Whiskey leads to Go-go?

note this pic is not of me I am not this pretty.

This weekend Hag and I went clubbing. This is not a rare occasion and in itself does not deserve a blog. 

Two things happened that made it worthy of note however. 

First off I was dancing on the stage and Hag was busy flitting around like the social butterfly she is. Talking to the beautiful gay boys and finding out which of them would be willing to show her their underwear. You’d be surprised by how many are willing to whip out (not off) their Calvins and she likes to keep a list. Like notches on a bed post. This was a particular fulfilling evening for her. She even managed to find a rugged skin head who had replaced the uniform Calvins with very tight and appealing blue Speedos. This one excited her so much she came to find me and made him show me and we both sighed happily and asked him if we would come and live on our mantelpiece. He sadly declined but it was worth a try and we will always have happy memories. This is note worthy number one. 

The evening wore on and both of us were feeling no pain. By the end of the night as we were leaving, neither of us dizzy nor at all sick Hag notices a poster on the wall by the cloak room. Go-go dancers wanted. Well I’ve always had a hankering for dancing in cages with not much on and we discussed at drunken leisure the prospect of me having a career change. Well not change exactly but I could do with the extra cash. So drunk and full of enthusiasm we thought the best thing to do was to ring them then and there and leave a message. So I did. 

Today I got a phone call asking me to go for an audition tomorrow evening. I’d completely forgotten about the message and fumbled my words with shock. 

“What shall I wear?” I asked the nice man on the other end of the telephone.“As little as possible” said he. Of course not in a sexual harassment way. It’s an audition for a go-go dancer after all. 

I don’t know what to do. Should I go-go or should I leave it?