The four girls handed us white bags to hold whatever items we might want to take with us throughout our night. One look around the place was all that was needed to let me know that these bags were not being used by anyone and they were promptly thrown out. The girls whose smiles were as soft and beautiful as rose petals also had a short attention span as their attention never lingered on any man for too long. We made our way around the club. Music, provided by a fat light skinned rapper who would have as much trouble getting attention from any lady as anyone else, filled the club. The few women that were present that weren't working, danced in the center of the dance floor. The men stood shoulder to shoulder on the outside of the dance floor, watching, drinking, nodding their heads along with the beat.
It was a sausage fest there was no doubt about that.
The dance floor went up 3 floors. The second and third floors not so much full spaces, as they were a gated off walkway that ran along the perimeter of the floor. These gates would sometimes protrude outwards allowing for a small platform where people could stand out and look down on the party while they danced above it. The few women who could not make their way to the dance floor would stay at these platforms for the whole night. Hanging off of one of these platforms was a large sign which had the American flag painted on it. Over the picture of the flag in big black letters it read: "SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL SEX WORKERS". God Bless America
A fog machine which expelled far too much manufactured fog every 20 minutes or so, solidified our decision to leave the dance floor and check out the rest of the party.
The Rest of the party as it turned out, was a sit down bar. Where couples and groups sat together and conversed in conversation at such a low volume that the room although completely full, always seemed to be extremely empty.
Next to the sit down bar was the artists room. Where you could buy art from tattoo artists or enter a raffle to get a free tattoo right there on the spot. This quickly became my goal for the night.
Next to the artists room was the EXPO floor. Which was actually the same room as the front room where we were met by the four lovely girls. The room was filled with (besides the girls) two tables. That's right. One table was the "sex table" which was filled with mostly vibrators; including, "The Challenge" AKA the worlds largest usable vibrator. Which was roughly the size of those gigantic crayon banks that parents give their children. It was a dark purple and was being eyed and weighed by a portly bald man in dark clothes and round glasses. He looked exactly like the guy you would picture alone at the SEXPO holding and admiring the worlds largest usable Vibrator. The rest of the table was filled with whips and anal-beads. The table was being run by two women both of whom were wide set and wearing blue button up polo's. A dangerous blond wearing a leather get up which lead your eyes to her Ass walked around the outside of this table trying to get people to subscribe to Hustler. As she walked men would stop and talk with her. They would get their friends to take pictures with her while they pointed at her breasts or cheered. Some men would wrap their hands around her waist so she couldn't keep moving. Skillfully she would slink into their arms and twirl her hair while they pretended to live the life where she was a woman they could go home with. But by the end of the conversation (if you can call it that) they were all signing their names and becoming members of HUSTLER VIDEO and then she would send them on their way.*
Across from the sex table was the smoking table. A whole table filled with nothing but pieces, bongs, bowls, one hitters, and pipes. All glass all beautiful all expensive. This quickly becomes my favorite table and also leads me to think I should cut back on smoking when I'm at the Sexpo but the idea of getting high is what has gotten me excited. The two men running are dressed in suits to look professional, but are so stoned that it has about the same effect as someone driving a Ferrari with a booster seat. Apparently these two guys are college drop out best friends who decided to open a smoke shop in the suburbs and have been doing pretty well for themselves ever since.* The men were so stoned that I considered pocketing one of the pieces while they stared off into the secrets of the universe but decided it went against the basic code of things.
Next to the bar was a table for Lovers Lane which was watched over by five ladies in nighties and that table was placed right next to another table called NORML which you can check out here http://norml.org/ All they gave out were bumper stickers and chains. I did have to question whether or not 4 tables justified an EXPO. But after 3 rum and cokes the question quickly left my mind.
We searched upstairs to see the whip and chain section. A section which was roped off and not ventured in once by me or my company. Watched over by three women who can best be described as the witches from Macbeth dressed in leather tied up willing victims and whipped and punished them to their hearts content. One woman, whose face I never saw was bound up almost completely with leather and electrical tape. She hung in the air spinning slowly all of her body bunched and contorted, looking more like a corpse in the movie seven than someone having a good time at a club. She wouldn't be untied until the end of the Expo 4 hours from when I first laid eyes on her.
Making our way downstairs we found ourselves back at the dance floor where someone had set up stripper poles. Three of the four women who greeted us at the door were dancing and spinning around the poles while men circled round and snapped pictures. Seedy cheers rang up while the girls spun around the poles, having fun and pretending that no one was there. One girl tried to do a particularly hard move. Spinning around the pole with no feet on the ground, sending her feet to be parallel to the ground. But the makeshift stripper pole wasn't made for such a talent. The pole slipped and fell sending gasps through the crowd as she spun and barely saved herself from falling over her extremely large heels. This lead to them climbing on the ceiling which is when i took the picture that I described earlier.
Not much later, Gus the man that ran the whole show got up on stage and along with a air horn announced that the party had started which was news to me since I had been there for two hours. It was time for the raffle, we all had tickets in the audience and had the chance to win, free clothes purchases from lovers lane or my coveted free tattoo. However after calling a ticket which no one responded too, Gus decided it would be best if the hottest girls in the building came up and shook their asses for the prizes. Now I want you to think about this...
The hottest girls in the building, at the sexpo. All of them are working. So the girls who were handing out bags get on stage and start shaking their asses. In effect they win every prize leaving the other 1000 people with tickets shit out of luck. Apparently spike and I are the only ones who realize this or care.
PART 3 or What Happens when Midwest turns to West Coast.
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