So I got to concentrate on getting her into a booth.    Strangely, men didn't really wander over to her till AFTER my visit with her, so I had her to myself.  She seemed a bit ditzy and out of her element -- I don't think she's really into the tour thing, and might just as soon stay in front of a camera -- but she has a dark beauty that reminds me a bit of the shape of the face of our Bambi Blaze.  (I may even report this to Bambi.)  If you've seen her work, you know she's pretty enough but mainly has a great bust and a GREAT nasty let's-get-down-and-do-it attitude.  As a private dancer she did not seem that practiced, but she made up for it by SMOTHERING me a lot with her boobs, which are of that large and yet soft variety that always sets my brain to wondering.  Anyway, I told her that it was a lot as if I'd brought her up on my computer and POW! she was magically in my lap -- certainly that's how I PLAN to think of her from here on.  I found her to be far more sweet than the beyotch she tends to play.

Taya -- I call her Tornado -- Parker will be by next week, but after that I may have just one February feature and concentrate more on scouting and auditioning.  But at least I learned more deails of the club along the way.  The coltish Aniston-like bartender is named Joie, and today I learned that the cynical-looking blonde is Karen.  I got to talk with my favorite waitress, Ms. Zaftig Zoomers, and offered to have a private dance with her.  She said "I wish I could" but Albert, the owner, wouldn't allow it, and she wanted to lose a few pounds first, but I said she looked great.  (Besides, ZZ's got nothing on the weight of my first girlfriend.)  And speaking of Albert, I was able to watch him from afar, actually eating some of that buffet they serve, wearing a pinstripe jacket complete with folded red handkerchief.  He reminds me a bit of Ned Beatty -- NOT Warren Beatty, as I tried explaining to one girl who was attempting to chat me up.  Unfortunately, all I could think of to explain who Ned Beatty was was Deliverance -- in the future I'll be sure to remember his role as Otis in the original Superman.

New finds, new possibilities -- but still no new cards **89**, besides Columbia's.  Back to work ...

[DruulEmpire]

Before anything, an apology to Chelsea74, whose post appears at the bottom of the 13th page of this thread -- yes, THAT Memphis Monroe, who also turned up in General Discussion in a video called Topless Wife Training.  Sorry about that, I just get on here and start blathering.  Let the word go out, Memphis (who hails from Louisville) is great in person too.

All right, I've ducked back into the club three times, plus a Taya Parker reunion (though I think she only very vaguely recalled me -- and she complicated my "cover story," more on that later), but right now I'm going to take a moment to mourn the disappearance of several dancers who I wish I could have on hand for my Ultimate Day in April.

The biggest loss is Kyra, who's been away for nearly a year now.  She was my favorite, and I've gone and replaced her in my mind with Columbia.  Haven't seen Kirstie in a while, either.  No more of the wonderfully busty "pec flexing" Cathedral, either.  Huntin'n'fishin' hard-drinkin' tomboy January hasn't been around.  Blonde kittenish (although rather unstable) Aria has vanished, I hope she's relatively okay.  Same goes for the very sweet, very pretty, but rather nervous petite blonde West Virginian named Dallas.  Black dancers like the sexually intense Esmerelda and the damn-beautiful Sarday have likewise vanished.

And it gets worse, because now I list the REALLY fine missing ladies.  Whatever became of Carroll, who once whispered to me that I might get **70**?  Where is my blonde-streaked Granada, or my Alexis Bledel lookalike Fallon, or the simply damn-gorgeous Willow?  What of likewise damn-gorgeous Houston and Monaco, and may I assume that Phoenix has hit the road by now, by virtue of her overwhelming hawtness?

I wish some of them were back, because I'm now in the process of drawing up The List, the hottest dancers I know, and The List isn't that fair without them.  To date, I've made appointments with five dancers -- Columbia, Heidi, Lourdes, and two brand new ones I must tell you about.  Will The List go to nine dancers?  Twelve?  Twenty, even?  Stay tuned.

Anyhow, thanks to these last four outings, my reconnaissance is pretty much over.  Now it's just a matter of making up my mind which beauties are the best dancers, so now I "audition" them.  But it's been fun hunting.

The first evening, on Tuesday 1/22, I remembered that Columbia had made major mention of a good friend named Georgia, and I caught her, but only in passing.  I did finally, however, track down once very pretty and perverse new dancer named Spirit ...

[DruulEmpire]

Spirit is a basic blonde fantasy come true, and somehow we got to discussing roleplaying, especially police scenarios.  Two years ago, or even one, she might have knocked me over, but in my jadedness I consider her to simply be a worthy snack.

The following night is when I get another look at Elwell, whom I've touched on briefly before.  Elwell has an eerie placid Naomi Campbell vibe going on in her face, her body is dusky and small and slight but very athletic.  Turns out she hails from Haiti, so it's all I can do NOT to mention voodoo -- or dolls, for that matter.  So I get her in a booth and she is GOOD, perhaps the most intense dry hump ever.  I go over my checklist -- beauty, talent -- and I go ahead an give her an appointment card for my Ultimate Day.

The following week is when I stop in and finally get to meet "Columbia's" Georgia.  She's a sweet sunny blonde -- she gets called a cheerleader type a lot, and has been compared a couple of times to Cameron Diaz -- and she's simply a lot of fun.  As Spirit, she might have knocked me over earlier on, but she too is another sweet snack.

So at last we arrive at Friday, February 1, when Taya Parker shows up.  (I got her scheduling wrong earlier.)  She has a whirlwind Latin them to her show -- there's no fruit, like Carmen Miranda, but pretty much everything short of that.  Her big dress comes flying off her "perfect package" body and she interacts well with the stage viewers -- she really comes on to a guy in a wheelchair, I appreciate that when I see it.  It's oddly done, the show -- a dance, then her pouring lotion all over her nakedness, then another dance -- but it works, and though it's slightly awkward, with no one helping her with props -- you would think there would be a gallant volunteer -- she does okay.

The dance I get off her is hot, and yet a little too smooth and perfunctory and remote, like glass.  One dance is worth it, though.  I let slip my cover story that I'm off to Columbus, Ohio -- turns out she hails from Delaware, Ohio, just 30 miles out, and sometimes swings by a club, I think she said "Columbus Gold."  But I think she'll bear up not catching me out there ...

The evening rounded up with my meeting -- and then eliminating from List consideration -- the black Anastasia and the very short brunette Nede (Eden backwards, sounds like "need").  But the prize -- the prize was meeting Nolin.  Nolin hails from the Czech Republic, and I believe it, because she reminds me so much of a Slavic beauty I had an unrequited crush on in high school: the bright eyes, the perfect cheekbones, the small chin, the upturned nose.  I got her into a booth -- and she is GOOD.  Passionate, intense, talented -- she like Elwell was an instant recruit  for the Aperil sendoff, and it didn't hurt that I felt like I was getting karmic vengeance for that high school crush, either.

So that's where it all stands right now -- the hunt is pretty much over, and the auditioning begins.  More on that, later.  

[DruulEmpire]

One sad aspect of an Ultimate Day is that you're forced to make decisions.  In my two-plus years being a steady patron, I've concluded that there are four kinds of dancers -- and these are the ones who turn up on your sexual radar, as compared to others who just seem to be rounding out the selection.  You have what I call your Beauties, your Get-Downs, your Crazy4Us, and your Good-Enoughs.  Good-Enoughs are what they sound like: in a world of infinite time and money, they would be good enough, they'd be a joy to hang out with, but one is forced to make a call and they get left out.  Good-Enoughs include the sharply white-blonde minx Martha, the beautiful Russian Yolanda, and the sweet exotic Sydney.  It would be so much fun to include them, and I can't.

Beauties are likewise obvious.  You have your redheaded Columbia, your sweet sleepy-eyed blonde Lourdes.  They can't be JUST beautiful, they still have to be good at the dance, but you sort of wish you could just look at them, like paintings in your own private gallery.

The Get-Downs are the intensely sexual ones, the ones who leave you feeling ravished.  Some girls -- like Gwyneth, who I finally last tried night -- have all the enthusiasm and athletics down, but they lack the master finesse, and I seem to be forever having to explain "Just because it's called a bone doesn't mean it's made of bone, so take it easy."  On the other hand, I ran into Elwell again -- more about her in a bit.

Then there are the Crazy4Us, women of such manic devotion that they successfully make you think for a few minutes that you really have become the center of their universe.  I think it's a combination of great wide sparkling eyes plus an extra edge to their intensity.  Last night I spontaneously recruited the puppyishly eager Duchess, along with Burne.

I now have a minimum of girls to round out a proper party --  in addition to Columbia, Heidi and Lourdes are now Nolin, Elwell, Romance, Duchess, Lockley and Burne.  A lot of eliminations too last night, I scoped out several girls with intriguing aliases but, eh, no spark.  Now I have my sights set on Ex-Corinne (still haven't worked out a proper alias for her), Fallon, Houston, Soprano, Tommie, Linda, and Fortune.  Only four weeks before I turn in my master plan -- and, like I said, so many greats have simply vanished.

In a minute, a wrap-up of what I called the "extended Valntine's Day weekend" ...

[DruulEmpire]

In spite of having to work early that night, I stopped in Tuesday 2/12 mainly to hand two valentines to Columbia.  (Cards are so lame now, I figure it takes two to add up to one decent one.)  Little did I know that she was ill and would not appear until last night.  It was a chance to try a gal named Wellesley, a Good-Enough.

Valentine's Night picked up a bit.  Veteran dancer Lockley looked me up and got so into it that she orgasmed.  Trite but true: a dancer orgasming does a lot for me -- so on the list she went.  That was also the night I gave Duchess a second spin, and she was so fucking playful and exuberant that I couldn't resist recruiting her, either.  I got in more quality time with hot German Heidi, and I tried two new girls, a black with striking eyes and golden hair, and a biker-type chick who in private is very sweet -- they turned out to be Good-Enoughs.

Last night, I recruited Romance, the club's own little answer to Pam Anderson.  Recruiting Burne got a bit odd.  First, she kept gazing at my crotch while we talked, almost as if she wanted to ask "Where's my Perversity!?"  I should have told her that I retired Operation Perversity (see above), maybe next time I will.  Anyhow, Burne swiftly reminded me that she is one VERY good Crazy4U.  When I handed her my card, though, she freaked out a bit -- turns out my target date is her birthday.  She'll be working anyway, so now I figure I should try to get her basic birthday stuff in the bargain.  A hot girl but a little skittish, like she's going to get punk'd by some cosmic conspiracy at any second -- I'm finding it charming right now.

Columbia finally got her valentines and thanked me for them -- unfortunately, as I wound my way through the night I kept blowing off both her and hot German Heidi, so a Columbia reunion rises to a new high priority.  What's more, Elwell snagged me again.  I think she has kind of the vibe of Robin Givens in her Blankman-Boomerang heyday -- and what can I tell you, I think Elwell is the purest lust-driven relationship I ever had.  Columbia, I'd love to hang with -- but I just WANT Elwell, even more than I first wanted hot German Heidi.  I can imagine her in Hawaii, flowers in her hair, doing the hula dance.  And here's the capper: when I thought I needed to remind her of her recruitment with another card, she instead used it to GIVE ME HER PHONE NUMBER.  I'm floored.  I had no idea that was either permissible (to the club) or desirable (for the ladies and their privacy).  Even as I type this, I'm looking down at the card and wondering: what the hell now?  Especially now that I've gone and created this "off to Columbus, Ohio" cover story.  If I decide anything, I'll let you know.

Murdock Hay -- my club alias -- must die.  I'm already thinking of the big sendoff as "Murdock's Murder," the idea being that the coroner will say "He was danced to death."    

[DruulEmpire]

As I start a new page of this thread, I first have to thank all the anonymous lurkers who have managed to boost the views-to-posts ratio of this thread up to 74:1.  75 would have been nice, but 74 ain't Hay either.  I thank you because with any luck I will soon have a fair bit to report, thereby knocking the ratio back down.  I do look forward someday, preferably this year, to not only mastering the art of getting photography in my BEA posts but in finally showing you that I ain't hallucinating when I say these are some fine women.

And speaking of Hay, my full alias is Murdock Hay as a kind of joke, a reference to the phrase "roll in the hay" (although "hayride" may also count).  Basically, if I call a lap dance a roll in the hay, then the girls are the rollers and I'm the hay.

The selection process is over.  Last night I was able to reunite with Linda -- who recognized me, practically dumping her momentary companion for me, always nice -- and she was great, but I figured, no, ten  dancers will do.  I met up with Ex-Corinne, who I'm now calling Paige, the night before, and recruited her, she is SO sweetly "Tara Reid staying sober" that there's no passing her up.  So, for any who actually follow this thread, the list becomes: Burne, Columbia, Duchess, Elwell, Heidi, Lockley, Lourdes, Nolin, Paige, and Romance.

Elwell the Haitian is messing with my libido like no woman has in nearly twenty years.  She seems ready to do something outside the club, and we've exchanged phone numbers to that end -- but what shall that be, exactly?  Is she out to shake me down -- or can I shake her down, a la Gregory Abbott?

Anyway, as I continue to wriggle out of the cocoon of my dysthymia -- that is to say, my lifelong depression -- I want to make this expensive little adventure a transformative experience.  Murdock Hay must die -- replaced by who, I don't know.  But his libido will live on.

[espy]

Not intending to screw up the view-to-post ratio, but I find this thread to be incredibly interesting from a number of angles.  It's very curious.  Maybe its the incredible contrast between Druul's painstaking deliberation and consideration to something like Al Bundy's "let's go see some big 'uns at the nudie bar" approach.  Dunno... but it's curious.

[DruulEmpire]

Well, I said goodbye to the views-posts ratio just now -- and as for Al Bundy, sorry to say, they're usually not that big.  It's not Vixen Lamoore's Tip Top club -- for anything like that, you have to luck out with the feature dancers.

Plus, I hope to return to this someday after April -- it's just a question of how.

[DruulEmpire]

The illusion has collapsed.

There's a lot to catch up on -- an up-and-comer from Colorado named Hailey Heart was out here, and the ten has been bumped up to twelve -- but I've got to vent a bit first, because the Big Day may not be so big.  I rely on a knowledgeable veteran named Columbia, and it's beginning to sound like I've just got to cross my fingers that the girls will show up and sort of let my booth activity slide right on by Albert -- because to actually arrange anything involving him could get exorbitant.  And here I thought spending nearly two grand would take care of everything -- nope, probably not.

One problem is that the few men I hang with either wouldn't engage in this or might be intrigued but are too damn busy.  I have frankly never been turned on by the "get a girl and pass her around" scene, but that's what party economics -- I assume that men pool their participation -- demands.  Honestly, there's got to be some more imaginative and flexible way to arrange all this while still leaving the girls well compensated -- it's not like I'm eager to spend a  month's rent on an hour in a booth ON TOP of already paying the girls.

It's a weird dichotomy, because the place is a hangout for working class types, and yet only rich fools of the Eliot Spitzer echelon can really make anything happen.  At least some family restaurants will get behind throwing someone a goddam birthday party.

More -- and better -- later ...

[DruulEmpire]

Anyhow, Hailey Heart was out here last week -- and I'm passing on Chandler St. James, making Hailey the last girl I see, though maybe berkovw can check in on Shyla Stylez come the ides of March or thenabouts -- and she did a good country-western set, a show of solid dancing, no cooterball or anything.  A very luscious and delightfully fake(-busted) blonde; took one look at her and had to get her into the booth.  Also got a Polaroid off her -- I guess that's the last of those as well.  Anyhow, she called me a gentleman() and her private dance was fine but a bit wary, not nearly as "mamma-slamma" as I like it, but a good enough farewell.  Made the mistake of claiming I'm off to Columbus -- she says she'll be performing at the club Columbus Gold next month.  (It's a bit crazy, research has led me to Christie's or the Centerfold Club, but it's Columbus Gold I keep hearing feedback about.)

As for the local drama, I bumped the ten up to twelve.  Did this spontaneously when I met once more the black-haired beauty with the crazy blue eyes, Fortune, she was such a lively dancer that I spontaneously recruited her.  Next, I sought out another wild dancer, Linda, and recruited her -- but then Nolin bailed out on me.  That in and of itself is a heartbreaker, because Nolin is DAMN fine -- I noticed one group of guys checking her out for the first time on stage -- right after I got a dance off her -- and marveling at how rockin' she is, one even complimenting her eyes.  That, incidentally, is no joking stab at romanticism; her eyes are amazing, set in a sweet face, and she has highly respectable breastage as well.  Damnation, I'm going to miss her.  So I recruited Libra in her place -- it's not the same, but Libra has always been a sunny friendly presence during my time there, seems fair to reward her.

I think what's kicking me about the Big Day is, of all things, the Girls Next Door, at lest the ones on E! on cable.  Men seem resigned to the whole "Let's chip in for a girl and pass her around," but I've never been that stalwart a Communist.  I would much rather spend one day pretending to be Hef -- for me, one "Hef Day" per year would easily beat a hundred chances at a "pass around the girl" party.  For one thing, the club is ALREADY a "pass around the girl" party, you get your one little moment with the stage performer and then she moves on to the next guy.  I just wanted my Hef Day, is all.  But who knows, it may still work out.  This chapter hasn't ended just yet ...

[berkovw]

Unfortunately, while I was hoping to go see Shyla Stylez when she comes to town, I'm going to let Druul and all the lurkers to this page down by not being able to go see her.  I'm going to be moving within the next month, and unfortunately, don't have the extra income to blow at the strip club, no matter how much I'd like.

[DruulEmpire]

I do appreciate the sentiment, berk, and maybe sometime we can just meet and compare notes, maybe while I treat you to a meal down at Kazansky's.

All right, I've been a bad boy -- I've had a few brief adventures lately, trying to tie things up before Big Monday, and maybe tomorrow night I'll get to all that, but right now, the major confession, specifically concerning the dancer whom I have referred to in this thread as Elwell.

Elwell is seriously fucking my brain -- and the rest of me.

The two of us are just too damn combustible.  Let me make this clear: a dancer doesn't have to get too nasty with me to hold my attention long enough to get several dances from me.  Read around in here and you'll find that I've done several dances at once before, with artists ranging from the dearly vanished Kyra to the Vegas-hopping Tommie.  Somehow I've simply gotten lucky, for here's Elwell, this gal who puts me in mind of, of all people, Eartha Kitt, but a VERY early Eartha Kitt, maybe even before she ever did the Catwoman thing on TV in the Sixties.  I enter the club, she grabs my hand and says how bored and horny she's been and whoosh, we're in a booth.  I've wanted to be ravished before -- just browse my Addventure episodes, in which hapless too-damn-virile fools are sapped of their precious essence by wily seductresses -- but this was the real deal.  My shirt and belt came loose beneath her hands, and then she aggressively fished out my cock.  I kept asking myself (as you may) "Why me?"  I suspect it may be that she knew I'd be cool about it, that I could conspire and comply and be ready to go at and then ready to wrap up at any instant.

She thrusted and contorted her naked body against me, her insatiable rocking pelvis riding me again and again.  She kept saying she couldn't believe this.  SHE couldn't believe this?  SHE couldn't?

But others have tried to get me off before, from Teri Weigel to Lovette, and I just ain't wired that way.  I derived satisfaction from knowing that she could get pleasure from me.  Getting off, I can do that any time.  Being able to please a woman, in that way -- that's everything.

And we talked on the phone a couple hours after that.  After ten years of nothing, action literally fell in my lap tonight.

I need to relax, and reflect on all this.  G'nighht, all.

[berkovw]

Man, Druul, I am jealous.  And speechless.  That's all I can say.

[DruulEmpire]

Before anything, I first have to thank all those lurkers -- and occasional contributors -- who have over time boosted this to a views-to-posts ratio of 76:1.  There's something magical about the number 76, as in Spirit of '76, and I'm thankful for that, and it just goes to prove THE POWER OF TEXT.  I still want some visual capacity some time this year, and who knows, I may get a picture (but outside the club?) of some of the greatest house girls to y'all.  I've collected many Polaroids, those may be worth scanning someday.

I'm also struck by Berk envying me -- since I happen to know that Berk managed to do something which for many of us BEA men would be the equivalent of scaling Everest.  Berk, if you were able to find Elwell's m-y-s-p-a-c-e like I PMed you, you will see that she has no breasts to speak of -- although she IS a looker, no getting around that.

Gawd, it's a trip reading back over all this, recalling the girls -- the endearing Kyra, the ready-to-dish Kirstie, the  busty pec-flexing Cathedral, the tomboyish January, the damn-lovely Willow, the Alexis Bledel lookalike Fallon #1, the hot-dancing Fallon #2 and Monaco, gently perverse Spirit, headliner-hawt Phoenix, even the lovely but nervous fellow West Viriginian Dallas.  Some I worry about, like the highly desirable kittenish Aria who seemed to be wearing herself out, and I hope Kyra and her two k1ds are well, and that she's been able to make something of her learning to bartend and give massage.

It's a whirlwind business, and I feel thankful to have been able to squeeze April 7 out of it.  Speaking of which --

[DruulEmpire]

First, I've got to put in a word about the staff -- and here, I'm not going to assign aliases.  The two "pimps" -- I'm really not sure what else to call them, and the girls jokingly refer to them as pimps -- are the sleek mild Duane and the large and fairly cheerful Chuck.  Chuck has this odd scraggly beard which has earned him the nickname "the Amish Pimp."  (By some coincidence, both men are bald.)  Chuck recently celebrated the birth of a baby boy, and I was happy to congratulate him.  I think the quality of a club like this depends a lot on how well it's run and how safe the girls feel, and that makes these men important.

It must also be said that, long before the dancers really got heated up, especially first thing in the afternoon, my eyes would linger on the bartenders.  My favorite team is the cynical blonde and way-busty Karen and her frequent partner, the petite coltish brunette Joey who's face vaguely reminds me of Jennifer Aniston.  Karen's damn fine, but it's Joey I've really warmed to.

Over time I've made passing mention of "Ms. Zaftig Zoomers," my favorite waitress.  Turns out her name is Missy.  I've often wanted to drag Missy back for a private dance, I say she has the beauty and body and personality for it -- she defers because she's not skinny, but who cares?  And I also briefly met a slim little middle-aged guy, very pleasant, named Richie, who is as cool as Albert (the boss) seems a bit bluff-gruff.  It was great to work with him on this, and looking back I could have left him a tip.

Some girls I never got to say a proper farewell to.  The bronzed Romance was on my list, and even around that very evening, but we never hooked up -- more on that later.  I never did get to say any nice last thing to Martha, that very hot white-blonde sweetie.  Nolin, their amazingly lovely import from the Czech Republic, I knew would not make it, she warned me a month in advance, so at least I knew when my last dance with her was.  Brenda was a new girl I'd had only one dance with before, she was around and I was hoping to squeeze her in, but she was too early.

Other girls I "carded," which may take some explaining --