We arrived at the club just as my husband’s stripper was about to dance her first set. It was a weekday evening, and so the club was not crowded. After her first dance, the gentleman sitting at the table next to ours purchased a lap dance for me—from her. He had no idea how explosive the Pandora’s Box was that he was opening. But this gentleman’s gift worked perfectly into my plan. My husband’s stripper came over and gave me the lap dance, and when she was done I told her that I wanted to go to VIP with her and several girls. I had also asked for the club’s manager to come over to our table, and when the manager arrived I handed her my husband’s unlimited American Express credit card. I had a card connected to his account; however, the account was his responsibility to pay. I gave the manager my sweetest smile and instructed her to send over the girl who had just danced for me, plus several other dancers, to the VIP room, where I would meet them. And I did not stop there. In addition to the VIP service, I asked her to serve Cristal champagne to all the patrons in the club until closing time.
When my friend and I arrived in the VIP section, my husband’s stripper sat me down, and then sat on my lap, and asked me what I wanted her to do. I looked at her, and then grabbed her by both arms: I told her to do to me exactly what she had been doing to my husband over the last two weeks. She shook free from my grip, and jumped up and ran to presumably phone my husband. However, before she could make the call, the club’s manager persuaded her back to our VIP room. I had way too much champagne that evening, but I do recall that at the end of this revenge-filled evening, I was brought a bill that was well over $26,000. I tipped generously and signed the receipt.
When I arrived home, I went into the kitchen and smacked the receipt down on the counter. My husband picked it up and looked at it, his eyes growing wider and wider the further down he read, until finally he began to yell at me. My son heard the commotion and came down the hall. His response to the brouhaha was that at least the outlandish bill was cheaper than a “revenge lay.” However, lay wasn’t the word he used. My husband was incredibly angry with me, which, quite frankly, I deserved. I wasted a heck of a lot of money getting satisfaction from revenge for his cheating. The revenge did feel good, and that champagne certainly tasted good…but, looking back, it was not my finest decision. I could have bought a small car for what I spent that evening.
As I relayed this story to the Stetson man, I could see the intrigue in his smile. He explained that he had never been to a gentlemen’s club. On this plane trip, we happened to be flying to Vegas for his birthday. I had been wondering about what to get for the man who seemed to already have everything. Of course, his response after hearing this stripper-revenge story was that he wished for us to share his first VIP strip club experience that weekend. The Stetson man and I did not spend anywhere near $26,000 that night in the strip club, but we also did not stay in the VIP section very long before we left for the privacy of our hotel room.
However, after hearing several of these stories from my past, the Stetson man began to unfairly apply them to our own relationship, and overreact to any difficulties we had between us. At times, when things were a little uncertain between us, he would change lock codes at the mansion and cut off credit cards, for fear that I would do to him what I did to my ex. Time passed, though, and the Stetson man finally grew aware that he was safe in our relationship, and I also learned to be selective about what I would share from my past.