I’m at Todd’s house in Toluca Lake. We’ve been playing Madden for a few hours and drinking heavily. After his fourth defeat he says, “Dude, let’s go see some titties.”
Twenty minutes later we’re driving over some train tracks at a nondescript location in Burbank and pulling into the parking lot of a strip club I never knew existed.
We sit down, order the first of our two-drink minimum and look to stage one, where a moderately attractive girl with no ass grinds her crotch in the air to the beat of a far-past-its-prime Limp Bizkit song.
I say, “I think I’m going to ask that girl out.”
“That girl from the record store?”
“Yeah.”
“Like on a date?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I think about her constantly.”
“Do what you gotta do.”
Two strippers, both far below par as strippers go, approach us about some lap dances. I’m hesitant, but then they explain their rates.
This pudgy Asian stripper says, “You get three songs for twenty dollars.”
I say, “Why so cheap?”
Her partner, a pock-faced white girl with some kind of Scandinavian accent, says, “It’s three-for-one night.” Then she leans in and licks my ear. I’m almost repulsed by the idea of a three-for-one rate on lap dances, but the bitch is already sitting in my lap. Fuck it.
The pock-faced white girl has her ass in my face while the chubby Asian girl rubs her tits on Todd’s head.
Todd comes out from under her tits, looks at me, and says, “Dude, what about Casey?”
I stop staring at this stripper’s asshole long enough to look at Todd and say, “What about Casey?”
“How’re you gonna take that record store girl on a date without Casey finding out?”
My stripper flips around and mashes her little hard tits in my face. I say, “Casey’s leaving town for a few days.”
The Asian bitch rolls her head around in Todd’s crotch. He says, “Lucky.”
The pock-faced bitch breathes on my cock through my pants. I say, “Yeah, I know. But I don’t even know this girl’s phone number or anything.”
The Asian bitch takes Todd’s hands and puts them on her slightly dimpled ass. He says, “Dude, you know where she works.”
The pock-faced bitch starts semi–jerking me off through my pants. I say, “But I don’t know when she works. I can’t just hang out in the store all day.”
The Asian bitch does this crab-type maneuver that has her crotch gyrating right under Todd’s nose. He says, “Dude, just ask somebody who works there when she works.”
The pock-faced bitch matches her partner. I try to sniff her cunt, but it’s masked by the stripper smell. I say, “Good idea.”
The Asian bitch puts her hands under Todd’s shirt and presses her face into his cock. He says, “No shit.”
Our conversation ends and our drinks come. The strippers get off us for a few seconds so we can dig our money out of the pockets they’ve been rubbing their asses all over. I feel a little ripped off by the convenient hiatus created by the waitress’s arrival. The waitress leaves and the bitches get back to work.
Some Tool song and a Linkin Park song finish out my three-for-the-price-of-one session. The highlight is when the pock-faced stripper accidentally slips off the side of the chair, hits the ground, and says, “Fuck, I hate these fucking shoes,” with no trace of the Scandinavian accent.