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| - I'm a non-traditional girlfriend, so I always forget what's expected of me during conventional gift giving holidays like Valentine's Day. And this year I totally neglected to get Mr. Man so much as a card. Dog house! (I thought we weren't celebrating! How was I to know that little sneaker was would bring a smile to my face with a cutesy, cheesy, tchotchky gift and card combo?)
Little did he know that I had an ace up my sleeve. An ace with lots and lots of titacular action. Bombshells! I know that nothing brings a smile to Mr. Man's face quicker than a pair of boobies, so we stopped by on Sunday for some sinful indulgence in an illusionary atmosphere. Being a non-traditionalist doesn't have to be a bad thing.
Sundays are 2 for 1 well drinks and domestic bottles before 7 pm, which is nice when it's $7.75 for a short gin and tonic. There's also no cover, an indication that Sunday nudity lures some guys that are reminiscent of your dad. Expect gentlemen in kahki shorts and button down shirts paying to have a lady rub their bits all over. But at least these gents are better business than the twenty-somethings that just watched the entire time, not a dollar bill in sight. Skeeze.
It's pretty easy to see which girls are enjoying themselves up there (or at least doing a good job faking it) and who's bored as all get out. We had some very enthusiastic ladies, especially after the shift change at 6pm, and they totally knew how to work the pole in their seven inch heels. Don't come here expecting tig ole fake bitties you usually encounter at Skin or other Scottsdale places. These ladies are au natural and I wouldn't have it any other way.
What's nicest was this fact that they're willing to sit down and chat with you regardless of whether you're interested in a lap dance or not:
Lovely buxom brunette: "What are you and your girlfriend celebrating?"
Mr. Man: *baffled, blank stare* "Sunday?"
LBB: "Wow! She's a keeper. Hold on to that one!"
Officially out of the dog house.
It's not a brusque, all-business attitude at Bombshells and even though I was the only girl there that wasn't on shift (aside from an awkward couple that came in scowling, stayed for three songs and booked it), there's no awkwardness about it. And since I'm a woman I get the supremely sexy treatment instead of the perfunctory titty shake when I tip.
The icing on our lecherous evening? Mr. Man got a lap dance and the Italian beauty offered to do a couple's one for no extra charge. Now that's class.
Maybe I'm too harsh on the whole 'tradition' thing. Let's make this Anti-Valentine's Day of Debauchery a regular occurrence.
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