Superbowl Sunday

More and more as the months went on, I would find myself hanging out in the very club that I worked. I mean hanging out, on my days off. As scary as that sounds to me today, it was fun back then. I would always head to the club with my buddies because of my “inside” knowledge of everything. It is amazing how popular you become when you can get your friends inside without a cover charge.

One Superbowl Sunday, I ventured forth to the club with two of my buddies to watch the Superbowl on a projection screen, enjoy free pizza, half priced beer and lap dances. I could think of nothing better on a Sunday night.

The evening was fun, and quite enjoyable. Sunday was always the changing of the guard and I got to sample the new dancers who revolved to our humble club. Sunday was always a good night to work, or a good night to hang out.

The evening ended when my buddy Steve, yeah the guy from my first entry, passed out on the loveseat in the rear. As Steve was getting awaken and ousted by the Brick Shithouse, Steve cocked his head to one side and puked all over the bouncer’s shoes. Man did I lose some street cred with that little stunt.

Steve spent the next few hours sitting on the bench outside as Todd and I enjoyed the rest of the night. Served Steve right for being such a cheap drunk. Todd got scammed out of $200 from random dancers. The girls love guys like Todd, always willing to throw his money around in desperate hopes of getting laid. It cost Todd $200 to find out that getting laid that night was just a pipe dream.

The girls (most of them) were professionals.