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