Friday, June 27
Orange Beach, Alabama.
My agent called me last Friday and asked if I wanted to do a last minute party for a group of Tennessee girls at 3 p.m. Unfortunately, I had a work meeting that afternoon and would be unavailable till later that night. He called them back, relayed that information, and rescheduled a show for 9 p.m.
"I told these girls you were in the military and had to work earlier," he said when he called me back. "They sound horny for you now."
I laughed. Based on his words, I could tell that this would be a great crowd. My call to the customer confirmed this assumption. Her name was Katrina, and she sounded ecstatic over the phone. "We're sooo looking forward to this!" she said. "This is for my sister, and she always wanted a male stripper."
"Have you ever had a male stripper before?" I asked. I needed to know, because male stripper virgins usually need a quick guide on what to do.
"Once," Katrina said. "For my bachelorette party a couple years ago. He was terrible. So terrible that it was funny! I ended up dancing for him. He didn't even know what he was doing. He said it was his first time stripping and all."
Now I knew that the bar was set really low. All I had to do was show up and pull off my normal routine, and these girls would be happy. "Can't believe his company sent him alone to his first party," I said.
I showed up in a cop uniform, as Katrina requested. Her little sister, the bride, bought into the charade. She thought that I was the actual police until I began taking my shirt off in front of her and dancing. She squealed in pleasant surprise. She loved my performance, but I had to regulate my physical interaction with her to a more tame level. She did not want to incur her future husband's wrath, according to her words.
The other girls were more receptive towards my perverted activities. Especially Katrina. I gave her a male stripper version of a lap dance, which involved rubbing my frontal bulge against her pussy. She said, "Wow, I think I suddenly feel very hot."
"And wet," I joked.
Everyone laughed. The other activities we did consisted of body shots and blindfolds. The girls played along flawlessly. I couldn't have asked for a better crowd. My performance had the King Midas touch where anything and everything I did was golden.
Once I was done, the girls commented about how much better I was than the last male stripper. Out of curiosity, I asked what he did.
"He just said that it was his first time," one girl said.
"Yeah, he just kept taking off clothes after clothes," Katrina said. "He was wearing layers of clothes. And he didn't have a good body or was good looking. I was very disappointed and wanted him to leave, but the other girls told me that he was expensive, so I had to tolerate him. So I was like ... fuck it ... I'll make the best of it, so I started dancing for him and all the other girls and made it into a good time.
"But we loved your performance, Dion! That was what I wanted out of a male stripper," Katrina said.
"Well, thank you. But it was your group that made it fun. You and your friends participated in all my activities and were enthusiastic about it all. That's what makes a good party. It's the male stripper and the audience meeting at the center, and your group met me more than halfway."
Everyone was flattered by my response, but it was the truth. Participation is key to any show. Imagine going to a rock concert where no one sings or claps along. The audience just sits there in silence listening passively to the music. In turn, their dullness affects the band on stage, preventing them from drawing any sense of motivation or energy. Crowd reactions make or break a show, whether it's a rock band, a comedian, or a male stripper.