Viva Las Vegas - Let's get Nekkid

Sin City. Gambling may bore me, but toned, naked dancing bodies? Not yet.....

As a connoisseur of all things beautiful, it would be remiss of me to confine myself only to watching naked men gyrate, so I indulge in my preferred form of naked women, à la Burlesque. Sadly, the Vegas interpretation is quite dramatically divergent from my own, with nary a nipple tassel in sight. I do have a thing for elbow length gloves being peeled off, and well, they didn't. More like Demi Moore in Striptease, of a lascivious and sophisticated variety, there was just one woman that was worth watching in the line up apart from a strikingly tall and skinnyly athletic blonde (better clad than bare) with talent for the pole. One of the women, of Asian descent spent most of the show with a rather forbidding scowl on her face, perhaps pandering to the S&M strands in the crowd, but all she did was remind me of someone who had sucked on rather a sour lemon. The best moments of the show were offered up by Nancy Rand ,the stand up interlude between the change of sets who was hilarious. Still, the house was packed and the crowd enjoyed it.

Now, the men. More specifically, the Chippendales. I had entertained the hectic notion of catching them at 8 o'clock and then heading off for the 10.30 appearance of the Thunder from Down Under (Nekkid Aussie Men gyrating...) to do a comparative assessment, but clearly, age is catching up with me and I pick the morning sky dive over more toned torsos. First of all, an all woman (well barring a couple of gob smacked men) crowd is fucking scary. There is much screaming in shrill tones and for some reason colour is no longer au fait. I stand out like a sore them with my turquoise and covered legs amidst a gaggle of fuck me heels clad mourners crowing over their veil bedecked hens. When the lights go down and the show actually begins, my senses are assaulted by screaming like I never heard, and my brain registers a whole new decibel level. Jesus Christ! These women are crazy! Either that, or they've actually never seen a bunch of naked men before. The contrast between last night's crowd and tonight’s is poles apart (no pun intended), and I can understand why the men might enjoying performing a damn sight more!

By the time the first lot of clothes are ripped off, I fear for my eardrums, but have zoned in on the one man who's clearly got it. That certain je ne sais quoi that makes a woman grrrrowl and want to sink her teeth into. A look, a raised eyebrow, a crinkle of the eyes, the slash of a cheek grin, the fluidity of a movement, a roguish wink, a slow hand across the chest and he can even dance. Fuck.... an animal in heat with oodles of charm, and nipple rings! I have never seen a sexier man move on the dance floor in my entire life. Combine that with washboard abs, buns of steel, sexy tats and nipple rings? Have mercy! Reason enough to join the caterwauling!

I'm torn between the ubersexy bad boy and the screaming women and have to laugh. I'd yeowl for him but this is ridiculous and the smile that stays on my face has as much to do with the women as the men. Right from the sultry You can leave your Hat On, to an unexpected hip hop bounce, the construction workers (they actually had live welding torches...oh my!) and finally, the cowboys. Cowboys! I mean puhleese! But I find myself conflicted between shaking my head at the obvious and enjoying it thoroughly - What can I say..... there is something about a hot man in a Stetson that will get the hormones into overdrive even while you try and contain your laughter at how predictable you are. The piece de resistance had to be the simulated sex with three of the hottest (everything is relative) studs - on a bed, a couch and a motorbike, start of with a slow strip, and then buck naked, although strategically placed gyrate slowly and then into a controlled frenzy is positively pornographic, utterly orgasmic and totally frustrating as the howling reaches epidemic proportions...

Unlike the burlesque, the boys come down and hug the brides to be and let the screaming hordes manhandle them, and the lucky few get to go up on stage for some serious participation and full frontal views (not to mention some serious stroking!). So far, the best thing that the Strip has to offer..... Maybe next time, I will do the Thunder from Down Under as well. I'm disappointed that the store doesn't have any DVD's (apart from the making of the calendar), and photo stills do little justice to the pure male sexuality and charm of the entirely edible Jace Crispin. Viva Las Vegas!