Go ahead, laugh at my expense
First, get into town in the afternoon and head to OGs. Ran into Gina, the girl with the great (and I mean great) naturals. Nowadays, more is on the menu, but she has turned into quite an upsell. Wanted to go to the VIP ($200+ 3 $20 drinks at noon), no f'en way. Spent way too much for what I got, but it had been a long time since I had been to a club.
I thought I would check out my old favorite later in the week, Cheetahs. Man, was I disgusted. Only good thing was I was there during happy hour. Saw a cute young hottie come sit near me with a young handsome dude (the bastard!), and when she took her top off his hands brushed against her boobs. She immediately removed them and gave a mostly air dance, then she got down to grinding at the end of the song. They went at it again, and this time he placed his hands on her a$$, and they were immediately removed. Then air dances continued. That was his last dance, and she was obviously issed to only do two dances. Only one guy was getting a fairly good, grinding dance. The girls I saw thought there were All That. The weren't. Door guy was everywhere. Oh, well.
The next day I hit up OG in the early morning. Sat at the bar and the obnoxious dickwad near me was swearing at bitching at another guy down the bar who was talking to a girl & negotiating dances. Dickwad turned out to be a night manager (perhaps bartender?). Well, I was chatted up by a girl named Nikii, not the blond Nikki with fake boobs who fellow clubbers should avoid like the plague.
This Nikki gives good $20 dances and was fairly nice. Somehow or the other, Junior got really into it, and Nikki decided to give an old man a hand, so she shifted herself and went to town. And that did it, but a finger nail, or zipper, or ring, or something connected with Junior in a very uncomfortable way and I yelped. Nikki thought I was really into it, so she increased her efforts. Then it really, Really, REALLY hurt. I made her stop. She thought she had done a wonderful job and I couldn't take it any more. Well, she was right, but not the way she thought.
I said my good byes and went into the john and discovered a major scratch on Junior in a most sensitive area. Damn. Damn. Damn. Not only was my party time done for this trip – and for the forseeable future, but I had to find a drug store to get some soothing antibiotic. And it hurt. It hurt to walk. It hurt when it brushed against my shorts.
Sure. Laugh if you want. You are not sitting there typing this while shifting uncomfortably in your chair. And, yes, scratches get scabs. Everywhere.