by Nick Molloy
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The stripper trainer wasn’t quite how I imagined. With his grey beard and bald head, he was more reminiscent of Father Christmas than a mentor of sex gods. He shuffled up the stairs, puffing and panting as he went. He explained that he was now diabetic and had recently lost a couple of toes, so he now had difficulty walking. The guy in the gay string vest introduced himself as Paul, also known as Eclipse. He was a stripper from up North and was staying with the mentor for a few days whilst he performed a few shows in the South of England.
We shuffled to the top floor flat and I was ushered into a cosy living room with a sofa older than Santa himself. (who was in his late 60s). Father Christmas bade me sit down and introduced himself formerly as Michael. Although he was now retired he had spent his life working in television as a costumier and designer, but his main hobby going back more years than he could remember had been helping start male strippers on the circuit. Given that, he asked how he could help.
I detailed the chain of events leading to our encounter, expressed my curiosity in future possibilities and asked if he could tell me everything I would need to know to make an informed decision as to whether stripping would be something I might be interested in. I had two pre-conceived major concerns that I was happy for him to denude me off. Firstly, my background had been power sports. As a result I am not especially flexible, certainly wasn’t a dainty mover and surely all strippers had to be excellent dancers ? Secondly, most of the performances presumably took place in clubs. My experience of clubs had resulted in a (some would say bigoted) view, that they were all full of drunk moronic types looking to cause trouble. Although I had never started a fight in my life, I had finished a few and surely taking my clothes off in a club was inviting someone to light the match that would blow up the dynamite store ?
Michael listened carefully and did indeed respond with a double denudement. Firstly, strippers do not need to be professional dancers, in fact the vast majority of them had no formal dance training. Secondly, most strippers begin plying their trade on the gay scene and then once they have established a name for themselves, they might be invited onto the hen night citcuit. Michael said that gay clubs enjoyed the luxury of experiencing hardly any trouble at all. The people in them had come to admire and adore the stripper, not to start a fight with him. The hen night scene was exclusively for women, non-performing men would be barred entry. Similarly the women were there specifically to view the strippers and the only trouble arose from those that had had a little too much to drink and anyhow, they were handled easily enough. Stripping was not usually done in front of a straight mixed audience, so reassuringly the potential for trouble and flare ups was greatly reduced. ‘So then’, he said ‘there is nothing to worry about’.
Michael asked if I would take my top off and show him my physique. I duly obliged and his eyes lit up “oh yes, the boys down Bromptons would love you”.
Putting my top back on, I surmised that I might be interested. ‘How then should I go about getting started ?’ I asked. Michael pulled himself upright in his chair and adopted a more business like manner. Apparently I would need to go away and do a few things and then come back to him. Firstly, I should choose 5 music tracks that I liked which would form the essence of my music. I would then need to think of a theme that would be the essence of the act. Most strippers have well worn themes such as cowboys, firemen or the officer and gentleman outfit from the Richard Gere movie. One I had the theme, Michael could then help me design the costume to fit the theme. I would then have to work out a routine that would be between 15-17 minutes long (the typical length of an act). Once that was done I could begin contacting venues with regards to getting work. Michael said that most venues paid about £90 in cash for a show.
Michael suggested I go away and think about things. Before I left I asked about my physique explaining that I was still an athlete. This meant that I would always be ripped (defined) but that I tended to have a lean and mean look as opposed to a ‘gym queen’ or ‘muscle mary’ type look. I had noted that Eclipse looked more like a gym queen than an athlete, assisted in his look I suspected, by a few anabolic injections as well as his protein powders. At the time I was only about 140lbs. Although given my light bone structure, I tended to look about 20lb heavier, I was concerned I might be considered too small. Michael again allayed any fears I had and assured me that if I could put things together, the audiences would like me just fine. As a parting shot he also mentioned something about teaching me to tie off (a technique to make your dick look bigger), but said we could get to that on a later date.
As I boarded the train back home I was surprised to find my mind racing at the possibilities. I actually quite liked the sound of everything we had discussed. Michael had mentioned that venues regularly re-book the strippers they like and he also said that there were several guys who practiced it as their full time profession. It sounded so much easier than working for a living. This possibility galvanized me into action.
Chapter 4 – Giving Birth to an Alter Ego
I went to bed that night with my mind racing and woke up with a start some hours later, sitting bolt upright in bed. It was still pitch black outside, but I had just seen the light. I couldn’t dance, but I could box. The footwork of a boxer is often compared to that of a dancer’s and some boxers are often referred to as dancer’s in their style. I considered it unlikely that any of the other strippers would have chosen a boxer as their theme and furthermore, it had always been my fantasy to be a boxer. Coming out to loud music and flashing lights dressed as a boxer may go someway to living out that dream that never became reality.
I telephoned Michael with my revelation the next day and he was thrilled with the idea, adding fuel to my rapidly growing fire. When I was pouring all my money away during the motor-racing project, one of the sponsors that we brought on board was Title, the sports equipment manufacturer, specializing in boxing. I phoned Stan, the Managing Director and said I needed some boxing shorts, a satin gown and some boxing boots, preferably returns. Half an hour later he had dug around in the returns cupboard and dispatched the whole lot for only £60. The gown had somebody else’s name emblazoned on the back, but that could be removed. I chose 5 tracks, with an emphasis on Rocky themes and worked out some very rough choreography for an act. I then went to revisit Michael.
When I arrived in Balham, Michael was alone this time. I had put my chosen five tracks onto a tape and having listened to them there was no objection from the guru. I then talked him through my ‘choreography’ and he suggested I try and run through the moves there and then in his living room. He put the tape into his music player and I went through my ‘moves’. To my surprise there was very little critique from Michael and there were many cries of ‘Excellent’. Either I was a born natural or Michael wasn’t being completely honest with me. He did suggest a few minor things, the most major of these being a shower scene with a sponge and soapy water. I was later to discover that this was a Michael speciality. He also said that in his view, you get your dick out right towards the end of the act and not for very long.
We discussed a stage name and I suggested Marvelous Marvin (spelt deliberately with one L) after one of my boxing idols Marvelous Marvin Hagler. Michael suggested simply the singular word ‘Marvelous’. So it was that Marvelous was born.
Another essential item in the armoury of any aspiring stripper is a set of publicity photographs. As a member of the London Camera club, Michael offered to take the images for me and we could then choose the best one and have it reproduced in multiples. Some pretty good images resulted and I chose one with me sitting on a chair naked with a pair of boxing gloves covering the crown jewels. I then sought about getting 500 copies made on card, sized A4. However, the high street printers were charging astronomical price so I tried the one Michael referred me to, somewhere ‘up North’. We sent away the original image and I duly received a large box back of the images. To be honest the reproductions were pretty poor and d
idn’t do Michael’s original photograph any justice at all. However, I now had some publicity material, which I could send out to prospective venues.
On another visit Michael told me about the art of ‘tying off’. He gave me an elastic band and told me to wrap it around my finger three times. I then needed to get a pretty stiff erection and stretch the three times wrapped over elastic band over the head of the penis, allowing it to constrict again at the base. This prevents the blood flowing back out of the penis and means that it will remain in an enlarged state throughout the duration of the act. Please don’t be confused by this description, the elastic band does not maintain a normal erection. Instead, the penis goes limp and to the uninitiated eye, has a somewhat flaccid appearance (although if you look closely it appears more erect, just pointing down instead of up). Nor does tying off maintain the full erect size (certainly not for me and other strippers seem to concur). However, about 80% of the erect size will be maintained and this looks impressive, especially to those who are not aware of the ‘secret formula’. This obviously looks especially impressive if the owner of the member is already endowed well above the average.
However, please let me shatter the first myth about stripping – namely that all strippers have huge dicks. They do not. Tying off allows Mr Average entry to the party. That said, there are only a couple of strippers I have come across with a dick that might be described as below average in size. Several are much larger than average, most probably around average. I have been complemented on the size of my cock a number of times, women particularly offering crude remarks such as ‘there’s Mr Big Dick’ after a performance. It brings a wry smile to my face every time. If only they knew. Sometimes punters will notice the elastic band, quite often they don’t. On the gay scene most of the punters are aware of the technique. On the hen scene most are not.
As I became more experienced it became clear that Michael had his own formula to stripping. He had given every stripper the same tricks and techniques in their routines. However, tying off is a very individual thing. Some strippers use a single elastic band as Michael suggested. Others use several elastic bands. Some tie it around the base of their cock, others wrap it around their balls as well. Others still use a material called bias binding (available from haberdashery shops). Some others use women’s tights. I have tried both bias binding and women’s tights in the comfort of my own home. This means that you can tie it as tight as you feel comfortable, but I didn’t feel at all comfortable. Bias binding particularly is very difficult to get off and numerous strippers have cut their dicks trying to free themselves. I am also aware of a couple of instances where venue owners were asked to pull on the dicks of the tied up stripper to facilitate the release from the bias binding. Personally, I prefer elastic bands. Through experimentation, I now use one narrow one and a slightly thicker one simultaneously. It works for me and I also find the removal of elastic bands far simpler than other materials.
To answer the question you are probably all wondering, the answer is an emphatic yes. It does hurt. It can pinch slightly when you first put it on and the longer you leave it on the worse it feels. Your dick turns bluer and gets number and number by the minute. It is not overly painful whilst performing (unless you have tied it too tight – bias binding beware). Most pain is felt when the time comes to cut it off and especially as you unravel the band. Imagine someone twisting your nipples aggressively. Then as the final constriction is removed, the pain flows away and you can breath again.
I was nearly ready and now just required the music cutting and splicing into one long track. I scoured the yellow pages for somebody that could do this but came up short. I was presumably not looking in the right section and again asked Michael where the other strippers procured such a facility. He told me that a stripper he knew owed him a favour and was able to produce his own disks. He would call him and let me know if he could help.
In due course Michael called me to tell me that the favour had been procured. I was soon on the way to Brighton to meet Mr Multiface.
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Mr Multiface agree to meet me at the station and by way of mobile communication we were able to find each other without difficulty. ‘You must be Marvelous’ a voice bellowed from a clapped out old banger. Mr Multiface shoutedly explained that his old diesel helped him cover the many miles required of his profession as cheaply as possible.
This was in stark contrast to my ride. I was still driving the Impreza Turbo I had purchased brand new for cash, nearly three years before. It was arguably the best £22,000 I had ever spent. I researched every car on the marketplace before buying and discovered that there was a four door saloon that could genuinely eat a Ferrari for just over twenty grand. I found it hard to believe at first, but after being scared witless on a test drive, I was an immediate convert and ordered one.
It took six months to arrive from Japan and I had to go and pick it up in Norwich. I had been taunting my friends mercilessly for months about the supercar I had ordered (they didn’t know what it was, few people did at the time). As a began driving it back from Norwich with only seven miles on the clock and looking at that big wing in the rear view mirror, a smile spread across my face and I again got that amazing feeling of independence for only the second time (the first being when I moved into my own flat for the first time).
I tormented friends for month. They didn’t believe the capability of the car, although they became instant converts once they got in it. It provided me with hours and hours of entertainment, never broke down and was amazingly comfortable on long journeys. However, it wasn’t the cheapest car to run. My insurance premium for the first year was in excess of £2000 and petrol consumption was high. It once did a mere eight to the gallon (although not with me driving I might add – the culprit was Adam my racing driver friend) and even on the motorway it only did around 25 to the gallon taking it fairly easy. Servicing was regular and relatively expensive compared to an average family saloon. It was therefore not the most suitable car in which to eek out a stripping career.
Mr Multiface didn’t so much talk to me, but more shout at me in showbiz speak. It was as if his stage persona and the real him had been intrinsically linked; they had metamorphosed into one.
He drove me to his parents’ rather large and expensive lair in Brighton. In his bedroom he very graciously mixed my music for me like a professional DJ, suggesting alterations to me as we went (such as cutting out the quiet sections). Posters adorned the room, invariably with Multiface in them, pictured with two or three other stripped to the waist young men. I was analysing his physique, as I am often prone to do. He seemed to be holding a lot of water, no doubt a side effect of steroid usage. He was short, considerably shorter than me (at 5 foot 9 I’m not that tall), but he was quite stocky. Looking at the photos he looked like his physique had seen better days, but that could simply have been down to steroidal cycles.
I tried to engage him in conversation about the brave new world I was entering, but he was pretty unforthcoming, dismissing most questions with bellows and theatrical gestures. He enquired whether I had abs underneath my jumper. Yes, I said and for the one and only time he dropped the stage persona and said that in that case I wouldn’t have anything to worry about.
Mr Multiface completed the work on my music for me in between taking phone calls for a new venture he was starting called the Aphrodite occasion (naturally he had reverted back to the stage persona by now). Apparently it was a ladies night he was promoting in partnership with a drag queen. Mummy was floating the initial capital required, as apparently it involved hiring the venue for a number of weeks and link ups with catering companies. Looking around I was fairly confident mummy could afford it and it wasn’t too much of a surprise when I was later told that Mr Multiface was a failed public schoolboy actor.
Michael had told me to get a copy of the music on mini-disc, as well as CD. Apparently, an increasing number of venues were using mini-disc. This turned out to be completely fallacio
us. Instead a couple of drag queens were only able to play mini-discs on their PA systems and were insistent that strippers bring mini-disc.
Mr Multiface was unable to assist with the mini-disc and the yellow pages again bore no fruit. I didn’t and still don’t know anyone with a mini disc player or recorder, so Michael this time sent me to see one of the afore mentioned drag queens. I spoke to Sissy Bells on the phone to arrange the meeting. He came across as one of those stereotypical, gay Larry Grayson types, camp voice and all. The meeting was set and the next night I was driving into Kent.
Michael was also keen for me to meet Sissy Bells because he apparently organized a lot of ladies nights and was on the look out for some good new strippers. I was met at the door by a gruff Scotsman, called Jason (Sissy’s partner). When Bells finally came down the stairs after making me wait for about 10 minutes, he continued to fill/ play the Larry Grayson role with bells on. A drag queen may well be a man who dresses up as a woman, but Bells also fitted the description of drama queen.