The Sapphire is the most impressive strip club I’ve never been allowed into. Sitting on the curb, miles from my hotel, I decided to hoof it home at 3:30 in the morning. After further review, it was a bad choice, but it made for a great story.
As I left the parking lot a cab pulled up, “…you’re in a bad part of town, you should get in.”
“No way amigo, I’m broke and I could use the exercise.” Taxi Guy, “No, really kid, it’s dangerous around here, this is where (some famous guy) got jumped, people get hurt out here.”
I walked on anyway, he wouldn’t give me a free ride, and it didn’t look so bad. A block later I realized that guy was right. I was miles from my room and the only lights within a mile were neon signs promising rub downs and special company. I had never seen such a cluster of “gentleman’s spas”Â in my life, but I had no other option, I was trekking into the worst of what sin city has to offer.
Another block and a big, swift walking, man took me by the arm and lead to into a dark room where two women huddled around a heater. “Hey big fella, would you like an athletic massage? Maybe a sauna treatment?” I wasn’t amused, paying for whatever they were offering would never be worth the herpes, AIDS, or whatever I would have picked up. But I was already in there, and I figured a quick Q&A would be better than going back into the cold.
I cracked a few jokes about the dangers of their occupation. One too many jokes and things started to get ugly. How should I know that calling their athletic massage an “undercover hand-job” would get everyone up in arms? Either way, after insulting the girls a few times the manager/pimp had had enough and I found myself back on the curb.
“Want an athletic massage?”-Employee at the Gentleman’s Spa (art Nick Lipton)
Luckily for me another cabbie drove up, “Hey, you lookin’ for women?” “No man, not really, thanks though.” Cab Guy, “What do you like?” “I dunno, In-n-Out Burger.” Cab Guy, “How about Russian women, you like them?” “I don’t think you get it man, I’m just trying to get home.” He really didn’t get it, and I don’t blame him, here I am sitting on this curb in front of an undercover whorehouse. His next question was a bit of a shocker. “Well man, how about young ones? We got 14 year olds…”Â No dice, I decided to walk away quickly.
The walk turned cold, if a pimp wasn’t hustling me, I was hiding my wallet from the locals. I needed a break, so I popped into the next strip club I could find. It was a good place to catch my breath, but once again the Gods were against me.
V.I.P. treatment! At 5 a.m. I was the only customer so all eyes were on me. I noticed Vegas strippers are cute, cute but deadly. Within two minutes a girl came to sit with me. Trixie Lollipop or whatever was real pleasant, “Hey good looking. You want a dance?” I hate that. No, I don’t want to pay you to sit in front of me naked, it’s boring, please leave. Can’t I just sit in a strip club for a minute? She was a real business woman though, “Well how about this sugar, for 400 bucks I’ll take you back there and fuck you.” Instead of paying her a king’s ransom to do things in a seedy booth I struck up a conversation. I learned that she had a kid, and that she could make her butt hole “breath.” I told her that with all the money she was bringing in she should set up a college fund for her little one. I explained federally insured savings systems and the benefits of giving a kid options. The stripper really appreciated it. I gave her knuckles and left. I wouldn’tÂ go for the open hand slap, would you?
Back on the street it was time to find the strip. I broke into a half-assed power walk and chain smoked hoping to look tough. I have a feeling that I looked more like a male hooker walking around in a fedora and tight pants at 6 a.m.
Once on the strip I started feeling dandy. Two nice girls even offered me a ride home. I rolled the dice by getting in the car, oops, snake eyes. The girls were nice enough for the first five seconds of the trip, but then they swerved off the road and headed north. The driver looked back to reassure me, “Hey baby we just gun’ pick up a bit o’ gas aight. You’ll help us out wit da money right?” Damn, dooped again. Here I am trying to get home and these two girls are trying to hustle up money that doesn’t exist. The girl not driving gave me the pleasure of sitting in the back seat with her. She made sure to transition from shotgun to the backseat awkwardly, rubbing her ass on the drivers face in the process. Oh the arousal, nothing like a pock marked ass smearing some makeup, I scooted closer to the window.
Honestly more visually appealing than the actual event… (art Nick Lipton)
Looking down, my feet were resting on baby clothes, my heart sunk, but the backseat hooker had my back, “Hey baby I just want to touch ya dick a little bit, dat ok?” “Uh, no, that’s cool, I’m just trying to get home.” Hookers in unison, “What? You don’t like getting ya dick played with.” “Yep, you got me pegged, think we could get back to dropping me off now?” Backseat Hooker, “Baby let’s just go to your room, you’re being rude in here.” “Nope, fuck that, my boss is asleep in there and she’d be so bummed if I brought back two hookers.” Upset Hookers in unison, “WHAT! We ain’t no hookers, and don’t you swear at us.” Are you serious? Don’t swear at us? How about let me out of the car, don’t try to get in my pants, or maybe clean up your baby clothes.
“Uh, you’re for sure hookers, we are driving into a gas station parking lot, and you’re trying to get in my pants before taking me home.” I guess their cover was blown, but like real pros they held onto a good hustle.
Backseat Hooker, “Listen baby why don’t you go inside and get 20 bucks, you gotta get it out of the ATM so I know it’s real dollars, then I’ll get some condoms, and we’ll head back.” I knew I was screwed at this point, but I had to deal with the situation until the car stopped and the doors unlocked. She had one last offer that she thought would really stick as we parked. “I’m just gunna suck ya dick a little bit, come on baby, just go get the money real fast.” “Uh, what do we need condoms for? You’re supposed to just drop me off, this is bullshit, I didn’t sign up for this.” The car stopped and I got out with the backseat baggage. I took two steps towards the store but the hooker had me beat, she was already waving freshly purchased condoms in my face. A stroke of genius came over me, “Psych!” and I ran off towards the bold beautiful lights of the Vegas strip.
An hour later I was back at Excalibur, sitting in the shower. I had to get the baby clothes smell off me after all. A few moments later, I was in bed, under the covers, and falling into a deep and deserved sleep. After three hours of beauty rest I was back on the trade-show floor, shaking hands and drinking Vitamin Water by the bucket load.
https://yobeat.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/yuck.jpg00Nick Liptonhttp://yobeat.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/yobeatdotcomsite.jpgNick Lipton2009-02-02 07:49:592009-12-20 14:37:06SIA Part 2: Sin City Hookers