Wedding season was in full swing, and the American agent had booked me for two more weekends in a row. One bachelorette party per week had me in too deep to turn back. It was the Thursday after my first show and I happened to be tuning a friendís piano. Most good piano tuners can finish a job in about an hour, give or take fifteen minutes. I on the other hand, take about two hours on a good day.
I was halfway through the piano when I got a call from an unknown number. It was someone who had seen my Craigslist ad and was in need of a stripper.
How is this ad still in existence, I wondered? I could swear that when I signed up I was informed that an inactive posting would be deleted after forty days or so. Somehow it lived on. She needed me for that night. Already being around 7:45pm, I would only have about two hours to finish tuning this piano and run home to get ready. The address was somewhere near the perimeter of the city. She also wanted a picture in order to make sure I was hot. This was turning into a pain already. To her credit, she did say I sounded hot on the phone.
What kind of costume would I be wearing? The suit wasnít going to cut it for this girl. I informed her that it was a bit too close to show-time to be choosy. One of the options the American agency provides on their website is ďpizza guyĒ. Most pizza guys show up in plain clothes so what could be easier than that?
Would I be bringing any props? I told her about the markers. She didnít sound all too excited. Itís always embarrassing to appear amateur at anything. Amateur at getting naked in front of people is even worse.
I ended up rushing through the tuning, doing a half assed job in the process. I darted home as quickly as possible to do all the things a person has to when a decent number of strangers are going to be getting an incredibly close look at some very private areas.
After looking up the directions on Google maps, I headed out to pick up the pizzas. I just had enough gas to do a small amount of driving that night. Perhaps just enough gas to get to the perimeter and back.
I was already running fifteen minutes late when I found myself driving down the road Google had sent me on. There just werenít enough houses on the street to get to the address I was given over the phone. I called to ask for some notable landmarks. I was way off. As it turns out, the party was in a town just outside of the city. I had fucked up and was even more behind schedule. I raced off with new directions.
Not out of brokenness but rather pure stupidity, I neglected to purchase any gas for the trip home. I figured there would probably be a gas station in the town where I was headed. With eight kilometers to go before even reaching the town my gas light went on. Stressed, I pulled up to the house. The bridesmaid whom I had spoken with on the phone came out to meet me. She was very cute. She informed me that the bride was two months pregnant and stone cold sober. It all just kept getting better and better.
I walked in to find a room full of beautiful women. All in their early twenties with one exception, someoneís mum who was all ready to take a whole lot of pictures. I started to do my thing.
I always find things to be the most awkward when Iím fully clothed. It isnít until items begin to come off that one can get a true feel for how the night is going to go. A sober feeling seemed to hang in the air.
The show wasnít my best but wasnít a complete disaster either. About halfway through, I caught an adorable friend of the bride staring at my package, only to look up to see me watching her. She immediately looked away in a sort of childish embarrassment.
Seeing the reactions is one of my favourite things about stripping. After being gawked at day in and day out, getting caught gawking is a fairly foreign thing to most women. While some stare and cheer shamelessly, most will blush, laugh and look away.
Receiving such a stare made me feel very sexy. It was a primal chemical reaction in motion, one that transcends rehearsed words and social boundaries into a dimension of nature known as pure desire. The carnal desire to fuck.
I left the party after what really wasnít a terrible performance feeling quite deflated. All of the rushing around left me exhausted and wondering how I would be able to do another more two shows, one in just a couple of days. On the way in I had noticed gas stations nearby, all of which were closed at that time of night. I hopped in my car and begged the Gods to grant me enough luck to make it back to the city on the fumes I had left for fuel.
They must have been listening, because I made it home that night. Crawling into bed, I replayed the dayís events in my head with enough cringe worthy footage to make me glad it was over. With one last thought of the staring girl and the want in her eyes, I passed out.