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 Sex Toys & Strippers: The BadFun Party BY: Chrissi Mark 
- Chrissi Mark
I was giddy at the prospect of an event promising “an erotic demonstration” of the products at a strip club, hosted by a Penthouse Pet of the Year. Although my more prudish side feared a front row seat. Not wanting to be the first arrival, my wingwoman and I arrived at HeadQuarters Gentlemen’s Club shortly before eight. We were slapped with bracelets for the complimentary cocktails, which would allegedly be served for the next hour. Cautiously and anxiously we walked down a hallway to a table at the club’s entrance manned by ’04 Penthouse Pet, Dr. Victoria Zdrok. The larger than life doc was detailing the mechanics of the erotic toy spread for a slew of paparazzo. As we stepped into the club I had to ward off a business man or two whose overzealous hands reached into my friend’s personal space (both of them). “She’s not for hire,” I scolded as we headed to the bar. A manager was quick to great us and welcome us to the venue. Grabbing our vodka cocktails we strolled around, pausing to appreciate the surprisingly good tracks the DJ was playing to our nostalgic mainstream dance music hearts (i.e. Sonique’s “It Feels So Good” and Rui Da Silva’s “Touch Me”). The girls were more attractive, and more natural looking than the ones we’d seen at the last strip club event we went to. They even had better moves than most at the other clubs As for us, we stuck by the bar until the pleasant and busty bartender announced her boss ended the freebies at five of nine. Our yearning eyes turned to the waiters, though to our disdain, it seemed the hors d’oeuvres were for paying tables and not us standing room spectators. The toy demonstrations never took to the stage, but Victoria gladly pumped her shiny lips and demonstrated them to us from behind her table. Any of the slight disappointments we experienced, however, were more than made up by the gift bag. Yes, there was one. And yes, it contained a sampling of the toys (courtesy of BadFun.com). The bags, or boxes rather, were distributed upon departure—red ribbons for girls, black for boys. Giggling we hopped into a cab and gagged over the treasure trove of card games, naughty dice, t-shirts, feather dusters and what this Catholic girl will call unmentionables (yes, of the battery operated sort).   |
Four words: best gift bag ever. When I found out about this week’s 
(which shall remain nameless), too. The crowd ran the gamut from mature hippie types to groping men in suits to young playboys to a big dude in a cowboy hat. Still, the patrons were rather tame considering the venue.