The night was getting crazy. Two women at Pops coming onto me or were they?
Sitting alone at the bar I am interrupted from my thoughts by a blonde asking if she could put her feet across my lap. She does and starts to adjust her shoe. A little later a brunette bumps me in the head and apologizes. It must be that I don't give a damn and somehow they know it.
The night comes alive only when I spot the two dancers across the bar from me.
I have known one of them for years from C-Mowes Topless Club where they had the limousine joy rides with the fantasy dancer of your choice.
We understand each other. Our eyes meet and we wave at each other. After all, who cares. Neither of us are trying to impress anyone there. I go up to the two dancers and buy them each a drink. One of them slips off her top showing off her large breasts. Not to be outdone I pull my shirt up and she starts to suck on my nipple, then bears down on it hard, suddenly causing me acute pain. That starts it.
Mode 1. I am now on automatic. Thoughtless and only thinking of a good time. I know her and she knows me. I saw the two at a club a few hours before. The three of us grab a table not far from the bar. A man is sitting there. No matter. We give him a little shit anyway. Not hard shit but the pleasant kind that you either like or don't. He leaves anyway. Sense of humor is short of ours.
One of the dancers is a little shy but her friend, the one I know is bold. The three of us decide to go to another table, one that is past the dance floor against the opposite wall of the room. A band is playing but as usual the best music comes when the band quits and they play from the original artists. It is almost like our own private alcove back there but lots of people can see us nonetheless. There is a huge balcony above the place and every so often there is a six by six wooden support pole. I am not drunk yet but I decide to show off in front of the girls. I try to levitate on the pole like a dancer does on the stage. Can't get my hands around the square piece of lumber and even if I could my hands could never spin around that support pole which allows me to get my body several feet above the stage in a club. "Well....that isn't going to stop me, " I say to myself. "After all, I am Corbettman and I can do anything".
I rush that hunk of lumber and encircle the six by six with my forearms. Get off the ground but I can't spin since the pole is square with sharp edges--and splinters. Crashing to the floor I feel pain in my right forearm. It is badly lacerated. Screw it. That was fun. Who else would try that?
The girls are egging me on. So I try it again. The girl I know comes to the pole and shoots a moon, then starts to undo my zipper. They do that in the clubs. No one knows that better than I. They leave the man standing there in his underwear but I think this dancer wants to showcase me bare assed before everyone. Right? I am onto that one. But then again...she might have more in mind. I give it fifty fifty. I stop her anyway, pulling her hands away from my fly.
dance unless there is a stage I can do it on. Lemmings. People dancing on a dance floor. Followers most not really enjoying themselves but doing what is expected of them. They get me on the dance floor and the three of us end up with our arms all over each other. I have my hands on the first girl's breasts and only because she put them there. Some of those dancing near us make a few comments for we definitely stand out.
Who cares. They don't and I don't. I mean what is this--an audition before the President and even if it was who gives a damn about him anyway.
Later...the three of us are back at the table. Talking. And talking about things that are deadly serious. Our world but still unlike the mindlessness of before. It was a good night.
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