Dirty Dancing. No, not the film...

It all began on a muggy summer evening in Exeter. I met Lee at St Davids station and we strolled languidly through town to Wagamama for a pleasant pseudo-Japanese dinner to begin the planned 2 nights of partying for his pre-birthday celebrations. One boot-filling plate of food and giant Tiger beer each and we hopped over to Exe Shed for a couple of drinks before wandering down to Hotel Barcelona for a quick cocktail. After that it was straight to Timepiece where we had a very quick chat to Viet, who was in there with some friends after having seen Wall-E, and then up to the club proper to partake of the Indie music. We continued in our alcoholic theme which meant I had bottles of beer and an occasional diet coke, whilst Lee knocked back JD & coke like it was water. At one point Lee decided to add a couple of sambuca shots to the round, which was a nice interlude, and I think he had another just for himself later on. Meanwhile, there was plenty of dancing going on. Well, Lee was dancing, as he can, and I was doing the sad Indie-boy 'bouncing up an down in time to the music' dance with an occasional bout of head-banging when something heavier came on.

My spaz-boy dancing, however bad, was eclipsed by my general social ineptitude. Lee pointed out a girl who'd apparently been eyeing me up (BUT before I carry on I ought to mention that she seemed to look in my direction ONLY WHEN I WAS LOOKING ELSEWHERE - VERY HELPFUL!) and who at one point danced past me in a way that was, so Lee said, designed to attract my attention. As I hadn't noticed her looking at me at all I thought her 'parade' was merely drunken antics and paid no attention to it. At that point, Lee'd had enough of my obvious oblivion and slapped me in the face, so I was pleased I had 4 days of stubble to cushion the blow. He slapped me again at another point too but I forget what that was for - I suspect after the first one he just got a taste for slapping me. As I said later on during our walk home: had she simply got within 3 feet of me and made eye contact for a second or two I'd have said hello and things would have progressed, but if someone's not even willing to look you in the eye how can you tell if they're interested in you? Answers on a postcard please... Anyway, 2:00 rolled around relatively quickly and we wandered home for a cup of tea and some water before crashing into a drunken stupor which lasted almost until lunchtime on Saturday. That is my current favoured method of avoiding a hangover: if you feel rough when you wake up, just go back to sleep - repeat until you feel ok.

After a relatively pleasant fry-up at the Living Room we lazed about for another couple of hours then strolled very slowly through town to St Davids to catch the next train to Plymouth. That was a slow one and we both wanted to sleep but couldn't. Never mind; on arrival at Plymouth we met Sarah at the station and shared a taxi back to their place where more tea was drunk and more lazing about was done - this is much easier at Lee's place as he has two comfy sofas in his living room and I only have a bed. (Not in the living room - I'm living in a shared house and there's no lounge so I only have a bedroom). After a nice bbq dinner and having watched a pointlessly violent Chinese gangster flick we left the house at 21:30 for part 2 of Lee's pre-birthday celebration. This one was also done as a reconnaissance mission to check out Plymouth's lap-dancing clubs as a favour to one of Lee's self-employed friends. Long story short - we had a good excuse to check the clubs out rather than just actually wanting to go.

Background: Lee's been taken to one of the clubs a couple of times by his boss, who's a bit of a Jack-the-lad sort and therefore does enjoy his lewd entertainment. Lee had mentioned these outings to me and, very cagily as I soon discovered, had not fully described the goings-on. During one webchat I said "I don't see the attraction of having some woman waving her naked vagina 3 inches from your face if you're not allowed to touch anything!" and Lee said "They get closer than that!" which is actually the case and made complete sense at my first dance when I realised I'd misconstrued the rules. I'll get to that later.

A deliberately slow stroll down to the Barbican and into a pub immediately displayed the difference between the Exeter and Plymouth party-goers. In Plymouth, everything was louder and more raucous and the people were more drunk. They were also less physically attractive (on average) and behaved more crassly. It seemed like a chicken and egg situation: did they get more drunk because they were generally so unattractive you had to be pissed to fancy anyone or were they unattractive because they got so drunk? Either way, however much fun some of the people were having, there were plenty who seemed to be bored, depressed or just annoyed for no apparent reason and despite the fact it was relatively quiet in terms of the number of people it was an awful lot louder than Exeter. In the first pub there was a bloke so drunk he could barely stand and when he did he bumped into everything like a human pinball, in the second we stood outside and marvelled at the sullen, drunken hordes ambling past, in the third, which was the Blues Bar (£2 entry as there was a live singer who did more country & western than blues) the average age made us both feel young and prompted Lee to make a joke about us having discovered the elephant's graveyard... After that we popped straight down to the first of the two lapdancing clubs where Lee had promised to pay for my first ever dance.

We went into the first place (£5 to get in £3.50 for a bottle of Becks), which was new to Lee as he'd only been to the other one, and I marvelled at the immediate experience: a very plushly decorated club with a 'dance floor' that was really a performance area for the girls so two poles and a floor that lit up as well as plenty of mirrors. We were there early (before midnight) so it was very quiet and when I returned from a pit-stop an artfully tattooed and pierced blonde girl in the standard costume of shoes, knickers and bra had cornered Lee before he'd even managed to buy a drink. During the brief chat she suggested we came into the VIP area together and she'd do a lesbian show with one of the other girls. All that for the bargain price of £80 each. I very nearly said "EIGHTY FUCKING QUID - EACH?!?!" but managed to keep my trap shut. We declined that offer but we carried on chatting and when she asked what we did for a living Lee kindly jumped in and told her I was a journalist - good thing too as I was going to be honest and say 'unemployed'. The following day Lee suggested I always say I'm a freelance journalist who's 'between articles' and I like that idea so I think I'll use it! He then handed 'Candy' (for 'twas her assumed name) a £20 note and told her to take me for my first dance, which she did. Oh My God, in that few minutes my eyes were opened. I also discovered exactly how calculating Lee had been in the amount of information he'd given me.

In the private booth there was a comfy upholstered bench seat where I initially sat on my hands to ensure I adhered to the 'no touching' rule but then just put my hands flat on the seat by my legs instead. After she'd danced for a little while and removed her bra, I got a serious shock. I thought the 'no touching' rule meant no physical contact. No it doesn't: YOU are not allowed to put your hands on the girl, SHE can do whatever the hell she wants to you. Did I say Oh My God? I meant: Oh. My. GOD! With her bra off she started by putting her head between my thighs and just 'nudging' me and then raised herself straight up, pressing her naked torso all along mine from hips to shoulders, pausing just briefly to nibble one of my ears. I was so shocked by this that when she straddled me, naked apart from very brief knickers and a pair of high-heels, I instinctively put my hands on her backside. She very nicely grabbed my wrists and put my hands back on the seat, saying "No, if you want to touch you'll have to do a VIP", so I apologised and sat still for the rest of the dance. The remainder included her removing her knickers and alternating between sitting briefly on my lap, bumping and grinding on the floor so I could see absolutely everything in its well-trimmed glory, and rubbing her clitoris quite vigorously. She had such a smouldering stare I was so transfixed by her gaze that a couple of times I had to remind myself she was naked and rubbing her vagina for my viewing pleasure - even so I barely gave the eager beaver more than a quick (and hopefully admiring) glance before looking up at her face again. A few minutes later when it was over I was actually trembling and had a dazed 'rabbit in the headlights' look about me.

When we got back to the bar, where Lee was looking suspiciously pleased with himself (almost as though the sneaky sod had planned it all out...) he went off with her for what I thought was just a lapdance and I sat in a comfy seat and finished off the drinks while trying to control my trembling. Within a few minutes an utterly gorgeous brunette had wandered over and was talking to me. There was a little chit-chat where we introduced ourselves and I explained I was waiting for my friend to emerge from a lapdance. She then said "Would you like to see me naked?" and, still being in shock from my first dance and having absolutely no clue how to answer a question like that, I just replied "Well that's a silly question, of course I would." and off we went. She asked if I wanted to do a VIP and I said no, then she said that as it's a quiet night I could tip her if I wanted. I handed over the obligatory £20 and she said "That's not a tip!" to which I shrugged. Then began the few minutes of naked writhing during which I managed to keep my hands to myself and which, although thoroughly enjoyable, wasn't quite as good as the first one. However, as I was still in shock and she had such an adorable face I did give her another £10 for which Lee later scolded me but hey ho - us lapdance virgins are allowed to be silly!

I got back to the comfy seats and had been chatting to another blonde for a minute or two when Lee finally returned from his suspiciously long lapdance which, I soon discovered, had been a VIP. The 'new' blonde suggested I did a VIP with her but the original one said I ought to go with her as I'd said I would. Lee said I had promised (I think it was more of a polite 'perhaps later' rebuffal than an actual promise but I was in no condition to argue) and gave me the additional £20 needed to bolster my funds so off I went with Candy to one of the VIP rooms. That £80 bought me 15 minutes of more of the same with a few bonus features. First of all, even though I had to stay sat down I was allowed to touch her whenever she came within reach. At one point, when she was naked and straddling me but facing away, her back arched so I could see her rubbing herself, I asked "How much am I allowed to join in?" and got a very succinct reply: "Anywhere except 'down there'". So everything from neck to thighs was gently caressed apart from the no-go zone. I got her lovely boobs pressed into my face, her nails gently scratched down my torso, that wonderfully practised earlobe nibble and, right at the end, a very brief kiss. She also spent a good couple of minutes sat on my lap writhing away in a way that was very obviously meant to cause a minor trouser explosion but that didn't actually happen. I was still somewhat overawed with the whole experience and my body was having real trouble trying to keep up. At one point, when she was naked apart from her shoes, she straddled me, lifted up the front of my shirt and pressed herself in her bare and slightly bristly glory against my stomach. That got my heart pounding and also highlighted one very obvious fact: despite all the incredibly lascivious positions she got herself into and the amount of time she spent rubbing her clit and vagina, she wasn't actually wet. She did a great job of looking like she was enjoying herself but she wasn't excited at all, it really was just a job she did. When the time was up she put on her knickers and then sat next to me with her legs across my lap so I could put a hand on her thigh while she put her bra on. We had a brief chat during which I learned a bit about her nice back tattoo and the fact that in her 'day job' she's a teacher. (A teacher! Imagine!) As before, the dim lighting and her utterly absorbing gaze meant I spent most of the time she was facing me looking at her eyes. One of the songs that was played was Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" and when that started I was floating on an unexpected cloud of bliss for almost a minute. From now on when I hear that song I'll think of a dimly lit room and a smouldering look from a naked lapdancer...

There are more details about the club and their clientèle, the brief half-hour we spent at the other lapdancing club and popping into another place before going back to Lee's for tea and toast, but those can all wait. The important details are in this entry and I just want to finish with the quote of the weekend. I was sleeping in Lee's 3-year-old son's room (Harry was at his Mum's of course so I was on my own) and just as I went to bed Lee made me giggle so much I think I laughed myself to sleep. He said "If you're going to pull your pud, don't get it all over the dinosaur duvet!"