Anyway, no harm done. Except that the next performer was bound to be wearing that invisible "lesbian" label now, and I couldn't help but feel a certain loss of innocence along with my sudden sense of kinship. Rightly or wrongly, I would be seeing her as a lesbian rather than a dancer, a lesbian using her body to excite men she didn't even like. It seemed a bit shoddy somehow, teasing the boys without giving them their money's worth. Unless maybe they knew all about it and just didn't mind being teased. Hmm. Hope springs eternal? Wasn't that the very essence of the striptease, to dream the impossible dream? Yes indeed, hope springs eternal; no wonder so many successful strippers were gay! Look but don't touch, a kind of soft sadism, just perfect for the unwitting male masochist…

That was when the third girl ambled onstage, tall and blond and beautiful and making mincemeat of my theory. Maybe the wolves were still getting their fair share of graciously dispensed frustration, but I could have sworn this one was teasing me! As if she had read my invisible label, somehow, was it so indelible?, and was already stating her challenge in no uncertain terms. Hey, look at us! How about it, tourist lady, blond on blond tonight? A bed full of nice blond cunt? Come on, baby, put up or shut up. And never mind the blank stare, it's no good anymore. Let's go, blondie, shit or get off the pot!

I did neither, straining mightily to hold everything in check like a well-behaved tourist lady should, and was rewarded by a richly deserved sense of triumph that turned cloying and faintly oppressive as she shrugged and swung her attention elsewhere. Just watching her seemed compensation enough, though, and I was soon lost in the erotic sorcery of her spell. Only I couldn't go up there alongside her this time, not like with the fat-assed Mexican peasant, oh no, I just didn't dare.