On Free Boobies - by Mary Allen

This was one of Mary's first pieces for our site, and one of the most popular posts. It's popularity was likely boosted by keywords such as "boobies" and "free," but nevertheless is an enjoyable read. It has been edited from the original, and yes, does contain adult content. What did you expect from a place called The Literary Brothel? -KV

On Free Boobies
by Mary Allen

Ever been with a friend after a football game, no plans and wondering what to do? Ever said, "Ok" to your friend's question, "Do you want to see boobies?" Have you ever been a girl in the above situations? Well, that was me this past Saturday night.

After the recent tragic and miscalled UCLA-Stanford game, Jeff and I looked to alcohol. A little unfamiliar with the area, we picked up the SF Weekly to find a comedy club or a cool band. After our fifteenth time thumbing through the Weekly, Jeff asks if I'm game to "see free boobies." I figured that if I ever want to complain about those vulgar establishments, I better know what I was arguing over, so I went along with the idea. Or maybe, I really did want to see "free boobies." Who knows for sure?

We found parking and walked. The outside was swanky: metal nouveau detail and a nice man with a suit opens the door for us. The woman inside seemed peeved when we mention, "Couples get in free before ten." (Ha ha! I'm not paying for something that I can get for free at home.)

The inside was velvet 1950's chairs, dim lighting, a water wall straight out of Sharper Image, neon signs, a full bar, and girls. All kinds of girls: three women were coupled in the crowd, nicely clad servers wandered about, and the dancers. I was ready to be turned on.

The female body is incredibly beautiful and I will readily point out a sexy woman when I see one. But four of the twelve girls performing would have been defined as "Rubenesque" in the late 19th century and "Plus Sized" at the end of the last. Two others had attractive bodies, not as round as some, but danced fairly well. One girl, Fire, shimmied up the dancing bar and doing acrobats worthy of a trapeze artist off of the L-shaped beam at the top of the pole. While I didn't find this the least bit appealing, I can certainly see how some men would be quite excited by a woman who is double jointed. Wow.

But most of the girls I really can't remember, since they bordered on the bland and boring. I did give a dollar tip to a woman who didn't take all of her clothes off. But I had to place it in her thong. That was mildly disconcerting. She did have a nice tan and no stretch marks though.

Jeff asked me if I would be "willing to have her boobies rubbed in (my) face" if he paid the $20 fee. My reply was something to the effect of "I don't think so." But after a couple more attempts at getting anyone to rub the oft-said "boobies" in my face, he revealed that it wasn't that he wanted to see it happen, but only because he wanted blackmail material, to hold the boobie-rubbing incident over me for the rest of my adult life. I sat firmly in my chair after that.

One of the dancers came over and we had a five minute conversation. It turns out that she's been dancing for 5 years, dances only 1 night a week, has another part time job, and is a mother. If Jeff and I wanted a dance, her rates were $20 for one song or $100 for a half hour. Nice. She added that I should sit closer to the stage to get more attention. I did, only to be blinded by more obnoxious disco lights and the chuckling faces of the dancers as they stumbled across the stage in their insanely awkward heels.

Overall, I was a little disappointed by my strip club experience. The alcohol was strong but outrageously priced, the girls weren't that pretty, and the seedy individuals I looked to mock weren't present. The most notable part of the evening was the fact that I was relieved of $16.75 for the two drinks, a tip, and thong money. So much for "free boobies."

Addendum:

On my six hour drive home the next day, I had time to think about it: Most of the women dancing or sitting in men's laps were not pretty. In fact, the one woman who did stand out was plain-faced but loved what she was doing. Or at least, that's what she appeared to be feeling. She enjoyed her body and had fun on the stage.

That was the one residual idea that came out of the evening's entertainment. The fact that if you enjoy who you are, no matter what your occupation or your body image, and you have fun living your life, you end up being sexy to someone. And if Jeff's eagerness, in addition to most of the other classier men in the establishment is to be believed, that trick works.

I'm not going to rush out and make a purchase at Trashy Lingerie, but I think I have spent enough time in vinyl to realize that I think I could do what Amber or Sabrina or Summer did. And maybe I can't get my leg over my head or shimmy up a 12 foot pole, but I think I can strut my stuff with relative ease. As long as I don't wear 7-inch stilettos with a one-inch platform base. While I don't think you'll find Mary at the Spearmint Rhino anytime soon, a couple of lucky individuals might see a very different side of her. See you soon, boys.

-MA