The show continues and when it comes to the last number, I know Malcolm is due back up on stage. The opening theme song from The Avengers comes on, while a replica of the logo is proected onto screens around the room. On stage is a pretty good replica – at least, the stripper version – of Iron Man. There is also a shirtless Thor and a Captain America, as well as a shirtless Malcolm, painted green like the Incredible Hulk.
My eyes go wide and I gasp, before quickly covering my mouth.
My mind goes back to the conversation we had about our not-hot celebrity crushes and I begin to giggle. When Deena looks over at me, she seems confused but quickly turns her attention back to the stage where the “Stripper Avengers” slowly begin to remove their clothes. There are even some makeshift props on the stage that Malcolm – a.k.a The Hulk! – smashes, which is entertaining.
Then, as the other Avengers begin going into the crowd, I see Malcolm is still up on stage. He slowly removes his belt, then bends at the waist, grabs his pants and tears them away, as some in the audience yell, “Smash!” With his eyes on me, he smiles and then makes his way down to the floor wearing only purple briefs.
All the guys climb atop one of the tables placed throughout the room and continue their hip thrusting and dancing. Malcolm is standing on a table close to us, and Jacks is on the table where Deena and I are seated.
This is definitely not what I was expecting tonight.
That sneaky bastard!
Malcolm
I have been choreographing the routine for an Avengers-themed number since the day she mentioned Mark Ruffalo as the Hulk. The guys thought a part of me was insane when I first brought up the concept, but when I explained to them that women secretly like to flock to superhero movies to see their crushes in tights, they understood where I was going with it. We have worked on the routine for weeks and tonight’s unveiling will be perfect. The audience will love it and it just so happened to be the one performance that I really want Beck to watch.
The moment the DJ cues up our music, knowing my girl is in the audience, is exciting and a little nerve-wracking. I watch the expression on her face as she takes in all of us. I see the moment she puts two and two together, remembering the conversation we’d had when we first began dating. I see the laughter in her eyes as Jacks takes his Captain America shield and rolls it against his hips. When she looks over to Micah, he uses Thor’s hammer to bring down the thunder. I see all the laughter turn into seriousness and lust when she zeroes in on me. Her eyes take in my skin painted green, my old pirate shirt tied at the back to make it look like I am bulging through it, and my brown, cut-off slacks. Knowing I have her full attention, I grip at the sides and tear the pants away as women in the audience yelled “Hulk Smash!”
I stand proudly in my purple briefs with my eyes on the prize, and my prize looks at me like I am her last meal with her lower lip in between her teeth.
***
Beck, Jacks and I have plans to hold an early morning breakfast meeting to discuss business stuff, along with our exit plan regarding Exposed Men will be like for the next few months until we open. We need to be upfront and honest with the company that took a chance on two foreigners, especially now that we are leaving together. We need a solid timeline to make sure we don’t fuck ourselves, or the brand we are building. We need to make sure that we amend the business plan to include specifics about what Beck will bring to the table. We’re grateful for it and I want to be sure she gets full credit. For the last month, she has taken her new job seriously and has been researching the entertainment business fiercely. I let her borrow the books I used to do my research. I’d gathered them for myself because it would be near impossible to start up a club like this based on having the stage experience alone.
“So this may sound like a really dumb question, but how do we go about hiring? Do you guys interview? Do you just hold auditions? How does it go?” Beck asks innocently as I kiss behind her ear.
“We’ll hold open auditions. Once we pick a bunch of girls and guys who can dance, we’ll interview them to see who might be the best fit and then select those who we want on our lineup. They’ll be hired by the company and not as independent contractors like in standard strip clubs. Since we’re a coed revue, the plan is to have those faces be exclusive to our club.”
“And does this club have a name?”
“The Essentials.” Jacks smiles.
“The Essentials?” she questions.
“Like, we have all the essentials covered,” I say, as further explanation.
“Okay. Next question I have is what is a club dime?”
I start to choke on the juice I just tried to swallow. While Beck slaps my back, I wipe away the juice that dribbled out of my mouth. Proud of her for doing her research, even if she did catch me off guard.
“In the industry, a club dime is an individual who is one of two things, either your dancer who pulls a lot of private dances or one of your most attractive. They are the people who leave the biggest impressions on customers and bring in repeat business. We hope to have all our dancers embody the club dime type,” Jacks explains with a smile. “You been reading up on stripping, love?”
“Mal loaned me some books, plus I’ve read things on the Internet. And I may have watched some movies since we began dating.” She shrugs.
“Movies?”
“Striptease, Flashdance, Magic Mike, Showgirls, Full Monty – you know, all the standard stripper-themed movies,” she says casually.
“So, we need to discuss the plan for the remainder of our time at Exposed Men,” I say, bringing us back on subject and smiling proudly.
“Right. Right. So I’m silent,” Jacks says, as he leans back in his chair as if to take himself out of the conversation.
“Technically, while you’re silent, you won’t be at the club. But even before it opens, you’ll be at the club, you’ll be putting in hours and doing stuff there, not just giving Mal money,” explains Beck.
“Okay, so I’m not silent once we begin, but leading up, I’m silent. Man, you sure did read up on all this!” Jacks laughs slapping the table.
“I wanted to know what I was getting into.” Her smile reflects pride in her job well done.
I move on to another topic. “So, next week I have contractors building out a new stage and adding tiled floors that don’t belong in the 1970’s.”
“What’s that costing us?” Jacks asks, gripping his pen.
“It won’t break the bank by any means. I have a neighbor hooking it up.”
“We need to set out a timeline of what we’re planning. I want the last month leading up to the opening to be focused on publicity.”
“I can take that on,” Beck chimes in. “I have some contacts with newspapers and the local news.”
“I once hooked up with a blogger; she and I are on good terms still,” Jacks adds.
“As long as it’s not negative or personal, we’ll take whatever we can get.”
“I can look into marketing materials. Deena is a graphic designer. I will set something up with her for next week. I just need to know both your schedules so I don’t schedule something with her when you guys have rehearsal or a show,” Beck says before sipping her coffee.
“My time is the same as Mal’s. Mondays are the best, I like the ideas of a whole work week happening, so we don’t lose any steam with a weekend in the middle of when we start. But wait, refresh my memory here, who is Deena? Do I know her?”
“Deena is Beck’s best friend, the one who invited me to her wedding and got me in the good graces of my girl, here. And remember the ice luge night?” Mal answers.
We all see the light bulb go on over Jacks’s head. “Oh, yeah. So she’s not just a work friend, she’s your mate,” Jacks acknowledges and Beck nods.
Planning flows easily for the three of us as we all make plans for the next few months, including tentative plans for the final month, along with ending our employment at Exposed Men. I am planning to end my employment ther
e sooner rather than later, so I can focus on the new club and spend more time with Beck. I also want to take Beck away for a weekend or maybe longer depending on our schedules and the last of the planning.
Chapter 13
Rebeckha
I am wearing a light floral dress with sandals, my hair is curled and I have a dusting touch of makeup on my face. I toy with the silver rose pendant that hangs on a chain around my neck as I anxiously wait for my mother to join me for lunch. I’m not particularly excited about seeing her, but we have a standing monthly lunch date that we’ve kept for as long as I can remember. Since I’ve canceled on her the last two months because I’ve been so busy getting my side of the business started with Malcolm and Jacks, I figure there’s no avoiding it this time.
As I wait, my mind drifts back to this morning.
I’ve observed Mal taking his clothes off now numerous times since we’ve been together. He doesn’t know that I watch him undress every chance I get and, honestly, I have no intention to let on that I do. When he removes his clothes, he works it, he makes every move count. It’s a precise technique that he uses to remove each article of clothing.
An art form.
One he has mastered.
I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it and I can guarantee, as I watch him, that he doesn’t know just how turned on it gets me.
Warmth floods me as I sink into the mmeories until a cold and clammy hand rests on my bare shoulder. My mother’s signature scent – Elizabeth Taylor’s Diamonds – floods my olfactory receptors and my stomach curdles. It’s not the fragrance that gets me, it’s more that I associate it with her attitude overall.
“Hey, Mom.” I smile as she sits down opposite me at the table.
“Hello, dear. Have you ordered yet? It looks like you’ve had a few drinks. You look flushed.”
I pat my cheeks and remember why, feeling only mildly embarrassed.
“No, I wanted to wait for you.”
“Then why are your cheeks so rosy?”
“It’s been an exhausting few months,” I answer, unsure if I want to discuss all the reasons with her. I’m not sure whether she will shun me or merely talk down to me about my choices. Just like I chose to accept Malcolm’s job in order to move forward with our relationship, perhaps my mother can learn as well.
“Job searching is that tiring?” she asks in a harsh tone. “You know, it’s not attractive to prospective employers to have gaps in your resume.”
“I actually have a job, Mom,” I say, lacking emotion.
Her demeanor perks up and she gives me a fake smile while leaning in. “And why is this the first I’m hearing of it? First, the news that you have a boyfriend is sprung on me at Deena’s wedding and now this?”
“Well, it’s not like I’m trying to hide anything from you deliberately, I’ve just been busy.”
“So you’ve said. So tell me about this job?” she inquires.
“Well, you met my boyfriend, Mal. He and I actually are working together now, he started a business and asked me to help with the logistics and office side.” I say.
“Oh my god! You’re not a stripper now, are you?” she says loudly before covering her mouth with both her hands.
“No, Mom, I’m not a stripper. And neither is Mal. Did you not just hear me? He started a business and I’m helping with the office side.” I say strongly, in attempt to quell my anger at her.”
“Bullshit. I saw him with my own two eyes. He takes off his clothes for money.”
I sigh, trying to gather my words and keep my wits together. “Mom. He’s a dancer, well, he was, but now he’s a business owner.”
“He’s a stripper,” she says with finality.
“Whatever,” I say brushing her off and picking up my menu, hiding behind it and taking a minute to diffuse my anger towards her. Her judgmental nature and her unwillingness to budge from her first impression of who he is makes me crazy.
“I thought I raised you to be a better person,” she says with disdain.
“Mom, I’m not a stripper. Malcolm is not a stripper either. I had the same preconceived notions when he and I began dating. I’ve learned that there’s a lot more that goes into being a dancer. He trains, he choreographs and he’s all business.”
“He. Takes. His. Clothes. Off. For. Money,” she seethes.
“Enough!” I slam my menu down on the table, startling her. “The waitress serves people over-priced food for money! The cab driver drives people around for money! I help manage a business for money! Everyone does something for money, Mom. It’s not your job to look down on others just because someone chooses one way of doing it over another!”
My mom is fuming, yet she knows that she just got a dose of her own medicine. I sit up in my seat, I’m as proud as she is silent. She stares at me as if trying to figure out her next move. Luckily, the waitress comes and takes our order and the attention off of me. We make small talk, mostly my mother speaking about her gardening club until the food comes and we eat in silence.
Once we’ve both finished our meals, my mom speaks again.
“So, your new job. Tell me about it.”
“I help run the business side, the administrative aspects of the entertainment industry.”
“And you work with your boyfriend?”
“I do. He’s not the behind-a-desk type, so he manages all the non-office elements.”
“So what does he do? Dance?” she asks, choosing her words carefully.
“No. He has stopped dancing. He now manages and choreographs.”
“So it’s a strip club?” she asks, her voice void of emotion.
“No, it’s a coed revue.”
“And you do not dance there?”
“No, Mom. I do everything that I would do at a standard business, plus more. I have a lot of creative freedom and obviously the ear of one of the partners.”
“What’s your title?”
“I haven’t created an official title.”
“If there’s as much freedom as you say there is, ‘office manager’ is too small of a title for you.”
“I’m stuck between Manager of Operations and something in Development.”
“You’re allowed to choose your own title?”
“I have free creative license over a lot of matters involving the business. I even got Deena some business as our graphic designer and desktop publisher.”
“What’s a desktop publisher?” She seems actually interested.
“It’s for print design. She converts the stuff for flyers and such into electronic versions as well for the website and anything intra-net and internet based,” I explain.
“So it’s become a bit of a family business?”
“You can say that.”
“And this Malcolm, is he the sole owner?”
“No, he has a partner and he has me.”
“You put money into this?” she asks.
“No, but Malcolm has made it clear that I’m his partner in this.”
“And what if you two break up?”
“Then if that ever happens, we cross that bridge.”
“Is he the one?”
“I do not want to jinx anything, but I’d like him to be.”
“How long have you been dating him?”
“Since a few weeks before Deena’s wedding.”
“So, roughly four months. Does he love you?”
“Yes.”
“Then just be careful. Relationships don’t always last forever,” my mom warns, then wipes her mouth and signals for the check.
***
We are officially fully-staffed now; we have male and female dancers and a full office staff. After that lunch with my mom, I spend the rest of my week elbow deep in paperwork. I can’t make heads or tails of the invoices that land on my desk and I’m feeling stressed because all the women we have hired have been putting their moves on Mal. He’s been letting them down easy when they make their advances, but I can’t help my insecurities from gettin
g the best of me. I know it’s something I need to work on, but Mal is an extremely handsome man, then he opens his mouth and shows off that accent.
Instant pantry drencher.
We haven’t formally announced to any of the new employees of the club that we are together, but with each passing day I want him to get it tattooed on his forehead. I’m coming face to face with all my insecurities and I’m not liking it. The women we’ve hired are gorgeous and graceful and everything that I’m not. This is just a job hazard that I wasn’t expecting. Meanwhile, Malcolm and I haven’t slowed down in our relationship; we are together more often than we are apart and he’s extremely attentive to me. I just watch these beautiful women flock to him now and it’s different than when he was on stage dancing. Those women knew he was unattainable as a performer. However, now he’s the boss and everyone wants to fuck their hot as sin boss. Except they don’t know that I already am.
Malcolm
“So, this is the stage?” Beck asks, as she walks up the steps and stands front and center. Her hands are on her hips as she surveys the area. “It’s bigger up here than it looks from the floor.”
“I suppose.” I nod, watching her move around the space. I use the control panel on my cell to turn up the lights, illuminating her from the back of the stage and some random spotlights. “How’s it look with the lights?” I ask her.
“Hard to make out your face on the floor but I know you’re there,” she says, walking to the edge of the stage.
“You look good up there.” I smile, imagining her naked. She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her phone, fumbles around with the screen and then I hear Beyoncé’s “Naughty Girl” playing. I stand and walk closer to the stage, to one of the chairs in the very front just next to the stairs.
She runs her hand up the length of her side to her neck until her fingers disappear into her hair. She pulls her hair out of its messy bun and shakes it out. She walks closer to the edge, one foot in front of the other in an exaggerated strut with her thumbs in her belt loops. She rolls her hips counter clockwise, then the other way around. Her hands rise to her sides and slowly move up her body. She lightly squeezes her breasts and then grabs the collar of her shirt and tries to pull it apart, to no avail. She gives up the battle of the threads and then with a smirk and a small shrug she crosses her arms across her chest, grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head. She tosses the shirt in my direction and slowly gets to her knees and makes a motion like she’s rocking her hips over my cock.
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