By New Times
By Connor Radnovich
By Robrt L. Pela and Amy Silverman
By Ray Stern
By Keegan Hamilton
By Matthew Hendley
By Monica Alonzo
By Monica Alonzo
The throng is diverse, multi-ethnic and with all ages represented, though the majority are probably in their 20s and 30s, and they're well-lubricated and ready to get buck-wild as The Main Event jumps off.
It begins with the muscular Rampage coming out in a Matrix coat, peeling off his clothing to near-bare bod and inviting two horny gals up onstage for a mnage, first gyrating atop each separately, then placing one on hands and knees and the other atop the first's back. Of course, the gals stay clothed as Rampage, um, rides them.
Next up, BaddAss, who does an S&M act with knee-high boots, a collar, and a black paddle that reads "SPANK" in studded steel. Then, our friend Julian, with his fire extravaganza. True to his word, using what looks like a bottle of whiskey as fuel, he creates a small conflagration onstage in a pan, tumbles over it, and sets to fire his liquor-doused thong, causing an eruption of love from the ladies (they shower him with a load of crumpled-up bills). After that, Candyman, who makes good use of a purple, strap-on dildo, and Ruby, a Latino cat who first emerges -- get this -- in a frog outfit to the Sesame Street theme, before revealing everything but his tadpole.
A buff fella named Hershey walks out in white chaps and white hat and is soon tossing around 250-pound women like they're volleyballs. After such treatment, let's just say they melted before his chocolaty goodness. Busta Rhymes look-alike "Mr. Get-It-Wet" dry-humps various ladies who adore his tattoo-engraved, chain-wearing, muscular frame. Cowboy Tim, a.k.a. "The Enforcer," does a choreographed country-western shtick that'd make the folks in Nashville blush. And Quiet Storm probably has the kinkiest set of the eve, using a blow-up doll, a can of whipped cream, and a banana. Need I say more?
Mr. Luscious finishes up the evening with his own performance, entering the arena to the sound of Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight," in full Native American headpiece and regalia. He takes off everything but his codpiece. The women stage-side then insert mega-bucks between his exposed cheeks (not the ones on his face). Just before, another Power 92.3 jock, the nearly ubiquitous JX3, had come on as the final DJ of the eve to urge the females in attendance to part with their tips. JX3 also announces a meet-and-greet afterward in the Celebrity's basement green room so the fans can get last photos and, hopefully, feels from the strapping strippers.
So the Rachel McAdams of P-town and I scoot downstairs for some post-striptease commentary from the gals. Dimes Teresa and Andryah are in town from Miami and Vegas, respectively, and definitely enjoyed the eye candy. Like many of the women we chat with on this night, they ID themselves as single, ready and willing.
"So who was your favorite performer of the show?" I inquire.
"I don't know his name," laughs Teresa. "But he was hot."
"Mine was Mr. Get-It-Wet," chimes in Andryah. "The one with the chains."
"What did you guys think of Quiet Storm -- the guy with the whipped cream and the blow-up doll?"
"Naughty is always good," smirks Andryah. "I'm not complaining."
Nearby is Phoenix native Lindsay, a blond cutie who got down 'n' dirty with BaddAss onstage, and is still basking in the afterglow. She's here with all her buds, doing a little pre-celebration of her birthday next week.
"It was so much fun!" she gushes. "I've never done anything like that before. Though it took a couple of drinks to get me up there."
"BaddAss was the one with the paddle. Did he spank you?" I wonder.
"No," she says, sounding disappointed. "But I wanted to be spanked."
I suddenly notice that Jett's flown the coop, so I go in search of her. She's outside the dressing rooms, sipping a cocktail, looking bored.
"What've you been up to?" I demand.
"Oh, nothing," she sighs. "I just saw what I came to see, courtesy of Candyman."
"Do tell," I say, "and were you duly impressed?"
"Nah," she spits. "It was okay, but I've seen bigger."
"I'm not surprised that you're not impressed," I retort. "Big and small, short and tall, you've had 'em all. That's why I call you ATM."
"Yeah, you know, Anything That Moves?"