Come to Jamaica, where disproportionate performers and unique smoking skills abound


While there is still sunlight out on a damp, cloudy day in Jamaica, our cab pulls up to a strip club. I would witness and participate in many a strange act in this building, but I hadn’t known it by the looks of the place. It is a two-story building that is at the end of a poorly maintained, muddy road on a hill. On the way to the club, we pass a ton of fat, green jungle foliage and scattered dilapidated shacks. It feels like a strange place for a strip club. It is early enough in the evening that we’re not sure if this run down club is open. One person from our group checks and it seems like they’re not actually open but they’re not going to turn us away either. Our small bachelor party group goes in single file down a narrow walkway at the side of the building through what seems to be the service entrance. Inside, there is a large, open area like a courtyard with no garden. It is surrounded by stairs and doorways.

A group of Jamaican strippers rush out from the doors and descend on our group of men like lionesses on a herd of unsuspecting antelope. I am the only female in the bachelor party. There is a strict rule against allowing a female into the party, but I have proven through my drinking prowess and my willingness to get naked that I am worthy of a special exception. There are understood responsibilities associated with this honor. I must not tell the other women about any events that ensue during this sacred bachelor party ceremony.

The strippers escorted us into the main club. The only posted rule is that there shall be “no ganja smoking.” Everything else was allowed. The bright lights were on when we walked in. In the middle of the room there was a standard stage with two standard poles and a railing around the whole thing. They turned off the main lights and put on the mood lighting and the group of strippers started working. They just began to give lap dances with out asking or anything. Straddling and grinding and removing their clothes. The strangest thing was that they were almost all wearing street clothes. They wore tank tops and T-shirts and shorts. Instead of 6-inch heels, they wore flip-flops. It was like they came from the beach. They were mostly beautiful too. They were young and fit and ranged in colors from chocolate milk to dark chocolate.

A stripper onstage smoked a cigarette with her vagina. She lies on her back and takes a few puffs with her wrinkly hole. At least it wasn’t ganja. That would have been immoral. She also climbed the pole while holding the cigarette in her flaps. That is pure talent. This same woman pulled me up onstage the following night on my second visit. She pulled my dress up over my head and there I was, naked and wearing flip-flops. If I weren’t the color of cheesecake, I would have blended right in. By habit, I dance a bit around the pole before crawling around a little with her. A hand from the crowd spanks one of my cheeks and then I leave the stage. An overweight local man with sprinkles of gray hair on his shiny head offers me 100 U.S. Dollars for sex. Did I accept? I can’t say. I think it violates the bachelor party code to divulge privileged information. Don’t be surprised if you see me walking around with a snazzy new pair of sneakers, though.

Later that night, a dark-chocolate colored dwarf has doggy-style sex with one of the strippers onstage. The dwarf had the biggest penis I have ever seen on anyone. His third leg practically makes him a tripod. He pounds away onstage while switching positions with unbelievable acrobatic skill. He rotates and does a hand stand for an energized crowd while still maintaining penetration. The stage is littered with U.S. and Jamaican currency. Scattered used condoms are among the debris onstage.

The next day I swam with dolphins in the clear blue Caribbean sea. The dolphins were slick and rubbery and felt like a muscular person in latex pants. The dolphin thing is irrelevant to the strip club bit but my point is that I really had fun in Jamaica dancing with strippers and swimming with dolphins. I relish the chance to experience the local wildlife of different places. I’m home now and ready to get back to my own wildlife.


Previous Discussion:

  • What the hell is wrong with people? Especially me.

  • Justice talks flawed bracketology and death at the club.

  • "Oh yeah. You're gonna get it," he says again. More serious—like I'm about to be punished.

  • Get More Stripped Stories
Top of Story