In a bid to keep the flames of passion burning brightly I have propositioned Mrs Under with a fortnightly date night. Every two weeks I will book a baby sitter, take her out and show her a good time. The first rule of Date Night Club – you DO talk about Date Night Club! The second rule of Date Night Club is that restaurants, cinemas and bars are all banned, this is to be an unconventional Date Night. So there you have it, I will be giving you a full disclosure of what we get up to, where we got up to it and whether Mrs Under’s switch was flicked (that sounded like innuendo, it wasn’t).
To kick things off and get you in the mood I am going to dig into the date night archive and offer you a taste of what’s to come.
Date Night – Friday 1st March
Venue – The Famous Spiegeltent, Melbourne
Cost – $60 per ticket
Dress Code – Suit and Cocktail Dress (I wore the suit)
“Put on your glad rags Mrs Under I’m taking you out. The babysitter is booked and the taxi will be here in 30mins. Dust down your heels, the bigger the better”.
I had booked tickets to see a show called The Trip. The write up said “exotic and erotic” and those are my two favourite ‘tics’. This was sexed up Cabaret people and that must surely guarantee at least a peak at a nipple?
We arrived and joined a long line of glamorous couples and one or two dirty old men. I told Mrs Under to hold our place in the line and returned with a bottle of champers and two glasses, there is something about bubbles that sets the right tone for romance.
The venue was decked out like a 1930’s Parisian jazz club or at least how I imagine that might be. We were greeted by a firecracker of a hostess who showed us to our seats (and quite a lot of her bottom). I looked across at my wife and she was completely lost in the moment, utterly enjoying herself and no longer feeling like a tired Mum.
The performers began, a fairly convincing drag queen in full bondage gear belted out a few ditties, followed by a couple of strong men that did various impressive things with their over sized muscles and then out stepped a young stud dressed in nothing but silver hotpants. Hang on a minute I have not spent good money on Date Night for some young stud dressed only in silver hot pants to steal the thunder. He then proceeded to twist and tangle his body into a series of eye watering positions giving us all a good idea of his anatomy along the way.
Mrs Under was visibly glowing and I had to resort to cooling the nape of her neck with some of the ice from the bucket. Mr Hotpants (who I had since been informed was a member of the Spanish Olympic Gymnastic Squad) then walked into the crowd armed with a razor and shaving foam. Please don’t give it to me, please don’t, please, oh fuck! He hands me the apparatus and encourages me to pour cream on his chest, I am too innocent to know what this meant but I’m sure there was some innuendo in there somewhere.
Hotpants proceeds to straddle my knee, much to the delight of Mrs Under and everyone else except for me and makes me shave a heart shape on his chest and then grabs my head and thrusts it into his ripped pecs, this is starting to get a bit 50 Shades of Silver isn’t it? After what seemed like an eternity my ordeal was over and the show went on.
The lights dimmed and out came the firecracker with the shapely bottom. Two silk ribbons dropped down from the ceiling and Firecracker wrapped them around her wrists and proceeded to do some of the most sexy things I’ve ever seen anyone do with their clothes on (albeit a skimpy lace number). I had to plunge both hands into the champagne bucket to stop myself from fainting.
By the end of the night we were both suitably tipsy, equally hot under the collar and I was left wondering if I had any silver hotpants to put on when I got home. We had an amazing night and the bar has been set remarkably high for Date Night Club but I do like a challenge. Tune in for the next instalment of Date Night Club in a fortnight.