After along day at the Yarra Glen races, then dinner at the Mitre Tavern our Buck’s Party Saturday followed the well trodden path to a girly bar, the Men’s Gallery.
One knows what to expect, but I was taken aback at opening the door to confront a naked female arse bent to me. A client had plied her with the necessary coinage and she was shaking her booty, and other parts, to render the service he expected from her. This is how it works, more or less.
The initial surprise passed in a moment. My eyes did not linger, nor did they need to. As we proceeded into the bar there were nearly as many women there as men. The women were in various states of undress, but even those most formally attired left little to the imagination. Others, performing, were either half-naked, or completely so. They were all attractive women, but when there’s so much naked flesh on display it very quickly becomes ho-hum.
We bought a drink and in a trice had approaches from three women. We stood, chatting. They plied us with questions, unsurprised that we were there as part of a buck’s day do, before suggesting to us that perhaps we would like a private performance? Hmmm? Maybe later.
We watched idly as we sipped our drinks. Around the room girls were wrapping themselves around poles in suggestive manner. At one or two tables a girl had been convinced to shed both clothes and inhibitions with the lure of a $50 note. They performed mechanically, their skin smooth and supple, their breasts as near as perfect as you will see, their pussies bald and somehow androgynous. Their audience watched on as the skilled performer hypnotised them with her girl bits, a bit like a snake charmer with a snake.
I like women plenty, and naked women even more. I’m certainly no prude, but somehow, paradoxically, the whole routine is for me curiously sexless. The women, attractive as they are, are almost formulaicly attractive. That doesn’t mean there lacks variety – there’s plenty of that. We observed a good collection of statuesque amazons, a couple of Asian women, blondes, brunettes, foreign and local, even one cute girl in glasses. (But everyone of them shaved, as if it was dress code or uniform – I might have got interested if at least one girl left some healthy pubes just to prove she was woman).
They’re friendly, as you expect, and often quite interesting if you ever manage a proper conversation with them. I’m not shy, and have had girls cavort for me, and have expressed appreciation in the conventional way, but it’s the conversations I remember better than the bodies. And maybe that’s the thing. All these women are attractive, and often beautiful, but there is sameness in their performance that is only ever dispelled, if then, by the brief glimpses you get of the woman inhabiting the naked body writhing before you.
I remember once vividly a very warm-hearted girl who was studying forensics at uni, and who gave me some vitamin tips. I met another woman on Saturday who did this between studying law. Watching from the outside you get none of that. Watching from the outside it’s just about more interesting to watch the gaping patrons than it is the performing pros.
Watching the other patrons brings you up short. There are plenty of regular Joes, but there are also old guys and ugly guys and, particularly, small clutches of what seem pathetic guys. I don’t mean to be disparaging. This is not a conventional slice of male society. I’m not making a value judgement – this is capitalism, if girls want to take their clothes off and guys want to pay them to do it then everyone’s a winner. And if there are lonely guys and insecure guys who need to go to these places to get their rocks off, then more power to them. But…it only highlights the unreality of this environment. This is not real world. It’s raw capitalism.
And so on Saturday I chatted with a few girls but did no more than that. When they pressed me I said I was a vegan, which was sufficient for all but one girl who very reasonably asked what that has that to do with looking at a nude woman? I’m as sexual a guy as there is walking the planet. Let me meet any one of these women in a bar somewhere and I’m all in. Here though, for me anyway, girly bars are plain un-erotic.