Working the Late Shift

By Carl Barnes, Portland

The stale smell of cigarette smoke and moist air breathed by hundreds of men greets me as I arrive for my shift. My friends find humor in my references to "my shift" and "the night job," but for me stripping was as much a "real job" as the work they do. I checked the clock, and saw that I was about fifteen minutes early. No problem. That gave me time to unpack my bag and decide what outfits to put on that look better coming off.

As always, the good lockers had other guy's stuff in them. It bugged me that they left there stuff there all week, hogging good locker space when I try to be considerate and take my things home at the end of the night. Of course, I also did this so that my outfits wouldn't turn up missing next time I arrived. I also had to remember that many of the dancers couldn't take their stuff home, because they didn't HAVE homes.

Thank god this wasn't a career. I dumped my overstuffed bag onto the counter. Pulling out my favorite g-strings, I discovered a couple of wadded one dollar bills I had missed from the week before. This was good: it had been a long week at work (my day job), and starting the night with a little money always lifted my mood.

I shucked off my shirt and pants, placing them neatly at the bottom of the broken locker to protect them from the smell of smoke and sweat that permeated everything by the end of the night. Greg, the manager came down the stairs on his way to the office and paused to give me quick up-and-down look. Mostly down. I couldn't tell if he liked me because of my legs, my package, or because I took the job seriously, showing up on time and staying sober through the whole shift. Probably a little of all three.

"You ready for a great night?" he asked.

"Always!" I replied, mustering as much enthusiasm as I could after putting in 45 hours that week in the office. I was tired, but after a couple capsules of my bodybuilding stimulants and my first number, I'd be fine.

Kurt and Steve arrived a few minutes later, discussing how wasted James had gotten at the party the night before. This usually meant that James would be arriving an hour late for his shift, and we'd have to shift the dance schedule around to work him in. I threw my leg up on the counter, mostly to stretch to limber up, but also to give Kurt and Steve something to look at. Which they always did.

Upstairs the music suddenly jumped up about 40 decibels, which meant that Dave, the half-deaf DJ had arrived. I said a quick prayer that he wasn't in one of his MOODS, or I'd be trying to strip to Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band again. I'm pretty resourceful, but some music is just NOT usable. I responded to that little stunt by stiffing him on his tip, which had set up a cycle of lousy music and no tips that I HOPED would end soon.

I volunteered to dance first. It had been almost a month since I opened, and I was about due. "Human sacrifice" was the term, since the crowd didn't seem to warm up and start tipping until the second performer came on. I threw on my side-slit cutoffs and tank top and went upstairs to work the crowd before I had to go onstage. If a couple of my regulars were there, my first set might not be a total loss, but I'd have to get their attention first.

I browsed through my bag evaluating the costumes I had brought. Leather boy, construction worker, cowboy...God, I thought, I almost have all the Village People in here!

"Um...Hi!" an unfamiliar voice behind me said.

I turned around to lay eyes on a delightfully nervous muscleboy.

"I'm Rick...Greg said to come down here and meet you guys?"

Kurt and Steve gave him the quick once-over, and, satisfied that Rick wouldn't horn in on Kurt's blond surferboy or Steve's preppy theme, said "Hi" and went back to their conversation.

"Hi Rick, I'm Carl. You done this before?"

"Um, no, I haven't," he said nervously.

I smiled. "No sweat! You'll do fine. Pick a locker and get dressed for your first night." Rick opened the locker next to mine and stripped, revealing a crisp, tightly packed musculature. Very nice ass too.

I had an idea. "Say Rick, you want to do the first set together? It's usually pretty slow."

Rick seemed relieved at the idea. "That'd be great! Then you can show me how it works."

I thought to myself, "Oh, I'll show you how it works alright!" but I held my tongue. "What kind of 'theme' do you want to go for?"

"Well, I don't have much..." he replied nervously. A quick glance showed he had a couple g-strings but nothing much by way of costuming.

"Well, I have some extra things, if you don't mind wearing a collar and a jock strap." He looked like he might get into the submissive role, and I was testing the waters.

"Sure! Sounds fun!" Rick replied. Like a nervous stray puppy, he was eager for a little affection. Fuck, he was HOT too!

"Ok", I said, handing him the leather collar and the jock, "Lemme go talk to the DJ about our music."

I threw on some pants and headed upstairs with some cash. Our little spat was going to end NOW with a bribe. I could care less about my music, but I wanted something good to work this kid over on stage, and I wanted HIM to have a good experience. "Ok, here's five bucks. I'm dancing with he new guy, and I want 'Under Pressure' by Freddie Mercury and David Bowie. Disc two, song #8 of the David Bowie collection. It that ok?"

David smiled, took my money and replied, "Ok!"

I hopped back downstairs and put on my top harness, leather jock, boots and gloves. "So, how rough do you like it?" I asked Rick playfully.

Rick got this delightful twinkle in his eye and said, "Don't you threaten ME with a good time!"

I broke into a broad, wicked grin and pulled out my flogger and handcuffs. This was going to be fun, and really wake up the early crowd.

NO BIO AVAILABLE.