Three years after beginning monthly massages, that type of human touch experience became second nature to me. At that point, I was ready for the next step in my quest towards sensual nirvana—lap dances. So, one of my friends drove me to a strip club an hour away from home. Upon entering, I saw nude and semi-nude young women twirling about on several poles. Then, we worked our way through the throng of vocally appreciative men. Finally, we seated ourselves at a stage and watched as each stripper teased and tantalized her admirers. In return, each man placed dollars on the stage. After each 10-minute performance each stripper walked around the stage to collect her tips.
After about six performances I was totally immersed into the scene. I noticed that some strippers seemed to have a favorite customer who they’d pay particular attention to during their act. Then, something unexpected happened to me. A dazzling college age blond, sporting piercing baby blue eyes, came prancing onto the stage wearing Catholic school girl attire: white ruffled blouse with rolled up sleeves and a mid-thigh length plaid skirt. Halfway through her performance, she strutted up to my part of the stage and made eye contact with me. She knelt down and ran her hands ever so slowly down my chest while smiling and licking her lips seductively. When her performance ended, she softly asked if I wanted a private lap dance. What do you think I said?
At that point, I really didn’t care that I’d have to shell out $40 for a three minute totally nude lap dance. I just wanted to go into that semi-private room, sit on the plush, red couch and have that nice, young lady sit and grind my crotch. After transferring from the wheelchair to the couch, my friend motioned for the lady to come in. As soon as my friend left, she began by quickly disrobing from her school girl outfit. Next, my eyes gazed upon a sight they’d never been fortunate enough to see in 39 years of existence, the female body in all its splendor!
My reaction must’ve given me away as a virgin. I felt like a kid who was visiting Disneyland for the first time. Sensing my now obvious stunted sexual growth, she proceeded to give me an impromptu female anatomy lesson. Then, she climbed my lap and we were facing each other while she reached down and stroked my manhood through my thin fleece pants. At the same time, she let me bury my face in her luscious C-cup breasts. She was thrilled that she caused such a reaction in me. Finally, she turned around and sat on me while making a slow, hard oscillating motion that sent my mind and senses soaring! That night, I had five separate lap dances with that young lady—you do the math! Upon reflection, I definitely feel that I got a bargain. Not just because of the sensual thrill, but also my fear that no woman would ever want to touch me was completely put to rest.
On top of a feeling of euphoria which lasted a few days, I also learned a valuable lesson. While seemingly obvious to anyone else, what I gleaned from my experience that night planted a thought in my head which has since completely changed how I view women. In younger years, I grew to think of females in my peer group as: unapproachable, aloof people who wouldn’t talk to any guy who she deemed unworthy of her time—let alone a guy in a wheelchair. In retrospect, I suppose, that some girls and women in an attempt to hide their insecurities, come across as elitist. The bottom line is that women are just like me: flawed, insecure human beings who are just trying to muddle through life.
A few months later, I was proud of the intimacy goals that I had accomplished but I was far from satisfied. In order to fulfill my desires completely I had to find a way to make love to a lady. A guy like me just can’t pick up women in bars or clubs. Moreover, some people may not like hearing this but there is a built-in prejudice in American culture that refuses to acknowledge the sexuality of people with disabilities. Over the course of my lifetime, people have told me—to my face—that “people like me should be sterilized so we never have those nasty thoughts.” So, I’ve come to realize that the topic of intimacy amongst disabled people is one of the last taboos in a culture that boasts about its increasing inclusivity.
I knew that a half an hour away there were prostitutes walking up and down a main city street. However, I was leery of that scene which was rife with: STD’s, drug addicts, and under cover police women posing as prostitutes. Knowing that legal prostitution existed in Nevada, I searched the Internet for more information. I found that there were legal brothels scattered throughout the state. Since I visit Las Vegas once a year, I looked for the nearest Vegas area brothel. The closest one was 55 miles outside Vegas. Next, I found their website and posted my situation on the message board. Within a matter of hours, I received messages from three ladies. After two weeks of e-mailing all three ladies one emerged as a clear choice. I won’t use her real name here but for our purposes let’s call her Leslie.
A few weeks later my friend and I visited the brothel during our Vegas trip. I was as prepared as I could be. I was freshly showered and shaved with my credit card in tow. As we pulled into the driveway I noticed a disproportionately high number of disabled parking spots which made me suspect that they had a number of disabled clients. After rolling my chair up a long gentle sloping ramp, I rang the doorbell. About two minutes later, a middle-aged, distinguished looking lady opened the door wide and greeted us with a broad smile. I don’t know what I expected to see as I entered but I was pleasantly surprised. There was a cafeteria sized greeting room that had a: fireplace, luxurious sofas, sculptures, and paintings.
A few minutes later, Leslie came sauntering my way wearing only sexy lingerie. She was drop dead gorgeous! She personified a cross between an Amazonian princess and a Norwegian goddess: six feet tall, flowing red hair, legs that can make a man drool and snap him in half, well-proportioned breasts, firm abs, and mischievous eyes. When she greeted me, I could barely get my name out because I was in awe. Once in her room, I told her that I was hoping to spend two hours in her bed. She smiled and without changing her sweet tone informed me of her price. Now, I’m not a guy who gets shocked very easily. However, her quote nearly made my eyes roll in the back of my head! After informing her that there was no way that I could pay that amount, she asked me to negotiate. After some back and forth we settled on an arrangement we both could live with.
Before she undressed me, I handed her a one-page outline detailing my desires. Since I have impaired speech, I figured that this was the best way to ensure that I got everything I wanted to get from my time there. She had no trouble whatsoever undressing me. This leads me to believe that she has had disabled clients before and that made me feel at ease. The next two hours were like a dream. She treated me like a long treasured close male friend who needed comforting from life’s stresses. I’m happy to say, that in this rare instance, the actual encounter far exceeded the anticipation. When it was over, she dressed us both and before she opened the door I turned her around and gave her a big hug as I thanked her for giving me one of the top three highlights of my life. And yes, I finally received a very good sensual spanking!
Now, I visit a brothel once a year just to remind myself that I’m human and worthy of intimacy.
For the most part, there has been a disconnect between the disabled community and mainstream society in regards to intimacy. Sure, we’ve advocated for basic rights, and have had landmark laws passed such as the Americans with Disabilities Act. However, while legal mandates may pave the way to social equality, you cannot legislate away deep-rooted ableist attitudes about treating people with disabilities as whole human beings. And, yes, this encompasses all aspects of human touch. Hopefully, we’re migrating towards the day when seeing disabled and inter-abled couples in public will be the norm—not the exception.
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