Anyway, sometimes when we were in the university, we would do things together. On one evening we decided to push the limits to some degree: we would go together to see a fashion show; and then later, view a strip show. Upfront disclosure: neither of us saw either type of performance, so you can say that we were both virgins.
Anyway, in the accepted New Orleans custom, we summoned up a little Dutch courage by first getting some Ramos Gin Fizzes, New Orleans's official girlie drink.
Then we did the fashion show. We both liked it. We both wondered why the models looked so glum. Did someone shoot their dogs?
On the way to Bourbon Street, we met some friends from the university. It turned out that they were hanging out there too, and we all took in a show together.
Anyway, the emcee asked if any from the audience wanted to audition; and one of our friends hopped on stage and did a partial strip, down to her undies. Another one from our group matched her on the dare.
Then it was, "Come on, Angel! Come on Angel! Show your stuff!" It was peer pressure time, and I was never good at resisting that.
And, under duress, I stood up and unbuttoned a button. Then another. I really didn't want to do it, but . . . .
Dee-Doh immediately pulled me down and told me in his no-nonsense voice, "Stop!"
Thank God! Sometimes guy pals look after their girl pals and provide excuses for their not doing regretful things. He deserved an affectionate thanks later on.