Random Acts of Trust (Random #2)
Page 24“If you want. Most guys don’t.” She paused, then added, “We need to record it, though.”
My jaw clenched involuntarily. “It doesn’t end up on YouTube, or TMZ, or Reddit, does it?”
“It doesn’t end up anywhere, Sam. I just have a couple of test women who will watch it and tell me what they think. If you’re good enough, though, your two minute audition here may get you the job.”
I took a long, deep breath in, then let it out slowly. I looked around the room and thought about how life could change so quickly. It was the fact that I took a giant leap and didn’t let my past dictate my future that got me Amy tonight. What else could I break free from if I just acted?
I clapped my hands together once, looked at Louise, and said, “All right. Where do we start?”
I waved Liam over and huddled with him. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face with a cup of battery acid, but that wasn’t going to help the situation. “She wants me to do a strip tease right now?”
Liam’s grin spread across his face as if it were contagious. “That’s how Louise works.”
“You gotta be shittin’ me,” I whispered. “Is this for real or is this some kind of elaborate practical joke? Is there a camera here?”
“The only camera here is the one that’s going to video tape you so she can test you in front of a group of women. Unless you do so well that she doesn’t even have to do that.”
My eyes bored into his. “Let me guess, you did so well in your audition that you didn’t have to go through the video thing.”
Liam pounded his chest like a silverback gorilla. “That’s right,” he said. “See, even you knew that.”
“Fuck. How do you do a strip tease?” I asked, confused and overwhelmed. But the idea of making three- or four-hundred bucks a night, a couple nights a week, meant that I could put a lot of things aside, including my dignity.
“Just do what they do in those Chippendale shows, or that movie that came out awhile ago, Magic Mike.”
“I’m not exactly Channing Tatum.”
Liam stood to his full height and squared his shoulders. “Hell no we’re not. We’re better.”
That made me laugh. “So the people that you do this for…”
His eyes went hard. “Be prepared to dance for your mom.”
“What? WHAT?” I shouted. Everyone in the room turned and looked at me.
“Keep your voice down,” he said. “Most of these things are chicks about five years older than us and a bunch of their moms. Be prepared for these women to just want to touch you, and stick money down your pants.”
“You get tips?”
“Hell yeah, you get tips, that’s where all the money comes from.”
“No. No.” He held his palm out in a firm gesture of a boundary. “Some of these guys might, but I don’t do any of that shit.”
“And you still make good money?”
“I’m making about seven hundred bucks a week, just for two nights work. Fridays and Saturdays are it, after our band gigs.”
“Why do you need to do that kind of work?” I asked him. “Your parents paid for college and did all of that for you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Dad cut me off when I graduated.”
“Your dad cut you off?”
“Since I wouldn’t go to law school, or med school, or any of the other visions that they had for me.” Eyeroll.
I snickered. I couldn’t help it, and then put my hand over my mouth. “So, do your parents know you do this?”
“Fuck, no, they don’t know that I do this,” he said, irritated. Funny how Liam changed when he didn’t have all the power. “But, I can live pretty well on this and whatever we make from our band gigs, so…” He shrugged. “Get ready to take your clothes off, dude.”
“How far down do I have to go?”
He pointed to the guy’s dayglow blue g-string. “Are you okay with that?”
It was about as bad as wearing a Speedo on the swim team. I mulled it over. Would I do that for seven hundred bucks a week? Would I let women touch me and tuck money into that thing, their hands sliding over my hips, probably grabbing my ass here and there? Seven hundred a week. …versus…ass grabbing. Seven hundred a week. Ass grabbing. For seven hundred a week.
Seven hundred a week won.
“What do I need to do?” I said, in a louder voice, turning to Louise.
She docked her iPod into some speakers and ran her fingers over it, looking for a song. “Get started when you hear the music, honey.”
Think of it as drumming and just follow the beat, I told myself, trying not to get tense while I waited. If I just followed the beat, I could do damn near anything. My mind tried to occupy itself with anything other than the thought that I was now going to go down to my boxer briefs for a group of people I’d never met, very possibly for free, all before five in the morning.
The second time I’d gotten naked in so many hours.
The first time was so much better.
The music helped. I picked up the beat the second it started. I got my hips going, and then I decided to play it up to the crowd. In one fluid motion, I pulled my shirt off, imagining I was doing this for Amy. It felt pretty fucking weird though, because aren’t women supposed to strip for men? Maybe that was outdated. I focused on Liam, who had seen me be ridiculous before. We’d been friends through plenty of stupid displays, some of them sober. Most of them not.
And now, if he wanted to sit there with that smirk on his face, then I was going to give him a show. I flung my sweaty t-shirt right at him, and then pointed and winked. The guys all guffawed, and Liam rolled his eyes, but went along with the joke. I paraded, I pranced, I danced, I gyrated, I did whatever I remembered from the handful of shows I’d seen of guys stripping. By the end, I struck an Olympian pose, half-and twisted to the right, showing off my glutes and thighs, as the music faded out. Liam was covered in my jeans, socks, shirt, but not, thank God, my underwear. The guys all clapped—soft golf claps—and I couldn’t tell whether they were sarcastic or genuine.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I interrupted her. “It’s all good, I’m happy to do it for women.” Then I paused. “Wait—does it pay more if you do it for men?” The room filled with laughter.
She reached out and I took her hand in mine, with two pumps, the deal was done. “You’re hired,” she said. “Can you work tomorrow night?”
“Do I walk away with cash on the spot?” I asked, hopeful.
Liam tossed my clothes at me. My pants hit me in the head and then fell down my shoulder, sliding to the floor. I was surprisingly unselfconscious standing there in my blue boxer briefs.
“You walk home with your tips after a gig; otherwise, you get a paycheck every two weeks like everybody else.”
Like everybody else, I thought. Finally, a steady job. I was officially supporting myself without student loans, without living in my car, and I’d have my own bed. Was it worth rubbing up against a bunch of women a couple nights a week? My involuntary grin faded slightly when my mind went to Amy. What would she think?
Louise’s eyes hardened, she leaned back in her chair. “You having second thoughts?”
“No, ma’am. My thoughts are all focused and ready to work.”
“Let’s get you your first set of uniforms, then,” she said, walking around the desk, guiding me with an arm around my shoulder to a closet door. Aaron was pulling clothes out. “The guys will start to explain the routines. Welcome to the club.” She smiled at me again. ”You fuck up, you’re fired.” Her eyes said she meant every word.
“I won’t fuck this up,” I said, wishing I could find the right words to explain how much I needed this and how awed I was that it had fallen into my lap.
Liam grabbed my upper arm and led to the pile of clothes out the couch. Without asking or being asked, he just sorted until he found a cop costume that looked like it would fit me.
“Start with cop?” he asked Louise, who was back at her desk, rummaging in a drawer. She didn’t even look up; a grunt and a nod sufficed.
“Here,” Liam said, holding a uniform up to me. “You have to wash it on Friday nights—hand wash, hang dry.” He rifled through the pile and told Aaron, “We’re out of any more in his size.”
“Try it on, make sure it fits,” Louise said, jerking her head toward the open bathroom door. “And try these on.” From the drawer in her desk, she pulled a plastic package, and flung it at me.
I caught it with swift reflexes and examined it.
A sequined green silk g-string.
“Redheads look great in emerald green.” Her eyes danced over my body, and then the only real flicker of emotion came from her when she asked, “Does the carpet match the drapes?”
Liam guffawed as I blushed and stammered, “Yes, Ma’am.”
“A blusher.” She rolled her eyes. “How cute. You can really milk them for great tips with that one, Sam. Especially the aggressive cougars.”
“The what?”
Butt floss.
How do women wear these things? The silky thread stretched up my ass crack and the sequins sewn into the…pouch?... were so strained I wondered if maybe I had an oversized ball sac or something. The clients would be able to tell whether I was circumcised or not.
And that was now, when I was soft.
What if I—?
Oh.
Hadn’t thought about that part. I climbed into the police uniform and made the two pieces of velcro match along both sides of my body. Coordinating that was harder than you’d think.
By the time I came out of the bathroom, only Louise and Liam remained.
“Perfect fit,” Liam crooned. “See, Louise? Told you I sized him right.”
“We’ll order more uniforms next week,” she said. “If you work out.”
I nodded, then reached back to pluck my ass.
“Tight?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Liam was close enough for me to whisper as Louise went to the main door and started putting on her coat. “What if I get a hard on?”
“Then your tips rise, too!” Louise cackled, whipping out the door and disappearing.
Liam pulled a key from his pocket. “I’ll lock up.”
“She trusts you?”