Robby and I have been friends for about ten years. He's a year older, and has always been taller than me and a lot more, well, wild.
Robby gave me my first joint, got me drunk for the first time, shit like that. Naturally he had a steady girlfriend before me. When I was fifteen, I got laid for the first time when he let me fuck his girlfriend. I can't say anything bad about Robby. He's been good to me.
I managed to finish high school unlike Robby, who was starting to get into serious trouble. We live in a pretty rough neighborhood in Philadelphia- old row houses, lotsa drugs around, whores on the corners at night.
The blacks lived a few blocks away, but we all managed to kind of get along. Robby used to get in some fights, mostly when he was drunk and mouthing off about some black dude walking down our street. I was usually more laid back, and on the prowl for pussy.
My mom was pretty ok, but right after high school ended she left me a note saying she had run off to Florida with a guy. She left me a couple of hundred bucks, her cell number, and an apartment lease about to expire.
Most of the furniture was crap, so I packed up most of my jeans and sneaks and moved into Robby's parent's basement.
But that didn't seem like it would last too long, mostly because Robby kept getting lit up and then into fights with his rents. I didn't have a steady girl to move in with, and no job. The money my dumb ass mother gave me was running out.
Robby had been disappearing at night the last few days, leaving about nine and getting back to our hood after three in the morning. Not unusual hours for either one of us, but he wasn't giving up where he kept going. Even the girl he was seeing, Nicole, didn't know.
On Sunday afternoon, after we both woke up, Robby took me aside and told me what had to go down. His parents weren't real cool about me staying in the basement much longer, and he knew my coin was running out and I didn't have any prospects.
Robby told me that he was about to get his ass kicked out of the house too. His old man had had it with the late nights, the drunkenness, and his attitude. That's when he told me what he had been up to, and knocked my eighteen-year-old ass for a loop.
Robby had been doing crack lately, and one of the guys he bought from told him about a gay club in Center City that hired dudes to dance for the queers who came in. It was pretty "up and up", he said. Nobody touched you (much) if you weren't in to that. And the guys who danced there- most were straight like him, he said- made awesome tips. Mostly a dollar or a five at a time, but it added up most nights to well over a hundred. And no taxes either.
He said it was gonna be enough soon that he was gonna get a room for him and Nicole. And since my luck was running out, maybe I'd want to come in on it with him. They were looking for a blond white guy, and doing it didn't mean you were a faggot or anything.
I told him he was fucked up. We had a few words, and I went off and got shit faced. Robby, I guess, went off and "danced" that night for the queers. The next day we didn't say much, but he told me his father wanted me out that afternoon.
He asked me again if I would let him introduce me to Miguel, a dealer from the neighborhood who had lived in Philly about five years since he moved here from Argentina. Turns out this Miguel had a sideline finding dudes to dance at this club, even though this Miguel was straight.
Robby said he'd even go in on the room with me that he was gonna hafta get so he could have a place to fuck Nicole after his father threw him out. With the money he was making as a "dancer", and the money I could pull down, we could swing a decent place together and still have cash to party.
I gotta tell you this shit went against every bone in my body. We took the El into town and went to the club that night. Miguel wasn't there yet, but Robby called his cell and said that he had a friend who could be a new dancer for him and the club.
It was only about nine, and it was a Monday night, so the place was pretty quiet. There were a few older fags around, but Robby and I just kept to our selves, playing pool and having a few Yuenglings. He explained that Miguel didn't really work for the club, he just had a deal to bring in dancers each night.
The club paid Miguel a flat fee, and all the dancers each paid Miguel fifty bucks for the chance to dance. After you made fifty to pay Miguel, the rest was yours. Robby said this deal was pretty sweet, actually.
When Miguel arrived around quarter to ten, Robby and I were half wasted. He looked like I'd seen him before, from our neighborhood. He was in his twenties, tall and built, wearing a wifebeater with lots of tats. He had long black hair and a goatee. He sure didn't look like no faggot.
I don't know what made me say yes. I sure needed the money. The place was dead so it didn't look like I'd have to fight anybody off. Robby pumped me up, plus we had each had five beers.
I was just about out of coin, so Robby spotted me the fifty Miguel wanted up front. Then they took me into a back room where the "dancers" changed. There was a young black guy there, hanging up his shit, and Miguel told him to get out so we could talk.
Miguel explained that I should just watch Robby, and do what he did. If I did good and the customers liked me, I'd be invited back. He said it was good that I was blond and skinny.
Robby asked me what I had on under my jeans and hoodie. I said just some boxers and a tee shirt. Robby told me I'd have to wear boxer briefs from now on, or even a jock strap. He gave me a clean pair of his Calvins, and a wifebeater.
He told me that when you had danced for a few minutes, you'd have to take off the hoodie, then the wifebeater. Eventually you had to get off your jeans, so it was best to start dancing without your sneaks on so the jeans could be removed easier. The club didn't really like the dancers to wear boxers.
Robby said he'd get me some proper shit tomorrow, like the right kinda underwear, maybe even a thong? I laughed in his face, called him an asshole. But I turned my back to him and Miguel and put on the Calvins. I was too far committed and I wasn't gonna pussy out now. Besides, a hundred in cash?
How bad could it be anyway? Robby was straight. This Miguel dude seemed like a nasty motherfucker and he was definitely straight. Robby told me to thank Miguel for the opportunity, and I did as he was walking out of the room.
Miguel told us we started at ten, and that I better be good, because if the owner and the customers didn't like me he'd come back and kick my ass at closing time.
End Part One