Part 18: Detroit

I checked out of the hotel that my job was paying for on Saturday morning. I was officially supposed to travel home, but I opted to stay in Detroit another night on my own dime so that I could do some sightseeing.

I went over to the Ford Complex. I had bought tickets for the Ford Factory Tour and the Henry Ford Museum. First I went to the factory tour. You take a bus to the River Rouge Assembly Plant and get to watch workers building the F-150 from the catwalks above. It is quite a site to see: American workers making American cars in America. I don’t think any other carmaker in the world lets the public into one of their assembly plants. I then spent the rest of the afternoon at the Henry Ford Museum. There are lots of classic cars, trains, tractors, airplanes, and other American artifacts on display. Besides the classic cars, my favorite thing to see was the special summer exhibit called “Women Who Rock”. On display were the outfits of Cher, Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Britney Spears, Shakira, Taylor Swift, Joan Jett, and more.

Around 16:30 I left and drove downtown. I was hungry and looking to grab a big dinner. A lot of people in Detroit rave about a barbecue restaurant called Slow’s in Corktown. I decided to check it out. Corktown is an area along Michigan Avenue west of downtown that was originally settled by Irish immigrants from Cork. Nowadays, it is mostly rundown, but there are a few bars and restaurants popping up, and there are some hipsters and yuppies trying to revitalize the area, even though it has a long way to go.

Slow’s is more or less in the middle of the ghetto, but ninety percent or more of the people eating, drinking, or working there were white. Many of them were artists, hipsters, and yuppies. I ordered the Texas-style barbecue brisket and a Bell’s Oberon. The brisket was decent, but I’ve had better. Then again, I am a big fan of barbecue and have eaten it all over the United States. Slow’s was a little pricey and a little overhyped, but I’d still go back there again because the service was excellent and there was good people-watching.

Since I needed somewhere to sleep tonight I booked the Comfort Inn by the airport. I used my Choice Privileges points and didn’t need to pay a cent. I drove over there and checked in. After taking a nap, I washed up and went out to find an ATM around 23:00.

From there I went to the Play House which is located along Middlebelt Road in Romulus, literally right across the road from the airport. It was kind of out by itself in no man’s land, so for the first time this trip I let a valet into my car, which cost me $6. A cover charge set me back another $10. A Bud Light was another $7, and I tipped the bartender $1. So before I even saw a tit, my wallet was $24 lighter.

It was at that point I noticed something wasn’t right. The club only had five customers on a Saturday night! Furthermore, the club only had three dancers working on a Saturday night! All three were a 3 or lower on my rating scale. What is wrong with this club? The physical club was very nice and clean. The staff were very friendly, even the bar back and manager who both kept stopping by to chat with me. When in doubt, consult Google. I learned that this club had been shut down since the summer of 2012 and just reopened February 8th this year.

The only thing worth looking at was the waitress, Johnny. She would get up on stage and dance in the rotation, but she would only strip down to her bra and panties. Too bad she didn’t do private dances, because she was an 8.5.

I ended up spending $33 and stayed the rest of the night. While I had no interest in the dancers, I had a good time joking around with the manager and bar back. Toward the end of the night, a younger crowd came into drink, including a 9 dancer who was celebrating her 22nd birthday. When it was time to close at 02:00, there was no rush to force people out of the club like you see at most bars and clubs fifteen minutes before closing time. I ended up staying until 02:20 and then went back to the hotel.

This is a 1931 Dusenberg Model J, manufactured in Indianapolis, Indiana. Only 481 were built between 1928 and 1935.

This is my dinner from Slow's.

Part 17: Detroit

I completed my final day of work on Friday and packed up all of my gear. I snuck out of work two hours early and spent the rest of the day in Lansing, Michigan before heading back to my hotel in Detroit for the evening. I took a nap until about 23:00, then got showered and headed over to the Toy Chest for the second night in a row.

I self parked once again on a side street to avoid the valet charge. I entered sometime after 24:00 and realized I only had less than two hours to find some action before the club closed. The club was jam packed with patrons and dancers. I ordered a Budweiser and leaned up against the back wall since there were no seats to be had. A few of the same uglies from the other night approached me. Once again, a lot of the hotties were locked down with regulars. It looked like this was going to be another bad night at the Toy Chest.

Eventually a blue-eyed blonde that I would rate an 8 came by the bar and gave me the “Detroit handshake”. She seemed to be buzzed off of the mixed drink that she was holding in her hand. She had nice fake tits and a thirty-eight inch ass. We started flirting. She said she was 27, but I’d guess she was more like 30. Once I told her I was not from the area and staying in a hotel, she insisted we trade phone numbers so she could come to my hotel later. I passed on her offer but told her I would get a couple lap dances from her. We went to the corner of the club where there were small curtained off rooms for private dances. A bouncer assessed a $20 fee to use one of the spaces.

The curtains closed and we were off to the races. I started palming her huge tits like they were sixteen-inch softballs. She started French kissing me. It wasn’t me who initiated it, but I wasn’t going to stop it either. Next, I slid my right hand into her bottoms and started massaging her clit for a minute. Then I reached even farther back and started finger blasting her. A few songs in, she unbuckles my belt and starts stroking my manhood. She reaches into her purse and pulls a condom out and puts it on me, then starts stroking me again with her hand inside the condom with my steeple. I have no clue why she did this, maybe it was because she had too much to drink. When I busted, my baby batter went all over her hand inside the condom and the rest ran down my shaft. There was a mess, and I had no napkins or handkerchief to clean it up.

I paid the dancer and then went to grab my keys and phone from the nightstand, but the dancer grabbed my cell phone before I could and walked off with it, sticking it in her waistband. I am guessing she wanted to put her number in it, but I wasn’t about to lose my phone to a drunk stripper. I chased her through the VIP area.

“Give me my phone back please,” I said.

She replied, “You need to pay me more money because you came in my mouth.” This was untrue.

Eventually, we were near the bouncer whom I had paid $20 to. I told him, “She walked off with my phone,” while pointing to the dancer.

He stopped her and made her give me my phone back. Then he shouted at the dancer, “Go to the dressing room! Now!” Maybe this dancer had a history of getting drunk and acting strange.

I went to the washroom to clean up as best as I could. It was fifteen minutes until closing and the bathroom troll had already departed for the night. I then hightailed it out of the club before any more problems arose. On the way back to the hotel I grabbed some fourth meal from Taco Bell.

This Wood Brothers Ford won the 2011 Daytona 500. The confetti and champagne on the car were from the victory celebration.

Part 16: Detroit

I finished another day of work around 10:30, then locked my office door and took a nap. For lunch, I went to a newer artisan pizza place that a guy at work was raving about, Supino’s. I ordered a pepperoni pizza and went to pick it up. There was a line out the door at this place. It must be really good pizza I thought. I snarfed the whole thing, and yes, it did have a unique crust and tasted good.

I went back to the hotel and did some work on the computer for awhile. Around 21:00, I decided it was time to check out the Toy Chest in Dearborn. It seemed like the only option to park was valet, but I parked on a side street for free about a block away near the Red Robin since this cheap bastard didn’t want a stranger inside my car. I walked in and got a dirty look from a guy by the door, but otherwise everything was okay. The Toy Chest is basically a large room centered on a kidney-shaped stage. I sat near the bar and ordered a beer, which was a hefty $7, and a beef quesadilla for dinner. The beef quesadilla was $12 and very undersized.

I sat back and watched the action. About half of the dancers were black and half were white. A lot of the customers were Arabs. The largest mosque in the United States is actually just a couple blocks west of the Toy Chest. It is hypocritical how these guys make their wives and daughters wear hijabs, then go to strip clubs. If one of their daughters or girlfriends stripped, they’d stone her to death.

I also kept my eyes on the bartender’s fine ass. One thing I have noticed about Detroit area clubs is that the servers and bartenders are always as good-looking as or better than the dancers. Eventually a few of the uglier, overweight dancers approached me, and I turned them down. All of the 7-10’s were locked down with regulars in booths. This club seemed to be not a good pick for someone just passing through town. I even tipped a couple dancers, but that was futile. I was going nowhere fast, so I decided to hit another club.

Since I had decent luck at Criket Tuesday night, I decided to head over there about 24:00. The line-up turned out to be even better than my last visit—more sexy white dancers, fewer pushy black dancers.

Angel was dancing, and her fan boy was there as well at a stage side table. After she got off stage, she came by and we talked for about ten minutes. Then it was to the back for five lap dances. I needed to grab another beer by that time. She wanted my phone number, so I gave her my burn number. Instead of hanging out and drinking with me, she worked the room taking two other guys back for strings of dances. I realized she had a lot of regular customers and probably had all of their phone numbers too, sending out texts whenever she needed a pathetic loser to come to the club and give her money. Eventually, she came back to me and told me I had to buy more dances from her. I told her, “Later,” as by this point I had become tired of her pushiness and started to think less of her.

When she went up on stage, I was approached by a tall, lean brunette with A cups and nice legs. We started talking as she grabbed my throbbing cock over my pants. She made a sales pitch and I decided I wanted to climb up those long legs like they were beanstalks and I was Jack. After about one song, she pulled my pork sword out, slid a condom on, and started taking it into her mouth. This dancer could suck a bowling ball through a straw; she really knew what she was doing. I was having a hard time holding back as saliva was coming out of her mouth and oozing all the way down my shaft. Needless to say, I did not last more than a couple minutes and erupted like Mount St. Helens on May 18, 1980.

Since dinner at the Toy Chest was not plentiful enough for me, I went to the Taco Bell that is nearly across the street from Criket around 01:00. It seemed that some of the other patrons and dancers had the same idea. After eating in the parking lot, it was back to the hotel to rest up for my final day of work in the Motor City.

The abandoned Michigan Central Station. It was at one time the tallest train station in the world.

Part 15: Detroit

I made it up for work on time. On this particular day, the area boss made a surprise visit. He started asking me all kinds of questions, trying to stump me on technical specifications. I had been studying my materials for the past two days and had answers for all of his questions. After an hour, he left. I knew he wouldn’t show up more than once in a week, so I was on easy street for the rest of the week.

I left work around 14:30 and got a corned beef sandwich on the way home at a place called Louie’s. It was okay, but had a little too much fat on it for my liking. I then took a shower and went to sleep. I got up around 21:00, and it was time to go strip clubbing. This particular evening I was headed to The Landing Strip in Romulus, Michigan.

The club was a little hard to find. I ended up getting there around 22:00. What is weird about this club is that it is like the largest building smack dab in the middle of the downtown street of Romulus. It was the only business open this late at night. I am a cheap bastard that does not like valet charges, so I parked for free on the main street instead of the parking lot. There is nothing on the first floor. A stairway leads up to the second floor, where the club is at. I would find out later that there are VIP rooms built into the first floor, accessed by a separate stairway. It is safe to say this club is not wheelchair-friendly.

The club was very crowded on a Wednesday night. I sat at a crowded bar, where a domestic beer was $7.75! Yikes! I took in the stage show for awhile. There were a few really sexy dancers, but also some that were too old or too ugly. One redhead with glasses and pale skin caught my attention. Unfortunately, after she got off stage she went and sat with a suit in a booth for the next two hours. I did not think it would be appropriate to drag her out of a booth from her whale.

After sending away a couple uglies, a sexy dancer that looked like Nicole Scherzinger came by. She had put on a hell of a stage show earlier. I bought her an overpriced $10 drink to loosen her up a bit. I learned we had a lot in common such as attending the same college and liking the same bands, as she rubbed me. Hook, line, sinker, and off to the VIP room downstairs.

I paid the bouncer downstairs $20 for the room. It was a padded bench with a curtain blocking the entrance. I started rubbing her fit ass and caressing her nice handfuls. She didn’t mind a little pussy rubbing as long as my hands were not inside of her thong. She mentioned she was not an extras girl, but I was fine with that because she was giving really good dances with intense grinding and intimacy. I think she might have been into me because we did six dances, and she was fine with me paying for only five. We went back upstairs as it was her time to go back on stage for four songs—two on each end of the long runway stage.

I went back to the bar and finished my beer. A dancer from Milwaukee that was not too appealing hit me up. I figured I’d bullshit her and get the lowdown on the club. When she asked if I was going to get a dance from her, I asked her if she was going to give me a BJ. She said that most of the dancers at The Landing Strip don’t do extras, but if they do it is usually just hand jobs. She said she’d give me a handy for $50 plus the costs of the dances. I had no intention of getting serviced, but kept up my act.

“So if you aren’t going to suck my dick, can you recommend a dancer who will?” I said.

She started telling me about every dancer in the club who sucked and fucked and what their ballpark prices were. She said you could get anything for about $150 from a dancer that looked beat-up from a pregnancy. She said one of the black girls Miley was a big slut and would give you everything for $200. I pointed to the dancer on stage, Heidi. The dancer told me she would provide full service for $300. One thing I noticed was that all of the dancers that were extras-friendly were either older or black. All of the sexy younger dancers I desired seemed to be able to make money without sucking and fucking.

A Mexican at the bar was listening in on our conversation and started chatting Milwaukee. I think he was interested in getting stroked downstairs by Milwaukee. This was my cue to bounce.

I walked back to my car and started going back to the hotel. I had not eaten since Louie’s this afternoon and was hungry, so I hit the McDonald’s drive thru around 00:45 on the way back to the hotel. I ate the burger and fries and passed out on the bed.



The Landing Strip sign at night.

Part 14: Detroit

I worked until 10:00, then locked my office door and slept until it was time to go home. Then I went back to the hotel and slept some more. By 21:00, I was showered and headed to Criket, a strip club in Dearborn. One of the reasons I chose this particular club was that it was one of the few without mandatory valet and no room fee every time you go back to get dances.

I entered and ordered a Bud Light. One was $7, but an ice bucket of two was $12. I also had not eaten all day, so I ordered the Philly cheese steak. The sandwich was good, but a little smaller than I was expecting for $9. My waitress was a knockout blonde, who looked hotter than most of the dancers here. I tried flirting with her, but she was being very terse. Meanwhile, I spotted a Barbie on stage named Angel. She looked like she might be Polish or at least half. She had beautiful blue eyes, dyed blonde hair, tan skin, pierced nipples, and an ass to die for. I threw four bucks on the stage. Immediately some young guy came up to outbid me.

Next, a black dancer with more-than-handful breasts sat at my table and started talking me up. She was a twenty year old college student on summer break. I small talked for awhile, then after ten minutes she hit me up for dances. Since Angel was sitting with the guy who made a point to out-tip me, I decided to go back for a few dances with the chocolate dancer to check out the logistics in the dance area. Dances were done on captain chairs behind a curtain. Two-way contact was encouraged and it seemed nothing was off limits it seemed. She started stroking my dick over my jeans. I grabbed her tits like they were softballs. She mounted the chair in a squatting position and started thrusting her pussy into my dick really fast. These $20 dances were a good value and privacy was good, but I wanted to save some money for Angel, so I cut out after three songs.

I went back to my seat and ordered another two beers. Eventually Angel left her stalker and came over to thank me for tipping. She spoke with an accent and was even sexier up close. I asked where the accent was from. She said she was German. She was adopted and raised by American parents. We talked a lot and found out we had a lot in common like our love of cowboy boots.

I went to the back with her. The dances were better than the previous peeler. She encouraged me to smack her ass, saying that she loved it. My hands caressed her perfect ass and pierced tits, and for a minute I thought I was Donatello and her impeccably soft skin was my clay. Six songs later I needed a break and she needed to go on stage.

The stalker resumed his tipping and she went to him after her four song set was over. They went in the back for about four songs. I flagged down the tight ass blonde waitress and got another two Bud Lights. Most of the dancers on this particular night were black, even though this was a mixed club. I had no interest in most of the other talent on this particular night.

Later, I took back Angel again for another six dances. I rubbed her pussy over her g-string, which she didn’t mind. She said she is not an extras girl, which is okay by me if you can keep me entertained.

Eventually Angel went back on stage and I was approached by a slim brunette with A cups. She looked thin enough to be a good fit between my legs, so I took her back for a couple lap dances. After dancing for just one song, she got on her knees and started worshiping my cock. After putting a rubber on, she began to deepthroat me in rapid motion. I could not take it; I went off like a Roman candle in just thirty seconds. By then, it was after 24:00. I was buzzed and had dropped something like $470 just that evening. It was time to get back to the hotel, so I could get up for work at 04:30.

A lake freighter moving down the Detroit River. Windsor, Ontario is in the background.

Part 13: Detroit

I haven’t done an out of town assignment for work in about two years. To my surprise, I got called up to work a week in Detroit the week starting with Memorial Day.

I left just after midnight on the morning of Memorial Day so that I could avoid all of the delays and traffic. I made it to a rest area near Jackson, Michigan by the time I started to fall asleep four hours later. I slept for about four and a half hours and then continued on into Detroit. My hotel was right in downtown. I went to check in around noon, where I found out that they only had valet parking that was not easy access. I needed quick in-and-out for work and exploring, and I did not want to subject my job to added parking fees at an offsite lot, so I cancelled my reservation and walked out. I backtracked down I-94 and got a room at the Holiday Inn Express in Dearborn. Parking was free. I showered up and headed downtown for the afternoon.

When I was downtown earlier in the day, I noticed a lot of young people and scantily-clad women near the riverfront. Today was the final day of the three-day Movement Festival, formerly known as the DEMF (Detroit Electronic Music Festival). I decided to stop in at the Bouzouki Club about 17:00, figuring that it might be happening because there was an event going on downtown. I was wrong. There was not a single dancer working, just seven patrons drinking $5 beers at the bar.

A little history on the Bouzouki Club and Sinclair: This was the first club that I ever got a lap dance in. I had been going to strip clubs since college, but never bought dances until the first time I went to Bouzouki. I remember the dancer was a sexy blonde from Royal Oak who grinded me good and kissed me at the end of a five-set. That moment was the beginning of my addiction to strip clubs.

I left and went to dinner at Loco’s Tex-Mex, which is a restaurant next door, owned by the same guy that owns the strip club. The food was okay. The cool thing is that the same beef quesadilla that I ate at Loco’s could be ordered at the strip club for the same price. The Greek restaurant, Niki’s Lounge, is just beyond Loco’s and also owned by the same people that own Bouzouki.

I then walked around the Greektown Casino a bit and returned to the Bouzouki Club which still did not have any dancers. I had a beer and left at 19:30 to check out the electronic music festival in Hart Plaza. There were sexy women everywhere and I bet most of them were either drunk or high. I had to get back to the hotel so I could be up for work at 04:30, but I wish I could have closed the festival down and hit the after parties. I bet by the time I reported for work in the morning, these people would still be drinking and taking Ecstasy. Note to self: Next Memorial Day weekend go to Detroit for the Movement Festival.



The entrance to the Movement Festival.

A go-go dancer headed to the festival?