Bar-hopping on Long Island
Jolt
Long Island. A far away land for someone from New Jersey. And if you attempt to get out there on a Friday afternoon, as I did a few weeks ago, it is far-far away. The trip took me two and a half hours. People are courteous there, they drive well, but it's slow, my g-d.
It took a few months before anyone could convince me again that coming out to the Island to write about Janine Lindemulder is worth my while.
So here I am, it is Saturday night, Janine's last night here, and I came about an hour early, I wanted to see the club, the girls, the action. But more importantly, this time I didn't want to be late.
It is one of those nights when one thinks it’s summer, and it almost is. Middle of May. Nice weather. The streets are packed with vacationing city people in shorts, the eating places are open late, one Mexican place after another. I park my car a block and a half away, in a small and dark residential street behind the club. The noises of people entertaining in the yard or on the deck just add to the atmosphere of vacation.
I called ahead, so the friendly giants know I am coming and they graciously let me in. I settle down in a remote corner, and go "hunting."
I take some pictures behind the bar-stage, on a tiny one-dancer, one-pole stage, the girls are very accommodating. There is not much room to shoot leasurely, exciting photos. There are three stages at Jolt, the little one, the bar-stage, and the main stage. The main stage is adjacent to the lap-dance area, and it is the size of a big handkerchief, no kidding, it’s a small stage.
The club itself is interesting, might say, pleasant, in spite of the lots of shiny metal, mirrored ceilings, mirrored walls, I am not sure why, but it’s pleasant. It's cool, but in a soothing way. Not cold, not unfriendly, not impersonal. My 17 years of architectural exprerience doesn't help me out on this one.
I camp out in the lapdance area, and sit, watch, write, chat to self-conscious men who don’t want me to think anything bad about them, or about the whole thing. From where I sit, the bay-like private area, I see the main stage, I can see the bar, and can see the people sitting there, drinking there, straight, and reverse: the stage roof is mirrored. I see some dancers on the bar-stage, but not very well. The place is not small, but it is not so large as to intimidate you.
I sit with my pad on my lap and watch this still new phenomenon, zipper polishing.
The guy next to me, homely little thing, behaves as if the girl were his date, and they were in his own living room. He can’t control his roving hands... the girl is working extra hard to stay out of his way without losing the supposedly large tip. When it comes to paying for the dance, I can see that it’s the guy’s last bill from his billfold.
The dancer, on stage, model type, nice shiny red bikini, long white sexy boots, long reddish hair, seductive and full smile. Her garter is packed with dollar bills. A dancer next to me is giving a lap/table dance to a female patron. I am embarrassed.
They call these private dances, but they happen in plain view, and I feel like back, some 30 years ago at an orgy, where people were in every corner of the room of a friend’s parents’ house. I was uncomfortable then, I am positively embarrassed now.
I count eleven girls on the floor, no, make that 15.
There are probably more than 30 women here tonight, if you count the ones that are changing in the dressing room.
There is a free hot buffet, not open yet, lots of customers, This Saturday seems to be a good day for Jolt.
By 11 the place is so packed that I can barely make my way through the club. The girls are busy doing lap-dance after lap-dance. Different styles, some even seems to know what they are doing. The woman next to me must be doing something right, because she does dance after dance. I ask her name. It’s Faith. You feel religious just watching her. A tall black girl is dry-f--ing one guy after the other.
Another black dancer takes her shorts off, only to reveal a tiny g-string. It’s part of her show. Guys seem to go for that.
Stage dancing is unexciting. I wonder how Janine Lindemulder feels doing a feature show in a club of lap-dancers.
Faith has long curly hair, light brown, it almost reaches her shapely ass. Her breasts are done, yet it is proportionate to her body. She is a good dancer, and on a night like this she must do at least 60 lap-dances, in the one hour that I’ve been watching she has completed 12.
The small main stage is covered with at least a hundred dollar worth of dollar bills. Some lovelorn guy is trying to impress the dancer of his dreams. Some guys only watch the back-room show, and laugh. I wonder if they are envious or embarrassed.
Faith is called on the main stage. She sensually wipes the pole clean and proceeds with an aerobic, and gymnastically demanding dance. She strips, twirls, goes on her knees, twirls again, her long curly hair flies with every movement. All the guys are watching, mesmerized. I feel like time went back to the hay-days of go-go. Hey, real performance hasn’t disappeared yet, it is just few and far between!
I watch magical Faith as she goes from stage-show to lapdance, she hasn’t taken a break at least the past 90 minutes.
Janine
a.k.a. Janine Lindemulderporn star at the Jolt on Long Island
Janine is a very thin blonde with a round ass, great movements, and enhanced pair of breasts to size C. Tonight, about an hour late, to a packed house, she appears amid noise, clapping, lots of anticipation, in a black vinyl outfit, complete with thigh high boots, black choker and wrist cover.
Given the tiny stage, the possibilities of a theme show are nil, and she knows that. If I am not mistaken, this is her second time at Jolt.
She fully uses the pole, and the stage, and produces a passionate, jerky dance.
At the third song, as usual, her blanket comes out, this time it’s a vinyl sheet, to accommodate the mess that goes with a hot oil show.
She doesn’t bother to be sensual or sensuous. She is only interested tonight in being wild, uncontrollable, every movement of her pelvis is thrusting against an imaginary stud in an imaginary sexcapade act. One wonders how authentic the movements are for a lesbian porn star, but that’s another question.
Wow, this time there is a fourth song, I guess she learned from unforgettable Teri Weigel, she goes around during that 4th song, personally thanking every guy around the stage. They tip her, she kisses them.
I stop by at the Mexican place. It's around 1 am, and the streets are still busy. I eat a hot-hot vegetarian fajita. That should keep me going till I get home.
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