***WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF NUDITY AND SOME SEXUAL CONTENT. PARENTAL DISCRETION IS ADVISED***
Last Saturday I had an opportunity to visit a Tampa institution, a club called Mons Venus. Let me start off with a little history and then we'll get right to the naked women...
Mons has been in Tampa for as long as I can remember, at least 20 years. It's a tiny little strip bar, one stage and some chairs. Seriously, it can't be more than 500 sq. ft. It's on Dale Mabry Ave, which is the main drag here in Tampa ( the stadium is there ). It's surrounded by places like Bennigan's and Room's To Go. There is almost no parking. The girls are all nude. There is no alcohol, no D.J. (just a jukebox), and a $20 cover charge.
The thing that makes Mons famous is the owner. In the course of his history as a club owner he's seen many Mayors and Police Chiefs come and go and he's told each one to go fuck himself. They've changed the laws, they've raided.... it doesn't matter. Mons Venus still stands and has become such a trashy landmark that everyone just accepts it now. Other strip bars, much nicer strip bars, come and go but Mon's is forever, like herpes. To be a man in Tampa and never go to Mons is like being a man in Green Bay and never going to Lambeau Field. (No, I'm not going to do a "frozen tundra" joke here..)
I was excited about going to Mons because I felt that it'd be great to finally get it out of the way.... sort of check it off my list of things I need to do before I die (Visit London, have children, get rubbed on by a naked stranger.... check, check and check!). I spent a few years of my life working as a D.J. in topless bars (including an all-nude bar) so I don't really get a kick out of them anymore. Once you get to know the girls and understand the business it tends to take the shine off. In fact, until Saturday I'd only had one table dance in my life and that one was bought for me by a friend.
We arrive at Mons and the first thing I notice is how small it is. I mean, I'd been told, but still, it's like going to a strip-bar in someone's garage. The second thing I noticed was the crowd. It was standing room only. Then a girl put her hand on my arm and moved past me and I noticed she wasn't wearing any pants. No pants. Nothing. In the all-nude bar I worked in girls weren't allowed to walk across the floor without panties. Not here.
I made my way to the stage and was immediately impressed. There were five girls up there, no silicone, no tatoo's, no body fat, and they were completely nude. I was standing there thinking to myself, "Wow, these girls are really attractive," when one of them walked over, stood on the rail so her coochie was 2 inches from my face and cocked her leg up in the air and onto a high rail. You know that cheerleader move where the girl kicks her leg up in the air and grabs it with her hand? It was like that, only this cheerleader was naked and had the nicest set of pom poms I've ever seen. WHOA! In Dallas, once the girls took off their bottoms they had to keep their feet no more than 12 inches apart. This was definitely not Dallas.
I was disappointed to see that there are assholes no matter where you go because one of them was sitting next to me at the stage. Actually, I was standing because there are only a few seats around the stage and they fill-up fast. I watched three different girls come over and work the asshole.... and I mean work... rump shakers, back stretchs, lean-ins, everything... and the fucker didn't tip once. Listen, fuck-face, here's the rule: You can pay $20 for some lap dances or you can sit on the stage and tip the dancers but you cannot sit on the stage and not tip. I don't go near the stage without a fist full of ones and I tip every girl who comes over to me. It's a dollar you shit! This girl, who looks like every girl you couldn't bang in college, just bent over and twisted her ass in your face and you can't spare a fuckin' dollar?! It's just plain rude.
Okay, back to the story and the part you've all been waiting for: The lap dance.
I held off on getting a lap dance because, as I mentioned earlier, I'm not a big fan. Still, I felt it would be a crime to finally go to Mons and not get a dance, so after being asked about five times I finally said okay. A beautiful girl with minimal makeup and medium breasts led me over the the couch's along the wall (Let me make it clear that this girl was Sandra Bullock/girl next door beautiful, not Christina Aguilara/trashy whore beautiful. Most of the girls at Mons look like college cheerleaders).
***WARNING: IT'S ABOUT TO GET GRAPHIC AND I WILL BE USING PORN LANGUAGE SO, MOM, PLEASE STOP READING NOW***
I sit down on the couch and the girl leans over to tell me the rules. The actual rules in Tampa say that the girl must stay 6 feet from the customer at all times and, obviously, no touching. Her exact words to me were, "Don't touch my pussy and don't touch me anywhere with your mouth. Anything else is fine. Enjoy yourself!" Then she stood up, took off her top and bottoms and jumped on me. She turned around with her back to me, sat on my lap and lay back across my body with her head next to mine. Then she did something I have never seen anyplace I have ever worked: She took my hands and put them on her tits! That's right! After I had had my fill of "feeling her up" she bent over with her ass on my dick and started rubbing up and down. I couldn't believe it. At that point, many thoughts were rushing through my mind but the most frequent thought I had was, I should have worn thinner pants. I mean, I had heard about Mons but I always thought that it was an exaggeration. I was wrong. Don't touch the pussy, don't touch anything with your mouth, everything else is fine. I must admit that even I, jaded ex-D.J. who knows it's all an act to make money, was impressed. This girl had skills. She was making eye contact, grabbing my hair... she was better at fucking me with my clothes on than most girls are at actually fucking me! Next time I'm wearing silk pants and no underwear.
Still, I came away from the experience feeling cheated. As much as I enjoyed it, I feel like I should have enjoyed it more... like other guys were getting more for their money than I was. After careful reflection I came up with some possible reasons for my feelings:
1. Having worked in the business, I know that it's a business.
2. Unlike most guys, my level of enjoyment when it comes to all things sexual is directly related to the enjoyment of the other person. Being naturally insecure, I get my biggest thrill out of being wanted. Try as they might, strippers will never make me feel sexy, although the girls at Mons Venus are the best I've seen at faking it. I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't even get a boner until the song was almost over, something I'm sure she noticed and I felt bad about. Now, if that same girl had walked up to me on the street and merely mentioned that she wanted to take off her clothes I would have been a fuckin' tri-pod.
3. Finally, Bobbi suggested that I also don't get to have the "forbidden fruit" rush that many men get. It's true because when my lap dance started I thought, "Wow, I can't believe I'm married and I get to feel up this sexy girl!" Then I remembered that Bobbi is very secure in her sexuality and could care less if I feel up a stripper. I'm happy about that but at the same time we always want what we can't have. (By the way, Bobbi has been to Mons and yes, she's had a lap dance).
Ultimately, it was worth every penny and I will go back again someday but probably just to take a friend who has never been. Everyone should go to Mons Venus at least once.