Pole Dancin’

The four of us, James, John, Sandy and I decided to go out for a bit of entertainment this past Friday night. We started out at ‘Hotshots.’ I am not usually a fan of this bar, or any of the bars in the chain for that matter, but we were trying to stay somewhere close to home. We were there for one bucket of beer, then we collectively decided it would be a smashing idea to make the trek over to the luxurious ‘Queen of Hearts Lounge’ in beautiful downtown (unincorporated I think) Fenton, MO.

Besides me, John was the only person in our group who had been in this glorious establishment before tonight. Immediately when we got a whiff of the inside, he told us the place had not changed a bit since he went in there about 20 years ago. I forewarned all my cohorts that this place was top freakin’ notch before we even got there. I told them to “prepare to be dazzled.” And here is why…
Partially naked tweakers dance on poles at this bar. Oh yeah. Let me tell you a little bit about the place.

First of all, you can smell the ambiance (aka busted stripper ass and trucker sweat) before you walk in the doors. The smell can best be described as “musty-cellar meets ash tray.” When you step inside the bar is straight ahead. You need to stop here and choose your poison right away so that you can really appreciate the whole experience. After we purchased our beverages, I was scoping out prime-seating for the spectacle before us. At the far-left, behold the stage. It comes equipped with some mirrors that have not seen Windex since circa ’84, and a pole that has some serious crusty build-up at the bottom, I told myself it was remnants of paint, just so I could muster up the strength to swallow my beer.

I thought we would sit near the back, so as not to disturb the “regulars”.

James opted for a table right in front of the stage. Of course, since chivalry is not dead, he offered me the seat nearest the stage. I found out later he chose that seat for me so he wouldn’t get splashed with anything. Thanks, babe.

The first entertainer called herself “Nova.” I am still not certain if she was referring to the stellar nova or the rusted out ’64 Chevrolet. Neither here nor there, she was littered with tattoos, had some missing teeth, and clearly opted for the do-it-yourself-at-home hair highlighting kit. She was dancing to Guns ‘n Roses ‘Paradise City’. We later found out that the strippers were the only people allowed to choose the music, patrons were forbidden to touch the jukebox. She swung around that pole like a goddess. As difficult as it was for me to take my eyes off her, I did peruse around the room and notice a home-made poster that said, “Please tip our dancers, it’s only $1.00″ Nice. Before Nova left the stage, she gave a quick standing-on-your-head lesson to a drunk chick in the bar. Hot.

The next performer weighed close to 220-230 and she was about my height without her clear 5-inch heels. I did not catch her name so I just nicknamed her “Meat Skirt.” She hoisted herself up on the pole and spun around gracefully until she got about a foot from the stage and she fell like a hot freakin’ rock the rest of the way down. At this point, James turned to us and stated, “I would like to meet the architect for that pole.” Clearly he was impressed. She danced for her two songs, she was heaving and sweating like a fat kid chasing the ice cream truck, (if the ice cream truck was a pole, and the fat kid had on a teddy and hello kitty band-aids covering his pepperoni nips.) After she finished wiping the stage of her sweat, it was the next lady’s turn.

I chose the nickname “Lady” for the last performer because that’s what I call all women who are older than my mom. For “Lady’s” music, she chose to dance to the vocal stylings of Heart. A quality song choice for a geriatric stripper, indeed. As I saw her approach the stage, I thought to myself, “Watch this, Lady is a pro. She is going to show these young girls how it’s done!” I was wrong. Man was I way off.

I can only guess, but I always imagine that inside a stripper’s mind, they are thinking, “Show them how hot you are, how limber you are, how hot you are in the sack” I imagine that’s what really rakes in the dough. Based on Lady’s dance moves, I guessed that she was thinking, “I am glad I took that extra Doane’s earlier because I do NOT want to throw out my back again.” As she was dancing, I looked around the room and noticed that NOT ONE PERSON in the bar was watching her. I started to wonder if she was there on a dare…or if she was crossing something off her bucket list, and I told everyone at the table to give her a buck when she came off the stage. Sandy said “I am not tipping her! She sucks!” But then James with his infinite wisdom said, “Come on Sandy, give her a dollar! She has grand kids!”

Sandy and I are best friends, we had a blast in there with our husbands. We were not worried about any hot chicks coming through to try and steal them away from us. I am pretty sure James’ penis crawled back up inside him for safety. There was another stripper sitting on the sink in the women’s bathroom. She was on the phone trying to get people to come in to the bar and watch her dance. She had a really nasty looking burn on her leg, she said she was drunk, and apparently naked)while curling her hair and dropped the curling iron on her leg. Sandy (being a nurse) said, “you need some silvadine on that burn.” But Crunchy (I nicknamed her Crunchy) replied, “Don’t worry, I will put superglue on it before I dance.” Thanks, Crunchy.

We had a blast that night playing pool in the back of the bar…hell we closed that place down. In all, if you are looking for a good time, and you want to see some hot strippers, I say go to Sauget, IL and check out the action over there. However, if you are looking to get tanked and laugh your ass off, head to the Queen of Hearts Lounge off the River Road in Fenton. There are good times a plenty in that crusty little joint.