A sticky matter of morality.
posted by BeerslingerI went to this great little strip club with a friend of mine the other night. You know the kind of place, too loud, too dark and way too loose on the rules. Anyway, I’m sitting there and enjoying my third or fourth beer and watching the girls gyrate in various stages of undress and intoxication. In other words I was having a pretty good time of it.
Now for the most part I view strippers the way a well fed man views a decent steak, nice but completely interchangeable. However, and you know what I’m talking about guys, there comes along this one stripper that catches your eye. Skinny, but still with curves. Great, pert c/b cup breasts and just the right combination of too many drinks and too few morals to catch your eye.
Now, this is the kind of girl that you start to watch. You watch the way she dances and the way she works the customers, then if every thing is just right…you buy the lap dance.
Invariably her name is Rocket, or Diamond, or Mercedes, or Moonbeam, but it couldn’t matter less. Because, part of the joy of strippers is sexual stimulation without the burden of connection. On second thought, that’s not part of the joy of strippers, it’s the whole package. I don’t have to care if her grandmother is in the hospital, or if her boyfriend is cheating on her or even if she’s flunking out of remedial math at the community college. These things aren’t of any concern to me, nor should they be.
But the other side of it is even better. She doesn’t care about me, at all. I could live forever in perfect happiness or die right there in complete misery and she doesn’t care.
If you can think of a more deliciously nihilistic way to spend $35, then let me know. Have me paged. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.
I digress, let’s cut back to the lap dance…
So, I pay my money to Ms. Rainbow and she leads me back to a louder darker room divided by cubicle walls. She pushes me down on a worn, dirty vinyl couch and takes off her clothing. She was smooth shaven and her nipples were that perfect color of dusty rose against heavy cream colored skin. She turned around and began rubbing herself against my lap, and I let my hands begin to wonder. She kept me away from the most private of private areas but other than that I had free run of the amusement park.
No attachment, no connection, just drunk hands on drunk skin and a blissfully thought free moment.
Then I felt it. As I squeezed her deliciously plump right breast I felt a lump. It was hard and large and located an inch above the nipple. And in that one instant the whole illusion came crashing down around me. Suddenly she was a real person and she had a real name and real parents and she had one VERY REAL problem growing north east of her heart.
Only, she didn’t stop dancing. She had no idea what I had just felt and to her the illusion was still perfect.
Intact.
Whole.
Then the song ended and she climbed off, put her clothes back on and turned to leave after a hollow meaningless kiss on my cheek.
And there was the great white whale of morality glaring me right in the eyes and daring me to choose. Screaming for me to decide. Not just to decide, but to clarify my humanity with that decision.
Do I stop her and tell her what I felt, or do I let her walk off and catch another customer. Hoping that she already knew, or would find it herself, or maybe just hoping I could drink enough not to care, or even better not to remember.
I know what I did, but I want to know what you would have done.
Fill in a comment and let me know. But be honest.
Posted in General |
May 7th, 2006 at 8:17 pm
Damn.
DAMN.
That is truly a bad situation- not so much for you as it is for her. She’s in her realm, and fr the weight of reality to destroy that veneer is a questionable choice for you.
Then, there is the possibility that she already knows about the lump. If you were to tell her about this, her reaction may not be best.
If it were me, I would tell her but I’d make sure there were a bouncer around to ensure you were covered.
May 8th, 2006 at 7:58 am
Hmm.. well the thought of propositioning her comes to mind… j/k
May 9th, 2006 at 11:09 am
I would have told her, then bought her a drink. Sometimes these things are just a result of caffiene in-take (that’s what mine is). Not to worry, maybe she knew. Maybe she didn’t.
May 9th, 2006 at 5:43 pm
Since you got her stage name, go back and leave her a bevnap or something. Personal humility takes a backseat to safety IMO. If I was an erotic dancer, I would want to know…
May 10th, 2006 at 3:37 pm
Yeah, but god help us if you were an exotic dancer dav1x.
May 16th, 2006 at 6:31 pm
you know you would tip me… dirty hooker
July 1st, 2008 at 3:46 pm
Well, to be honest with you i think she probably knows, i mean in the UK we went through a phase where the media were telling us men to check our balls for lumps atleast once a month, but to be completely honest with you i can’t think of a guy who doesn’t feel them once a week or day!! Its hard not to notice something new on the front side of your body, i mean you know when you get bruises but can’t remember how you got them, you still notice you have them? its really tricky NOT to notice something new on your body… so i’m pretty sure she’ll have known. Particularly when so much of her profession revolves around her tits its unlikely she’ll ignore them, she’ll most likely check them out a fair amount of times just normally!
Don’t worry yourself, i’m pretty certain she’ll know
July 2nd, 2008 at 8:26 am
Honestly, I have no idea what I would have done. Probably, I would shy away in fear of her reaction.
July 2nd, 2008 at 6:29 pm
How could you consider not telling her?
July 4th, 2008 at 6:18 pm
I would slaughter that whore shedevil
Jesus told me not to have mercy on their wretched souls
And after the shameless tramp was gasping her last breath i would cut the growth out of her bosom and offer it to the lord himself
Then I would make haste back to the still warm corpse and jerk off like a mad man, isnt religion great, you can do anything and claim you were doing it because god told you to
July 4th, 2008 at 11:54 pm
Guest, that’s not how it works. This is about morality. This is about the truth between what is right and what is wrong. Not about doing what you damn well please and blaming it on God.
It’s Catch 22. If you know you can blame what you have done on God to lessen your punishment, then you are sane enough for that argument not to work.
Guest, you are welcome to email me directly if you would like to have a real conversation about this.
July 5th, 2008 at 5:50 am
My god slinger of beers, it must be a omen from allah herself that our paths have crossed.
You have done your homework I have been caught 22 times, and yes I did declare that god did make me do what I did and it was rejected (as you said it would be) because they claim I am sane.
Oh woe my misery knows no bounds.
So seeing you a lawyer and are willing to take on my case I must let you know that I will only be able to pay you in body fluid, mine initially but when You get me out anyone of your choosing.
July 13th, 2008 at 3:45 pm
You’ve gotta let her know. Whether by random note or face to face, the simple fact is that the girl may need serious medical help.