From: blue1133@aol.com (Blue1133)
Subject: ASSC Re: AFTSD:  A Memorable Day in Tucson
Date: 2 Dec 1997 14:23:53 GMT



This article is a little dated.  Its more a story than a review, but it

occurred just as I tell it, the day before last Memorial Day weekend.



After three days at a conference arm wrestling the Army, my travel buddy and I

found ourselves at the Tucson airport with an evening to kill before flying

home the next day.  I had read up on the reviews of Tucson clubs and talked him

into going to TD's East for a little light entertainment.  This is one of the

clubs in Marc182's Tucson Topless web page and features his pal Teena, aka

Jasmine Tea, both ASSCers.  I had never met anyone from the NG and was

particularly interested in making a connection with one of the few ladies on

ASSC.



We followed Marc's map, and although it was farther that I thought it would be,

eventually found the club in a commercial district.  Parked in the second row

of a large, nearly empty lot behind the business next to the club, but were met

by two parking lot trolls who told us that the first two rows were for valet

parking and we would either have to move it or pay them 5 bucks.  As my buddy

is several inches taller than I, for just a second I thought, "We can take

these guys."  Then realized that not only were they 30 years younger then we,

but they would probably call for reinforcements from inside the club.  So,

rather than get 86ed from a SC before we even left the parking lot, we moved

the car 20 feet forward.  That seemed to make the trolls happy and they opened

the door for us.  Assholes.



Inside, there was a small bar immediately to our left and a VIP room outfitted

with dark tinted windows beyond that.  Early in the evening this room was

deserted.  It turned out that there was nothing really special about this room

(except a large screen TV for people who come to strip clubs to watch sports

(Never figured that one out either)), just a place to spend money faster.



We found a table near the door, between the bar and the main stage.  It turns

out that this is a poor place to sit.  Perv's Row is apparently on the left, in

a dark corner by the back stage, but my companion isn't an accomplished SCer

and is reluctant to move.  Looking around, this appears to be a pretty nice

club, lots of small lights and chrome, just the two stages and a snack bar on

the other side.  There may have been some other feature on the far side, but I

never got close enough to check it out.  Three things, however, were

immediately obvious.  The first was that there are a lot of very pretty girls

here most with silicone (which doesn't bother me a bit).  Second was a constant

"Wanna dance?"  This got very tiring until I found out that the dances were

only six bucks apiece-SAY WHAT??-I'm serious, only six bucks, a real bargain

where I come from.  Now the dances are light to moderate contact and right at

the table and only topless (with latex pasties, yet), but still an excellent

value.  Thirdly, nobody was sitting at the stages and almost nobody was tipping

the stage dancers.  Now, these girls were putting on good, erotic routines and

why you wouldn't want to get an up-close view, I don't know.  Either Arizona

men have a lower libido than we Illini or they are drained by plentiful

six-dollar dances. 



After getting the lay of the land I quickly start looking for an oriental

dancer that could be Teena.  But since it is only a weekday night, there is no

real promise that she'll be here.  After half an hour I finally narrow it down

to one particularly attractive girl with a dynamite body who has working Perv's

Row pretty good.  Yep, it's got to be her.  Really busy too.  While the other

girls are patrolling the tables endlessly, she seems to have no problem getting

takers; I can see why.  Don't know if she'll ever work her way over to this

side of the room when she's generating so much attention on that side.  



Now she's over their dancing for some Hispanic guy.  He's very stocky with a

ponytail and dressed all in white, from his docksiders to knee-high socks,

shorts, banlon shirt and wide-brimmed hat.  Hell, my Dad dresses just like

that.  If he had on plaid shorts instead of white ones, he would look like a

Florida octogenarian.  He's got a big ol' stogie in one hand and a cell phone

in the other.  He looks like a member of the Mexican Mafia.  And he's

completely ignoring Teena.  She is giving it her best effort, but he's much

more interested in his phone conversation than is this gorgeous, mostly naked

girl.  Finally, set's over, he hangs up, she sits next to him.  No conversation

at all.  After 5 minutes, he gestures to her to start again and he picks up the

phone.  Now, Teena is throwing some really good stuff at him, but he cares only

about the phone, with which his gestures are getting more exaggerated.  Looks

like he is setting up a really big score.  Suddenly, the door flies open behind

us and in rush three more Hispanic guys dressed just like the first one.  They

immediately go over to him.  Loud conversation in Spanish and much more

gesturing.  Through it all, Teena's performing like a trooper, trying to stay

on task.  Just as suddenly, all four storm out of the club.  Yep, something

must be going down.  Probably found a sale on those hats.  Doesn't seem to

bother Teena a bit.  She puts her blouse back on and goes in search of her next

customer.  Just another Thursday night at TD's.



Finally, the DJ calls her up to the back stage.  I wander back during her

second song and give her a couple of dollars tip.  I'm rewarded with a terrific

smile.  As there is no other tippers around, I wonder if that will generate any

attention after her set.  No luck.  She stays on her side of the room where all

the action is.  Forty minutes later she is called to the front stage.  This

time I give her a few more dollars.  That must have done something as after

this set she strolls over to our side of the room.  I make eye contact and wave

her over.  Just as she's getting into her first dance for me I ask if she is

really Jasmine Tea.  She is a little taken aback but says jokingly, "Oh no, not

another guy from the net.  Wait a minute you have to meet my boyfriend."  She

scampers off my lap (leaving a glowing warm spot) and runs over to a guy who is

just leaving the club and drags him back to my table.  "This is Marc182."  And

off she goes leaving Marc behind.  Marc and I engage in a little small talk

about strip clubs and dancers in general.  He's an interesting fellow, but

network engineers I can talk to anytime.  I certainly didn't intend to blow him

off, but I'm on a limited time budget here and I'm really much more interested

in his girl (professionally, that is).  After ten minutes he leaves to hang

around another club down the street.  (My apologies Marc, I'll be much more

polite next time around). 



Anyway, soon Teena comes back and we continue with the dances.  Now, I really

have mixed emotions here.  As a fellow ASSCer, I feel a brotherly bond.  As she

dances, its almost like were are sharing a secret.  On the other hand, Teena is

very good at this stuff.  Her dances are slow, sweet and sensual with just a

touch of nasty.  Not the heavily erotic hard grind I'm used to, but still very

nice and my physical reaction is decidedly un-brotherly.  Six dollars is not

enough for this, besides we're both in the same union so I give her $10 a

dance.  After about six dances she suddenly pops up and declares, "My pastie

just fell off!"  "Where could it have gone?" I ask.  "Doesn't matter", says

she, "but I have to fix it."  And off she runs into the dressing room for a new

application.  I'm protesting "But I won't tell anybody!"  Jeez, you can hardly

see these latex pasties.  When done right they are virtually transparent with

only the only evidence a slight sheen.  Eventually she makes it back, although

I'm convinced she took twenty minutes just for the effect on me.  We did a

couple more dances and, nearing midnight with an early plane to catch, said our

good byes. 



Finishing up my beer in the afterglow I noticed a well-enhanced blonde over on

the side working over two guys at once (actually alternating).  She looked like

a young Traci Topps.  I thought just for a moment…nah, its late and, this night

at least, my loyalties belong to Teena.  



For several weeks afterwards, I remembered that night warmly.  It also took me

that long to finish hacking up those tiny rubber shreds.



Blueballs