Welcome To Scorpion Sting’s World!

I was asked once, long ago, long before the existence of blogs, long before the was an internet, long before cell phones and social media, but face to face, what it was like living in my world. I took pause for a minute as I reviewed the contents of the question because I had never before been asked about life in my world so I wanted the description to be true and accurate the first time. To begin with, I am really no different from anyone else, unless you are a useless tool, a fucktards, or one of the sheeple who follow the flock chasing your own tails, then we ate not alike, then we are very different. I have a very simple belief which has served me well my entire life, do the right thing whether someone is watching or not. My world is a place where pride, honor, and dignity are cornerstones that build the foundation which my world stands. My world relies on the brutal honesty which the political correctness police fear and condemn. One thing that has never changed and never corrupted is my very, very low tolerance for bullshit. Bullshit belomgs in my garden not in the mouth that speaks to me.

So what is my world? Its a strange place worth exploring, I recommend getting in, closing the door, buckling in, and enjoy the ride. I take no responsibility if you get hurt while in my world because you knew the risks when you were given a ticket. My world huh? My world, my life, and my rules. Love it or leave it. Remember to eat it every day and definitely remember that everything else just bites. Now, are there any other intelligent questions?

Stranger Things Have Happened!

In the beginning I would have never thought that anyone would be interested in The Sting Of The Scorpion. That was in the beginning. Early this morning it was observed by my oldest daughter that the 100th person had begun following The Sting Of The Scorpion. Of course, she was very excited about this fact and decided to text me sometime in the wee hours today. Thinking there is an emergency at 03:19 because my phone is going off I jumped out of bed to check it out. I can’t say I was disappointed as good news is always better than bad, no matter what time of day or night it is. The fact that I now had 100 followers on a blog that so many try to tear down because they don’t like what I stand for is somewhat of a milestone to me. I will admit, I started up here at WordPress in September 2013 and didn’t think The Sting Of The Scorpion would survive. But, lookey here, I’m still standing. I know y’all are thinking “big deal it’s only 100 followers” when most of the blogs I follow exceed that number by at least 10 to 100 fold. I just had found it nice that in 4 1/2 months that this many people would want to follow The Sting Of The Scorpion. It makes me happy. It makes me smile.

I knew from past experiences that nobody accidently just stumbles onto The Sting Of The Scorpion. I have had past failures that served as lessons to me and give me time to reflect about what I’m really doing here with this blog. What am I doing here? It’s easy, I’m here to reflect of things in my life that are happening around me and around the world. I tend to blog for myself, I use my blog as a platform for me to shout out to masses, eventhough I usually get crickets chirping in return. One day I realized that I needed to help myself by helping others find The Sting Of The Scorpion. I have done that through social media. We all believe that all we have to do is build it and they will come. We all find out that is complete and utter bullshit. I put a fair amount of work into writing and providing information on The Sting Of The Scorpion. In the end, let it known that this small personal milestone will not make me lazy, it actually is making me want to try harder, to be harder, and show people that they haven’t seen shit yet because I’m just getting warmed up.

Just Wait Until You Get To Know Me

Overexposure Sensory Overload

One of my favorite things about arriving to work at Club X was the absolute red carpet rock star treatment. This treatment wasn’t just reserved for me, it is how everyone who pulls up to the front door for valet parking is treated. There is no better feeling than pulling up to the red carpet, having your door opened for you by a Wicked Weasel bikini clad beauty who extends her hand to assist you getting out, and then turning your keys over to her so she can drive away to park your vehicle. I would experience this only a couple times a week because I would drive my H1 into work, but normally I was riding my Goldwing and I would just park her myself. It doesn’t stop there, that was only the start, because now one has to go through the entrance where one is greeted cheerfully by scantily clad to full nude attendants who grab you by the arm to escort you to be carded and banded. Finally, a lovely assistant will take you into the club and give you the grand tour and eventually seat you in the best seat in the house. Which, in the end, every seat is the absolute best seat. For me this is where my journey would end because I would peel off to my bar to get set up for yet another party.

For first timers this initial experience is very overwhelming because these young ladies have just scratched the surface for what the rest of the night has to offer. I enjoy watching the fresh faces come thru the door because the look on their faces reminds me of the look on my face when I lost my virginity so many years ago. Lets just say they are smiles from ear to ear for most of the night. Since my bar double as a rather large stage the newbies tend to migrate there because they can all be together while they stretch their wings to see what direction they want to go. I get allot of old hats as well because the shows that happen on my bar do not happen anywhere else in the club and some people look forward to what they might see. Of course they are not there to see me, they are sitting here to see the strippers because they know that as the night progresses that the shows on the bar get a little bit dirtier, a little bit nastier, and the strippers tend to really show off their skills while laid out on my bar.

Every once in a while we will get a gentleman at the bar who is easily embarrassed. Normally this would be no big deal but the strippers here exploit the fact that someone is a little taken aback by what he sees. A great example of this would be once when a young man in his early twenties could not maintain eye contact with anyone at all, not even me. He seemed to always have something to look away at, he would find a focal point someplace, and that turned out to be his utter demise. The strippers ganged up on him, they tortured him visually, and they would not let him escape. It started with one stripper that sat on his lap facing him face to face. She began with slow, methodic movements which were little less than a slow grind on his lap. I remind you at this point that she is completely nude so the only thing between him and her are his jeans. It only takes a little bit of this activity before she discovers that he has become very excited and very erect, which, in the end, was her goal. She wanted to get him all worked up, she wants to take him to absolute very edge and then as fast as she was on his lap she was leaving his erection to fend for itself. Cruel? Yes. This is an effective ploy by the strippers since they can “handle” the customer as much as they want and how they want but the customer never gets to do the same, nine out of ten times the customer is asked to sit on his own hands, which is a true act of cruelty.

The strippers, the ones who make the most money, have mastered the art of the dry fuck and they know just when to stop. Sometimes, I think as a cruel trick, they take it just a little to far, just to see the mess someone will make in their pants. Why do the strippers try so hard? Money, money, and more money. They know that they can separate you from your money if they can give you something you don’t already have. Which is the point really, the strippers are there to make money and the customers are there to spend money, so it’s like a match made in heaven if you will. Some of my favorite strippers to watch are the ones that are stripping for some supplemental income. They may have another job or they may be a stay at home wife/mother who needs the added income. As soon as they get over being shy the party gets started and they put on the best shows ever. One would be surprised how many strippers are stripping on the side, I know I was surprised. One must ask, are they here for fun, boredom, the money, or a little bit of all three?

An example of a stripper who is here part-time is Rox, she is a CNS (Clinical Nurse Specialist) and has worked at one of the largest hospitals here in Houston for the past 2 years. In our talks it was mentioned that she takes in just shy of $90K, she is the mother of three boys, and has been divorced for the past 3 years. When I asked her why she was here she told me that she has always loved dancing, she has always stayed in shape, and she figured if she could keep up with the college girls that she might be able to make some extra money. Oddly enough, she answered an add in the paper and the rest is strip club history. Asking yourself how old she is yet? I know, but I will never tell. Why? Because its not that important, I will say she is between 28 and 34 and that is all I will say. I will say that the quiet talk around here pegged her as a threat to the other strippers money and they weren’t happy about that fact. She has a little experience in life under her belt which makes her a more well-rounded person, plus, c’mon, she is a freakin nurse! I know, I know, I know, we don’t like to think that our mothers and our professionals in society could possibly be strippers. Say it isn’t so Scorp. I can’t because the reality of it all is that woman have found the golden ticket and realize that in exchange for a little skin exposure they can really clean up at the bank. Lets just say that weeks prior to Christmas 2013 she picked up an extra $8K for shopping. There is no doubt in my mind that she is good at what she does, she always gets my attention, especially when she is on my bar. Just wow.

Another example of a person looking for a second income who has a decent job already is Kat, she is a 2nd year associate lawyer at a medium size law firm here in Houston that employs around 300 lawyers, making an annual $125K. She is here for fun. She and I have talked allot because she has been and probably always will be the shyest stripper I have ever met. It seems like every time she hits the stage is her very first time. We get along tho, we have similar music tastes, in fact I pick out her songs when I’m working because she knows they will be fast and hard-hitting, just like her. Kat is in her late 20s and demands your attention when she is on the dance floor. If she can’t get your attention on the dance floor or by giving you a lap dance then you just might have issues. Sad thing is she knows she is rockin hot, sad thing is she knows that when she catches your eye that she owns you. Allot of the strippers have this attitude but only Kat and a handful of others are actually capable of making you fall under their trance. Beware the stare of the Kat!

But Scorp, we don’t care about who and why the strippers are there. We come to a full nude strip bar to see titties, ass, and pussies everywhere. Why do we need to know all the rest of this shit. I’ll tell you why, it’s because not everyone understands that these strippers are more than a piece of meat hanging in the market window for y’all to imagine fucking. Each one of them has a story and fortunately I have the opportunity to hear some of their stories. But, I agree, people come to a strip club for three basic reasons, they want to get drunk, they want to get drunk while watching full nude strippers do things their wives and girlfriends would never do, and they come to the strip club to leave their problems behind them and just have a great time. Nobody walks into a strip bar on accident, it is a clear & conscious choice usually made with a little advance planning.

For those of y’all new to The Sting Of the Scorpion y’all are probably feeling just a wee bit left out. My recommendation to you is to look to the right and locate the “Category Listing” for this blog and click “Scorpion Sting’s Bartender Stories” for past stories. Unfortunately the list is rather short, like 18 selections, because early in 2013 Google decided to kill my Blogger account which was home to one of my blogs called “Bartender: Untold Stories“. Unfortunately I was only able to save a few of the stories and have been writing new ones as time progresses. I think there are a few more in “The Dead Blog Archives” as well. Anyway, check those out and read up on why and how I have been able to tell these fantastic stories and look forward to many more. I have only begun to delve into my little black book for great interviews and stories.

The Blonde With The Hip Tattoo

First of all I would like to take the opportunity to thank all the people who continuously support The Magic Weekend in my efforts to share the fantastic stories of your weekends. It has been fun to watch the evolution of this particular segment of The Sting Of The Scorpion. The unfortunate part of my role here is I have to weed through and moderate the flow of stories that hit my e-mail. I spend so much time reading that it cuts into my time I could be posting these stories and then throw in a little life, well you get where I’m going with this, it becomes a time issue for me. As well, many of the great stories come without picture proof and their candidacy automatically gets dropped out of the hat, which sucks, because some of them are really good. On the other extreme end of that is that I get e-mails with a butt-load of pictures, really good pictures, but have very little story if any. Now, I don’t know why people don’t reply back to me when I request more information but that is the way it happens, y’all send the first e-mail and forget all about it. Then we have the perfect combination of story and pictures which y’all will see today. Now, let it be known that there were more pictures and the use of those pictures were approved but due to the nature of the pictures they will not make it into this post. Y’all will understand why later I hope.

This weeks story comes from Jason, a University of Houston student with an undisclosed major, who has lived in the Houston area his whole life. For the most part he lived on the fringes of the city and when he got accepted to the University of Houston he moved into the city to cut down on his commute considerably. Where he lives puts him only 4 miles from school and also just a few miles from work. He states he works at a book re-sale shop in his off time to help offset the bills. On most days he makes his commute to UH on his bike but on days with really crappy weather he is forced to take the bus. As was the case a few Thursdays ago, typical Houston weather, the weather man said sunny and clear all day but rained most of the day. It’s like the weather has a mind of its own or the weatherman never looks out of his window, take your pick. So, let’s get started so everyone can see what his story has in store for us. Y’all can be the judge, does it have sex, jail, money, blood, or fame?

“Scorp-

I have read your blog for some time now, it used to be my dirty little secret that I would look at when I knew nobody was looking because I never knew what you might be showing, but I always knew I would be liking it. The Magic Weekend is one of my favorite sections because it’s true the real life just happens before our eyes without us having to do a thing in return. I realized that after what had happened to me over the last few weeks that I just might have something for your blog. A few Thursdays ago I was forced to ride the bus to class due to some really shitty weather. It wasn’t supposed to rain but of course being in Houston it did because the weather-men here suck ass. Nonetheless, I rode the bus to get to class instead of riding my bike. The bus was fairly packed, by packed I mean that the standing people had to hold on to other people standing in the aisle. I think the rain brought in the over-run of people because I have ridden the bus before and only a handful of people were riding. I’m lucky because my ride is really short. After a few stops the bus cleared out for the most part, the next stop being mine so I got my stuff together. As I was getting off the bus I looked down on one of the seats and noticed a nice cell phone. I looked around and didn’t see anybody around so I picked it up to give to the driver. The driver explained to me that he could not accept any lost items and if I wished to turn it in that I needed to do so at the campus police department. All I can think is this is great, now I get to babysit somebody’s phone until the afternoon because there is no time to go turn it in right away.

Almost immediately after getting into class the phone kept going off, call after call, text after text, and finally I just had to turn it off so there wasn’t any trouble with the instructor. I had a real heavy schedule that day so I was busy the entire day. My last class ran a little long and before I knew it I was in a rush to get to my part-time job. It was still raining so Instead of walking I went ahead and took the bus again. After getting lectured about timeliness and how there are thousands of kids who would like to have my job I was finally able to get to work. I have a simple job that takes hours every day. I sift through all the “bought” books to organize and place on the shelves. It’s time-consuming but it pays the bills for the most part. I worked a little overtime that day so I got out real late. The rain had stopped so I went ahead and walked home. After eating a late supper I decided to dig into my homework. As I emptied my bag the phone I found came tumbling out and I had my first “oh shit” moment of the night. When I went to turn it on I found that the battery was completed down so I plugged it in to my charger for a while so I could try to figure out who it belonged to. After a couple of hours of schoolwork, making it about 1am, I passed by the phone and noticed it was fully charged, so I unplugged it and decided to sit down and take a look. The damn phone had like 60 missed calls and just as many text messages. Whoever owns this phone is pretty busy with it. Once I went through the hundreds of contacts I found her contact information but the only thing it listed was her cell phone number. I looked through some of the texts to see who she texts the most because I was going to send that person a text letting them know to contact her with my information so I could get her phone back to her. I took a picture of the phone for “proof” and sent it to who was listed as “sister” in her contacts. I wrote “My name is Jason and I found this found which belongs to Ella on the bus this morning on the UH campus. Please contact her and forward her this number so I can get the phone back to her”. I sent the text from Ella’s phone with the above picture enclosed. I was expecting an immediate reply but it was just after 2am so I wasn’t holding my breath.

Out of both boredom and curiosity I started snooping in her phone a bit, just to be nosey while I waited. One of the first pictures I saw was of this blonde girl with a tattoo on her hip. I couldn’t tell if she was wearing a bikini or what it was. She seemed to be pointing at her hair, bed head would be my guess. There were hundreds of pictures of this particular tattooed girl on this phone. I began to wonder if this was Ella. Out of all of the pictures only a handful were of this girl with clothes on. Most of them were of her topless and many times bottomless. This was quite a bit to take in all at once. I hit the bed around 4am and went right to sleep, dreaming all night of the blonde girl with the hip tattoo. Who was she? That morning there was a text on Ella’s phone from contact “sister”. All it said was that she went to Ella’s apartment to tell her about her phone. She wasn’t home so she had to stick a note on her door. When Ella gets in contact with her then she will let me know. Okay, I will wait. A few days went by, 6 to be exact, and finally a text back from sister telling me that Ella will be calling me from this number when she gets over to her, please be looking out for it. For 2 more days there was nothing, I carried her phone everywhere I went, she got many texts and many calls, but not from the sister’s number. I was sitting out on my patio doing some homework when the phone rang, it was from the sister phone number. I answered it of course. An angel’s voice asked me if I was for real and I really had her phone. I told her obviously because I am talking on it. We arranged for me to return it to her at a little pizza pub not to far from my apartment. I asked how I would know who she was and how would I recognize her from everybody else. She replied by telling me to go to the photos in her phone and look for the blonde girl with the tattoo on her hip. I didn’t tell her that we had been fucking in my mind for more than a week now because I was already in lust with the blonde girl with the hip tattoo.

I got to the pizza pub right on time. I waited around a bit and finally I saw her walk through the door. She looked amazing in person. I walked up to Ella and introduced myself. Then, being sneaky, I said she looked allot like the girl I have seen on her phone but could she prove it by showing me the tattoo on her hip. She took my arm and led me to a booth, sat me down, and she remained standing in front of me. She looked around a bit, waited for two people to pass us by, then slowly unbuttoned her jeans, slid them down a bit, and exposed the tattoo. Then she asked if I was satisfied. I guess that will do. She sat down next to me, really close, and I handed her the phone. She asked me to hold on a minute and let her check texts and messages because she really wanted to talk to me. Which was fine with me because I was somewhat mesmerized with her every movement. She took all of 3 or 4 minutes and she was done, now it was my turn I guess. She took ahold of my hand with both of hers and asked what she could do to repay my patience and kindness. Tell the truth, a payment option never crossed my mind so I had to tell her to let me think on it for a bit, let’s eat something and that should give me time to think. Then, I hatched my plan, I told her that “if” she could cook that I would like a home cooked meal in my apartment. She told me that she thinks that can be arranged and we set the date for this past Saturday. I gave her my address and phone number and we parted ways right there. I watched her walk out the door, it was just like in the movies, hot girl walking out the door with the lights coming through the glass to illuminate her shape as she disappears into it. I needed to get home, I needed to clean up my pig pen because there was no way she was going to see it like it was, and I only had two days. I don’t think I have actually cleaned my apartment once in the 2 1/2 years I have lived there. Tells you allot about my lack of social life and entertaining.

Shortly after 8pm Saturday evening there is a light knock on my door. I tried to move slow to not give away my anticipation but I nearly tripped over the end table getting to it as fast as I did. I opened the door and Ella stood before me, as beautiful as I remember her to be. She asked if it would be okay if we had one more for dinner because her sister really wanted to meet me as well. Before I could nod, or comment, or move, her sister walked up to the door. Holy fuck! They are twins! I must have had a stupid shit eating grin on my face because the two of them just giggled as the walked by me. After I picked my jaw up off the floor I turned to close the door. They were both carrying grocery bags so I’m thinking this ought to be one hell of a dinner they were going to be preparing. I was instructed to remain in the living room and to never come into the kitchen unless I was called. All I can think now is that they are serial killers and they are making me a poisonous last meal. As much as my imagination was running away from me I was able to remain focused, for the most part. After about an hour I was instructed to have a seat at the kitchen table (sadly it is a folding card table, but I have 3 chairs) and remain with my eyes closed until told otherwise. I could hear them moving around me, I could smell their perfume beginning to mix in with the smells of something I was guessing to be Italian, and they both continuously brushed me or set a hand on my shoulder as they moved by. One of them placed a napkin very gently, but firmly on my lap for me. I heard them take their seats, one on either side of me, and I heard the magic words, “open your eyes now please”. Talk about an amazing first view after opening my eyes, both of them were sitting extremely close to me on both side and both of them were completely naked, oh, and , yea, I was right, they had prepared lasagna. Wow, I mean it is hard to put into words what I was feeling. And the kicker, they both have the identical tattoo but on opposite hips, how weird is that. No wonder I didn’t know there were pictures of both of them when I thought I was only looking at one of them. They served all three of us, we had wine as well, and we sat there and ate. They both were in charge of conversation and we talked about really nothing but I was enjoying the conversation 100%. When the meal was done, they cleared the table, told me to go have a seat, and they went to the kitchen where I could hear them doing dishes. I know, right, bonus!

They both came out and sat on both sides of me on the couch. I asked what was going on, not that I minded, but this all seems way to good to be true. Grace, the “sister” started by saying she knows I went through all the pictures on Ella’s phone so I have already seen both of them naked multiple times so they just wanted to skip all the formalities. They did say that there was nothing sexual going on here and there would not be anything sexual going to happen, not yet. So, we sat there into the wee hours of the morning talking, drinking wine, and getting to know each other, just the 3 of us. They volunteered to take as many pictures as I wanted just as long as I promised they would never make it onto the internet, ever. I agreed. Then, they got dressed and that was it, they were gone. I knew I had to send this story to you the next morning but I had one problem, no pictures. Problem solved, I called Ella and Grace and they sent me a number of pictures which I am forwarding to you, so I hope some of them at least will be used. And that’s it, hopefully the three of us will remain “friends” and keep in close contact.”

Two of the pictures to be exact were usable here for this story. However, I didn’t mind Jason sharing all the rest as well. So, let’s review the criteria. Was there sex? No, but there was nudity. Was there jail? No. Was there blood? No. Was there fame? No. Was there money? Not exactly, but there was a reward and in my book that counts in this category. I look forward to any follow up there may be because if there is I’m sure it will be pretty interesting to say the very least. I hope y’all enjoyed Jason’s story and will return to see more. Which makes me want to ask all of y’all, what did y’all do this weekend? Sex? Jail? Blood? Money? or Fame? E-mail The Sting Of The Scorpion with your fantastic tale and be sure to include many pictures, because without pictures it’s probably bullshit anyway.