Euphoria pt 2 –The Lap Dance Story

Resuming clubbing duties back home was going to be a hard switch, especially when you juxtapose it with a night of hard trance and other sinful indulgences. Yet, Above and Beyond was the best thing on the clubbing calendar this week and missing it would be equally sinful.

Last night, it was back to licking shot glasses and chewing on cocoa seeds. The familiar taste of that vodka redbull sliding down my throat like or pursing my lips to savour every drop of the amaretto. It was ecstasy liquefied and for my liver’s disposal.

Dek brought Ning along and we quickly inducted her into our drinking rituals.

1. No sipping. Everything should be skulled.
2. We drink at my pace.
3. If you stop at the 3rd drink, you WILL be laughed at, even if I think you’re hot.

CokeWhore’s propensity to fill the table with drinks once again pronounced itself with the first ground of drinks coming up to 2 jugs vodka redbull, 4 lychee martinis, 4 sambuca, 8 kamikazes and 8 illusions.

We went for another round of white wine, amarettos and screaming orgasms. In between a wager between Ning and me over getting the waiter to bring me a glass full of cherries went underway.

A minute later the waiter comes back with a glass. I erupted rapturously over winning the bet and proceeded to quickly pocket the winnings.

Waiter: “Sorry, but cannot get..”
Me: “What?! What are yew talkin' about?! Yew jus made me lose a bet!”

Turns out she was holding an ashtray.

Dek: “You guys are damn hiong, can you all drink slower?”
Me: “Wat chew tokin’ about?! This is only the appetizer..”

Ning’s friend Von joined us shortly after. Doll haired and pleasantly pretty, I shrieked when she told me she was 28. And this was to be the first of two shrieking..

I would love to say my night was highlighted by the group’s huge turn out. The small shuffling community meant that everyone becomes a familiar face and eventually assimilated into the group after awhile. But no…

Not even Ning’s amazing ability to pick up the shuffling basics at my first attempt to teach her was going to define my night, but one thing would..

The Lap Dance Story..

As soon as Dek left and us doing a last round of martini bianco 7 up, we headed straight for the dance floor.

Ning: “You want to go fishing is it?”
Me: “I can’t fish when there’s good music…”

And she left shortly for the women’s platform with her lightsticks..

Instantly, I caught this girl in conversation with her friend, pointing to me. Like everything else, I do not give much thought to it and I continued my 10 sec shuffling routine.

Then she starts waving me over to where she was seated on the stage.

She: “Can I get to know you?”

I looked at her, vaguely remembering her talking to Ning and Von and borrowing lightsticks from them earlier.

Me: “Aren’t you their friend?”

I pointed towards the girls.

She: “Is she your girlfriend?”
Me: “Nope..”
She: “So can I get to know you?”

This is perhaps my all time favourite pick up line because you lay everything on the table. It used to be, “I like your hair” or similar variations to it, all mostly in compliments to my hair or the way I dance.

Yet, there was so much rhetorical value in a pick up line as such. Do people even say no? I’ve been rude before, but largely to people who deserve it. I’ve blown girls off before, only because they say stupid things to me like, “can you buy me a drink” when they look more like they need a liposuction.

Then I went off to pee and when I got back to standing at the steps, I felt someone press up against me from behind. I turned to see that same girl.

She: “How old are you?”
Me: “25.. yew?”
She: “32.”

I stared right back at her, checking her eyes for crows feet and forehead for wrinkles. Then I shrieked…

Me: “32?!?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?”
She: “Nope, I’m 32.”
Me: “What are you? Some SKII ad?

Apparently she’s a Singapore Girl (what a great way to fly), the second of the night after Von. Not that I have issue with details, but anyone above 30 still has adverse effects on my desire to take the introduction back to my bedroom.

Girl: “Can I buy you a drink?”

I love her already. Anyone one who offers to buy me a drink is fine by me. It also means that she’s mature enough to know that ‘guys should pay’ is a bullshitting manifesto created by sour old spinsters to ruin every girls chances of meeting great people like me.

Then she suggested chilling at a table which eventually turns out to be a great excuse to give me my long deserved lap dance. She inched closer till her breath fell heavily on my face, then she whispers to me..

Girl: “I’m on E…”

And then she begun her routine, gyrating against my inner thighs, rubbing her crotch against my lap and then finally pulling my hand under her skirt. Then it went slightly awry.

Me: “Is that a tattoo?”

That was ALL I said to before she LIFTED up her skirt in full view of EVERYONE at the bar. One tattoo at the pelvic bone, sliced in half by her red G-Strings and one huge one on the lower back.

Me: “Woah.. That was a good show for everyone..”

The last time anyone ever did something like this for me at a club, the person turned out to be a post op transsexual. I now only need to verify if she's psychotic.

If there was an award for the shortest skirt, she would have won it even if she wore it below her knees. It was so ridiculously short, I was almost certain she was wearing some shorts underneath.

Girl: “You don’t mind that I’m 32?”
Me: “I don’t care if you’re 32 or 42, It’s no difference to me.. I’m not marrying you to begin with..”
Girl: “Maybe…”
Me: “No maybes.. I won’t be.”

Then she tried sneaking her hands into my pants. Had I not had the psychotic Kay tried to force her way in last time round, I’d have foolishly allowed lust to screw my judgement and coax me into allowing her to get her way.

Me: “No no.. that’s ONLY for the bedroom..”

I pulled her hand away and she responded with a pout and went right back to licking me whilst I giggled to myself while sipping the vodka she got me.

5 mins later, where most guys would have sealed the deal and brought her back for a deserving night of hedonistic sex, I found myself suddenly being introduced to one of her guy friends as ‘my cousin’.

I started giggling and I distinctively heard her mutter, “ooh shit…” before following with an Emmy award deserving script-writing win with,

Girl: “This is my cousin. I have to send him out…”

Say what?

Seconds ago I’d have cajoled a marriage proposal from her and now I’m the gardener hiding in the cupboard.

I shook his hand, glanced at her before sniggering to myself over the whole absurdity of this debacle. I had gone from potential fuck partner to first cousins in seconds.

This must be how it feels like to be a mistress. It felt good. Vodka never tasted so good when I have to pay for it.