What a night at The End Zone is actually like

‘The girls usually watch out for the college guys’

Since my freshman year, I’ve heard rumors of the local strip club, The End Zone. Most tales came from frat bros, taking pledges for their special night.

This weekend, The Tab decided to take a trip out to Port Matilda, where the club is located and see for ourselves.

I discussed it with my friend Megan and some others and we got a small group to agree to go, unsure if they were joking or not. Megan’s mom was supposed to visit this weekend and when we asked her to join us, she disappointingly cancelled her trip altogether.

That night around 7pm, we were still unsure about going. I’ve never been to a strip club at any point in my life. After some online research on their website we decided we had to go.

We perused some of the dancer’s online profiles and our favorite by far was Isys. Her name alone screamed “stripper” along with Candy, Xtacy, and others.

Courtesy of The End Zone website

We made a call for the complimentary shuttle to pick us up at 9:30pm that night.

And we all started laughing when we saw the dark blue passenger van with huge lettering of The End Zone running down its side sitting on the side of the street.

We climbed in to a nice older driver and a completely empty van.

He could sense our apprehension and started the conversation himself. “Just don’t get kicked out. I can’t bring you back then.”

 

Well, how do people get kicked out? Do we need to be worried?

“It takes quite a lot to get kicked out. Usually it’s for touching the girls. They can touch you – put their boobs or shake their ass in your face. But you can’t touch them. The girls usually watch out for the college guys.”

What’s the demographic like in there?

“It’s mixed, yeah there are a lot of college guys. By now, 10-11 o’clock, a lot of the older guys are heading out. Gotta get home to their wives.”

We laughed at the thought of some older Central PA townies leaving a dingy club going home to their wives smelling like sex and regret.

“Now if y’all get brave enough,” the driver starts as an aside, “some of the girls will invite you onstage and ask how far you’ll wanna go. But remember, you can’t touch ‘em. They can touch you, but you can’t touch them.

Now last night was a strange night…”

How so?

“It was just weird. It was the most guys I’ve seen removed from there in a long time. The only thing I can think is it was Friday the 13th. Now when it’s pledge week with the pledges, it gets kinda hectic. They get a full school bus going back and forth. They have like eight girls on stage at one time. That and graduation weekend.”

We pass a sign for Port Matilda, six miles away.

Is it going to be busy tonight?

“It’s still early, but it won’t be packed. You’re my first run of the night.”

A bright yellow sign, like a shopping center sign, appears up on the left. “Playtime Boutique” with “The End Zone” underneath of it. We’re here.

“Now the girl on stage now, you’ll know when you see her. She’s a lot of fun. You guys will like her.”

We get out of the van and after some more preparation outside we ventured in.

We walked in to a long white hallway with glass cases full of porn DVDs, lube and a variety of sex toys, probably from the Playtime Boutique next door.

There’s a cashier at the end of the case. “IDs please. $20 for guys, $10 for girls.”

My friend and I are over 21 and we get a stamp. The other two are under 21 and get a black X on their hands.

While they’re paying, I peak my head around the corner. The first thing I see is a half empty audience with a fully naked stripper shaking her vagina in a middle-aged guys face. What did we get ourselves into?

As we’re about to walk in, a bouncer is removing a younger guy.

The shuttle driver was waiting at the entrance to the dance floor and pulled me aside. “That’s the one I was talking about. You’ll like her.” I laughed nervously. The thought of full-on shameless vagina being rubbed in my face for a dollar was making me uncomfortable.

We all walked in together, laughing like a bunch of kids seeing boobies for the first time and decided to sit next to stage in the back. The crowd is mostly older guys, in their early to late 50s. They look like it’s Christmas morning every time a dancer crams their face between her tits. I think of my dad sitting in the audience and immediately want to throw up and leave.

For the middle-of-nowhere-Pennsylvania, it’s actually a nice place. There’s a DJ booth up to the side, two stages with chairs surrounding them. At the time, there are two dancers on the one stage.

Courtesy of The End Zone website

Across the stage from us, there’s a group of low-tier looking frat guys with their gaze locked on the naked dancers on stage. They see the girls in our group and scream at them, “aren’t they hot?!”

The girl who the shuttle driver told us about, who we learned is named Xena, is dancing in front of us. We look around to see the protocol and see it’s proper to put a dollar down on the counter in front of us and wait for a dancer to come over.

Xena is our first experience.

She squats down and takes my dollar. “Hey! How are you doing tonight?” she asks with a big smile on her face. I smile nervously and say I’m doing well. She’s very friendly, I think to myself, but I can’t tell if it’s just for the dollar or not.

She squats down and brings my head up to her chest and begins rubbing her boobs against my face. I’m not sure what to do so I just stare awkwardly at her sternum. She stands back up, smiles, and moves down the row to my friends.

She does smell really nice, like vanilla. One of the girls confirm the exact body wash from Bath and Body Works. Girls always know this shit.

I notice the dancers tend to pay more attention to the older guys, possibly regulars, and the girls in my group.

For the next dancer, I decided to step it up and put down three singles. Aspen comes up, smiles but not as nice as Xena, and spreads her legs in my face. She wraps one leg around my neck and slams my face against her labia. If I was ever unsure of what the female reproductive anatomy looked like, I sure as hell know now. At least she smelled nice, too.

After a few rotations, my other 21-year-old friend and I scope out the back patio. It’s basically a pool bar with free beer, BYOB if you bring it. When we go back, the bouncer checks our hands and let’s us in.

We check it out, it’s full of smoke and it seems there are more people in here than there are actually watching the dancers. Over the loud speakers we hear a request for Brad to come on stage for his bachelor party. We decide we have to see this and rush back to the dance floor.

Courtesy of The End Zone website

On stage, Brad is sitting on his hands on a chair, a request made by the DJ to prevent him from touching the dancers.

“Prepare to be violated!” The DJ screams.

All of the dancers line up and take their turns grinding and dry humping Brad. He looks excited and embarrassed. At the end of the set, our favorite, Xena, directs him to bend over and proceeds to whip him with a belt. Another dancer comes up and pushes him on all fours. She puts the belt around his neck and proceeds to ride him for a few seconds on stage. He really does not like this. I can’t imagine who would, at least not in public.

The night becomes a blur of various dancers getting down to nothing and rubbing various body parts on customers. At one point, one of the less-pleasant dancers takes my dollar and slams her ass crack against my face. I’m astonished and a little uncomfortable and decide to keep my singles in my wallet for a few songs to recover from whiplash.

The song ends and we go back to the patio area. My friend goes up to the bachelor and his friend to cig and comes running up to me. “You HAVE to go talk to those two! The one is apparently a pro baseball player for the Orioles.”

I go up to them for an impromptu interview and I can sense his discomfort as soon as I start talking. He mumbles a few words about visiting his friend and supporting him before the approaching wedding before Brad pulls him away. Oh well.

I take a pee break and apparently the whole place is buzzing about the Orioles player, who I won’t even name due to his extreme lack of interest in being interviewed. A kid in the bathroom, one of the frat bros we saw at the beginning, starts talking my ear off at the urinal. I glare at him, trying to get a moment of silence. He doesn’t get it and keeps going on and on.

“Yeah he bought me a private dance man! That’s 20 bucks! VIP, $160! But man, that stripper was such a bitch! I was like, do you know who my man is? He bought me this dance! She said she didn’t care and I told her to take her money and get the hell away from me. Don’t disrespect my crew, bitch! I took my ticket and got a new girl, VIP.”

Chill bro, I don’ think he’s your ‘crew.’ Plus she still got paid, so sounds like she’s doing better than you.

A VIP Room – Courtesy of The End Zone website

I go back out and sit down with my personal crew and I notice a guy has joined them and is trying to hit on them. Something about having over a hundred grand in his bank account. My friend asks to see his account and he brings out his phone. A security guard comes running over and after a slight argument, kicks him out. No phones allowed. At all.

The night goes on and the second stage opens up. The place is fuller than before and there are 4 dancers on stage at a time now. I look up to the balcony and see one on her break eating Cheetos I guess she got from the vending machine. Apparently they can be at the club for about 10 hours a night.

I discreetly check my phone, making sure no one sees. It’s almost 1:30 in the morning and I’ve blown through almost all of the $100+ I brought with me. We’ve been here for about 4 hours. I look at our group and suggest getting ready to go.

Xena comes back up and I empty my wallet for her, by far the best dancer of the night. My friend gives her $5 because of her “acrobatic skills” on the pole that out-shined all the other girls. The shuttle driver sure was right about her.

We take the next shuttle home with two younger couples. The girls in our group are screaming about how much fun they had and how they think they’re lesbians now. The whole van is laughing. We stumble up the stairs around 2am, the night was such a blur.

 

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