Party Log: May 1, 2014

Thursday – May 1, 2014

My agent called me at the last minute to do a bachelorette party. The customer requested a black guy, but the black guy couldn’t do it because “he’s a fuckin moron” as my agent put it.

When I called the customer, and she discovered that I was not the original dancer, she became upset and didn’t even want to talk to me. Apparently I was the third dancer she talked to, and she was getting tired of the bait and switch, which was completely understandable. I got off the phone with her and thought that she was going to cancel, so I sent a message to my agent and figured that this show was a no-go.

A few hours later, my agent called me and said that the customer really wanted a stripper, and told her that I would put on a good show. He said that she seemed apologetic about being rude to me earlier, but wanted to have me. I must admit, I felt a little skeptical at this point because I expected her to be like a fire-breathing dragon looking for a reason to roast my performance. Nevertheless, I took the job with the intention of giving it 100%.  

The location of the party would be at a restaurant and bar along the beach. It was a popular place, and Claire and I even met a nice girl there back in 2012, whom we later took home. This time around, I would be stripping at the place instead of doing dinner and a threesome. The establishment had a large open area with a stage for live bands, a pool table, and plenty of tables and chairs. The bachelorette party changed their plans to arrive after midnight, and they told the bartender and staff about me.

Lucky for me, the bar was mostly empty after midnight. There were two guys shooting pool, and the rest of the occupants consisted of four females. Usually, I don’t like performing at public venues, especially with men in attendance. For some reason, men like to start trouble with male strippers, usually fights with a group of friends behind them for backup. I hoped that the two guys would leave, but they continued one game after another. They didn’t seem like trouble, but one can never tell. By the time the bachelorette party arrived, they were still there in process of starting a new round.

The party was a group of young and attractive black girls, who were from all over the United States. They traveled here for the sole purpose of their friend’s bachelorette party. The girl who set up the party was the sole white girl out of the bunch. She came up to me and guessed that I was the stripper immediately. We went around the corner outside where she paid me and talked about the routine. I told her that I would first give the guys at the pool table a courtesy warning about a male stripper being there. At least they’d have a chance to leave if they didn’t like it. The customer said that her friend would setup the music with the bartender in the meantime. The plans were simple, and we went back inside to initiate them.

First, I approached both men and told them that a male stripper was about to perform for the bachelorette party. They said that they were cool with it and didn’t mind. No problem. Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, half a dozen male rednecks walked into the bar, seeming as boisterous as a bunch of hogs romping around in mud together. They were louder than the bachelorette party and they shuffled chairs out of their way as the waded towards the bartender in an aggressive manner. After ordering their drinks and talking to the bartender, they shuffled out of the bar in the hurry to go outside as if something better awaited them there.

I went to the bartender and asked him if it was okay to perform. Sometimes the customers tell me that they cleared things with the establishment, but I’ve been kicked out a time or two to know that it’s always better to double check. The bartender confirmed that I could perform. He even went through the trouble of warning the rednecks about me.

“They got excited at first because they heard the word ‘stripper,’” he said. “When I repeated ‘male stripper’ to them, they got their drinks and bolted for the door.”

One the girls at the party got permission to DJ, so she connected her phone to the P.A. She had a good selection of songs on her phone and started the music. She also had a microphone, announcing that it was the bride’s bachelorette and birthday party. I had to have that mic, so I went up on stage and asked her for it.

When performing, the microphone gives a lot of power. As soon as I spoke into it, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at me. I asked the bride to come on stage. She emerged wearing a tight white dress and a tiara. A wad of folded dollar bills protruded from the top of her dress. “I heard that it was her birthday and bachelorette party, so I have a little surprise for her,” I said. Then I spoke to the bride, “Do you know what that is?”

The bride shook her head.

“Here,” I said into the mic, leading her to a chair. “Sit down and I’ll give it to you!”

The music blared over the speakers, and I started dancing in front of her. Her group of friends cheered. The ladies at the bar who were not part of the bachelorette party cheered. The two guys stopped playing pool to stare.

“If you want me to show her the surprise, then scream for me!” I shouted.

The crowd cheered in unison. I placed my hands on my hips, looked down at the floor, and shook my head, making an exaggerating show of how disappointed I was.

“That didn’t sound convincing. Let’s try that again. Scream for me!” I shouted.

The crowd’s roaring answer was more than satisfying. Even one of the guys playing pool added a loud whistle for audible effect.

Then I started dancing and unbuttoning my shirt. The bride gasped in delight and hollered. She pulled out a wad of dollar bills from her dress and began stuffing them in my pants. I jumped into a pushup position with my hands on the sides of her chair, and with each downward motion, I would retrieve the remaining dollar bills from the cleavage of her dress. I jumped back up and resumed dancing, shaking out of my pants, and exposing my black pleather thong to the crowd, who reacted with roaring approval (except the pool players).

I don’t remember much of the details of my dance, but I was on fire tonight. In fact, this was probably one of my top dance performances of the past few years. The girl who did the music playlist chose an amazing array of songs to dance to. I improvised my moves, but they flowed together like well-practiced choreography. I added a few bicep poses for comedic value. Some of the women came to me afterwards and commended my performance, even the ones who weren’t part of the bachelorette party. Perhaps it was the combination of the stage, the DJ’s choice of music, or the large crowd that riled me into action. I just know that I couldn’t have done better.

I drifted around from girl to girl until I danced with the entire bachelorette party, which numbered at least a dozen. I spoke into the microphone to announce a game of body shots with the bride. I walked the audience through the whole process, explaining that the bride needed to get on her knees and place her mouth on my abs while I poured a drink down my chest. She was not allowed to let any liquid escape. Of course, she did not succeed very well, but everyone laughed and cheered while watching it.

Last call (2:00am) caught everyone by surprise. I wrapped up the night with group photos. One of the guys playing pool and his girlfriend assisted by taking pictures. The bartender joked about me getting more tip money than him.

Before parting ways, the customer who gave me a hard time over the phone at first approached me for a photo with her. I posed with her by kissing her on the cheek for the camera. She gave me some extra money and said, “Thank you, Dion. I’m glad that the other dancers didn’t work out and we got you instead.”

I went in expecting a bad time. I came out feeling the euphoria of putting on a great performance. One can never truly tell how a performance will go.