Part 10: Cincinnati

In the morning, I walked into Wallyworld to wash up and grab some Coors Light and Jagermeister as housewarming gift. I made it to Cincinnati a couple hours later. After getting lost, I finally found Mount Adams, a nice neighborhood of Cincy on top of a hill that overlooked downtown and the Ohio River. This part of the city reminded me a lot of Pittsburgh. I met up with my old friend Bareback Jack and was told we’d be having a barbecue and party that evening. We went to the grocery store and bought meat, buns, chips, condiments, and booze. The party was to begin at 17:00 and there were still a few hours to kill so we went to some of the bars on top of the hill. Bareback Jack sent out a mass text inviting people to come and invited the bartenders and waitresses and the local establishments to the party. When five o’clock rolled around, there were only eight people at the party and six were guys. It was a bust. We consumed the case of Coors Light, and the party faded by 22:00.

Bareback Jack and I decided to clean up and go strip clubbing. I am typically a lone wolf when it comes to adult entertainment, but whenever I have gone with a friend, it was always Bareback Jack. When we went to East St. Louis during Mardi Gras weekend, he ended up fucking a stripper inside one of the clubs…bareback. I couldn’t believe it and told him he needed to get tested for AIDS and other STD’s. He clearly loved strip clubs as much as I do. I texted another friend who lives in Cincinnati, Erik, and asked him where the best strip clubs were. He couldn’t come out due to just getting married, but here is what Erik texted:

Diamonds or Cheeks in Centerville is good, or racers in Sparta Kentucky. Don’t recommend Covington. Those are nasty. Lawrenceburg isn’t that much better. Might be better getting the private ones incall.

Bareback Jack claimed the best club in the Cincinnati metro area was across the river in Covington called Club Venus, so that is where we went first. It was located in downtown in a kind of a narrow store front, but the inside extended back a ways. The front half was a bar and the back half had the stage. The club was “bikini”, meaning the girls would dance on stage wearing bikinis and we wouldn’t even see a nip slip. There was also a no-touch policy at the stage. The old fart manager sat near the stage and stared everyone down. The dancers were mostly white and had an affinity for hardcore rap music based on their TouchTune choices. I think there were six working at 22:30 on a Saturday night, which seemed week. About two were fuckable by my strict standards, but the other four were below a 6 rating. There was one that was almost completely covered in tattoos and had must have recently given birth. Her stomach was disgusting. She knew she was nasty too. She went up to every guy in the club and asked for a dollar for the jukebox because she knew she was too nasty to ask for a dollar for her body. Most guys relieved their pocket of a Washington just to get her away from him. She honed her sights on Bareback Jack and told him he could do anything he wanted to with her. I believed it.

The no-touch, no-lap dance, and bikinis did not rev our engines. Apparently, to get around the no lap dance thing, you can buy a dancer a “drink”. She’d then spend one-on-one time with you for how long it took her to consume the “drink” on a bench in the back of the club with no privacy. I believe prices ranged from $40 to $150 for the “drinks” and the more you spent, the more intimacy you’d get. This is similar to how some clubs operate on The Block in Baltimore. Bareback Jack claimed he bought the blonde dancer, who was across the room locked down with a regular, a $100 “drink” on a previous visit and got mutual groping and DFK. He enjoyed it, and that is why he brought me there. We watched about three dancers on stage and got out of there at my behest.

I could not deal with the rules on the Kentucky side of the river, so I suggested we hit up Lawrenceburg, Indiana. There is a strip club chain in the metro area called Concepts. The have clubs in Aurora, Indiana and Lawrenceburg, Indiana on US 50 and a club in Covington, Kentucky that we had no interest in. Our plan was to go to Aurora first and then double back to Lawrenceburg on the way home.

Concepts in Aurora is a relatively new club. It appeared it used to be a restaurant called Journeys then remodeled into a strip club. When the dancers came out to the stage, they came out through what was the kitchen. The first room you enter has a two pole stage if I remember. Beers were $3.50 and cover was $5. The club was very clean and new, but the talent did not match up with the nice atmosphere. There were six dancers: five white, one black. One of the white girls was even visibly pregnant. No one from the sparse crowd of ten or so patrons would even give her a cent. Two of the white dancers approached our table and hit us with a hard sell. Both appeared to be on some kind of drugs. The younger of the two was very skinny and appealed to my friend, who has been known to have a liking for nasty crack whores. She kept sticking her tongue out at him and making a licking motion. My friend departed for the VIP with her thinking he was going to get his dick sucked. I think he paid $150 for thirty minutes and nothing happened other than regular dances. He was pissed and would later whine about blue balls. The VIP area was not even that private considering the staff would peek around the corner every five minutes or so.

While five of the six dancers did not appeal to my taste, there was one who was nothing short of heaven sent. Her name was Alexis. Her body was amazing…marriage material for Sinclair. When it was her turn on stage I started sprinkling singles, making sure to outspend the swinger couples just down the tip rail. She did not give me much attention. When her stage set was done, I retreated back to my table and waited for her to come by. Instead she just sat next to the DJ in a chair and looked bored. Was the young DJ her boyfriend/pimp? Was she content with just making money dancing on stage? Is there something wrong with the way I look? I would have gladly maxed out my Black Card and ATM Card on Alexis, but she did not take the hint. That might have been a good thing in the end for the sake of my bank account. One thing I will never understand is why dancers squander opportunities to make money. I have seen many instances in my strip clubbing career where girls will loiter with friends, regulars, or other nonspenders when spenders are drooling over them. Perhaps the poor decision-making behind this is the same poor decision-making that has relegated them to being a sex worker.

After leaving Concepts in Aurora, we headed back west to the Concepts in Lawrenceburg. This location was much more populated in terms of both dancers and customers, which makes sense because it is closer to Cincinnati and near two casinos. Beers were $4 and cover was $6. There were three box stages, meaning each stage was close to floor level and a square frame about two and half feet in height surrounded each, acting as tip rail. I found more attractive women working here than the previous two clubs. There were a few dogs, but close to half got me hard. Most of the talent seemed to be in their twenties. I tipped a few dancers well, but they always went to other guys when they got off stage: guys who did not tip or even buy them drinks. I figured they must be regulars. I had not gotten a lap dance all night, while he had gotten dances in both Aurora and Lawrenceburg, so Bareback Jack started insisting that I take a dancer back for some action. In his drunken state, he wandered off and pulled away one of the dancers I was smitten with on stage. He told her I wanted a lap dance and gave her a twenty. Mia was about 20 or 21 I’d guess and about 5’9” with nice long legs, the type of girl who probably played volleyball in high school. Her stomach had a hint of stretch marks, meaning she had a kid in the last year or two. She said she had been dancing for ten weeks and maybe that was why she had not approached me after my generous tipping. I tend to avoid women who’ve been “beat up” by childbirth, but there was something about Mia that I found attractive; she had a good attitude and a great smile. One dance turned into many more, possibly seven, but more likely eight or nine. I felt her grind her pubic bone into my crotch, trying to get off. I felt up her lean body but did not indulge further than that. I rode the string of dances right to the 03:00 closing time.

The music stopped and she said, “Thank you,” as she climbed off my lap.

I looked across the lap dance room and saw a morbidly obese Mexican guy getting a dance and then ten feet down the couch a dwarf with a fanny pack getting a dance. I thought to myself: “Damn. Strip clubs attract a lot of weirdoes.”

Mia continued, “I like dancing for nice guys. And there aren’t too many of them.”

She then kissed me on the cheek. I handed her $90, enough to cover six dances at $15 apiece, in addition to the one prepaid by Bareback Jack. I think I might have owed her for another dance but she walked off without counting the money and didn’t seem to care if I had underpaid. That was the first time I came across a dancer who didn’t care about payment. Frequently, they try to overcharge you for dances you never received. We exited the club and wandered off into the surrounding residential area. I felt bad that there were houses close to the club that had to endure boisterous drunks parking in front of their property and waking them up in the middle of the night.

We were not ready to call it a night, so we drove a few blocks and went to the Hollywood Casino. I ended up losing about $100 on slot machines and roulette. At least I was able to drink all of the soda I wanted for free out of the complimentary soda fountains. Yes, I was wandering around the casino at 03:30 with a Mello Yello in each hand. Pissed off by how tight the slots were, we decided to find somewhere to eat.

Jack and I rolled into a Waffle House at about 04:00. Bareback Jack had never been to a Waffle House. I explained the food sucks but it is great when you are drunk, plus it is one of the only options at this time of night. I was horny and buzzed, and one of the waitresses was looking good to me, a diamond in the rough. She was maybe 19 or 20 and looked good in those tight black pants. I started dozing off waiting for my cheese steak sandwich, thinking what it would be like to bang her in the bathroom stall of the Waffle House. We finished our meals and got back to Mount Adams around sunrise.