Since I started this a month ago, everyone who's writtern has told me I had to go check out Club 205. For one it was his home away from home when family life became too much to handle. For another, it was a place to blow off steam after work. Others have commented on how the girls were all hot and the beer was ice cold. And the kitchen. Don't forget the kitchen.
I'll confess. I'd only been in there once. With The Librarian. He was in town for some conference or some such so we went out there for a beer on the way to take him back to the airport. I didn't think much of it at the time. I mean it was nice, but it wasn't The Dolphin, you know?
As you've no doubt noticed, I haven't been out for a few weeks. Between the computer and real life, there hasn't been time. Tonight I decided to celebrate Greg Oden Day with a trip out to the Club 205.
The first thing I noticed pulling in was how crowded it seemed. Especially for a Thursday night. Granted, Thursdays usually involve drink specials and, at least when I was in college, are a pretty busy night. But the parking lot was full and there were several cars parked along Stark. Or is it Washington? I get so confused. Anyway, I found my spot and walked along the street up to the unmarked entrance.
I like knowing the rules of a place ahead of time. That's why I've spent so many hours at The Dolphin. I know what I'm getting into. My discomfort was immediate when I walked inside. At the door was a bouncer sitting at a table. He had the ultra-violet light and what appeared to be a cash register. The light is to check ID's. And the cash register? No doubt for a cover. So I hovered at the station for a minute to see what would happen. The bouncer barely glanced at me as he kept his conversation going with a girl next to him.
"Fine," I thought as I stepped to the bar, ordered a beer, and turned to survey the situation.
The crowd slanted heavily toward the under-30 crowd. The drink of choice was wither a pitcher of beer or Red Bull and Vodka, t he Jack and Coke of the younger generation. There's no rowdiness and the hip-hop is kept to a minimum. In fact, the music was pretty good, leaning toward a lot of rock.
The club is laid out very well, with three stages set comfortably apart, yet close enough that you can get a view of all three from pretty much anywhere. A couple of tables were set aside for guys who didn't want to sit at the rail or were eating dinner. I'd already filled up on wings (Wing Stop at Eastport Plaza serves a mean wing), so I took my beer and sat down at a lonely stage where there was only one other guy. And a blonde.
I quickly figured out why there was only one guy sitting at the stage. This one was.... ummmm.... rough. Not in a hideous sort of way. But in a leathery/too much time in the gym and under the lamp sort of way. And the fake boobs. Never a good sign, especially on a girl with a lot of city miles. I did soldier on though, shelling out the singles to see what happened.
Club 205 does three-song sets. The first is all clothed. The second, topless. And the third all nude. I'd sat down during the second tune. My girl came over, sat down on the rail and proceeded to bounce up and down. When everything is stretched taut, this is not a good thing. Yick. As my girl, Natasha, I think, gyrated, I looked over her shoulder to see what else was going on. Immediately I saw yet another reason I was sitting alone. There was a brunette at the other stage that put this one to shame. Tall, tone, stacked, and natural. And she performed a scorpion on-stage. The girl was a cheerleader! Holy smokes! I thought the cheerleaders only worked at Jiggles in Tualatin!
Well that did it for me. I was going to make it a short evening. But it was now my mission to find out about the scorpion girl and get a front row seat when she performed the next one.
The next rotation brought out a different brunette to my stage, called "the box". She was younger and softer than the blonde Russian. And the lip gloss. Oh my. Yes, it was gonna be a good night. She worked through her songs and went through a couple of the same moves exhibited by her friend. One she was particularly fond of was lounging on the rail and rollong her stomach from top to bottom. I'm not exactly sure whom this is supposed to turn on. It certainly wasn't me. The other move that's become popular in clubs is the gyrating bootie. It's straight out of a Snoop Dogg video and it needs to stop. It's nearly as annoying as the ass-antler tattoo.
I sat there and pondered how I would express my dislike of the gyrate. And the belly roll. And the back tattoo. And I had to stop myself and remember that I was having a good time. The help was attentive and cute. The bouncers kept to themselves and weren't all that visible by the stage. And the food looked pretty good. And the brunette? She was really cute. Her name is Isis. And you do need to check her out.
As she exited, Scorpion girl was coming to the main stage. Time to go see what that was all about. I like girls who are a little thicker. Scorpion Girl, who's name escapes me, is not fat, far from it. There's just some substance to her. A presence. I liked it. And her hair. With only a few exceptions, the hair in there was spectacular. Unlike some places, you could see these girls leading real lives outside the club. Girls-next-door, if you will. The girls get right up in front of you and aren't bashful. And there's no sluttiness or simulated lesbianism like at The Dolphin. Good good times.
Back to Scorpion Girl. She made her way around the stage, alternately using the pole and coming over to the rail for a close-up. She nudged my arm and beer away so she could get right down in front of me and give a great show. The stage show is second-to-none. And as she reclined on the stage to give me a shot of her breasts while she did the stomach roll (a move I'm this close to calling "The 205"), she pulled aside her bottom to show me her crotch. She'd sprayed it with glitter spray.
"It sprinkles!" I exclaimed. She just smiled and went back to work. I was in love.
As the third song came around, the bottom came off, giving a full view of everything. And wouldn't you know it, she went straight to the scorpion and gave me a full-face view. Oh my. What a girl.
Knowing it wouldn't get any better, I headed back to the restroom to unload some beer before hitting the video poker. The restroom was clean, if cramped. A few places could take a lesson.
As I headed over to the video poker, I glanced again over my shoulder and saw a blonde I hadn't noticed before. I'd been prepared to completely write off the blondes and advise you, dear reader, to stick only to the brunettes. But that all changed.
Meet Allie. Young. Blonde. Soft. And stacked. She sure didn't look 21, but I'm guessing all the girls in the place were. She had an inocent look about her that makes you want to take her home and treat her well. But you can't, so you don't. Unlike the rest of the girls, she had no tattoos and no piercings. Not even her belly button! So refreshing. And her smile. Oh yes. Her smile. So I made sure for the third tune that I gave her a couple extra bucks for some extra attention. And I got it. All angles. Right there.
As her set ended, I watched her pick up the bills and thank the guys as she crawled. If you're into watching naked women crawl around and pick up dollar bills, this is your place. It's hard to explain. Just enjoy. Anyway, as she was working to me, hopefully to ask if I wanted a private dance, she got waylaid by a guy who wanted to do some side business. I didn't her much of the conversation. She turned him down at least twice. Good for her, I thought. But the conversation didn't leave any time for her to come ask me for my dance. So we didn't.
I stuck around through one more rotation so I could see Allie again. And she didn't disappoint. After the second set, as she was putting her outfit back on, we made a little small talk. She said she'd been dancing there for about a month but was a veteran of the Acropolis and Cabaret. She said 205 was her favorite place so far. I gotta tell you. It may become mine as well.
Don't forget to check out my new site! www.richardthruster.com
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
The Librarian Checks In From Boise
Apparently there's a Spearmint Rhino franchise in Boise. The Librarian was underwhelmed.
Don't forget to check out my new site! www.richardthruster.com
"I want a laid back, down home club like The Torch in Boise. The Rhino is all corporate, airbrushed publicity shots of Janine all over the walls. The local girls can't live up to that, what with their baby fat and stretchmarks. They can't even go topless, and yet they hit you up all night for private dances. And if the answer is no, they sit at your table telling you how their mom is babysitting their daughter for July 4th so they can go on a road trip and get "totally wasted" up at the hot springs. Until you decide, despite the five dollar Thursday night
cover charge, you should leave as quickly as you arrived. That, my friend, is the Boise Spearmint Rhino."
Looks like my friend has saved me a road trip. I wonder if a Spearmint Rhino would work in Portland?
Don't forget to check out my new site! www.richardthruster.com
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Well That Took Forever
10 days without a computer is a long time. But I'm back now. What did I miss?
Oh yeah.
See, here's the thing about conversations with strippers. I really try to avoid them. It's not that I don't enjoy their company. It's not that I don't like it when they purr in my ear during a couch dance. It's that I have zero desire to hear most anyone's life story, be they a dancer or a truck driver or my co-worker. Zero.
I can think of only two exceptions. Back during a different era at the Dolphin, I can remember having a conversation with a dancer about Freddy Fender. She was a cute one. One of those girls who, despite her 38D's, you could tell really didn't belong on stage. Life had something elseplanned for her. Or so goes my fantasy. The other was the redhead I mentioned before, although the more I think about her, the more I think her whole massage school thing was just a line.
Back to Phil. A dancer who fronts a rock-and-roll band, speaks four languages, and writes a movie column? Pass. Thanks though. I'm not into stripping as performance art. But that's just me.
I'll be back out on the prowl this weekend. I've got some catching up to do.
Oh yeah.
See, here's the thing about conversations with strippers. I really try to avoid them. It's not that I don't enjoy their company. It's not that I don't like it when they purr in my ear during a couch dance. It's that I have zero desire to hear most anyone's life story, be they a dancer or a truck driver or my co-worker. Zero.
I can think of only two exceptions. Back during a different era at the Dolphin, I can remember having a conversation with a dancer about Freddy Fender. She was a cute one. One of those girls who, despite her 38D's, you could tell really didn't belong on stage. Life had something elseplanned for her. Or so goes my fantasy. The other was the redhead I mentioned before, although the more I think about her, the more I think her whole massage school thing was just a line.
Back to Phil. A dancer who fronts a rock-and-roll band, speaks four languages, and writes a movie column? Pass. Thanks though. I'm not into stripping as performance art. But that's just me.
I'll be back out on the prowl this weekend. I've got some catching up to do.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Out of Commission
Wouldn't you know it...Phil Stanford does a Clinton on Viva Las Vegas and my computer gives out. So no links to the Stanford column and none to the Merc's rather witty reply. Nope! I'm reduced to blogging on my handheld until the factory ships my new laptop. Damn.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Miss Nude Oregon: The Dolphin II
My favorite porn series of all-time is Ed Powers' "Dirty Debutantes". Ed is a fat, disgusting every-man who's carved out a niche within the industry. For about a six or seven year period in the late-90s and early 21st-century, any new porn starlet who wanted to make it in the biz had to start by crawling across Ed's bed. The girls were literally fresh off the bus. It was a beautiful thing.
Over the years Ed has told the story of the evolution of the adult industry. He'll tell you it was intentional, I know better. Back in the early to mid-nineties, porn was still pretty taboo. Girls who appeared in it were doing so most likely to support drug habits or something similar. There was no glitz. No glamor. But Ed started to change that. In his early stuff you would watch nervous young twenty-somethings who weren't quite sure what to expect submit to Ed's slow cajoling. The best example was Dirty Debs #17 where in one scene he got a girl to talk about all the experience she had while her knees were literally fused together. It took about 20 minutes, but Ed soon had her face in the pillows.
The next scene started out very similar. He had this girl, Angel, naked and masturbating on his bed. It was as far as she'd go. That was that. But Ed kept going. Lying naked next to her. Eventually getting her to stroke him off. Then there were a few whispered words, inaudible except for "...and my manager will never know?" and Ed had her on all fours begging him to go harder. It was a beautiful thing.
As you move through the series (I think he's up somewhere in the 400s these days...at an average of 4 bimbos-per-dvd, that's a lot of bimbi...finally figuring out he was playing Russian roulette, he started using condoms 100% of the time in 2001), the girls eventually get a little easier. A little more willing. NO better example of this than a young Aurora Snow appearing in Dirty Debs 152. She still had a fair amount of baby fat on her and was pretty inexperienced. But she was a trooper. And just a few years later, she was AVN's female performer of the year.
These days everyone knows what's expected and everyone performs their assigned tasks flawlessly. My favorite scenes, though, will always be the ones with the girls who aren't quite sure they belong there. The ones who walked in good girls, who'd only been naked for their boyfriends, and walk out defiled for the whole world to see, still not 100% sure they should have done that. Those are the ones I can rent over and over again.
Why am I telling you this? Because Thursday night at the Dolphin II, I saw a guy and his buddy sandwiching guy #1's innocent girlfriend on the rail at Miss Nude Oregon 2007. I sat in the back of the club and just watched her as she sat still, trying to figure out where things went wrong. She should be studying for her law school final up at Lewis and Clark, instead, she was designated driver for her boyfriend and his high school buddy J-Dogg. It was an interesting way to start the evening.
I'd only been to the Dolphin II one other time. It's probably been five or six years ago. I like the Dolphin plenty enough, but the girls there were getting kind of old, so I decided to mix it up. Again, it was a comfort thing. As similar as the two places were though, there was one huge difference. The volume. They had the music at the Dolphin II cranked all the way to 11. I could barely order a beer. I haven't been back since.
The place hasn't really changed much in the years since. The bar still sits along one entire wall that faces the three stages. The video poker machines are still in the back corner. And there are still exposed rafters at the top of the poles for the girls to work into their routines. The music has been turned down. which is nice.
Thinking things would kick-off at 8, I showed up at 7 to get a decent seat and take in the place. After walking the entire room and finding nearly every table had been reserved for this party or that, I found a spot at the bar and sat down. The place was pretty much empty save for the college kids on the rail and a few regulars. Hip-hop music dominated the first set I watched a thick number go through the motions. Definitely nothing to write home about.
Turning back to take another pull on my beer, I saw Jewel walk in. She was carrying a giant basket full of Twinkies or something. She'd put her little campaign flier on each cake and was passing them around the club. She walked over to me and we played our little "don't I know you?" game. Then she asked me to take a cake. I couldn't figure out if she was running for Miss Nude Oregon or class president. Probably both.
Around 8:30, I found an empty table in a rear corner of the club and sat down, thinking things would begin happening. The night, though, kept clicking away. Folks kept filing in. The DJs kept exhorting the crowd to get loud with the promises of free porn and concert tickets. After a while, an older guy came over and asked if my table was reserved. I told him it wasn't and he was welcome to have a seat. He promptly grabbed his stuff and sat down. He'd brought a rose and box of chocolates. Turns out he was a benefactor for Miss Nude Oregon 2006, who quickly came and joined us.
I couldn't tell you Miss Nude Oregon 2006's name. I can report she's a bleach blonde 20-something. Probably 5'6" or 5'7". Stacked. And a pretty good conversation. I asked why she wasn't competing this year. She said there was an unwritten rule about defending one's title. She was also missing from all the fliers advertising the event. They showed the 2004 and 2005 winners, but not 2006. I figured it had something perhaps to do with this. Nah. Turns out she'd had a kid or something and she wasn't able to make the photo shoot. If true, she's bounced back in grand style. Hot doesn't begin to describe her.
Around 9:30, they finally got around to getting things going. All 6 contestants were introduced. We had Jewel and Electra Blue from the Dolphin I, Russia and Selina from the Dolphin II, and two others who's names I couldn't quite figure out. The "M" girl from my night at the Dolphin I was there. And the sixth girl, well...it sounded like "Faux" but I don't think that was it.
Introductions went a long way toward extablishing the night's favorite. My favorite, of course, was Jewel. She was first to be introduced. The curly hair, the curves, and the smile have all won me over long ago. Like I said, I just have to avoid conversation or any sort of touching.
Next up was Electra Blue. She came out with these blue sunglasses that matched her dress. Obviously going for some look, she came off more like a cartoon character than a stripper. Add to that the tattoos, and she was out.
Russia was introduced next. A TALL girl. Straight brown hair. You can check her out here. The crowd was polite, but not overly enthusiastic.
Faux was next. I couldn't tell you a thing about her.
"M" came up to a thunderous applause which was my first indication that she would go far. She obviously had a lot of support in the crowd. I don't know how she does it. I suspect an evening back at the Dolphin I will help me get that sorted out.
Last, but not least, was Selina. She'd stopped by our table earlier to say hi to Miss 2006. Selina reminded me of a Beaverton trophy wife. The hair, the tan, the smile all screamed suburbia. But she was probably the second favorite of the evening. Not my type at all, though.
They all exited, and a new set of girls came up to dance for the evening. It seemed this was how things were going to go. A few minutes of action followed by two sets of regulars dancing for money. Which is fine, I guess. But it being a school night, I did need to get moving. It didn't help that there was a photographer there taking pictures for someone's mag. Everyone seemed to know him. He had a younger assistant that I would have liked to know. I have a serious thing for redheads and generally know when one is in the room. She sat at the table next to mine and seemed to be there with a girlfriend. A LOT of lesbian action in the room on Thursday night. I've no idea what that was about. You could tell though that it was a celebration. Kind of the Oscars for a select set. I'm sure as the year wears on, I'll get to know who some of the faces were.
I finally took off around 10. There was no way I was going to stick around until 2 to find out the winner. My money is on "M" or Selina. As soon as I find out who it was, I'll let you know.
Update: Turns out M's name is Natalia. I was close. Sort of. Anyway, she is your Miss Nude Oregon 2007. You can go check her out at the Dolphin I. Congratulations!
Don't forget to check out my new site! www.richardthruster.com
Over the years Ed has told the story of the evolution of the adult industry. He'll tell you it was intentional, I know better. Back in the early to mid-nineties, porn was still pretty taboo. Girls who appeared in it were doing so most likely to support drug habits or something similar. There was no glitz. No glamor. But Ed started to change that. In his early stuff you would watch nervous young twenty-somethings who weren't quite sure what to expect submit to Ed's slow cajoling. The best example was Dirty Debs #17 where in one scene he got a girl to talk about all the experience she had while her knees were literally fused together. It took about 20 minutes, but Ed soon had her face in the pillows.
The next scene started out very similar. He had this girl, Angel, naked and masturbating on his bed. It was as far as she'd go. That was that. But Ed kept going. Lying naked next to her. Eventually getting her to stroke him off. Then there were a few whispered words, inaudible except for "...and my manager will never know?" and Ed had her on all fours begging him to go harder. It was a beautiful thing.
As you move through the series (I think he's up somewhere in the 400s these days...at an average of 4 bimbos-per-dvd, that's a lot of bimbi...finally figuring out he was playing Russian roulette, he started using condoms 100% of the time in 2001), the girls eventually get a little easier. A little more willing. NO better example of this than a young Aurora Snow appearing in Dirty Debs 152. She still had a fair amount of baby fat on her and was pretty inexperienced. But she was a trooper. And just a few years later, she was AVN's female performer of the year.
These days everyone knows what's expected and everyone performs their assigned tasks flawlessly. My favorite scenes, though, will always be the ones with the girls who aren't quite sure they belong there. The ones who walked in good girls, who'd only been naked for their boyfriends, and walk out defiled for the whole world to see, still not 100% sure they should have done that. Those are the ones I can rent over and over again.
Why am I telling you this? Because Thursday night at the Dolphin II, I saw a guy and his buddy sandwiching guy #1's innocent girlfriend on the rail at Miss Nude Oregon 2007. I sat in the back of the club and just watched her as she sat still, trying to figure out where things went wrong. She should be studying for her law school final up at Lewis and Clark, instead, she was designated driver for her boyfriend and his high school buddy J-Dogg. It was an interesting way to start the evening.
I'd only been to the Dolphin II one other time. It's probably been five or six years ago. I like the Dolphin plenty enough, but the girls there were getting kind of old, so I decided to mix it up. Again, it was a comfort thing. As similar as the two places were though, there was one huge difference. The volume. They had the music at the Dolphin II cranked all the way to 11. I could barely order a beer. I haven't been back since.
The place hasn't really changed much in the years since. The bar still sits along one entire wall that faces the three stages. The video poker machines are still in the back corner. And there are still exposed rafters at the top of the poles for the girls to work into their routines. The music has been turned down. which is nice.
Thinking things would kick-off at 8, I showed up at 7 to get a decent seat and take in the place. After walking the entire room and finding nearly every table had been reserved for this party or that, I found a spot at the bar and sat down. The place was pretty much empty save for the college kids on the rail and a few regulars. Hip-hop music dominated the first set I watched a thick number go through the motions. Definitely nothing to write home about.
Turning back to take another pull on my beer, I saw Jewel walk in. She was carrying a giant basket full of Twinkies or something. She'd put her little campaign flier on each cake and was passing them around the club. She walked over to me and we played our little "don't I know you?" game. Then she asked me to take a cake. I couldn't figure out if she was running for Miss Nude Oregon or class president. Probably both.
Around 8:30, I found an empty table in a rear corner of the club and sat down, thinking things would begin happening. The night, though, kept clicking away. Folks kept filing in. The DJs kept exhorting the crowd to get loud with the promises of free porn and concert tickets. After a while, an older guy came over and asked if my table was reserved. I told him it wasn't and he was welcome to have a seat. He promptly grabbed his stuff and sat down. He'd brought a rose and box of chocolates. Turns out he was a benefactor for Miss Nude Oregon 2006, who quickly came and joined us.
I couldn't tell you Miss Nude Oregon 2006's name. I can report she's a bleach blonde 20-something. Probably 5'6" or 5'7". Stacked. And a pretty good conversation. I asked why she wasn't competing this year. She said there was an unwritten rule about defending one's title. She was also missing from all the fliers advertising the event. They showed the 2004 and 2005 winners, but not 2006. I figured it had something perhaps to do with this. Nah. Turns out she'd had a kid or something and she wasn't able to make the photo shoot. If true, she's bounced back in grand style. Hot doesn't begin to describe her.
Around 9:30, they finally got around to getting things going. All 6 contestants were introduced. We had Jewel and Electra Blue from the Dolphin I, Russia and Selina from the Dolphin II, and two others who's names I couldn't quite figure out. The "M" girl from my night at the Dolphin I was there. And the sixth girl, well...it sounded like "Faux" but I don't think that was it.
Introductions went a long way toward extablishing the night's favorite. My favorite, of course, was Jewel. She was first to be introduced. The curly hair, the curves, and the smile have all won me over long ago. Like I said, I just have to avoid conversation or any sort of touching.
Next up was Electra Blue. She came out with these blue sunglasses that matched her dress. Obviously going for some look, she came off more like a cartoon character than a stripper. Add to that the tattoos, and she was out.
Russia was introduced next. A TALL girl. Straight brown hair. You can check her out here. The crowd was polite, but not overly enthusiastic.
Faux was next. I couldn't tell you a thing about her.
"M" came up to a thunderous applause which was my first indication that she would go far. She obviously had a lot of support in the crowd. I don't know how she does it. I suspect an evening back at the Dolphin I will help me get that sorted out.
Last, but not least, was Selina. She'd stopped by our table earlier to say hi to Miss 2006. Selina reminded me of a Beaverton trophy wife. The hair, the tan, the smile all screamed suburbia. But she was probably the second favorite of the evening. Not my type at all, though.
They all exited, and a new set of girls came up to dance for the evening. It seemed this was how things were going to go. A few minutes of action followed by two sets of regulars dancing for money. Which is fine, I guess. But it being a school night, I did need to get moving. It didn't help that there was a photographer there taking pictures for someone's mag. Everyone seemed to know him. He had a younger assistant that I would have liked to know. I have a serious thing for redheads and generally know when one is in the room. She sat at the table next to mine and seemed to be there with a girlfriend. A LOT of lesbian action in the room on Thursday night. I've no idea what that was about. You could tell though that it was a celebration. Kind of the Oscars for a select set. I'm sure as the year wears on, I'll get to know who some of the faces were.
I finally took off around 10. There was no way I was going to stick around until 2 to find out the winner. My money is on "M" or Selina. As soon as I find out who it was, I'll let you know.
Update: Turns out M's name is Natalia. I was close. Sort of. Anyway, she is your Miss Nude Oregon 2007. You can go check her out at the Dolphin I. Congratulations!
Don't forget to check out my new site! www.richardthruster.com
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Willamette Week Goes Undercover
Well, sort of. It's an interesting article. I'm not sure whether I've met more Zoes or more Matildas in my hours at the Dolphin. Plenty of both, I suspect. There's always someone in there working their way through school. One of my all-time favorites was a redhead named Rain who had moved out here from Illinois to attend massage school or some such. The story kept changing slightly every time we spoke. It wasn't until long after she was gone that I realized it was all code for her side business. Which I would have gladly partaken in had I not been so damned naive. Oh well.
Once upon a time The Librarian had lost a bunch of weight by eating nothing but salad. Our first post-weight loss trip to the Dolphin resulted in a few propositions for Mr. Librarian. Being happily married, he turned them all down. Still it was nice to be king for the evening.
Once upon a time The Librarian had lost a bunch of weight by eating nothing but salad. Our first post-weight loss trip to the Dolphin resulted in a few propositions for Mr. Librarian. Being happily married, he turned them all down. Still it was nice to be king for the evening.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
The Legend: The Acropolis
The Acropolis has always been a mystery to me. Like some Himalayan mountain shrouded in clouds. People who've been tell stories of hot bodies and a bar straight out of Motley Crue's Girls Girls Girls video. Rock stars always make it a point to hit the club when they're in town. More often than not, there's a party bus or a limo parked out front, no doubt for some guy's bachelor party. It's a happening spot.
And that doesn't even take into account the legendary food. As a minor growing up in the sticks, older guys would come back with stories of a steak you could cut with a butter knife. And cheap!
Yet with all these stories, I'd only been once. And that was after getting fed up with the help at the Dolphin. My friend The Librarian and I went late some Saturday night because we still hadn't had our fix. We sat down at the stage closest to the bar and watched the girls descend the stairs from the dressing room. The only thing I really remember about that night was the stairs and a dancer named Tracy. Or Teresa. Or Tammie. Or Turbo. I know it started with a "T". How do I remember that? She'd shaved a capital T into her pubic hair. THAT'S what I remembered of the Acropolis.
For my first real venture out of my comfort zone, I decided to hit the A-Club to see what all the fuss was about. The plan was to grab a steak there as well, but some co-workers had told me about this wing place out at Eastport Plaza called Wing Stop that I had to check out. Being a wing man on the town, I took a chance. The verdict? Fire On The Mountain doesn't have anything to worry about.
Getting into the Acropolis' parking lot from the south requires some maneuvering. They put a Jersey barrier down the middle of that stretch of McLoughlin several years ago to keep the drunks from slamming into one another. A good move, but terrible if you want to make a left turn. So it's up and over an overpass and back down into the club's parking lot. The first thing you notice is how well lit and well maintained the lot is compared to my beloved Dolphin. There were actual marked spaces! How about that!
Walking into the place, the bouncers are on the left. Three large fellas, each working on a bag of chips and some sort of soda. Body builders they weren't. An interesting crew to say the least. The cover was $4, which for a place of the Acropolis' reputation seemed a little south of what they could charge, but who am I to complain?
The first thing I noticed after walking in was how big the place seemed compared to how it looks from the outside. There are four good sized stages with seating all the way around. They've done a very smart thing and only placed seats next to the stage. This cuts down on the wall flowers and ensures the girls can make some money.
It took me a few minutes to get my bearings. There are four stages, but only two are visible to you at any one time. Again, cuts down on the free shows. Which is fine.
After a few minutes of sitting at the #3 stage, waiting for someone to offer me a beer, I decided to wander down to the bar. Like the bar at the Mustang Ranch, which I may have visited once (ONCE), the bar is hidden away in a back corner, away from the action. My beverage of choice most of the time is Coors Light. Call me a wussy and question my manhood all you want, but that's what it is. The bar, however, had at least 20 taps with everything from Bud to some serious microbrews. First class indeed. So I grabbed a Drop Top Amber and headed back up to see the action.
The first girl I saw reminded me of one of those girls who would never give me the time of day in high school. I mean, unless she needed me to slip her an answer on a test. She had a tight perfect body, perfect hair, and just the slightest hint of abs. No tattoos. Blonde. Seriously not my type, though. I prefer the girl next door-type. After a few minutes of staring at her too-perfect tits, I moved on. Next door was Silver. She had the same deal going on with the hair and the tits and the abs, but she had something more. A flirtatiousness. I mean there was a screen of professionalism with her, but still. A little personality is a good thing.
She worked her way around the stage, making sure to give each patron a proper view. The stages are a little lower than I'm used to. Girls at the Dolphin (I'm gonna compare a lot of places to the Dolphin) spend a good amount of time writhing around on the ground. Or wrapped upside-down around the pole. Here, because of the way the rail around the stage sits, if the girl gets down on the ground, you can't see her. So they're upright. I like that. Less nastiness that way.
Looking around at the other guys, they were all putting $2/per song up on the rail. Each girl works four songs per rotation, so that's $8 per girl per rotation. Not a bad gig, if you ask me. Each song lasts about twice as long as they do at the Dolphin. That's an interesting trade-off. It seems girls at the Acropolis make their money on stage whereas girls at the Dolphin get theirs on the couch. Figure if a Dolphin girl can get $20/song on the couch, and can get a guy to commit to two or even three tunes, they can make more there than they will on stage. On the other hand, girls at the Acropolis spend twice as long on the couch for half the money. The financial end of this, I suspect, will fascinate me no end. Especially when I start hitting the juice bars.
After Silver's set ended, she worked her way around the stage one last time, picking up bills and making small-talk. When she got back to me, she asked if I'd like a private dance. I gave her my standard answer. "In a little bit." She asked me to let her know when I was ready. And like that she was gone.
The second rotation came out. The girl who took over my table was...ummm....interesting. She had the Salma Hayek in Dogma thing going. Glasses. Thigh high stockings. Pig tails. Bubble gum. The whole thing. Another one who really didn't do it for me.
Turning to look over my shoulder at the other options, I found my new girl. She was a little thicker than Silver and her perfect co-worker, and that's alright by me. She had curly dirty-blonde hair and the eyes. Oh the eyes. She wore a black bustier inside which her breasts literally swam around. It was that Jamie Lee Curtis ad from several years ago where she wore some tight dress and jiggled while telling me about a TV or something. This girl loved her breasts though. Despite their sagging and just sad state, they were her 38-D moneymakers and she used 'em. She actually used them as percussion instruments, slapping them together. Some guys get off on that sort of stuff and dream of motorboating them. Me? Not so much. I prefer mine a little smaller and a little firmer.
Despite her faults, there was one thing this girl had though that none of the others could touch. And it was because of this she could have whatever she wanted from me. She was putting off some sort of musk and her pheromones were hitting me in all the right places. I don't pretend to understand the chemistry of pheromones, but boy howdy. She instantly became a favorite.
After a few tunes, it became time for the evening's bachelor to get up on stage and have all the girls wiggle for him. That's not my thing at all, so I retired to the video poker. $10 later, I headed back down to the bar for a soda. The brunette working the lower stage next to the bar was a perky-type, unafraid to place her leg on my shoulder so I could get a good look at her third eye. And she liked to purr in my ear as well. Always a bonus.
At the end of the second rotation, the first four came back up. I broke my promise to myself and hit the ATM. Tonight I'd treat myself to a couch dance. Silver was the lucky girl. We headed over to the "private" section which is a bunch of armed chairs witting behind a thing wall. Nothing like the plush couches at the Dolphin, but I wasn't complaining. Also, unlike the Dolphin, the dances here are all naked and even a little rubbing. Not down there, but elsewhere. Silver's a hands on pro, giving me all the angles and the right close-ups. The longer tunes were definitely appreciated. Things didn't feel rushed at all. It was very nice.
$20 later, I was back out the door and into the night. I had a great time and will definitely be back, if for no other reason than I gotta check out the steak.
This week, it's off to Miss Nude Oregon on Thursday and spend an evening following sailors around town Friday. Should be fun.
Don't forget to check out my new site! www.richardthruster.com
And that doesn't even take into account the legendary food. As a minor growing up in the sticks, older guys would come back with stories of a steak you could cut with a butter knife. And cheap!
Yet with all these stories, I'd only been once. And that was after getting fed up with the help at the Dolphin. My friend The Librarian and I went late some Saturday night because we still hadn't had our fix. We sat down at the stage closest to the bar and watched the girls descend the stairs from the dressing room. The only thing I really remember about that night was the stairs and a dancer named Tracy. Or Teresa. Or Tammie. Or Turbo. I know it started with a "T". How do I remember that? She'd shaved a capital T into her pubic hair. THAT'S what I remembered of the Acropolis.
For my first real venture out of my comfort zone, I decided to hit the A-Club to see what all the fuss was about. The plan was to grab a steak there as well, but some co-workers had told me about this wing place out at Eastport Plaza called Wing Stop that I had to check out. Being a wing man on the town, I took a chance. The verdict? Fire On The Mountain doesn't have anything to worry about.
Getting into the Acropolis' parking lot from the south requires some maneuvering. They put a Jersey barrier down the middle of that stretch of McLoughlin several years ago to keep the drunks from slamming into one another. A good move, but terrible if you want to make a left turn. So it's up and over an overpass and back down into the club's parking lot. The first thing you notice is how well lit and well maintained the lot is compared to my beloved Dolphin. There were actual marked spaces! How about that!
Walking into the place, the bouncers are on the left. Three large fellas, each working on a bag of chips and some sort of soda. Body builders they weren't. An interesting crew to say the least. The cover was $4, which for a place of the Acropolis' reputation seemed a little south of what they could charge, but who am I to complain?
The first thing I noticed after walking in was how big the place seemed compared to how it looks from the outside. There are four good sized stages with seating all the way around. They've done a very smart thing and only placed seats next to the stage. This cuts down on the wall flowers and ensures the girls can make some money.
It took me a few minutes to get my bearings. There are four stages, but only two are visible to you at any one time. Again, cuts down on the free shows. Which is fine.
After a few minutes of sitting at the #3 stage, waiting for someone to offer me a beer, I decided to wander down to the bar. Like the bar at the Mustang Ranch, which I may have visited once (ONCE), the bar is hidden away in a back corner, away from the action. My beverage of choice most of the time is Coors Light. Call me a wussy and question my manhood all you want, but that's what it is. The bar, however, had at least 20 taps with everything from Bud to some serious microbrews. First class indeed. So I grabbed a Drop Top Amber and headed back up to see the action.
The first girl I saw reminded me of one of those girls who would never give me the time of day in high school. I mean, unless she needed me to slip her an answer on a test. She had a tight perfect body, perfect hair, and just the slightest hint of abs. No tattoos. Blonde. Seriously not my type, though. I prefer the girl next door-type. After a few minutes of staring at her too-perfect tits, I moved on. Next door was Silver. She had the same deal going on with the hair and the tits and the abs, but she had something more. A flirtatiousness. I mean there was a screen of professionalism with her, but still. A little personality is a good thing.
She worked her way around the stage, making sure to give each patron a proper view. The stages are a little lower than I'm used to. Girls at the Dolphin (I'm gonna compare a lot of places to the Dolphin) spend a good amount of time writhing around on the ground. Or wrapped upside-down around the pole. Here, because of the way the rail around the stage sits, if the girl gets down on the ground, you can't see her. So they're upright. I like that. Less nastiness that way.
Looking around at the other guys, they were all putting $2/per song up on the rail. Each girl works four songs per rotation, so that's $8 per girl per rotation. Not a bad gig, if you ask me. Each song lasts about twice as long as they do at the Dolphin. That's an interesting trade-off. It seems girls at the Acropolis make their money on stage whereas girls at the Dolphin get theirs on the couch. Figure if a Dolphin girl can get $20/song on the couch, and can get a guy to commit to two or even three tunes, they can make more there than they will on stage. On the other hand, girls at the Acropolis spend twice as long on the couch for half the money. The financial end of this, I suspect, will fascinate me no end. Especially when I start hitting the juice bars.
After Silver's set ended, she worked her way around the stage one last time, picking up bills and making small-talk. When she got back to me, she asked if I'd like a private dance. I gave her my standard answer. "In a little bit." She asked me to let her know when I was ready. And like that she was gone.
The second rotation came out. The girl who took over my table was...ummm....interesting. She had the Salma Hayek in Dogma thing going. Glasses. Thigh high stockings. Pig tails. Bubble gum. The whole thing. Another one who really didn't do it for me.
Turning to look over my shoulder at the other options, I found my new girl. She was a little thicker than Silver and her perfect co-worker, and that's alright by me. She had curly dirty-blonde hair and the eyes. Oh the eyes. She wore a black bustier inside which her breasts literally swam around. It was that Jamie Lee Curtis ad from several years ago where she wore some tight dress and jiggled while telling me about a TV or something. This girl loved her breasts though. Despite their sagging and just sad state, they were her 38-D moneymakers and she used 'em. She actually used them as percussion instruments, slapping them together. Some guys get off on that sort of stuff and dream of motorboating them. Me? Not so much. I prefer mine a little smaller and a little firmer.
Despite her faults, there was one thing this girl had though that none of the others could touch. And it was because of this she could have whatever she wanted from me. She was putting off some sort of musk and her pheromones were hitting me in all the right places. I don't pretend to understand the chemistry of pheromones, but boy howdy. She instantly became a favorite.
After a few tunes, it became time for the evening's bachelor to get up on stage and have all the girls wiggle for him. That's not my thing at all, so I retired to the video poker. $10 later, I headed back down to the bar for a soda. The brunette working the lower stage next to the bar was a perky-type, unafraid to place her leg on my shoulder so I could get a good look at her third eye. And she liked to purr in my ear as well. Always a bonus.
At the end of the second rotation, the first four came back up. I broke my promise to myself and hit the ATM. Tonight I'd treat myself to a couch dance. Silver was the lucky girl. We headed over to the "private" section which is a bunch of armed chairs witting behind a thing wall. Nothing like the plush couches at the Dolphin, but I wasn't complaining. Also, unlike the Dolphin, the dances here are all naked and even a little rubbing. Not down there, but elsewhere. Silver's a hands on pro, giving me all the angles and the right close-ups. The longer tunes were definitely appreciated. Things didn't feel rushed at all. It was very nice.
$20 later, I was back out the door and into the night. I had a great time and will definitely be back, if for no other reason than I gotta check out the steak.
This week, it's off to Miss Nude Oregon on Thursday and spend an evening following sailors around town Friday. Should be fun.
Don't forget to check out my new site! www.richardthruster.com
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