While porn is a visual medium, America’s strippers must also appeal to our other sensory parts, including the nose.
But unless they are the rattiest dives filled with menace and despair, I don’t really like strip clubs. I like it when everyone involved knows business transactions are taking place and that no one is meeting anyone’s mom. That said, I admire strippers, their hardworking ways, their hydrant-cracking thighs, and their single-minded (as well as single mother) mercenary nature.
More than anything, I like the way strippers and strip clubs tend to smell. It’s sweat, flecks of glitter, some low pile carpeting, and this delicious melon concoction that makes me want to listen to Warrant.
While many porn performers visit strip clubs as feature dancers, and while numerous porn stars came to their current jobs through being “house girls” at clubs around the country, the stripper/porn performer line at the Adult Entertainment Expo is distinct, and I saw little fraternizing between the two disciplines.
I spoke with Ava of Sapphire, the World’s Largest Gentlemen’s Club, as she handed out coupons at the Expo. We talked about the olfactory array she preferred as well as her reaction the first time she ground a leg a little too effectively.
Ava says “Thank you” in a way that made me feel like I was just another wad of twenties to her. Still, the information was necessary for my research, and I can’t wait until they open a peeler bar on Mos Eisley.
Previously on Porn Valley Observed: How Francophone strippers aid conception
See also: Sapphire Las Vegas
The first time I ever went to a strip-joint, it was Tampa’s semi-famous Mons Venus, about an hour north of my hometown which my buddies and I made the trek from shortly after my 18th. As is the custom in these dens, I was approached by several of these hard-working women for a private dance, one of whom enticed me with the come-hither, “Baby, Imma make you cum in yo’ pants.” “Uh, I have to drive back to Sarasota tonight, ma’am.”
Also: Ween rulez.
I know for a fact that many strippers take that as a badge of honor, while others (like Ava) recoil at it. There needs to be a colored handkerchief system.
Haven’t been myself, sadly (too poor at the moment) but my husband’s first visit to a strip club was during his bachelor party. He was brought home a giggling happy mess at three in the morning and placed carefully upright against the kitchen wall by our substantially more sober friends. I leaned in to kiss him hello, got a mishmash of scents, and said, “You smell like beer and eight different kinds of body lotion.” He grinned like a little boy in a candy store and said, “Well, if it’s coconut, that’s Noelle. She’s *really* nice!”
Actually, as I recall, Noelle got the thumbs’ up from the whole party as most of them wear glasses, and she was very good at taking them off and putting them on again after snuzzlebunnies without poking anyone in the eye, ear, etc. It’s the little things, I guess #grins#
That is a delightful story, and you are a keeper for not going out and murdering Noelle. For her part, she seems like a smart and thoughtful stripper, careful with delicates lenses.