Part 6: East St. Louis

The next day I decided I had better check out some of the tourist draws. Going on a trip just for strip clubs can drain you, so I decided I needed to see some of the local attractions. I went up the Gateway Arch, toured Busch Stadium, played some slots and card games at the Ameristar Casino, and then climbed some mounds at Cahokia Mounds State Park. The largest one was one hundred feet tall and gave a good view of the American Bottom. By this point, I was done with the touristy stuff and wanted to see some fleshy mounds and spank some bottoms.

I decided to drive all over the ESL area and scout out the locations of the various clubs while there was still daylight. I first went to Brooklyn. This is a little town that you have to drive a couple miles through a wasteland to get to. The sign coming into town says it is first town in the United States incorporated by blacks. There are two VCG Holdings clubs and two black clubs here. I think there is a massage parlor as well. It was pretty scary here. Buildings lay demolished and boarded up, and there was trash everywhere. It was so surreal I should have taken a picture but was too scared to leave my vehicle. The two VCG clubs looked pretty trashy from the outside. There was a pack of stray dogs hanging out in the Roxy’s parking lot. I wondered: why VCG just doesn’t demolish these clubs? I don’t see why anybody with money to blow would drive all the way out to this shithole, risking getting murdered or robbed, to spend money in a rundown building. I did not feel like taking one for the team and peeled out of there. I drove out next to Sauget. Sauget is directly across the river from downtown St. Louis and seemed to be mostly industrial and safer than my previous stop. The two clubs here are close, with an infamous 24-hour concert hall bar situated adjacent to the titty bars. The Penthouse Club appeared to be built inside one end of a warehouse. Next, I went over to Centreville, home to PT’s and the Centerfold Cabaret. These two clubs actually looked fairly inviting compared to others in the area. The vicinity seemed alright, probably due to the fact that a shrine is on the other side of Bluff Road. Finally, I headed back to Washington Park. The infamous clubs where you can “get anything you want” are off the interstate a bit in the ‘hood. Generally, they look like pole barns surrounded by ten-foot chain-link fence. You want to stick to the main roads in Washington Park, obey the speed limit, and keep your doors locked. You will see lots of boarded up houses and lots of gangstas loitering on street corners and porches sipping St. Ides. I was glad I brought my .357 on this jaunt. Like I said earlier, I was not in the mood to TOFTT in the asshole of America. I have TOFTT too many times. I just headed back to the Hollywood.

By the time I got back to the Hollywood, the night shift was in full swing. I was enticed by Spinner 3, a surgically-enhanced 8.5. I decided to sample some dances from Spinner 3 and was blown away by the mileage I got—way more than from the previous night’s prospects. I had my belt and shirt pulled off and was at the mercy of Spinner 3 who was trying in earnest to make me cum all over myself. I think Spinner 3 gave me the best private dances in my clubbing career as I sit here and recollect my years in the game. Spinner 1 was back at the club and this time trying to play some stripper shit on me about not being able to pay rent and a broken down car. I just came out and flat out told the bitch, “Fuck off, your deadbeat boyfriend can pay your rent.” I also chatted with Spinner 2, a sexpot that could be in Penthouse if she wanted, for a bit but declined private time; her dances were fun but not as high mileage as Spinner 3's. Mileage will vary by the dancer and extras are not likely due to the setup of the VIP rooms and private dance rooms. What cracked me up was that the management of this club reads TUSCL. Above each pisser in the washroom was a poster with the TUSCL Top 10 list showing the Hollywood at #7. Then above the sinks were posters of the TUSCL Top 10’s for Best Dancer, Best Dollar, and Best Physical. Obviously, the management here was excited to be rated well. I thought that was pretty cool because that means the management actually gives a shit about how their club is viewed by the strip-clubbing public. Perhaps, they will act on our constructive criticisms and take our suggestions into account. There are way too many strip clubs out there that could care less about the customer.

Part 5: East St. Louis

To break up the monotony of work and see some new scenery, I took a road trip out to St. Louis for the weekend. I checked into an upscale hotel that I was able to get a very favorable rate due to connections. I washed up and suited up for some club time. I had forgotten my secret stripper bait at the house, but, hey, the show must go on. The ESL scene can be divided into four subgroups: Brooklyn (Roxy’s, PT’s, Pink Slip, Bottoms Up), Centreville (PT’s, Centerfold Cabaret), Sauget (PT’s Sports, Penthouse), and Washington Park (Blondies, C-Mowes Key Club, Cheeks, Dollies, Wise Guys, Hollywood Show Club, Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club, and Miss Kitty’s). The East St. Louis area is very poor, very dangerous, and tolerant of adult businesses because the sales tax and licensing fees provide a significant percentage of these rundown towns’ revenue. I headed over to Washington Park for the first night.

Right at the interchange of Kingshighway and I-64 is Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club and Miss Kitty’s. I decided to bypass both of these clubs based on tidbits from the reviews. A few reviewers for the Hustler Club said that the girls would take your hands and graze them on their ribcages, as if that was risqué, but did not allow touching in other places. The rumors that this club is ROB-laden and the fact that I hate the Déjà Vu/Hustler chain kept me away. Miss Kitty’s, while apparently having a dancer named Sinclair, seemed hit or miss, with a few reviewers mentioning getting robbed and upsold by dancers. A carjacking took place in Miss Kitty’s parking lot a few nights prior. I continued down the road to the Hollywood Show Club, the safe bet, which is currently rated #8 on the Top 100. The Hollywood by far had the safest parking lot—it was fenced in, had private security guards, and was lit up brighter than Fresnel lenses. The Hollywood reminds me of Rorke’s Drift in the movie Zulu. Inside the Hollywood’s compound is safe, but dangerous welfare-dependant savages look to breach the walls to break into your car. I was warned by several of the entertainers to avoid stopping at the gas stations at the intersection of Bunkum and Kingshighway. Apparently, patrons have gotten robbed, assaulted, and carjacked there.

I watched the stage show for a bit, where tit and ass groping is encouraged, and then decided to get some dances from Spinner 1, a 7, to see what level of contact is given here. The level of contact was about the same as at the stage. I would later find out that I had just picked a very restrictive dancer that thought she should be showered with money to do nothing because she has a deadbeat boyfriend at home that can’t make any money. The low enthusiasm and “give me your money” attitude turned me off and I moved on to Spinner 2 when Spinner 1 left to take care of a regular. Spinner 2 was a 9 and gave more contact, enthusiasm, and intimacy then Spinner 1. When Spinner 1 saw me dropping heavy cheddar on Spinner 2, she started to get catty and thought she owned my wallet. Fuck off, bitch! I am going to associate with the girls that make me feel like a man, not girls that make me feel like an ATM. I had wanted to try out some more dancers to prospect how mileage varied from girl to girl, but the club started to get crowded and my prospects became occupied. I was tired and hungry by this point and headed out after a couple hours clubbing. I hit a Denny’s on the way back to the hotel. I ordered three plates of food, one for each meal I skipped that day. The food was greasy and delicious.