Toria

As I stand in line, I am distracted by my mind replaying the events that led me here, each one a specific private frame.

It had been a long day, where it seemed that everything that could possibly go wrong did go wrong. Specifically, though, it was catching the wrong train after leaving a very important and long-awaited job interview -- which I completely blew -- that had led me to this unfamiliar part of town. 

Distracted by my feelings of self-pity, I recalled the cognitive pleads for the world to just open up and consume me. I felt as gloomy as the shitty, drizzly weather that I had been plodding along in for the best part of an hour, on the way back to the train station. I hated that drizzle, that tease. It was like waiting for a consuming storm that would never come and break. It's the same feeling I've had lately, waiting for something, but it was shapeless, just out of reach.

That was when it seemed my prayers were answered by a small and mysterious sandwich board, which I almost tripped over as I walked along the old paved street. Reading the sprawling writing chalked onto it which promised “The most fun you’ll have in the dark”, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to disappear into the darkness and escape reality, even momentarily. Lured in, I entered into a dim, smoke-filled room, and joined the small queue of females already waiting in line. 

“Just the one?” The voice, startling me, snapping me back to reality. I had been so consumed in my thoughts that I had not noticed the line had progressed though, leaving me at the front. Looking with wide eyes at the clerk behind the counter, I finally spoke. 

"What is this place?” I finally managed to stammer out, looking around in a complete daze.

“Ahh... you’re a virgin, hey? Don’t worry, you’ll love it,” the clerk playfully commented with an accompanying wink, the glint in his eyes seeming to promise that I wouldn't be disappointed.

I felt myself hit the internal panic button... what was I getting myself into?  

“$30 please,” the clerk continued as I fumbled for my purse and handed over the cash. As quick as a flash, I was receiving my stamp and being ushered through to an adjoining room. 

Upon entering, the previously dull buzz of music quickly changed to loud, pounding beats, something more primal. I could feel my chest thumping to the beat. I could barely hear myself think, and to be honest, that was exactly what I needed. Stepping further into the darkness, I become just another shadowy figure in the anonymous surroundings; a sense of relief washed over me. It was beyond comforting, suddenly knowing there was a tangible place I could slip away into and just forget. Just exist, untethered. 

Allowing for my eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, I slowly shuffled over to the crowded bar and was quickly greeted by a young, tanned bartender. Although I could only see to just above his hip height, he did not seem to be wearing much more than a bowtie, a six-pack, and a smile which was laminated neon-white in the venue’s black-light glow. 

“What can I get you, darlin'?” he shouted over the musical typhoon raining down on our ears. 

Still slightly stunned by the sight of this cute, topless bartender standing before my eyes, I could only respond with something like, “The strongest drink you’ve got!”

His perfect lips parted, he chuckled and quipped, “Ahh, a little liquid courage, hey?” sealing the comment with a cheeky wink. 

If only he knew... 

I was quickly realising what this place was – a male strip show! Again, my internal panic button was being activated. This was so not my kind of place. Standing in one spot sipping my cocktail and tapping my index finger on the glass, I found myself wondering whether I should bail out and go home, or bite the bullet and stay in hopes of the escape I was chasing. 

After a few minutes contemplating my options, I decided on the latter and began looking for a vacant seat as a bright strobe light panned out over the rows of chairs. The rows were filling up quickly and only a handful of seats were left. I locked my eyes onto one as far back from the stage as possible and made my way over to that chair.  

Just as I got to the seat, a tiny petite redhead no older than eighteen swooped in and planted her butt firmly in the chair, chirping out, “Sorry, this seat is taken.” 

I looked at her with disbelief. Completely gobsmacked, I remained standing there until I became uncomfortably aware of the look of utter disgust I was receiving from the lady seated behind the redhead. I shot her a very uncomfortable look, which apparently prompted her rude and snarky comment: “Uh, move! The show is going to start soon and I sure as hell didn’t pay to see you blocking my view of the man-candy, you stupid oaf!” The comment stung like a slap across the face on an icy winter morning. 

Instinctively, I bobbed down and began pleading with the redhead for the seat. She continued to point out the spare seat in the front row. No matter how much I protested and insisted that I could not possibly sit in the front row, especially for my first ‘strip show’ encounter, my pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

An announcement crackled over the speakers and the music changed, informing the eagerly awaiting crowd that the show would begin in two minutes. In a panic, I decided I was fighting a losing battle for the seat, and time was against me. Determined not to have to sit in the front row or draw unwanted attention to myself as the only person standing when the show began, I stood tall and looked for any other seat. Just my luck, the show was sold out and at capacity. That dreaded front seat was the only seat left! At that moment, I would have preferred to sit on a nest of fire ants. 

But maybe it was supposed to happen. I don't really believe in unseen things like fate because they negate our ability to choose. But I do think the world churns and twists and lines up in certain ways to present us with something, a path illuminated just enough for us to drift towards it. And it felt right.

Reluctantly, I made my way over and sat down, defeated. As I settled in, I looked back over my shoulder, and in the light thrown from the stage, I could just see the redhead mouth “You’ll love it,” followed by a swift wink of one bright green eye.  A crash of music caused me to snap my head around to face the stage as a middle-aged male with a microphone began strutting across the stage, oozing authority. He was wearing tight blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt which strained against his biceps, shoulders and chest. He was in great shape. Taking his place on the stage, he introduced himself as “Jimmy Long-Johnson”. The crowd laughed and cheered. 

Jimmy briefed the crowd on the rules of the night and instructed the crowd that they could touch the men if they handled the ‘packages’ with care. After a few more saucy jokes and teasing banter, Jimmy began introducing the “Stars of the Show”. One by one, the strippers appeared on stage as called, flaunting their own enticing dance moves to please and tease the rowdy bunch of ladies before them. 

Each of the men seemed to have his own witty sexual reference in his name – like “Brendan Bones”, “Damian Dickins”, and “Ab-King Alex”. It was not until the second-to-last performer came bounding onto the stage, however, that my interest was piqued. His name rang out from the speakers once but continued echoing in my head for what seemed like an eternity: “Corbin Cocker”. 

Corbin lively danced around onstage, showcasing his impeccable tanned body. By appearance, Corbin was one of the younger ones onstage – he looked about the same age as me – presumably in his early twenties. Scanning my eyes across the line-up of performers who were basking in the coos and wolf-whistles being hurled at them from the unruly and horny crowd, I looked for any differences in costume. I noted Corbin was wearing the shade of blue, visibly ‘worn-in’ jeans, the same unbuttoned red chequered shirt, and the same matching brown cowboy boots and hat as the other men... So why couldn’t I pry my eyes away from him? My god, he was perfection.

On cue, Jimmy exited the stage as Wild West music erupted out from the speakers and the men moved into position to begin their first routine. To me, the routine itself was a blur. In my peripheral vision, I could see the other dancers presenting their bodies and pretending their scantily-clad, bulging cocks were guns to shoot out into the crowd, as my eyes were fixed on Corbin, who was moving effortlessly around the stage, radiating energy and genuine enjoyment. 

As the routine finished, all but three men – Corbin and two others – walked off stage. Corbin and the two others then descended from the stage and disbursed into the crowd to pick out one willing participant each to accompany them back onto the stage. As Corbin passed me, I felt myself suck in a deep breath of air through my nose. His masculine scent filled my nostrils, coursing though my body like an injection of heroin. Our eyes met as he passed me. They were the most mesmerising shade of aquamarine I have ever seen. I let out a breath of relief as he – and the perceived threat of being dragged onstage – passed by. This brief encounter was enough to begin moistening my most intimate depths. 

The men moved back onstage with their willing victims in tow and smoothly executed their raunchy routine. They guided each lady’s eager hands down their smooth-skinned chests and abs in perfect synchronisation. The two more daring girls continued this journey on, slipping their hands into the band of underwear worn by each of the men. Soon the men were flinging their ladies around like ragdolls, swiftly moving their partners into unique positions and simulating various sexual acts whilst lying on the floor. Two men pounded their groins into their partner's crotch – one in doggy-style and the other in missionary... and then Corbin, lying on the floor with his head between his chosen audience member's legs, simulated oral sex on her though her jeans. I felt a sharp ‘pang’ deep down below and suddenly wished it had been me that he had chosen. It was a longing I hadn't felt in quite some time, pure and unrelenting.

The performers were providing a steady stream of dances, as they all took turns taking the stage so they could get changed in between their acts. I could feel myself becoming less anxious about where I was as the night progressed and each dance act played out.  My thoughts had seemed to only get steamier throughout the night, with each delicious cocktail I consumed. I was sure he would be able to pick up on the very naughty thoughts that I was having about him. As I again made eye contact with Corbin, I quickly diverted my eyes, feeling guilty and cautious not to give away the secrets of the fantasy currently unravelling in my mind.  I made the decision then that I would avoid all eye contact with him for the rest of the night – I couldn’t handle the embarrassment and shame of knowing my thoughts. 

The next performance did not involve Corbin. Despite my best efforts, I was finding myself bored with the other performers – I only wanted Corbin. Compensating for this lack of Corbin, I let myself slip back into my own imagination, where there was one VIP invite, sealed with a kiss, for Corbin to join me there. Ironically, “in my dreams” would be the only place I would get to be alone with someone as perfect as Corbin. 

The music dropped down to a calmer, quieter beat and Jimmy’s voice returned to the speakers, withdrawing me from my imagination.  Apparently, I had missed the last couple of acts while taking the journey into the depths of my imagination. Jimmy again called out each of the performers to take their bow and receive their showering of applause, before ending the show by giving thanks to the audience for attending and being a “great audience” and sending the performers offstage. 

As the rows of chairs cleared out with the ladies either leaving or making their way to the bar, I remained seated, planning to wait for the stampeding crowd to thin out a little. Gauging that enough people had cleared out, I decided I would stay around for a couple more drinks before calling a taxi to take me home. 

With plans of making my way to the bar, I stood up too quickly. As quickly as I stood up, the blood rush from standing so quickly made my head spin and caused me to stumble, a dizzying mix of vertigo and cocktail. Before I could steady myself back down into my seat with the feeling of passing out, my upper body was snugly enveloped in mid-air by a warm presence. I felt the warm presence gently guiding me backwards until I was sitting sideways in a slouched position, being held comfortably tight in strong arms. Looking up, my eyes locked onto a piercing set of sexy blue eyes.

Corbin. I think to myself, Couldn’t anyone else but Corbin have caught me?! Despite my embarrassment, I found myself wondering if a naughty encounter with Corbin would have the same head-spinning effect...