Gulf Shores, Alabama
On Saturday of April 7, 2013, I had two shows scheduled for the evening---both polar opposites of each other in terms of the audience.
The first party took place in Gulf Shores, Alabama at a beach condo. It was supposed to happen on the previous night, but girls wanted to postpone until today. I arrived at the condo on time, while the sun was still hovering on the western horizon.
|Alabama has some nice beaches.|
With nothing else better to do, I went to the beach to watch the waves and the sunset. Heather had thirty minutes. That was my allowance since I had to the next bachelorette party to worry about.
After about twenty minutes, Heather and her friend pulled into parking garage. When I met them to collect my payment, I was surprised at how drunk they already were. I could smell an overwhelming odor of the alcoholic drinks they imbibed throughout the day and probably the previous night, and their eyes had a red, glassy look. It was a miracle that they didn't get into a traffic crash or pulled over by the cops while they were out driving around.
They paid me the money and we rode the elevator to the top floor. I still had to change. Heather requested the police costume, but there was no way that was going to happen in broad daylight. Instead, she and her friends would get the cowboy outfit, consisting of a pleather vest, pleather pants, boots, and a cowboy hat.
|I changed clothes outside on the top floor.|
Heather and her friend told me to enter the room whenever I was changed and ready, so they went into the room ahead of me.
First, I looked for the emergency stairwell since that was a location rarely used, but gave up after a brief search. Fortunately, the condos were just about empty, so I decided to change on the railed walkways on the top floor. No one came outside and saw me, but a passerby from the ground level could have peered upwards and become an involuntary witness to a nude show. Even after ten years, this job still provided me with awkward situations.
After changing, I knocked on the door and entered the condo just like Heather wanted. The hallway opened up into the kitchen and living room. Two girls, one of whom was Heather, were in the kitchen. Heather saw my outfit and looked me up and down, biting her lip with unconcealed desire. The other girl had brown hair and wore only a t-shirt with bikini bottoms, and teetered a bit on the heavyset side of the spectrum. She froze when she saw me and regarded me with a sour expression that made her appear more unattractive than she already was.
"Where's the bride?" I asked.
"You're looking at her," Heather said, pointing to the girl with the sour face.
At most parties, the bachelorettes would wear white veils or tiaras, sometimes with a shoulder ribbon with the word 'BACHELORETTE' emblazoned in silvery cursive. Most bachelorettes would not look like they had been lounging around the house all day. When I entered the living room, the scene became worse.
Four girls sat on the couches in an agonized, corpse-like state, showing symptoms of having too much alcohol on the previous night than was reasonably good for them. They appeared more preoccupied with nursing their hangovers than aware of the fact that a man was about to take off his clothes in front of them.
As if to further elaborate on the disorganized nature of this party, their disheveled appearances bore a stark contrast to the typical bachelorette party where girls cake on makeup, put on perfume, and wear nice clothes in an effort to look presentable upon my arrival. These girls looked like they barely got out of bed.
Despite their tortured status, they were quite happy to see me, although I could not say I felt the same for them.
The bachelorette was not pleased, however.
In fact, the bachelorette hated me. As soon as she saw me, she flat out told me that I wasn't her type and refused to dance with me. She reminded me of a sly and loathsome lizard, her green eyes narrowed as she sized me up in a calculating manner and concluded her opinion of me by curling her lip downward in exaggerated disgust.
With extreme reluctance, she participated with me in my routine only at the insistent pleading and cajoling from her friends. While I stripped for her, she made a few attempts at insulting me, such as telling me that I was ugly to which I gave her the best response appropriate for her kind attitude---ignored her. I went to find a girl who offered a warmer perception.
This task proved rather difficult since most of the girls were too hung over from their previous night of partying to even get up off of the couch. Several wanted to, but the pale look on their faces told me that the mere act of doing anything physical would have probably caused them to vomit, an act of which I along with everyone else wanted to avoid. Despite their pallid condition, some of them were still drinking beer, and other varieties of mixed alcoholic drinks. Their persistence impressed me.
Heather, the girl who hired me, was the only one in condition to dance. She gyrated her hips against me and thoroughly enjoyed my presence so much that it seemed as though she hired me for her own pleasure rather than the bachelorette's.
When I announced that it was time for body shots, the girls pointed to the bachelorette, whom I wanted to avoid. She shook her head violently in response to the finger pointing, making it clear that she wanted little to do with me as possible. Her friends pleaded with her to participate again, and she finally relented. However, her idea of a body shot was taking a shot glass from Heather's midsection, which met with awkward and unsuccessful results.
I interjected by pouring some champagne onto Heather's midsection and taking a shot from her, causing her to smile and thrust her hips towards me. The salty smell of sweat and body odor assaulted me, and I immediately withdrew. The other girls demanded more, but in an effort to breathe fresh air, I asked for volunteers to take a body shot off of me instead.
Before anyone could respond, the Bachelorette looked at my abs and wrinkled her nose and frowned as though she tasted something nasty and wanted to spit it out. "Uh, no. Not off you at least. That'd be disgusting." Then, the bachelorette expressed incredulity at how someone of low quality such as me could get a job as a male stripper.
I couldn't help but smile. In my line of work, it is common to run into girls who assume male strippers to be full of pride and ego, and reasonable for them to think so, since getting paid to strip for women on a regular basis tends to uplift one's ego and self-esteem. Most girls with such an assumption drop their stereotypes if I treat them with politeness and modesty. A few unruly girls, such as this bachelorette, resort to unwarranted insults. Again, I ignored the bachelorette and resumed dancing with Heather since she was the only one besides the bachelorette who was able enough to move around without getting sick.
However, I was not the only target for the bachelorette.
While dancing with me, Heather flirted more with me and asked many questions to further know me. In the midst of Heather's fun, the bachelorette approached us and said aloud, "Hey, did you know that Heather was engaged seven times?"
Heather gazed at her friend with open-mouthed shock. "D-don't tell him stuff like that!" Heather said.
The bachelorette continued, "Why not? It's true. She really loved her last fiance though, but too bad things didn't work out."
Once again, Heather begged her friend to stop, saying that she didn't air out her 'dirty laundry', especially concerning the bachelorette's fiance.
The bachelorette shrugged and said that she was going off to a future event without her soon-to-husband knowning, hinting at engaging in activities that he would highly disapprove of had he found out.
Many things do not affect my often callous nature in this job anymore, but I had enough of the bachelorette. She disgusted me. I walked away to gather my clothes, not wanting to get between two friends and their complicated business.
Looking back, I wish I told the bachelorette off, because as I was telling everyone my goodbyes, I saw the wild and crazy Heather diminished to a subdued and sad state. She appeared on the verge of tears from the humiliation of the bachelorette's recent comments. I thanked her for hiring me and she meekly nodded and smiled. All of the other girls hugged me, several apologizing for not participating, but asking me to stay and party with them, nonetheless. I told them I had another party to go to, and they told me to come back after I was done. Every girl thanked me for coming, except the Bachelorette who stared at me like she was ready to say another insult. I ignored her and left.
As I drove to the next party, I began to get angry about that incident. The bachelorette's treatment of her generous friend upset me more than her petty insults directed at me. Heather paid me 250 dollars so her friend could have a lively bachelorette party. Then as a token of appreciation for the effort, her so-called friend decided to lash her with soul-cutting insult while she was flirting with me---an act of disrespect that caused a profound embarrassment that no person of integrity would wish on a true friend.
It was not my problem, but I should have stood up for Heather. That bachelorette did not deserve an ounce of the hospitality that her friends provided her.
I drove to the next party in a foul mood, stewing over the incident in my mind and wishing that bachelorette a life of misfortune.
I only hoped that the next party fared better, because this night was turning out poorly.
(to be continued)