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Trader Johns

Trader Johns


Arthur Padios (2002)


A SLOSHING GOOD TIME AT TRADER JOHN'S:
Back in the '60's every flight student at Pensacola spent as much time as possible at it's most famous watering hole, Trader John's, or as it was and is affectionately known, TJ's. Not only was it a neat place to go to immerse yourself in aviation history, it was also a class strip joint with good looking strippers who tastefully removed just enough clothes to excite and inflame the imaginations of the ever-horny flight students. Occasionally, TJ himself would conduct some sort of contest, usually involving some feat of physical strength and give away booze to the winner, if any. On several occasions I was fortunate enough to win bottles of champagne for pumping out 50 military push-ups in less than 60 seconds. A great way to get a free buzz at TJ's expense until he began to canvass the audience to ensure I was not available before running the contest.
My most memorable night in TJ's occurred after a parade at the air station one Friday summer afternoon. As with most parade's during the summer season, the participants wore dress whites; both Navy and Marines. Now there was, at the time, a sensuous stripper performing at TJ's who was very erotic to watch. Her act was a solo, but performed with a partial mannequin attached to her left arm, who simulated her lover for the duration of her act. The 'two' would start the music with what appeared to be some 'kissing' and heated petting and progressed toward her 'lover' caressing her and removing some articles of her clothing. Eventually, she would place her back on a low stool on a stage that was at the eye-level of the bar patrons. Her lower torso would be suspended in air as her feet were on the floor. At this point she would simulate the act of love with her 'lover', her pelvis gyrating frantically towards orgasm as the music reached a crescendo - very erotic. It was shortly before the climax of her act that I overheard an argument develop between two patrons in the audience at the next table, a couple of Naval Aviators, a Marine Captain and a Navy Lieutenant, both in dress whites. The argument generally evolved something like this:
Lieutenant, "You don't have the b---s."
Captain, "Like hell, I don't."
Lieutenant, "You wouldn't dare do it. You don't have enough hair on your a--."
Captain, "Bullshit!"
Lieutenant, "I'll bet you $100 you don't have the guts to do it."
Captain, "You're on, that's a bet."
Upon accepting the bet at the climax of the performance, the Marine grabbed a fresh pitcher of cold beer off his table, jumped up on the stage before our amorous stripper was aware of his presence, and poured the beer directly on her frantically undulating crotch bringing about the most horrific scream I've ever heard from a woman before or since. Immediately upon finishing dumping the beer on her, the Marine dropped the pitcher and exited stage left. Running at full speed over the tabletops, covering at least four of them before jumping to the floor and vanishing out the door onto the streets of Pensacola. It all happened so fast that no one in the bar had time to react or try to restrain the Captain who made a clean getaway. I always wondered how he spent his winnings and it made me proud to be in the same service with him.





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