From mazoola@best.com Thu Dec 02 16:05:01 1999 Path: mindspring!news.mindspring.net!howland.erols.net!news.pbi.net.MISMATCH!cyclone.pbi.net!131.119.28.147!su-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.gtei.net!news1.best.com!news3.best.com!nntp1.ba.best.com!not-for-mail Message-ID: <3847092D.8A4F0FBE@best.com> Date: Thu, 02 Dec 1999 16:05:01 -0800 From: "Dr. Mazoola" Organization: Chez Maz ("The Youth Hostel for Hostile Youth") X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.04 [en] (Win95; U) MIME-Version: 1.0 Newsgroups: alt.sex.strip-clubs Subject: ASSC AFTSD (3): Infectious Agent Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Lines: 90 NNTP-Posting-Host: 207.20.124.130 X-Trace: nntp1.ba.best.com 944179465 213 bratprin@207.20.124.130 Xref: mindspring alt.sex.strip-clubs:320041 >>> Note: Fragments of a longer, as-yet unfinished, MS. As tradition >>> dictates, a couple of weeks before AFTSD I drag it out, start >>> editing, and then give up. This year I decided to at least post >>> a couple of the more-nearly-finished bits. Summer, and Maz is in love with a woman he's known since junior year of high school. But, true to form, he waited until after they'd graduated from college and she moved away before he decided to fall. Accordingly, his first summer of grad school consists of a single class--and it only meets Mondays and Wednesdays. That way, by Wednesday afternoon he's usually heading north, there to sponge off his girlfriend until Sunday night. One night early on, he and the future first Ms. Maz--for it is she, the proverbial childhood sweetheart--head into the city to meet Maz's cousin for dinner. It's one of Maz's first trips into the city. It ruins him for life. You see, despite an assload of colonial charm and academic vigor, Hookville offers diddly in the way of adult entertainment. Sure, on occasion some club or fraternity might choose to screen a porno for a fund-raiser. And there was the town's one surviving shabby-excuse-for-a-massage-parlor, where one night Maz blew a week of his TA pay on T&A, but obtained only an oddly unsatisfying handjob for his efforts. So for Maz, such nefarious characters as prostitutes, go-go dancers, or swingers exist largely in film and literature, beings as mythic as Njal, Molly Bloom, or a winning football team. But this evening, when Maz & Co. arrive at the designated spot, he is amazed to find the restaurant flanked by *two* honest-to-garsh strip clubs! And not only does he see a third club just a few doors down, but the two floors above the restaurant are occupied by something calling itself the Red Light Museum of Prostitution! Maz can hardly concentrate on his food. He's convinced he can feel the heat radiating from sleek, lithesome female bodies-bodies that no doubt are undulating passionately, > right on the other side of that wall! > right at this very minute! His mind races: Could Cuz and his wife have planned this? Are they secret strip club aficionados, free-lovers trying to lure Maz and virtual-Ms.-Maz into doing some strange, quasi-incestuous thing that people do in the big city? And, if so, why couldn't they be from his mother's side of the family, the better-looking side? But most of all, it's this thought that he can't stop thinking: > It is possible, on a very nice street in the center of the nation's > capital, a street crowded with fancy French restaurants, men's > power-suit tailors, and fern bars, to walk through any one of a > number of well-lit doorways and enter a room where attractive, sexy > women unashamedly dance nude, holding the crowd in thrall with the > proud display of supple young bodies. Not only is it possible, it is *accepted.* Accepted to the point that no one even bothers to comment on the clubs' existence. In fact, Maz starts to wonder if he hadn't somehow misread the signs outside. Maybe Camelot and King Arthur's are just new theme restaurants-competition for Round Table Pizza, perhaps...? Generations in the Maz family take a lot of elbow room. There's nearly a thirty-year age spread across the party of four, but the hosts graciously try to involve the youngsters. Still, after the third or fourth anecdote involving Reagan administration officials who go to Cuz's church, Maz must accept that tonight's events most likely will *not* include his first-ever visit to a strip club. He's wrong. After dinner, Cuz suggests they catch a stand-up performing at a newly opened club nearby. When they get there, not only is it above yet another strip joint--How many can there be in one town? Maz wonders--but you actually have to walk *through* the topless bar to get to the comedy club! Ms. Cuz waffles a bit at this point, but she eventually hunches over and dashes, eyes down, the dozen or so steps from the door to the staircase, with the others close behind. Maz offers silent thanks for the tradition of girl-boy-girl-boy, as it allows him to bring up the rear at a relatively leisurely--but not too obviously perv-acious--pace. And now it happens: Climbing the stairs, he catches sight of a sultry young brunette as she peels off the top of her baby doll pajamas. Freed from periwinkle-blue gauze, her surprisingly full, surprisingly firm, breasts gently rock against her ribcage. She gazes out into the audience, the barest hint of a smile. Then Maz turns the corner and is upstairs, where he laughs at off-color jokes that make Ms. Cuz wince, and wonders at the universe of amazing things he's no doubt missing, taking place beneath his very feet.