As our Imperial Vileness will attest to, I have a vast repertoire of stripper stories. This is mainly due to the fact that for many years before I met Bangie Thing I was known to occasionally, only occasionally mind you, frequent gentleman’s clubs. This was done purely for altruistic reasons, but we’ll just leave that conversation for a later date. Right now I have a brand new stripper story to share.
Last night myself and a fellow prior service Marine provided a color guard for a military ball to benefit a local veterans charity. Of course we brought our better halves and enjoyed an incredible evening of brotherhood in which over $28,000 was raised to provide immediate financial help to wounded vets transitioning back into civilian life. A truly great time for a great cause.
So after the dancing is done and the bar is closed, what are two Marines in Dress Blues and their exquisite dates to do? Why move the shenanigans to a strip bar of course. Now, in keeping with our attire and not wishing to be overdressed (proper decorum after all) not just any strip club would do. No sir, only the classiest for this evening. So we were off to a very high class establishment that features a five star steak house and girls wearing evening gowns, of sorts.
First off, I have to mention that while we were enjoying our drinks and a coupe of very good cigars, an inebriated gentleman approached us and offered to buy us a round. Well, apparently to him “a round” means paying our entire bar tab for the night, which I didn’t find out about until when I went to settle up. He also dropped $300 in singles at our table for us to tip the dancers with. After some discussion we decided that we needed to pay that forward. Some of it went to the dancers to honor the wishes of our generous patron, while the rest will be used for Toys for Tots and given to our church. (Yeah, a little dichotomy there I know, it’s how we roll).
But this is not the point of my long winded tale. One of the ladies there was a tall, blonde lass named Olga who hails from Russia. Belarus to be exact. After a sloppy salute she plopped herself in my lap, much to the amusement of Bangie Thing, and in heavily accented English told me she had been in the Russian Army. Well, the conversation progressed until the inevitable effort to pry some of my money away from me by asking if I wanted a lap dance. Now, she was a fairly attractive woman, don’t get me wrong, but I was more interested in just enjoying my seegar and politely declined.
Not to be dissuaded she asks “Why not, you don’t like Russian soldat?”
I leaned in to her ear and whispered “Lady, I was in the Corps during the Cold War. I trained to kill y’all.”
After an awkward silence I was left to enjoy my stogie and the rest of my evening with my wallet relatively unmolested.