This story is not true. It is fiction. I made it up. It never happened. This story is written for adults. If you are not supposed to be reading it, don't.
The Stripper's Tale
When I think about my job, I feel a little sad. I never thought this is what I would do, but I make a good living and I don't work very hard. I suppose every job has it's trade-offs. I don't work nine to five, and I don't have health insurance. I do spend a lot of time at the gym, and work whenever I want. I meet lots of great people, and a few jerks. The best part is that I make a lot of money. I mean a whole lot of money. I suppose I am sad when I start to think about my job, but once I remember the money, I have a smile on my face.
"Hey, Topher. You hear me? Get your ass in gear. We are having a meeting and you need to hear this." That was my roommate Jon. He is a nice guy. Don't let his gruff way of speaking give you the wrong idea. He is a little taller than me, and a hell of a lot more muscled, but he is sweet on the inside.
That reminds me. I have not told you what I look like. I suppose I am cute. I don't think I am handsome, but I might be when I get older. I am 23, but I look like I am about 18. I am just at 6 foot tall and I weigh in the area of 170. Don't worry, it is all muscle. I have been lifting weights since I was 16. My dad got me started, and it grew into way of life. I am not a big muscle bound he-man kind of guy. I am really toned and defined.
Well, I look like my uncle Randy. Not that you know him, I am just letting you know. I have blond hair and blue eyes. I wear my hair short and spike it all over. I really do it out of laziness. I don't feel like dealing with anything more involved. I have a small scar on my hand where I had an extra finger removed. I swear that I use that as a pick-up line, and it works. Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you that I am a stripper. I mostly do Bachelorette parties, but I do a gay party now and again.
"Topher! We are ready dammit. Get your cute little ass in here before I kick it."
"Alright Jon." I suppose you can follow the action from here.
I walk out of my room and find Jon, Henri, and Boom sitting in the living room looking at me. I smile and wave goofily and sit on a footstool near the TV. Jon gets up and turns off the stereo that had been playing some old Metalica. It was his turn to pick the music or we would have probably been listening to Bette Midler.
"So what's up," I ask trying to get past their annoyance.
"Nothing heavy. We are just trying to decide if we are going to kill you slowly, or just get it over with." I smile, knowing Jon was just kidding. Then I hope he was kidding. Ok, I am looking for a way out of the room, and jumping from the balcony is looking good.
"What did I do," I ask looking around at my closest friends. "I swear I did not drink the last beer. I was going to go get another case. I just haven't had the chance."
"I thought Henri drank it," Boom says looking over at his friend next to him.
"No, that pointy haired ass wiggler is always drinking the last beer. Je devrais vous gifler pour ce mensonage."
"Hey, watch the language," Boom says and starts laughing. Boom and Henri are best friends and occasional lovers. I don't know how they do it. Well, I know how they do it, but, well, you know what I mean. I couldn't be so nonchalant about who I was screwing. I know that makes me a minority in this apartment, and in this building. Hell, this whole town is nonchalant about everything.
Henri is putting the finishing touches on a slight pounding he gave Boom while I was talking. Sorry I made you miss the action. Jon watches with little interest. I guess I will describe Jon in more detail while we wait for Boom and Henri to stop slapping each other.
Jon, as I said, is big. He is nearly 6 foot 4 and weighs 210 lbs. He is so cut he almost looks like a sculpture. His eyes are a rich brown that is anything but `just brown', and his hair is, well, gone. He keeps his head shaved, so I can't remember what color it is.
"Jon, what color is your hair?"
"Light brown," he answers, then smiles at me. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," I say and just smile. Jon knows I am a bit fond of him, but he doesn't think it would be good for us to get into a relationship while we are roommates. Instead, we are good friends.
So his hair is light brown when he has some. He doesn't really have any hair on his body that is visible in the daylight hours. He works as a personal trainer for some of the well-to-do ladies of Savannah. Oh, this is where we live. Savannah, Georgia: the hostess city. It is beautiful despite the crime and intolerant old school thinking.
Ok, back to my friends. Henri as you can guess is from France. He moved here seven years ago, but refuses to give up the accent. He says he will give up his when I give up mine. I have no idea what he is talking about. Henri is 5 foot 8 and a little heavy. He has dark hair and eyes and what one would call rugged good looks. It doesn't matter because he has the accent that drives the boys wild.
"Hey, Henri. Say sacre bleu."
"Sacre blow me, you little pole swinger."
"Go sit on a paint brush, you frog." I might add that he is a teacher at the local art college. Our walls are covered in his framed work. I find it all rather... bizarre. I like to remind him that those who can't, teach. He then gives me a quick lesson on french obscenities.
Boom is a chemist working for a large company on the river. He toils all day, taking samples and testing things. He then goes home on the weekends and blows things up. His unfortunate hobby is making small bombs. That is where he got the nickname. He gave it up for a while after all the tragedy, but he is back to making fireworks. He looks a lot like Henri, but a bit thinner. His eyes are a shade lighter and his face is a bit feminine. Okay, he actually looks nothing like Henri. I guess they are together so much you think of them together.
"Hey Boom, what is your real name?"
"Fuck you." Well, I think it is Rudolph.
Well those are my friends. I guess I should get us back on track. There is supposed to be a meeting. I stand up and clap my hands. Everyone stops and looks at me.
"Hey, what are we meeting about?" Jon stands up and looks at the group and puts his hands on his hips.
"Why are we living together. We all have great jobs. We could all afford a place of our own. Hell, we could all afford to live here alone. That is why we need to decide. I think I am ready to move out, but I wasn't going to just do it."
It is true. We had been staying here while we were in school, and then when we were just getting started. I suppose we just got used to being here, and change is hard. We are all each other's security blanket.
"I guess we could get our own places," Henri says looking over at Boom. "What do you think," Henri asks his friend.
"I guess," he says looking back. They then both look at Jon and his smile fades.
"Don't get me wrong guys. I love you all, but there comes a time when you have to go out on your own." I am in love with him. I guess I will admit it to you. All that friend stuff I said before was bullshit. You probably already guessed that. You have also probably guessed I have ADHD.
"Where ever shall I go," I ask in my worst Scarlet O'Hara impression.
"Anywhere away from me," Henri says then smiles at Boom. I notice them release each other's hands. I didn't notice that they had been holding hands until they let go. I smile at them and they look up at Jon. "Should one of us just stay here and the rest move on," Henri asks.
"I don't think it would be fair. We all have fond memories of the place and it would be better if we made a clean break." Jon was right, of course. I smiled up at him and he looked away. I wonder if I have spinach in my teeth.
"Well, I have a gig this afternoon. After that I will start looking for a new apartment," I say as I head back to my room. I turn and look back at the group and then disappear through the doorway. I sit down on my bed and look down at the floor. I am going to miss this place. Most of all, I am going to miss Jon.
Well, I just got out of the shower. I have to get ready for a bachelor party. Yeah, that is right, a bachelor party. The groom is bisexual and so is the bride. Apparently, that is how they met. They were both members of the same sex club. Imagine that story being told to the grandchildren.
I am going to wear my leather guy outfit. Oh, perhaps while I am naked I will describe myself further. I am packing a good bit. I am big when I am soft, and even bigger when I am hard. I think it was 8 and one quarter inches the last time I measured it. I have to admit I am proud. I am not all stuck up about it, I am just happy to have it. I am cut, and not happy about that. I wish I had been in on that decision. Henri is uncut. I am not saying how I know. Well, the fact that he is french should be enough. Only America does it routinely. Well, anyway...
I am on my way to the party. I have to start looking for an apartment afterwards, so I am taking a change of clothes. As Boom likes to say, the way I dress is not much different than what I wear to dance. I can't help that I have a nice body and like to show it to people. I think he is jealous.
Maybe I like to show off. I am considering that as I climb into my purple mustang convertible. Jon is right. We have plenty of money, and should get out on our own. I could get me one of those little craftsman bungalows and redo it in my style. Black velvet curtains and purple carpet. A throw rug here, and some candles over there. It would be so cool. I could get some serious ass with a place like that. I guess the problem there is that I only want one ass, and that ass is Jon... you know what I mean.
Here we are at this guy's apartment. I wonder what the crowd is going to be like. I knock on the door and mentally try to lower my voice so that I can sound like I belong in the leather chaps. A young man about my age opens the door. He smiles and asks me to come in. He looks familiar so I assume I have seen him in the clubs.
"So where is the groom," I ask looking around the room.
"Actually, he isn't here yet. He just called and said he would be late. We are waiting for the other dancer anyway."
"Other dancer," I ask. I think about it and realize they probably have a woman coming to balance things.
"Here she is," he says and I turn to see her.
"Spirit," I squeal. Yes, I squeal on occasion. It is genetic. Sue me.
"Topher," she yells and runs up to me. She puts her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. We hug until she finally climbs down off of me. "What are you doing here," she asks looking around at the crowd.
"The guy is bi," I say in a stage whisper. "They didn't tell you?"
"No, but it doesn't matter. I was bi during college. Hell, I have gotten you a bit bi on occasion."
"No darlin', you have gotten me drunk on occasion." We both laugh and hug again. Just now I notice that the room of guys are all looking at us and smiling. A few are subconsciously rubbing their cocks. "Hmm, I suppose we are already performing. I wonder if they want us to, like, do stuff together."
"You know I won't mind. Hey, lets just do some dirty dancing and stuff," she says and grinds up against me. She knows that is not my scene, but we might as well, this is a tip based job. If they like it, so be it. This is one of those things about my job that makes me sad.
"Hey, you two look hot together. Let's see some action," one of the guys in the back says in between sips of beer. I could have used a beer or two at that point. This is no job for a gay guy. I should be styling hair. Just kidding, Pride forever.
"Let's give'em a show while they wait. We are on the clock so we have to be professional. What music do you have?" She may be pretty, but she is a business school graduate. That is where we met. I was taking pre-law and graduated with a degree in political science. Go figure.
"I have some Cher, and some Donna Summer. Wait, here we go, I have the soundtrack to Dirty Dancing."
"Please." She looks at me and yanks the bag from my hand. She flips the cds until she finds one. "I guess we will go with the Donna Summer." She puts on Last Dance, and we get into position.
I am not going to go into a description of the dance because that would be kind of stupid. Let's just say we dance, bump, grind, and have a great time. The best part is we got paid. The groom shows up and we dance some more. Yada yada yada, we dance. Oh yeah, Spirit does one of the guys in the back room and I give the groom one hell of a lap dance. She is a bit freer than I, but, hey, I did a client one time, but that is another story. One you shall never hear.
We sit in my car and count out tips. I reach down and pull one last dollar from the crack of my ass and silently wonder how it got there when I was wearing box-cut briefs. Hey, they didn't complain and I didn't pop out. I had made my share of the rent. I love it when a freaky businessman throws a party. All of the guys are trying to out do the others. They can't leave the pissing contest at the office.
"Hey, Spirit darlin', do you know where I can find an apartment. Maybe even a small house to rent. I don't think I am ready to buy." She looks at me with a rather sad face.
"What is wrong with where you are living. Is it Jon?"
"No," I say, but I think, yes. "Well, he thinks we need to be out on our own now. We are doing well for ourselves and we can do it alone."
"That sounds kind of logical. There is an apartment next to mine. That would be cool as fuck if you moved into my building." She goes back to counting as I think of the building she lives in. It is really nice and spacious. I have spent lots of time in Spirit's place hanging out, and it was comfortable.
"Let's go look," I say and crank the car.
"Hey, I will drive myself so you don't have to bring me back here." She jumps out and climbs into her Jeep. I follow her across town to Ardsley Park. We stop at her apartment and I looked up at the place next door. It is more of a half of a house than an apartment. I see that the realtor is showing it to someone, so I run into Spirit's house and change clothes. I find the realtor outside on her cellphone when I get to her. She finishes her call just as I approach and smiles at me.
"I would like to see the apartment, please," I say in my most congenial tone.
"There is someone inside looking now, but I am sure he wouldn't mind you viewing it also. Here is a brochure. Go on in, and I will be back in a few minutes. There is a crisis and I need to make some more calls." I take the brochure and smile as I turn and walk up the steps to the front door. I go in to find a lovely foyer that leads to a large living room. I find the stairs and decide to see the bedrooms first. I take the steps two at a time, and walk into the main suite. I sense someone in the room, so I look into the bathroom. I am surprised to find Jon testing the flush of the toilet.
"Hey," I say and stick my hands in my back pockets. This is something I do that I think makes me look sexy. I don't know if it really does, but as long as I think it does I am happy. Jon looks up from the swirling toilet, and smiles.
"Hey sexy." See, I knew it worked.
"What are you doing here," I ask, then regret the question. It is fairly obvious he is here to rent the place. Damn, I want the apartment.
"Just seeing if it is what I want." I know what I want, and he is standing in front of me checking the bath tub surround for signs of rot. "I guess you are here for the same thing."
"Yeah, my friend lives next door. She told me about it." He smiles and turns his attention to me.
"So how are you doing with the idea of moving out," he asks and takes a few slow steps toward me.
"I am fine, that is, if fine is falling apart on the inside." His eyebrows raise, and I realize I had said that out loud. That part was meant for you and not him, but I put the quotation marks in the wrong place. He steps closer and cups my cheek with one of his huge palms.
"Do you remember why I didn't want for us to get together. Why I said we couldn't have a relationship. The truth is, I wanted to move out, so that you and I could be together." I stand with my cheek in his hand enjoying the caress and almost miss the words. My eyes pop open and I look up into his face.
"You what," I ask incredulously. Hmmm, `incredulously' might be wrong. Completely dumbstruck may be better except for the fact that I said something.
"I love you, little man. I have loved you for a long time." My eyes blur and my chin begins to tremble.
"I love you, too," I say and slide my arms around his waist. I pull him to me and he holds me close. I look up into his face and we kiss. This is it folks; the moment I have waited for. I am kissing Jon. I never want this moment to stop. Then it stops.
"So you are finding everything ok," the realtor says after clearing her throat. We stop kissing and look over at her. We look at each other and smile.
"We'll take it," we say at the same time.
"What will we tell Boom and Henri," I ask.
"I bumped into them earlier. They are out looking for a place to share together."
"Well, I guess this was the best thing after all."
Let me know what you think, good or bad. twinkchaser@excite.com