New Orleans Part 2. Chapter 1: Cock Flavoured Soup

After dinner one night, Liv and I were sitting at the bar having wine when we were approached by a pair of gay guys.  After some conversation and a few drunk group photos, one of them asks, “Y’all girls wanna see some cock tonight?” (in that charming southern drawl) and we were invited to join them at a gay strip club in the French Quarter.

Liv and I looked at each other with the “Fuck yeah” looks in our eyes. Neither of us has ever been to a male strip club before and were never the types to decline the chance to openly perve on some eye candy so we settled our bill and jumped in an Uber.

Now I’m sure when male strippers are mentioned images of Channing Tatum doing body rolls to “Pony” in the films “Magic Mike” and its sequel “Magic Mike XXL” come to mind.  Complete with screaming horny women, money raining down, beefy men in cheesy costumes who can fulfil all your sexual fantasies in cliché romantic scenarios.  The film definitely scores a 10 for entertainment, however like any other Hollywood film it’s just gloss like the oiled up bodies of the actors in it.

We were greeted by an older man at the door with a salt and pepper beard wearing a leather waistcoat.  He had a friendly smile and wished us a fun evening as he stamped our wrists, after which we walked into a bar that wasn’t in the least bit pretentious or over the top looking.  It had just enough of a divey vibe to be welcoming.  The room was lit with ambient indigo lighting, however no fancy flashing neon lights, or stage with a catwalk like I imagined.  It looked like a pretty standard drinking hole with an oval bar in the centre, Chilli pepper fairy lights decorated the ceiling and there was a pool table to the back.  Slot machines lined the front window as you entered, and the walls were dotted with cheesy club posters promoting special event nights with black and white framed photos from the 80’s and 90’s of nude sculpted men.  The bartenders looked like they hated their job, but I’m unsure any other job could make them crack a smile.  They served drinks from the centre of the bar with stools around the outside perimeter, diner style, where patrons would sit. What was clear about the club was the rather conventional surroundings didn’t take away from the entertainment.

On the bar was where the dancers would perform.   Young men with tight asses, rippling abs and a lot of gyrating moves made their way clockwise around the bar.  Tighty-whities, skimpy multi-coloured speedos and strappy booty shorts with bank notes sticking out of them demand your attention as soon as you walked through the door, as if a dick just slapped you in the face.  Although, I had the big talk before coming in, it was all pretty shocking having been my first time at a club like this and to be honest I didn’t know where to look?  Surprisingly, a feeling of embarrassment washed over me, not something I tend to feel often.  We must’ve had our “We are virgin’s” look on our faces so were handed some bills by our chaperones and were told, “its ok, put it in” as one of the slim boys were put in front of us holding his tighties open.  I coyly giggled and put the dollar bill down his underpants and was given a smile of proud approval from our chaperones, like a father would give his son after he learned how to ride a bike.  I’ll admit, it was exhilarating, however I couldn’t help but think about all the times I’ve handled money and then touched my face after, now knowing that money could’ve been smooshed up against some stranger’s sweaty balls….

A dancer humps the bar as female patrons look on.

The patrons in the bar were a mixed crowd mostly white middle-aged men.  There was the odd black man, or the group of holiday-makers who clearly looked like they were in from bigger cities like New York or L.A. by the way they dressed.  The patrons looked of the age where disposable income came about much easier, in other words, not many in their 20’s.  Then there were a few women like us, who were clearly here by invitation by their gay friends.  In fact, the club has a strict rule that women weren’t allowed in the bar without a man to maintain its gay friendly status and prevent horrid hen parties from alienating and driving away their clientele. 

A dancer runs a patrons hand down his body.


As for the dancers, not many of them had the oiled up buff bodies and chiselled faces of the Magic Mike crew.  There were a lot baby faces, the twenty-somethings who had the stamina to be physical all night with the carefree attitudes that personify the younger generation.  There were a few dancers that had the ripped physique and real talent as they swerved their hips, and ran patron’s hands holding cash down their bodies then placing them into their swimmers, then humped the bar creating that fantasy of fucking someone.  It was pretty hot.  Others just showed their manly strength with handstands and push-ups.  Many of the dancers just did a few half-hearted hip sways and 1-2 sidesteps with a flirty smile and expected to get tips. 

The boys rotated on the bar and it became clear that word got out that 2 attractive women were present as the dancers would go out of their way to say hello to us.

A dancer does a handstand on the bar.

It got a bit overwhelming at one point so I sat off to the side and observed my surroundings, I watched Liv receive attention from one of the heavily tattooed dancers, although she looked more freaked out than a woman in heat enjoying herself if I’m honest.  I totally understood, it was intense.  No sooner was I by myself, I felt someone grinding up against my right thigh.  “Hi I’m Chase.  I like your hair.” Hmm nice smile, muscles, straight forward and friendly.  “Hey, I’m Flo.” He gets called off to dance.  And as he leaves my sightlines I see a couple of guys at the bar look at me and give me the thumbs up, “It’s alright darling, most of these guys are straight.”

Hmm interesting….

Chase got on the bar and did his thing, and the guys pull me onto a stool in front of him and shove some bills into my hands.  “Go ahead put them in.” I gingerly put one in his multi-coloured hot pants, “Its ok you can put your hand aaaall the way in” and Chase holds down and open his little swimmers for me with a smile as the guys looked at me in excited anticipation.

OH MY GOD.  He wasn’t shaven, but neat and there was his massive boner in all its glory.

In the Magic Mike films, the Emcee specifies there is absolutely no touching of the dancers.  Oh, but not at this place!  My hand was placed right on his magic stick.  Then…..he bends down to kiss me.  Wowww, bold!  Of course, what woman wouldn’t flush at a young man with muscles and cute smile…while holding onto his Pocket Rocket.  I suppose that’s part of the fantasy when watching these dancers.  For the woman, he’s the fantasy of the lover who isn’t your husband or boyfriend, the young muscles with no attachment.  For the gay men at the club, he is the unattainable straight man.  For both parties, these dancers are there for enjoyment, they are the stuff fantasies are made of.  Although, I have to admit it felt very strange with a stiff penis in my hands at eye level because in any other situation I’ve been in such as this, I know what I would do.  However, with the cheesy pop music playing and the smiling onlookers in a very public club, I felt like a fish out of water.  It was all very surreal.

He invited me out to smoke a cigarette and we were followed outside by a handful of other dancers.  I gathered these guys were straight as they showed interest and quizzed Liv and I on our reasons for being at a gay strip club.

A dancer shows me his tattoos while having a cigarette.


Back inside I watched the dancers connect with the patrons, now knowing that most of them are straight it sort of changed my perspective on their interactions.  I ended up chatting to a straight guy called Tony, who was invited to check out the club by his housemate who is a dancer there. “I work in construction, my housemate Neil, you met Neil right?  Hot pink shorts? Brown hair? Yeah him.  He said it’s a decent way to make some extra cash, so I thought I’d check it out. I even brought my shorts just in case.” He lifts his shirt to show me his swimmers under his shorts.  “So why aren’t you dancing now?” I asked. “Because I decided it wasn’t for me. I’m straight, and I just can’t do it.”  Neil enters our conversation and tells us he just received a blowjob from a patron for money.   Chris gets up to get a drink and leaves Neil and I, “You’re really beautiful, can I kiss you?” Slightly floored with the combination of scaenarios presented, I decline and leave to get myself a drink.

At the bar I see Chase talking to a patron, they’re sitting facing each other on bar stools. As I get closer I see Chase has got his cock out and is stroking his limp friend.  I suppose when you’re straight in a gay world there’s no hiding when you’re not really into the situation.  In the back of the bar by the pool table I see 2 other dancers standing in front of a seated customer and it looked like they were attempting to put on a show for the guy.  The dancers were stroking each other’s (flaccid) cocks and the customer was sat with his arms crossed.  It got me thinking, who in this situation is actually having fun??  I think what I just witnessed were poor examples of dancers trying to make tips.  They clearly weren’t successful in creating that fantasy of sex and desire for the punter, they were trying too hard and were robotic and had an arrogance about them. It didn’t seem to be working and made me realise how un-sexy this environment can be.  It is sexy in many ways, however it’s a superficial kind of sexy where the patrons pay to be in a fantasy and the dancers are paid to entertain them.  The dancers become smiling money making machines and the people doing the objectifying are paying for the privilege of doing so.  In no way is this a criticism, because I understand the benefits establishments such as this have on an otherwise repressed society.  Both parties enter into this world temporarily to escape the reality of life, but what it boils down to is a very surreal world of business transactions ironically. 

There are some key differences from the version in the film and reality, a major one being that what I’m describing is a gay club with a menu of twink types over beefcakes. There really aren’t any screaming girls on a hen night or milfs having a divorce party with money raining down.  I also didn’t see a strong sense of comraderey between the dancers.  Everyone seemed to be out for themselves.

Which brings me to my next question, can money bring you happiness?  It’s a pretty deep question for a shallow situation, however, money seems to be the driving factor here no?

Stay tuned for Chapter 2. 

Thanks for reading, Much Love xxxx

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