In my youth I was a bit of a bad boy. I’m pretty sure that was originally what my wife (and the other girls!) loved about me. I dated lots of girls at the same time – until I met my wife to be. I fell for her, head over heels, and I wanted to be whatever she wanted me to be. So I quit my bad boy ways. I dated only her. I went to school. I got the office job that paid good money. We had kids and bought the house she wanted.
Sometimes I wonder if I became someone I am not. But on weekends, when I can get away, I head to Rhode Island Dolls in Woonsocket, RI. There I can let my bad boy out again. Well, to some degree anyway.
I am sure that people there know that I am married but it doesn’t matter really. I show up in the battered old biker jacket that I used to wear in high school (and yes, it still fits just fine!) and I throw on a pair of beat up jeans that have a few rips and tears in it. My wife hates that I still have them but I keep them in the trunk of my car so that she doesn’t have to think about them and she can still pretend that I am the man she wanted to marry.
I get to RI Dolls and I am someone else that I am not in my everyday life. The guys at the office have no idea that I go there. Even my best friends (who are mostly the husbands of my wife’s best friends) don’t know where I go on the occasional Saturday night. And that is just the way that I like it.
The first thing I do when I get to Rhode Island Dolls gentleman’s club is order a premium whiskey on the rocks. None of that red wine that I drink at home. I slug that baby back and order another one.
Then I look for a seat near the stage where I can relax until my favorite dancer comes on the stage. She works most weekends and it is her that I come there for. She’s the bad girl to match my bad boy persona. She’s got long dark hair that falls in silky waves to her waist. She wears black eye liner that makes her blue eyes pop. And her lips are like red satin. When she smiles at me it is like all the fiery passion that I put aside in my everyday life comes out. She makes me feel alive when she looks at me with what I imagine to be lust.
I enjoy every minute of her dance. Sometimes I think about her and I driving off into the sunset on that old Harley Davidson that I fixed up in high school and then sold before I married my wife. Damn – I loved that thing and I bet that she would love to ride on the back of it. We’d head out of town and stop at a biker bar for a few drinks and then we’d continue on our way until we found a cheap hotel to spend the night at and release all of our passion.
After she finished her stage dance I wait for her to come out. She’s so hot and when our eyes meet I feel like I’m with one of my own people. She comes over to me and we usually chat before I ask her for a private dance. Sometimes I hold off so that we can have some more conversation and I make her ask me if I’d like a dance. She knows I do.
I enjoy our short and brief private time. She doesn’t talk much while she is dancing but that is ok. It gives me the time I need to day dream about what a life with her would be like. I watch her move in that sensuous way. I listen to her breathe. I watch her eyes, imagine what kissing her lips would be like.
And when it is over, I head back to my car. I pull over at a gas station to change back into the casual and acceptable clothing that my wife sees me in from day to day. And I say good-bye to the bad boy that still lives inside me until the next time I can get away to go to Rhode Island Dolls.
I love my wife. But I know that I need to let that bad boy out once in a while. Just so I don’t lose me.