Nurses. Nurses. Nurses. Naughty nurses everywhere.

You may remember back in November 2005, I had this thing going for nurses... and an idea for a strip club called The Emergency Room. Truth be told, I haven't gotten over the naughty nurse thing...

Today, I discovered that some entrepreneur has already done what I wanted to do... well, not quite, as it's not a strip club, but a little something a bit more mainstream. It's called the Heart Attack Grill. Notes their website:

The newspapers say, "Throw In-N-Out and Hooters in a blender, add a splash of television show Nip/Tuck and you have the Heart Attack Grill." Well that's close but it's certainly not the whole story. To be accurate you'd have to include the basic principles of Honesty and Simplicity. We apply these principles in the way that we treat two very important groups of people:

Customers

Ours is a world in which insane political correctness stands as a barrier between the average man and his pursuit of happiness, the Heart Attack Grill offers a well-deserved respite of comfort and simplicity. Pondering "Single, Double, or Triple" and "go with a Bud or go with a Heineken" are the toughest mental gymnastics that anyone should have to perform.

Just relax and eat. KEEP IT SIMPLE! Oh yeah, and how about being able to get your burger from a pretty girl with a smile on her face WHO SPEAKS ENGLISH?! The simple pleasures of a bygone era are still alive and well at the Heart Attack Grill.

Employees

Our employees receive the highest base pay in the industry and we have insurance programs available for both full and part-time employees. Rather than paying the lowest possible wages that we can get away with, we pay them the highest possible wages that we can get away with. Our Nurses* work hard and deserve to be rewarded by sharing in our success.

The element of sex appeal is prevalent at the grill, and we believe that our Nurses* are as socially acceptable as the all-American cheerleader. Our "famous" Nurses* are an important part of the Heart Attack Grill experience. We hire women who best fit the classic image of a loving and understanding confidant. Claims (by PC Nazis) that we exploit beautiful women are as ridiculous as saying the NBA exploits men who are tall and athletic. Our Nurses* have the equal right to use their female sex appeal and natural charm to earn a living as do actresses and super models. We applaud the women's rights movement because it guarantees that women have the right to choose their own careers. It should be known that women occupy the majority of management positions at the Heart Attack Grill.

One of the funniest things about the Grill is that some professional nurses believe that people will think the nurses at the Grill are real, medical nurses! They've been threatened with a lawsuit by the Arizona State Board of Nursing! To counter, they have a whole page dedicated to explaining that the Grill's nurses are only pretend.

I hate to think what they'd say about The Emergency Room strip club...

In the mean time, enjoy the nurses...

Oh, I miss the Eighties...

I was stumbling around the Internet and I came across this old Duran Duran video; made me wish I was twenty years younger...

All's well here in the Winky household. Although, I have to say, there's been no sex... Well, once since the little one arrived: a moment of coupling... that I swear was going to produce son number five... ;-)

Enjoy the video!

My absence... and the baby is here...

Well, gentle readers, yes, I've been off-line for quite a while. And, yes, the bambino has arrived... three weeks ago, now... Jane and baby are doing fine. We'll call the baby, here, Mason. He's cute, but unlike my other three sons, he came with a full head of hair. He looks nothing like me. I've been saying that the father is one of our neighbors; Jane says I'm way wrong.

Well, we are pretty certain he was conceived at an NCL party, although it was one when Jane didn't play, so I guess Mason is mine... even if he doesn't look at all like me.

Anyway, we're all well... except for Miller. At two-and-a-half, he's decided having a younger brother is not his cup of tea. He hates him. Miller will not even look at him. He'd toss Mason down the stairs, given the chance. The little monster.

Not much up on the sex front. My little yellow pills have really driven down my sex drive, and Jane's been on "pelvic rest" per orders from the doctor. That'll be over soon, and hopefully I can find something to bring my libido to the bedroom.

NCL is having their November social tonight; we're missing it. Too bad, too, because Nurse Betty wrote me and asked if I'd meet up with her. Her husband is out of town, and she is going to the party with his sub and wanted to play with me.

Not that I'd actually be able to get it up, but... The last time Jane and I went to NCL, I had some performance problems. Not sure if it was anti-depressants or the voyeurs... Turns out I'm not much for putting on shows.

Well, that's it for now... More to follow, and hopefully I'll get back in the swing of posting here at the Sausage Factory.

Oh, and by-the-by, I recommend using a reader, such as Bloglines, for your reading pleasure. I recently set up a Bloglines account and it's made it easier to read all sorts of stuff from the web, although it is becoming overwhelming.

I seem to always miss these events

One of the best ever
Originally uploaded by junior76.

Down at BAR, the girls dance on the tables; I always seem to miss "the good ones."

Not to fear, however, tomorrow night, Jane and I trek out to NCL... I'm not going to admit that I'm looking forward to it...

;-)

Smoking!

There's a medic for Mr. Winky
Originally uploaded by moonkingwalker.

I saw this picture while surfing flickr last night, and I was reminded of a trip to a strip club more than twenty years ago. I was visiting a friend in Springfield, Massachusetts, and we went to some dive and there I saw one of the most amazing things I've ever seen: a woman smoking a cigarette. Like the pic here, although I don't remember everything looking so clean and, er, eatable.

I hate cigarettes, though. Licking that would taste like licking an ash tray.

Anyway, things have been stumbling along. My libido is in the toilet; I think I may have reached a new low. Jane has been somewhat horny, and taking care of it herself. Last night, I fell asleep while rubbing her nipples. One minute I was all about it, and the next minute I was snoring logs. Boom.

We've both been having dreams that have had sexual content. The other night, she dreamt she slept with Paul -- I keep telling her she ought to at NCL; while she was frolicking with Paul in her REM sleep, I was getting it on with Liza, a fuck-buddy from graduate school years ago. I hadn't thought about her in a long while, but there she was in mind-generated living color.

Tonight Jane and I talked a bit, over roast chicken dinner, about our non-existent sex life. We need some chase, some newness, some extra excitement.

Perhaps it would help if Miller wasn't still in the family bed.

Poetry & Sex

While I ought to be conducting research or washing the dishes or drafting some report, I'm instead surfing the net, and I found this wonderful site, She asked me for a symphony (I only gave her songs): poetry and sex! What more could a person ask for?

Do visit.

My little piece of Chechneya

Yes, things have been quiet here at the Sausage Factory. I imagine we've lost all our regular readers.

Much has been going on; most recently I traveled to watch Zamira Dxhabrailova, the winner of the recent Miss Chechnyan contest; she's a keeper, eh? Too bad they nixed the swimsuit competition.

I wanted her to dress as a nurse during the dance portion and do a little bump-and-grind, but her handlers didn't like that idea. Too risque they thought.

Well, come on, I'm all about risque.

Of note recently is that Jane and I went to North Carolina Life recently for a hotel party. The theme was a hooker and pimp deal; Jane was the pimp; I was the hooker. Not a pretty picture, me as a hooker.

Had a pretty good time. They have this one room that's a grope room. When we first went to NCL, the room was always really dark; now they have strands of Christmas lights on the floor. If you stay in the room long enough, you can actually see what's going on. Jane thinks they added the lights to appease some men who were worried that some of those gropping on them were other men. Homophobia reigns in the swinger community.

Anyway, I was in there and there was a women on her knees giving a guy a sloppy blow job. Then she moved over to another guy. I asked if I could join in, and after a muffled yes, I moved between her legs and started licking her wet pussy. This must have gone on for a good fifteen minutes; I was beginning to get a crick in my neck. My dress -- remember, at this point, I was still dressed as a hooker -- was up around my waist and my hardon was pointed to the sky. I kept hoping some woman would come in and complete the chain. No such luck.

A little later -- after changing out of my skirt -- I was in the hallway talking with folks and one of the women I was with said she liked bald men. Not ten minutes later, she and I were in the grope room. Her pussy was sweet 'n salty tasting. Later she slurped on me, bringing me to a massive rupture, spraying all over; a fountain. We hooked up twice later in the evening, along with a half-hour bump and grind that left me dripping in sweat.

And the best of it? She's a nurse. Nurse Betty!

Hmmm, I wonder if she'd dress as a nurse for the next party. That would really fulfill all my fantasies.

There's a medic for Mr. Winky

There's a medic for Mr. Winky
Originally uploaded by blue4u2day.

So, last night, I got nothing. I come up all ready and randy, and Jane is whacked out and wouldn't respond to anything. It's like we're running on opposite cycles or something.

What I need, I suspect, is a little TLC from a nurse... I wonder what "the thing" is she has for me... not that syringe, I hope...

In Mr. Winky's dreams

In Mr. Winky's dreams
Originally uploaded by blue4u2day.

This is how it is in Mr. Winky's dreams.

Needless to day, that's why we call them dreams. Reality of late hasn't been so hot; we all seem to be running a bit high on hormones. Jane at least has an excuse; I'm not sure what my problem is.

Monday found me in the local emergency room for twelve bloody hours; I had a severe stomach pain (lower right); turns out it was... er... well, they don't know. I got some good drugs out if it, though, and proceeded to sleep for the next seventy-two hours. Straight. The boss wasn't too pleased I didn't show up to work, but, hell, I didn't care, did I. Nope. Not on those drugs.

Today, Jane's sister went to court for the auto accident she had a couple of weeks ago. She totalled her car; the cop charged her with reckless driving; the judge tossed her in the can for ten days, right then and there. Needless to say, this set Jane off on another tease.

Here it is, nearly one in the morning, and I'm thinking I'd love to go up and have a nice long screw with Jane. I want one where she's down on the bed, ass up in the air, grunting like a pig and screaming my name while thrusting back on my rod. One of those times when she loses everything and begs for my cum to fill her hot slash. "Cum in me. Cum in me."

Wait a minute, isn't that how we arrived at this very point in time? Ah, well, the good news is I've nothing to fear for the next eight months or so.

So, friends, ride on. And keep the raincoats in your car.

Indecision

My Inspirational Poster
Originally uploaded by Pussygirl.

Should I go out to the car and get the condoms?

Should I pull out?

What's a guy to do?

Jane...

... done got knocked up.

How the hell did that happen?

Guess I didn't make enough trips to the car.

Down for the count

I missed the women streaking down the hall.

I missed hooking up with Rebecca of John E. and Rebecca. A touch ago, I was midway in the hall talking with someone about "they can't fit any more people in the jacuzi; it's arms and legs everywhere" and I glanced to that end of the hall and noticed a crowd of people, including four or five folks buck naked, including one boner pointing straight out and Rebecca's ass and little boobs. I couldn't get away in time to find them.

Found Jane in the orgy room, racked out on the couch, eyes barely open, as a couple went at it on the bed, he eating her out, and her moans filling the silent room in a breathless cacaphony.

Jane is now in bed, asleep, and I'm headed there too. My eyes hurt. My legs hurt. Mr. Winky hurts. It's time to snuggle in bed with my Googly Bear. I'm down for the count.

I have a hickey on the tip of my penis

Okay, so, I'm in the grope room, alone, just zoning. Jane walks in.

"What you doing, honey."

Like she doesn't know I don't like crowds. I can hear the lesbian feast across the hall in the orgy room. Joanne discovered that one of the women attending has never been with another woman, so she decided to rectify that. They got the other woman in the orgy room in the center of the bed (actually, 2 queens pushed together) and then surrounded her. At one point there were seven women playing with this new-to-the-experience woman and about a dozen people (men & a few other women) standing around watching. So, I'm now sitting alone in the dark when Jane finds me.

I tell her I'm okay, and she says that Maryanne is looking for me.

"Send her in," I say.

So, Maryanne finds me and I suggest we go down to my room to mess around. And we do, meeting up with Jane in the hall. Starts out the three of us in bed, and after a couple of minutes of kissing and talking, Jane says she's leaving us and going off to find Paul. Maryanne and I are left to our devices.

I'll say this, and I don't mean to be cliched, but she can suck the chrome off a bumper. I don't know that I've ever experienced such vacuum forces on my penis. I came, and then she kept right on with it. I think I deflated for a minute, but then she sucked the blood right down into the little guy and he was hard again.

She was wet. She said, "Talk dirty to me. Pull my hair."

Okay. You know, when a woman asks, deliver.

I called her a slut. I talked about her wet pussy. I cajoled her. And then I slid a raincoat on the old guy, turned her onto her stomach, and pushed the old guy right into her wetness.

Damn.

My second at-bat went for a while, including a change of position. When I finally came, she was on her back, her legs wrapped around me, making tiny gutteral noises.

Meanwhile, Jane is drunk -- very drunk -- and out looking for Paul so she can "loosen him up."

"You go, girl. You go," I say.

Now, time to go find Rebecca. I wonder if she'll notice the hickey on the tip of my penis?

So, the game begins

I just sat down to blog and Jane is giving me grief about writing.

Earlier, Jane said we weren't allowed to have sex since we're married.

Maryanne's been coming on to me. She keeps saying I need to get drunk. So I don't remember. She wanted to dance, so we went down to the DJ room and danced a couple slow songs. I got hard and decided it was time for a refill and to see where things would lead.

So, we went back down the hall and I dragged Maryanne by her mardis gras beads into the room. I asked her why she wanted me drunk, and then suddenly we were kissing, and I pushed her against the wall. I felt her smooth skin with my hands. She said I was the unattainable one; like for sure, I thought.

And then she pulled away to head back out into the hall.

As I've been posting, Jane has been giving me shit since there's all that "sex stuff" and I'm sitting at the computer. As she just left, she told me that Maryanne was a sure thing.

Like I hadn't figured that out already. I'm not that dense. My question: can I get Maryanne and Rebecca at the same time?

Tour complete

We've done the tour. At the conclusion of the tour, I came on back here to our room. The party is outside our door; that's the congregating area. Maryanne and Joe were part of the crowd. I gave Maryanne a big hug and a kiss and then turned to Joe. He hates me. I think. I gave him a big hug and started lifting him off his feet. The crowd loved it.

Here's the situation, if you haven't read this entire blog. NCL is a swingers club. They get a floor or two at a hotel, and throw a little party. The rooms on the floor are either rooms for lodging (like our room) or theme rooms. And a safe room with food and drink. The safe room is exactly that: a place to hang out with no pressure.

The theme rooms include an orgy & mirror room, a Sybian room, a camping room (with a tent; great for exhibitionists and voyeurs), a grope room (totally dark), and a massage room (with x-rated videos playing).

Jane's here; she says I have to stop writing and socialize. I hate people.

Reporting live from North Carolina Life

Well, I made it. I'm currently at a Marriott-family property, the location of NCL this weekend. Jane is taking a little nap in preparation for the rigors of the evening. Me, I decided to blog a bit. My plan is to blog live throughout the night.

This decision to blog live is based on several assumptions:

1. I'm not going to get too much pussy. I'll have time to hide in the room and pound away on the keyboard for a few minutes every hour or so.

2. I'll be sober enough to find the room and the computer, and my fingers will still work on the keyboard.

3. I'll have something to say, at least about my voyeuristic experiences.

We arrived a bit before 3pm; my flight from Atlanta was uneventful, thankfully. Jane picked me up at the airport and we headed here.

A group of folks were unloading the equipment from a trailer. Lots of stuff. Tubs and boxes and whatever. The whole thing is very professional and business-like. When we checked in, Joanne was handling reception, and Paul was one of the guys schlepping stuff up to the party floor. It's been a while since we've been here. They've improved some of their processes, and now have a credit card swipe machine, a membership card maker, and are very organized. Or, perhaps the organization is because we were the first to register today. Anyway, we registered and she gave us our confirmation number which we provided to the hotel's front desk and then we received our room key.

We're on the party floor. We're in the middle of the party floor. We're right next to the elevators.

Not necessarilly a good thing; no privacy at all, and it is likely to be loud. But at least we have a balcony.

We went downstairs at one point, and Jane introduced me to a young couple in the lobby: John E. and his girlfriend, Rebecca. He's a little, er, short... He works at Osaka's with Jane. I gave them grief that pretty soon everybody from Osaka's was going to be at NCL. He seemed up for that. We decided that Joanne is recruiting.

I decided that if Joanne keeps recruiting cute girls like Rebecca, she can keep recruiting.

Jane just made an utterance. "I'm not going to get any sleep." Right outside our door it sounds like there are twenty people all doing a meet-and-greet. Screams of welcome.

Going to be long night, perhaps.

Stuck in Atlanta... & I'm still stuck on nurses

00000nurse11
Originally uploaded by Sexy Sha Sha.

I was hoping to be home tonight, but I got stuck here. NCL is tomorrow, and Jane and I were planning on attending & starting out tonight with a little one-on-one action. Instead, I'm here at a Hilton Garden compliments of the frigg'n airline.

I left yesterday to check out one of our suppliers down in New Orleans. They're just getting back up and running, and I went down to QA. I got a great send off.

Jane got back from Osaka's sometime between three and four Thursday morning. She was wired. She sat on the bed and started rubbing my legs. I woke up; it felt good. Of course.

I don't need to tell you that we fucked like rabbits. Okay, maybe not like rabbits, but... She was so wet & hot; I think her boyfriends at Osaka's had gotten her wet 'n ready. It was a good sent-off.

I wish we were having a welcome-home right about now.

Difficult decisions

Received the following from my dear wife:

Men often face difficult decisions that women rarely have to deal with...

I was a very happy person. My wonderful girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year, and so we decided to get married. There was only one little thing getting to me...

It was my fiancé's beautiful younger sister. My prospective sister-in-law was twenty-two, wore very tight miniskirts, and generally was bra-less. She would regularly bend down when she was near me, and I always got more than a pleasant view. It had to be deliberate. She never did it when she was near anyone else.

One day her "little" sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived, and she whispered to me that she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't overcome. She told me that she wanted to make love to me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister. Well, I was in total shock, and couldn't say a word.

She said, "I'm going upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want one last wild fling, just come up and get me."

I was stunned and frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. I stood there for a moment, then turned and made a beeline straight to the front door. I opened the door, and headed straight towards my car.

Lo and behold, my entire future family was standing outside, all clapping!

With tears in his eyes, my father-in-law hugged me and said, "We are very happy that you have passed our little test. We couldn't ask for better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family."

So the moral of this story is....

Always keep your condoms in your car.

Quite funny in light of Lilly. She's always flaunting something. Last week she came in wearing a skirt and told me she wasn't wearing any panties.

Why'd she tell me this, other than to get me thinking about her smooth snatch, to get me all hot and bothered.

In light of the above, I've moved a stack of condoms to the glove box of my car.

;-)

A trip to the ballet: A plethora of brunettes

Random women
Originally uploaded by blue4u2day.

Kenny Garcia and I are in Savannah. Came down on Monday; we had a little problem back at the plant on some parts for an aeronautical firm here in Savannah. We were joined by a consultant from New Orleans (well, she used to be from New Orleans, anyway) and we spent three days at the plant mucking about to try and solve the problem. I think we got it. Joyce had to return to home tonight, so I dropped her at the airport while Kenny played a little golf. Like that's a real sport: hitting a little ball around fields trying to get it in a hole.

I have enough problems finding the hole.

At 4:15 this afternoon we stopped in at Savannah Gentlemen's Club. We walked in; the place was dark (darkest strip club I've ever been in) and quiet. We sat down. A minute or two later, the bar tender walked in from the back. It didn't take us long to learn that while there were dancers in the house, and in spite of the fact the sign on the door said the joint was open at 4pm, and they wouldn't be dancing until 5. We split, deciding to return before 7 (and the start of the cover charge).

A little before 7pm, Kenny & I walked back into the club. The place was a little brighter, strings of lights around the ceiling, black light lighting over in the champagne room, a neon sign announcing the VIP room, and a dancer grooving on stage. Seren, we'd learn later. She was a little large -- for a dancer: straight jet black hair, ruby lips, soft pale skin. And, damn, she could move. Like fluid.

We sat down. Kenny ordered a beer and I ordered a soda. Diet. I was the designated driver, after all.

We'd been told there'd be 14 dancers. They were each dancing two songs. We weren't approached by any dancers, and we didn't notice anyone going into the VIP rooms. Not a whole lotta pressure. Either that or we didn't look like the buying type. Well, that judgment would turn out to be wrong.

We sat at a high table, talking. We were dissecting the business of the club; looking for income centers. How's anybody making money? Seren, dressed in a black flowing cope & looking goth-like, wandered chatting with customers. One dancer swung past saying she'd stop by later, if we were "still there." Guess she wasn't counting on us staying long.

An attractive blond passed by, wheeled suitcase in tow. A dancer enroute to the dressing room. Lithe. Later, I'd notice the freckles on her face, sharp eyes, and a quick smile. But not then, as it was the color of her hair that made me realize all the dancers -- well, except her -- were brunettes.

& now I realized why I was in 7th heaven.

For a while, we'd been talking about visiting the ballet. I knew that Kenny needed someone to make sure he didn't get into trouble. Right. Before we left Raleigh, I'd told Jane we'd hit the ballet. On the drive down, she called every hour. "Have you been to the ballet yet?" Tuesday, same question. Wednesday, same question. "No, honey, I'm working."

Well, not totally. Last week Jane posted a little add on a swinger's site. She asked me about it. I think she's reaching for something more, some spice, some freak. She sorted through and found a few couples she was interested in; she wondered which I was interested in. "Ah, whatever." So long as she is cute and has long, dark hair. So, Tuesday night I wandered over to the site to see what I could see. I found several couples that looked of interest. Well, okay, so I was focused on the female half of the couple.

Jane likes tall, meaty, bald men. She's got me. ;-)

I sent a couple of emails, initiating a little freak.

Or so I thought.

Last night Jane rebuked me for sending the emails. After all, I hadn't checked with her first.

After ordering the second round of drinks, Kenny went out to the car to grab a couple of cigars. We'd decided we were going to stink up the joint.

We moved to a different table, one near the door and the exhaust fan. We didn't want to stink up the place that much. We decided we'd leave when the tobacco ran out, unless there was a real reason to stay.

As we were lighting up, I noticed we'd been through the line-up. Seren was back on stage, her pale skin glowing under the lights. We hadn't tipped at the rail yet, and I figured it was time to start. I took a couple of ones and folded them lengthwise & walked to the rail, placing the bills on the stage. I sat down, alone at the rail, and Seren floated over and leaned down, drowning me in her hair, pushing her soft breasts against me. When I started breathing, I slipped the bills under her garter.

After her set, Seren disappeared into the dressing room. She reappeared a bit later, sashaying to our table. She was wearing a starched, white, oxford shirt. "You look like you just rolled out of bed and took that shirt from my closet."

The three of us talked for a long while. Our conversation covered the gamut; well, it covered a gamut, anyway. Spouses. Children. The business. Gymnastics. Nurse fantasies. My thoughts for a strip club (Seren said the nurse fantasy would only attract a small segment of the population; not as popular as I might have thought... or so she suggested.) Russian dancers (Hmmm, I perked up, thinking of Nadia.) And Kenny & I told stories on each other. Only the good ones. The best, at least as I can remember as I write this: Kenny's son getting his girlfriend's name (and an apostrophe-s) tattooed right above his pubic hair (they broke up).

At some point, the conversation went round to the Champagne Room and the VIP Room. A hundred-sixty for thirty minutes under the black lights. Twenty-five dollars a song for a lap dance. We'd had a good conversation; I figured I get a dance. Seren and I slid over to the VIP Room, and soon Seren was dancing, her softness and fullness pressed gently against me. A little bump and grind; certainly not as much as at Lipstick and not as chaste as many clubs, but still, nice.

I wondered how freaky she was. I was hard and wondering if Jane would find her attractive. In my fantasy mind, Seren and Jane were "exploring their shared bi-curious feelings." Of course, as Kenny and I spoke on the way down on Monday, "reality never turns out like the fantasy." Turns out Seren isn't bi-curious. Also turns out she believes sex is important in a relationship. And, it also turns out she can't get off; some complication to childbirth. (What women give up with pregnancy and childbirth...)

I, of course, immediately thought I'd like to save her.

That's what I do, of course.

First, however, another dance. They're like potato chips: can't have just one.

Later, after she'd changed into a little Christmas lingerie, a little red number tied in the front, white knee-high socks, and a wide red ribbon in her hair, I figured Kenny needed a dance. I gave Seren the money and off they went to enjoy a little fun in the shadows. Over Moons Over My Hammy he told me he'd had "seconds." Wait, he sucked on her breasts? Hey, I didn't get firsts! Can I go back?

I told Seren she'd do well at Lipstick. She's got the right curves for lap dancing; she's got the right touch; she's got the right scent.

While they were in the VIP room, Mariah -- the club's only blond -- joined me. Turns out she's from Venezuela. Oooo, I like Latin women. I was writing in my notebook, & she wanted to know what I was doing.

This club was fairly laid back. At some places, we'd have been over-run with dancers looking for a little cash. Mariah, like Seren, was interested in conversation, too. So, here we were, real women, real breasts, real conversation.

Or, at least I figured as such.

I could see how these girls would have regulars. As I suggested to Mariah -- after she told me the money to be made was with regulars & sometimes she made buckets just talking to guys, not dancing -- that would be like dating, without all the hassles. With a smile, she noted it would be like dating without the sex, too.

Point taken.

Still, I could see hanging out with them. Bright. Pretty.

And willing to get nekkid.

As I write this, the morning darkness slipping away, I wonder how to create that same sense of ease with Jane. I think she feels it at Osaka's, but I just can't fall into it there. We need a place where we can date, where we can hang without Miller or the older boys, where we can be at ease with one another.

Anyway, Savannah's Gentlemen's Club is now just a memory, a fantasy spread for a couple hours, lives intersecting and then retreating, reality intruding. Tomorrow we drive north.

Wednesday: Late for work and maybe I have an excuse

Okay, I'm still on the nurses thing. ;-)

This pic is from the Saugeen Stripper... seems some college students up in Ontario had a little party...

Raunchy photographs of a naked female student performing a striptease and a lewd lap dance during a birthday party in a Saugeen Hall residence were merely a product of freshman experimentation, a University of Western Ontario official said Tuesday.

And while UWO says it has no business in a student’s bedroom, the world can see what happened at Western behind closed doors.

The photographs shot in October were recently posted on the Internet on a website called Saugeen Stripper. As of yesterday, the site has had 14,000 visitors.

“Of course we’re disappointed with this whole situation,’’ said Susan Grindrod, Western’s vice president of housing.

Hell, I have to admit, I'm not disappointed. Check out the pics. College wasn't quite like this in my time.

Now, moving on to my own life.

This morning Jane came home at 3am from her KJ job at Osaka's. She was wound up. We talked for an hour and then she started getting foul mouthed, talking about how she wants to "date" some of the guys at Osaka's and she wants to get kinky and she was all wet.

Turns out she was all wet.

I slide over to her and we started touching and making out. I was holding her hair back and able to move her head like a puppet. Pretty soon she was desparate and she slid on top of me and then put my pecker it its wet, little home. She was riding me as I was pulling her head back so she was looking at the headboard, and I was biting at her ample nipples. Then I slid out.

She wanted me back in, but I told her she couldn't use her hands. Seconds later, she'd maneuvered herself to capture my cock and it slid back into her moistness.

I could feel it building up; hell, it has been ages... or so it seems. We'd done some caluculating and determined that if I made a deposit, there was a good chance Miller would have a younger sibling, and Lord knows I'm not sure I want that. So, like a good Catholic practicing the Pope's version of appropriate (or inappropriate, as the case may be) birth control, I pulled at an instance before spurting all over her legs, my stomach, and the previously clean sheets and comforter.

I woke up nearly three hours after the 5am alarm went off. Ouch.

Did I mention the wedding between two gay men that is being held at Osaka's and Jane is giving one of the grooms away (and Lilly is giving the other away)? Well, that will be for another post. And, no, I'm not making this up. A gay couple who spend way too much free time at Osaka's is getting married (one of the KJ's is going to do the ceremony... I'm not sure it's more than just a symbolic thing; I don't think it will be a legally-binding ceremony, at least here in the south) at Osaka's and Jane & her sister are giving the grooms away. Oh, and they want Miller to be the ring boy.

More to follow.