A strangely painful and awkward lunch led my partner & me to search out some cheap beer & chilled-out folk.
Which led to my face being rubbed in a woman’s breasts and me walking out of the pub $15 richer. The two incidents fairly unrelated.
What a Saturday!
Earlier in the day, we’d been throwing about advice to some folk who’d be travelling to South Africa. It got nowhere pleasant or to no real point rather, and so I excused us under some bad reasoning of needing to work on a Saturday night (Ha! One day I will be that proactive!), and sought out the closest pub for a needed reality check.
Now this pub is the very same pub we had ventured into on our 3rd day in Australia; when my partner had needed a toilet break while we apartment-searched. … He strolled in. And stopped. I strolled in. Was greeted by a smiling barwoman. And I stopped. Cause her bare breasts were also smiling away at me just inches above the mahogany counter. 3pm on a midweek day. Were all Aussie bars like this? … we were informed by friends later, that no, this was a complete “lucky fluke” on our touristing selves.
We’ve since learnt it is a fairly renowned titty bar; frequented by Footy supporters for a bit of liquidating (& oogling) before matches.
To Note: Titty bars are not to be mistaken for anything as “classy” as strip joints. The girls aren’t the point in a titty bar. The beer is. It is still a pub, whose staff just happen to all be women, who all happen to prefer pulling pints & rubbing bar counters while their wobbly bits wobble freely in the fresh air. Topless barwomen. Skimpies…
Think The Jolly… with more nakedness & rubbing. Well. Knowing the Jolly, the same amount of rubbing.
Ah well. So be it. Nothing wrong with it & as long as no-one minded me, I was not too fussed to chug away at some cheap beer in this joint as the only female patron. The point was the beer, and to try keep a straight face while not pulling a glance-down when ordering more beer.
There’d be moments of some naked woman prowling about on the bar counter to cheesy music and admiring drunk men. Fine fine suip suip. She would grab a man’s head, stuff it between her boobs and rub at will. Then stick some ass near another man’s face and fondle away.
We met some tradies who explained why the country was in such dire straits: “that’s what you get when you let a woman run the country!! Ooooooooooooooooo HA HA HA! Suip” I got chatted up by a geriatric with a wandering hand: “Oi grandpa!” And a couple of youngsters bet me that I wasn’t who my ID said I was. Which is how I earned $10.
Then they said that not only was I not who I said I was (but was actually their mate’s sister), but that my ID was not what it appeared to be. Which is when the barlady, who was playing mediator, showed them my bank cards while handing me their wagered extra $5.
And that’s how I earned $15 in a titty bar!
More beer & laughter. Another prowling woman, cheesy music, and admiring men.
When suddenly this lady prowled over to me, apologised to my boyfriend, grabbed my head & rubbed away…! The men cheered! And I blushed redder than a prude in cucumber veggie patch.
And that’s how I got my first ever titty-face-rub.
Had to happen in Oz, of all places.
I lied about the part where I walk out $15 richer. I was in a bar after all. That money was spent on cheap beer before you could say “prude in a cucumber patch”.