Good In Bed

by Bromberg, K

  The woman stood, blue eyes behind gold-rimmed spectacles. Her face was a bit plump. She could have been anybody’s mother. She held her hand out and I crossed the room, remembering my manners. As we clasped palms she looked me straight in the eye, narrowed her own, and combed over my entire body as if I were a rack of ribs.

  “Louise Erhardt,” she said.

  “Sam Hinton.”

  She thumbed toward the guys. “That’s Aaron and Jack.” They both nodded, one of them grunting. I did the same. “Did Liam explain to you what we do here?” she asked, looking at me with a cagey expression.

  I just shrugged. “He just said that this might be a good gig for me.”

  “You comfortable with undressing?” she asked. One of the guys snickered.

  That made me stop cold. “Undressing?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll bet, in the right uniform, and under the right circumstances, you’ve got what it takes.”

  “What it takes?” I was regretting those beers. The room was a little too... something.

  “What it takes to make three hundred a night for about... five hours work.”

  “If you’ve got a gig that pays three hundred a night for five hours work, I’ll make sure I’ve got what it takes,” I replied.

  Holy shit! Three hundred bucks a night? I could work two nights a week and be fine, and the rest of my time would be saved for music.

  “But... what is this?” I asked, wary and looking around, Aaron and Jack smothering their smiles in their hands.

  Suddenly, two guys walked around the corner, both dressed in cop uniforms. In one fluid motion, one of the guys reached up to his collar and pulled down viciously, the entire outfit separating into two parts, neck to ankle, along velcroed seams. He stepped nimbly, almost delicately, out of the fabric and stood there in only a shining blue g-string and the hat on his head.

  Louise pointed. “That’s what the gig does.”

  “Stripping?” I choked out.

  The two pseudo-cops and the guys on the couch started laughing, a low gravelly sound. They weren’t making fun of me.

  Aha. So this was why I was here for a job interview at four in the morning – these were the hours. I took an extra good look at the cop who hadn’t stripped down, the rim of his hat bent over his face, and I groaned.

  “Goddammit, Liam! Why didn’t you just tell me what this was?”

  He threw the hat on the couch and burst out laughing, golden hair more caked with sweat than mine had been. He crossed his arms over his chest, the fake gold badge on his shirt brushing against his forearm, and he said, “’Cuz in a million years I never imagined you’d actually come and try this out.”

  “For three hundred bucks a night? I’ll try out damn near anything.” And then I frowned. “Wait a minute,” I mumbled. I looked at Louise. “It’s just stripping, right?”

  The guy standing there in the shining g-string, looking like a very hot version of Borat, said, “That part is up to you. Some of us,” he mulled over his answer, “let opportunity dictate how much we make.”

  “He means that some guys will take the extras that women offer,” Liam said bluntly.

  Louise pretended not to notice the conversation and began shuffling some folders. I was starting to get the point. “How does this work?” I asked.

  She said, “You need to audition.”

  “Audition?” I choked out.

  Liam mugged, his blue eyes sparkling. “We all have to do it,” he said.

  “Do I get a chance to practice?”

  “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, 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 without that.”

  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 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 an elaborate practical joke? Is there a camera here?”

  “The only camera here is the one that’ll 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. “Not literally. Could you imagine? I’d fucking die if my mom saw me like this. Most of these things are parties for 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 most of the money comes from. Our pay from Louise is an afterthought.”

  “You don’t have to do anything with anyone, do you?”

  “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, med school, or join Dad at the car dealership.”

  I snickered. I couldn’t help it, and then put my hand over my mouth. “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?”

  One eyebrow cocked.

  “Down in terms of clothing.”

  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, grabbing my ass? Seven hundred a week vs. ass grabbing.

  Seven hundred a week.

  Ass grabbing.

  For seven hundred a week.

  Seven hu
ndred a week won.

  “What do I need to do?” I said, in a louder voice, turning to Louise.

  She docked her phone 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 going to strip 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 thinking.

  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.

  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 his face, pointed and then winked. The guys all guffawed. 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-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.

  Louise just shook her head. “If you can be that jaunty with the women, then you’ve got a job, but if you’re just playing it up to the men, then we might have an issue. There’s a whole separate division where we have male strippers for men.”

  “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. “If the women touch you, it’s fine. You touch a woman without her consent, you’re out of here. 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 me to the pile of clothes out the couch. Without asking or being asked, he 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?”

  “The women your mom’s age,” she said tersely. “The ones who want to fuck you.”

  Your mom and want to fuck you are two phrases that should never, ever be in the same sentence.

  Even Liam went somber. I pulled my new work uniform with me into the bathroom, nearly breaking the g-string when I accidentally put both legs into the same hole. And then—

  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?”

  He shrugged. “After a while, she’ll trust you, too. Just do a good job.”

  My mind was still reeling. “You really do this. For real. For real?”

  “It pays well,” he said blandly, matter-of-factly collecting his stuff so he could lock up. “The women have fun, and so what if I happen to get half naked to make a pile of money.”

  “More like 95 percent naked,” I argued, picking at the string. Women wear these willingly? I felt like this was a form of torture.

  $700 a week for two nights, I reminded myself. I decided to learn to deal with the ass flossing.

  I quickly changed back into my own clothes and we left, Liam obviously comfortable with the building and the neighborhood.

  “Need a ride?” He pointed to his car, parked in a spot reserved for the building.

  Never turn down a free ride at five in the morning. “Hell yes. Trevor and Joe’s.”

  “I know where you live.” He rolled his eyes and started to say something, then finally did. “You and Amy...?”

  “Me and Amy what?”

  “You guys hook up?”

  “Yep.”

&
nbsp; A funny look, like nostalgia and regret mixed with happiness and relief, crossed his face. “Good.”

  “Your approval means so much to me.”

  “Fuck off. You were such a douche to her.”

  “No shit.” Like I needed that thrown in my face after the night I’d just experienced.

  “I know you know, but I don’t think you really understand what you did to her.” Liam’s voice was tight and his knuckles were white against the steering wheel. What the fuck was this about?

  “Why are you butting in on this?” I asked. A simmer was starting in me and I didn’t like it.

  “Because she has been my friend since, like, forever. Since we were little kids.”

  And then I remembered. His dad lived next to Amy. Liam had gone to my school but spent a lot of time with his dad. My turn to get tense.

  “She talked about me with you?”

  He cleared his throat. “Something like that.”

  What did that mean?

  The car came to a halt at the intersection near Joe and Trevor’s. Our friendliness had shifted into a guarded tension I didn’t like. I grabbed the costume and got out.

  “Thanks,” I said, bending down and waving through the closed window.

  “No prob,” he said without making eye contact. The twin red glowing eyes of his rear lights stayed in my eyesight like a visual echo, long after he was gone.

  The walk to the apartment felt like I carried blocks of concrete in my knees.

  Even though I scored the job, I still needed to make some money over the next few weeks before the first paycheck would come in. Tips would help, sure, but right now, I needed cash in hand.

  A few days earlier, before I’d imagined I’d be interviewed and hired like this, I’d found a labor gig on Craigslist. You could go on there and find just about anything that would pay you on the spot. I stayed away from the illegal and the illicit, although the irony that I’d just secured a stable job as a stripper wasn’t beyond me.

  If you had strong arms and weren’t afraid to take a few risks, you could go on Craigslist and find somebody who needed a couple of guys and a truck, and would pay you twenty, fifty, one-hundred bucks on the spot. Plus lunch, if I was lucky.

  I didn’t have a truck, but I had strong arms. More importantly, I had a cell phone bill to pay, and this pesky little thing called hunger.