Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Strip Club


Is the first rule of the strip club... to not talk about the strip club? You go there and see people you don't know stripping, and presenting and exhibiting their genitals and shapely bodies.

The tension and satisfaction is that you are in the same room with these people, who are reduced to sexual beings, there merely to be looked at as physical objects.

You watch them and they get close to you. Very close. They gyrate their pussy right into your face. Often an inch away. There are rules about touching.

Don't.

But you can look. And you can smell. I can smell the pussy.

The border is physical space, right there in person. An inch. Or if it graduates to lapdancing, the border between you and her (or is it him?) is the fabric of your clothes. A quarter of an inch or less.

Touching without skin.

The personal voyeuristic thrill is repeated on the internet, in a safer environment in which no one will see you leave the club. But the physical intimacy isn't there. The digital void between you and her is as wide as the Grand Canyon and as endless as the void of space to the moon.

The inability to be satisfied by connecting, and transcendence to the next level only flames the initial and primary desire. To keep on looking.

You're not cheating if you don't touch. Right?

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