The club is a lot sleazier than what I expected with lots of middle-aged men-who’ve probably just tucked away their youngest into bed-waving crumpled notes in their hands. I thought it would have been more of a Liverpool buzz with a kind of pub-come-strip club atmosphere. The kind of place where the barmaid gives you a dance, while you’re watching the footie, returning with a pint and a packet of bacon fries when she’s finished. Everything in here smells of sex; from the dark lighting, leather couches, and sultry music, to the fact that all dances are private and take place in the back past a beaded entrance. Matt’s a lot more excited than I am but then newcomers always are. He takes every dance offered to him afraid that by not accepting one he’ll somehow insult them.
A few girls ask me for a dance but I’ve no interest as I know the girl I want. Some of them still linger on hoping to sponge a drink.
“Mind if I sit here baby?” they ask.
“It’s a free country.”
“Want to chat to me? Since you’re so pretty I’ll only charge you 20 euro for half an hour if you buy me a drink.”
What the fuck would I want to chat to a brazzer for?
“It’s okay my mate’s with me and I can talk to him for free.”
There’s nothing I hate more than when a dancer tries making small talk before giving me a dance. The whole thing just feels so bizarre-shaking someone’s hand and exchanging pleasantries before they strip and gyrate naked on my lap while I eyeball their snatch. The last time I was in a strip club Mark engaged in a conversation with a stripper and made her cry.
Matt comes back from his latest dance and I can tell he’s as giddy as a school girl from the flushness of his face.
“So how was your dance?”
“It was great. She was a total dancer.”
“They’re all dancers.”
“No but I mean this one was really pretty.”
Matt takes a long slow sip from his pint clearly uninterested in conversation. I watch his eyes as he scans the club for his next hit. By my reckoning, he must be down at least 200 quid. I survey the club and am surprised by the amount of ugly dancers-at least half of these girls should be paying me for a dance. I accidentally make eye contact with one girl for longer than I intended and she takes this to be a pre-contract handshake. She masquerades over with her friend in tow and I already have the feeling it’s going to be me who’ll be the wingman.
“Hey Bay-bee, you mind if I sit down?” the black girl says as her white partner in tow waits in the backdrop. I weigh up a response but the song “Ebony and Ivory” starts playing in my mind-distracting me-so I settle on a sigh. Matt moves up to make way for his African princess shooting me a look of disdain in the process, which is pretty much the look Ivory has stamped all over her face. Ivory’s not exactly an oil painting but her skinny punk rocker frame and fuck you attitude is oddly appealing. I take refuge in my beer while Ebony runs her hand up and down Matt’s chest. Ivory sits on a leather pub seat to Matt’s right looking possibly more pissed off and uninterested than me. It’s only now with her back fully turned to me that I notice Ebony’s nasty weave-fuck me did she actually just call Matt “Daddy”?
Eventually, she gets to the point and asks Matt if he wants a double dance. He looks my way for approval and I tell him, “go for it”. He jumps up from his seat and moves in beside me away from the girls.
“You see the thing is I don’t actually have the money for two dances but she says she only dances as part of a twosome. Please will you take her mate?”
“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me. Once I get behind those beads she’ll probably gut me like a fish because of some long unresolved father issues.”
“Come on bud don’t make me beg.”
I bite the bullet (and my tongue) and nod in acceptance.
“I owe you,” he says and flees off with Ebony behind the beads.
I’m in no particular hurry and finish off my drink. Ivory-unlike every other stripper-actually seems madder at me for paying for her services. I stand up and Ivory mirrors me in a huff. I take her lead and follow her behind the beads until I hear Ebony’s voice coming from behind a set of curtains attached to what looks like a confession box. I pull back the curtain hoping to big him up and egg him on in a bit of lad banter, and am totally shocked to discover Ebony eagle spread on a bench with Matt’s face between her legs.
She shrieks out something about being me a pervert and I just stand there totally gobsmacked until Ivory grabs me by the arm and drags me into the next confessional booth. Once inside she’s admirably businesslike instructing me to sit on the bench while we wait for the next song to start. Justin Timberlake’s “Girlfriend” pumps through the speakers and she punches onto her shift. I sit patiently with my hands by my side (I know the drill) while she slowly takes off her black fishnet tank top, gyrating slowly to the music. I’m surprised to see how toned her body is and her small but perky tits are absolutely perfect. She grinds down on my loins resurrecting my sex drive, which has been noticeably absent the entire holiday, in seconds. She grabs my hands and places them on her breasts instructing me to cup them firm and slow. She waits until I’ve reached my comfort zone before she grabs my hand and traces right down her incredibly toned body until I’m down in her panties. I massage her clit with my three index fingers, gradually increasing the pace as she writhes on my groin and runs her fingers through my hair with her free hand. It gets to the stage were her gyration actually becomes painful because the friction between the jeans and my belt is hurting my born again erection. I’m in total ecstasy and feel like crying when I hear JT’s song come to an end. Ivory abruptly cuts things short leaving me hanging.
“If you want more it’ll cost you.”
If I want more? I can’t believe she implied I have a choice. I’d probably marry the girl if the price was right.
“How much?” I say trying to act suave and uninterested like I could take it or leave it.
“50 for a blow job, 80 for sex, 100 for anal.”
“So for 230 quid I can have the whole works?” This was intended to come out as a joke but in reality sounds incredibly creepy.
“I guess.”
I tell her “fifty will be fine” and she wastes little time getting to work, undoing my belt and pulling down my jeans before giving me head. I was half expecting an angel and devil to appear on opposite shoulders offering me advice but as I ram my cock down the back of her throat I’m devoid of conscience. The sense of empowerment I feel as I look down and see her eyes watering is all consuming. My cock throbs uncontrollably and I try desperately hard to make the moment last but the combination of her professionalism and my backed up sperm count ensue longevity will not be on the menu. The exhilaration from her expert mouth movement causes my legs to almost buckle with the spasms, and I can’t hold back any longer…banal and ugly imagery floods my brain in an attempt to combat the inevitable-the Queen, the Liffey bridge, the AIE building, Rosie, fish, tea bags, Roy Keane, finally stopping on a block of cheddar cheese until everything goes black for a brief second as I explode into her mouth with such vigor and raw power that thick chunks of sperm pour down her chin straight on to her chest.
I quickly re-dress myself while deliberating over whether to say anything, but it’s hard to think of something apt to say when the fruit of your loins are still dripping off her face. I decide that money does in fact speak louder than words and put down a fifty on the bench, exiting sharply without eye contact.
Matt is relaxed, almost basking when I return, with both arms spread out wide across the leather couch.
“Come on Guv’-we’re going,” and before he even has a chance to debate the matter I’m already outside the club.

The nightclub did nothing to appease me with the thump thump thumping of the speakers only serving to agitate me more, while my usual prescription of drink provided little if any redemption. I badly need some blow to take the edge off tonight but Matt’s taking an eternity to roll replaying his strip club adventure at nausea.
“I still don’t understand why you were licking her out? I mean they’re the ones meant to be providing a service,” I say while cutting a piece of blow.
I’m at the fridge searching for yogurt when he finally provides an answer.
“I don’t know. I just get so turned on by a woman climaxing.”
I’m distracted by my food quest when I come across a barely touched YOP that I bought Matt the other day.
“It’s so sexy,” and I think he’s talking about the YOP because it’s what I’m thinking about.
“But you haven’t eaten much of it.”
“It tasted a bit funny.”
I check the back for confirmation but it’s still well in date.
“Do you mind if I finish this off?” Matt turns his head to examine what it is I’m talking about.
“Yeah work away. I didn’t even know that was still there,” which confuses me greatly.
I burn the hash in uneven clumsy lumps because the light keeps burning my fingers. I knock the YOP back in one but the yogurt does nothing to disguise the taste as small rocks get caught in my teeth. I sit back and wait for it to take effect. Matt completes the joint, which we share, and each time it’s my hit I take a long deep lung filled drag. I wait for it to kick in yet nothing happens so Matt roll’s another, but it only has a slight effect, as I all I can think about is that she’s somebody’s daughter.
“Jesus Tony you must have burned a ten spot in. I don’t know why it’s not working.”
“Fuck it I’m not wasting any more time waiting-I’m going to bed.”
I walk across the room but the air that I’m breathing feels very thin. I feel incredibly dizzy and I’m suddenly very self-conscious of the fact that I’m breathing. I quickly spread myself on the floor to stop myself from puking. I try to massage my stomach but it feels alien and the more I touch it the more it cartwheels with excitement.
“Jesus are you okay Tony?”
I tell him “yes” but no words come out. I try to reassure him again but all that comes out is air.
“Fuck, right Tony, just focus on your breathing.”
Breathing? Oh Fuck! How do I breathe? I’ve never had to think about it before. I inhale in and exhale out as if copying instructions from a textbook diagram but I’m doing it at such a frantic pace that no air is actually reaching my lungs, and exhaling out makes me dizzy. I begin to panic and try to tell Matt that I can’t breathe but again no words leave my mouth and I continue hyperventilating.
About two minutes go by and I feel like I’m going to pass out if I don’t breathe soon. I look at Matt’s face and his features seem too animated to be real. I really shouldn’t laugh. His eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his head as his cartoon lips issue me with instructions. I can’t laugh now he’s trying to help me. His face actually has more colour now than it’s had all holiday. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH… The more I try to stop the more I can’t help myself. Tears soak my cheeks as I choke on my own laughter. I’ve never laughed this hard in my life. I curl my arms around my ribs to help ease the pain but the laughter is unrelenting. I try to apologize but seeing Matt’s face awaiting my announcement like a cancer diagnosis sets me off again.
Eventually, my frenzied hysterical laughter is downgraded to giddy and I can manage to mouth one-worded responses.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say nodding my head for confirmation.“Fuckin’ hell Tony you gave me a heart attack. I thought I was going to have to be the one to tell your Ma her son had died.” This starts me off again and takes me a couple of minutes before I manage to calm myself down.
“What do you want me to do?”
It’s too long winded a question to respond so I simply stick up my thumb me and say, “I’m okay”. I don’t want to tell him about the snakes in the corner because it’ll only freak him out. Instead, I lie on the floor patiently studying their every move as they hiss and slither across the window. All is calm until Matt walks by to use the toilet and I mistake his shadow crawling up my skin for a snake and I let rip with a skin curling scream so loud that its echo sends violent vibrations through the floor startling the snakes into a frenzy of panic. They all dispersed so quickly that I couldn’t make out where they went-some fled behind the curtain while others darted behind the couch.
“SNAKES” I roar but Matt treats this as a question repeating it back and not as the command I need him to heed. I jump to my feet planning to evacuate to the bathroom but my legs won’t move, and the pressure mixed with impending danger causes my head to spin until I can’t take anymore and pass out onto the floor. The feeling of cool tile against my hands and face reinvigorates my determination as I slowly drag my body across the floor towards the bathroom.
“WELL DON’T JUST FUCKIN’ STAND THERE,” I say as Matt stands at an idiotic impasse too stupid to realize the impending danger. “COME ON,” and this finally shatters his trance-like state as he swoops down lifting me up onto his shoulders to carry me across the short distance. The door is ajar so summoning all my strength I kick it open almost snapping it from its hinges making for a sharp entrance. Once inside Matt sets me against the bathroom sink before returning to shut the door. He turns on the light and I can barely recognize my own reflection in the mirror-my eyes are nothing more than tiny red slits and my face is a horrible gray/green colour. My heart is beating so fast, although I can’t tell if it’s out of relief or fear. Either way, it sends my head into overdrive and even when I close my eyes I can still see the spinning and the lights and I think I’m going to pass out, but before I get the chance to I puke my ring up with such force that most of it rebounds back onto my shirt.
“Well at least we didn’t eat anything,” Matt says as I roll into the bath and finally I’m safe. Everything’s okay now, everything’s okay.

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