It amazes me the unusual places that you can find connection, beauty, and joy; a moment with another person that lasts for an hour but will be a warm memory for a lifetime. That is what Joanna, or whatever her real name was, will be. Our paths crossed at the Riverport Tavern, an old, beat-up strip bar, and it was a beautiful, sensual, momentary connection that I never saw coming.

While driving home from a business trip, I decided to stop for a beer. The bar had just opened for the night, and there was only one other person there. I figured I would just grab a beer and relax and watch the hockey game that was on the TV. If something caught my eye, perhaps I would enjoy a dance or two.

I was sipping my beer on the couch when the first dancer came over. A tall, lithe black girl who called herself “T”. We chatted for a few minutes before she asked if I wanted to go for a dance. I have always had a bit of a thing for black girls. I love the way my white skin contrasts with their dark rich skin, so I went for a few dances. She was EXCELLENT at her job. She moved like a snake, she was tight, toned and had the perkiest natural breasts. T read my reactions and delivered on the stuff she knew I liked. All in all, she was a dime on my hotness scale, but there wasn’t chemistry… I know, I know… It’s a strip bar, what did I expect? To that I say, it wasn’t a complaint, I enjoyed the experience immensely. I wasn’t in danger of her emptying my wallet though…

After heading back to the bar for another beer, I sat back down and continued watching the game. I was not there long when the “club matriarch” dancer started heading my way. I sighed and prepared to blow her off, because, quite honestly, she was so NOT my type… She was an older dancer, but not bad looking. Her glasses gave her kind of a sexy librarian kind of look. She was probably 5’4’, tiny, with large enhanced breast and big blonde hair. When she sat down a respectful distance away, and said hello, my curiosity got the better of me. I had expected her to sit down super close, and be kind of in my face and pushy, but instead, she just sat there and quietly chatted with me about things as I drank my beer. It was easy. She asked about my work, and home life. She told me where she was from, and we compared stories as people of similar ages do… I am 50, and she could have been 15 years younger, or 5 years older than me but I couldn’t tell you which. After about 15 minutes of chatting, she introduced herself as Joanne. At that point I was pretty sure I was on the hook for at least a couple of dances, but based on her friendly demeanor, that wasn’t an all-bad prospect. She eventually got around to asking if I was interested in going for a dance, and I happily agreed.

The dance was not what I expected. Joanne felt so soft and smooth. Her eyes rarely left mine if she faced me. It was a sexy, smooth, sensual, seductive dance, and I felt immersed in it, as opposed to along for the ride. As soon as I felt the chemistry build between us, I knew I was in trouble. It was at this point that I said, “You are a dangerous woman…” She knew she had me, and chuckled. She didn’t take advantage of it, not in a bad way at least. My hands roved across her skin, leaving only one place untouched, by unspoken agreement. That didn’t mean I didn’t skirt close to the edges… She purred at the caresses on the inside of her thighs, the firm grasps of her breasts with her nipples trapped between my fingers, my hand sliding up her neck and into her hair before trapping it in my fingers and pulling down to expose her neck. Her favorite, by far, was when my hand explored the crease between the back of her thigh, and the cheek of her buttocks, my fingertips tantalizingly close to forbidden territory. The songs went by, and we enjoyed the feel of each other. She took a couple of songs off and just cuddled on my lap and chatted, and then we enjoyed ourselves some more. I was there for the tease of it. The sexiness of it. To be seduced. And I got everything I could have ever wanted out of it… I don’t think either of us wanted it to end. Joanne told me I paid her too much, and she was right, but she was worth every penny. It was almost more satisfying than actually having sex. After a big hug, I left, and Joanne went back to work.

I am not naïve enough to thing that our dance was all that meaningful to her, but I think it was something we both enjoyed. The connection wasn’t a love connection, just a shared moment in time, and it was truly perfect for me. It was everything I could have hoped for.

And to think that I nearly blew her off…