Most of my shows consist of women in their 20s who are at least somewhat attractive. This particular bachelorette party sat on the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of beauty.
Not all of the women were repulsive. The bride and her maid of honor were a little easy on the eyes, both having long, flowing blonde hair and pretty faces. But some of the other women made me shudder in revulsion.
The bride’s mother hired me for this party. She was nice enough and wanted to surprise her daughter. The party took place in a townhouse located in a town near a military base, so most of the women had strong ties to the military. In fact, the bride’s soon-to-be-husband was in the military.
My strip show for the bride went well enough. She was in the living room with everyone else and enjoyed my striptease and was even getting into it. Her mother requested that I focus primarily on her daughter. I should’ve heeded that advice. Instead, I asked the bride (what is normally a safe and fun question at other parties) which lady she wanted me to dance with next.
The bride pointed to an old lady sitting on a recliner. Now this lady wasn’t that old. Her hair color had more pepper color to it than salt. She had wrinkles and a smoker’s voice that added years to her appearance. The most horrifying feature was the visible amount of facial hair on her. It was as if menopause dried up all of the remaining estrogen pools in her body and filled them with testosterone.
When I approached her, she was eating a slice of cake, which she dropped off her paper plate. It tumbled down her shirt and into her lap, leaving a trail of white frosting on her clothes. She picked it up off her lap and finished it off, so she had a mouthful of cake and mumbled out crumbs when she talked.
I danced in front of her, but not too close in proximity to her. The only thing I could think of was that she needed to wax her moustache. I silently thanked her when she waved me on, saying that she had enough.
Everyone pointed at the next lady they wanted me to get. All fingers pointed to a heavyset lady sitting down next to the cake table.
My use of the word “heavyset” is a very conservative description of her in this circumstance. She was at least 250 lbs. overweight, resembling a bean bag with a head. If I tried to hug her, my arms would not be able to reach around her body. Her hair was oily brown and braided. She grimaced like she ate a sour grape as I drew near. “Sorry, I only like black guys,” she said like I was the disgusting one between the two of us.
Fine with me, I thought. I backed away without a moment’s hesitation.
The rest of the party suggested I get the maid of honor, but she was nowhere in sight. Instead, they pointed out another lady for me. She was middle-aged. Compared to the previous two, she wasn’t so bad except for a few missing teeth. Her smoker’s breath, which I could smell from a yard away, made me want to gag.
I went back to the bride as though she were beacon of fresh air at this party and did not leave her side until I was done with my performance. It didn’t take long to finish. Fortunately, the bride and her mother were ecstatic with my performance.
As I got dressed and gathered my tip money, the maid of honor returned to the living room on the verge of tears. The bride went to her side and asked what happened. Here was the story:
Apparently the maid of honor’s boyfriend called in the middle of my performance, so she answered the phone. The boyfriend inferred that a male stripper was present due to hearing some of the ladies cheering and yelling something about “the male stripper,” so he threw a temper tantrum at his girlfriend. How dare she attend a party with a male stripper present!
The ironic thing was that the maid of honor was going out to the clubs later with the bride and the rest of the young girls to get shitfaced. The idea of his girlfriend going out to a club and getting drunk while a bunch of horny guys try to seduce her all night did not bother him, but being in the same room as a male stripper was crossing the line. She did not even interact with me at all, and she was in trouble for it.
I did not need a crystal ball to predict a lot of disagreements in that couple’s future.