Today, I read a blog that mentioned Ani Defranco and it sent me straight down memory lane. Straight to the sweet time Ani and I found ourselves in a lesbian bar in West Hollywood together, drank about 30 Kalua and Cremes and ended up at her West Hollywood pad up in the hills full of colorful hand made statues and those hanging baskets containing all sorts of succulent summer fruits, cherries, kiwis, grapes all waiting for us to sit out on her patio after our sweet lovemaking session and drink wine, while feeding each other summer delicacies.
Yeah right, I’ve never been anywhere close to another woman’s nether regions although I have made out with a girl I had a slight crush on until it dawned on me that I had no interest in her breasts or god forbid what was happening in her decidedly boyish jeans.
But, I have always had a curiousity about the taboo. Years ago, I’d wondered what went on behind the black and probably bacteria laden curtains that blocked the entrance to so many Gentleman’s Clubs I’d driven by but had never been inside.
One day, a long time ago, a friend of mind and I were hanging out with some young men and we mentioned we’d never been to a strip club before. Surprise surprise they were willing and ecstatic to accompany us and even pay (bonus). Although FYI, if you’re a girl coming in with men you can easily haggle your own free admission. But this is for experts or Jews.
Yeah, like there’s a big difference between these places. Anyway, after I got used to the idea of women taking their tops off and being purely sexy I totally got into it. Frankly, I found it stimulating. I liked the fact that the place reeked of desperation but covered by the men pretending they were there to conduct business deals. Um hmmm… I loved the rap music and the pure animalism to the place. In short, it made me horny. And I like women’s bodies. I find them sexy although I don’t want to tongue kiss them without a lot of liquor in me. I went back a bunch of times. The place was two minutes walking distance from a friend’s apartment so sometimes we just showed up late at night and got ourselves in free.
So, now I felt I was ready to kick it up a notch and experience the Totally Nude strip bar. After all, I was becoming a regular in the topless community. I knew that Crystal had a major coke problem that she supplied it by sleeping with two heroine dealers on a regular basis. I would’ve tried to help but Mother Theresa I ain’t.
One night with my same friend, we happened to mention to a couple of guys that we’d never been to a totally nude bar. Without furthur ado we found ourselves at the Star Strip on La Cienega Blvd.
Let me just warn you, totally nude is totally different than a titty bar. These guys are hard core. They don’t serve alcohol and the men are just there to look at women’s genitalia which I feel they could do in a magazine. The vibe is so creepy I felt my skin crawl. BUT…when the second woman came out to perform, I was struck by the song she was writhing on the narrow strip stage to. So, me being me, I went right up to the D.J. and asked what she was playing. It turned out that Peaches was laying on the ground spreading it to Ani DiFranco’s “Worthy” off of “Not a Pretty Girl.” I bought it the next day.
In the meantime, we were subjected to one vagina after another because we were seated in front of the stange. The women were putting it out in our face I think hoping our dates would give them more money but my girlfriend and I out of guilt that they were degrading themselves so much kept the dollars coming. Of course when the hoo hoo’s got too close we tried to make uncomfortable conversation like “Hey, where’d you get those Lucite heels? they’re hot!” And they’d answer “oh Fredricks, oblivious to the fact that we could clearly see they had their clit pierced.
The other problem was the men that go to the all nudie bar. They sit at the side of the stage completely pussy drunk, mouths agape, eyes glazed, it’s downright spooky.
We lasted about 20 minutes and got the hell out.
Curiousity killed the cat.
But I leave you with this. It’s required reading for my husband cause as Chris Rock says, “It’s dad’s only job to keep them off the pole.”