This is my second Reddit confession. As with the first one, this is a tale of personal embarrassment, and I understand any and all laughter at my expense.

The year was 1991, and I was just back from Desert Storm. I returned with the Advance Party, so there wasn’t yet a whole town full of American Heroes (TM). I had spent 7 months overseas in an all-male tank battalion, and I was aching for a pretty girl to be nice to me. So, when you’re a young officer with money in your wallet on an Army base, what do you do for quick female company? Go to the strip clubs!

I had been in a strip club maybe once or twice before this particular night. I was vaguely familiar with how things worked. I knew to tip dancers. I knew how much a private dance cost. And I knew that the dancers could make more money by getting customers to buy special drinks. So, when an older dancer took an interest in me in the almost empty club, I was more than happy to buy her “a bottle of champagne.”

Shortly after I paid for it, she wanted to go back to my place. I was young, and had been drinking, and was full of myself after Desert Storm, so I was just thrilled to have a stripper want to fuck me. Yeah, I know, I was an idiot.

We got back to my apartment (the post was in the process of emptying the bachelor officer quarters so they could condemn them and build new ones) and started making out. Lots of kissing and touching each other. She stripped off her pants and pulled her shirt up over her boobs. She was shimmying and asking for compliments, and then we went back to pressing up against each other and doing some serious kissing…

And I came in my pants.

I was mortified and, again, a little drunk. I had no idea what to do. I remember that after she finally got me to admit that I had already finished, she was super sweet about it. She believed in the stamina of a healthy young man and was happy to wait until I was hard again, but I just couldn’t face her after that. I drove her home, and never saw her again.

It took me literally years to realize that I had hired a sex worker for the price of “a bottle of champagne.”