Strip Teaser (Naked Night's) (4 page)

I had fun at the gym with Sally this morning.  She's got a great sense of humor, she's attractive, and I just feel so comfortable in her company.  On tour artificial and over made up women constantly surround me. They say what they think we want to hear in order to get into our beds.  This isn't how I like my sex. I need a connection, not just some quick grope in a corridor or bathroom stall.  Luckily for many of our fans some of the guys are more than happy to oblige.

Tiny and I are the only ones who don't get drawn in.  Eric has the occasional dalliance, but at least he tends to choose the more normal amongst the fans.  Guido is such a whore; he really doesn't care who he beds.  I'm surprised his cock hasn't fallen off yet considering some of the places he's shoved it over the last year.  He seems to think that wrapping it will keep him safe.  I don't think he quite comprehends that baby oil and condoms don't actually mix well.  Still, that's his lesson to learn.

Jackal, Jonny and Rick aren't quite the man whores that Guido is, but they're not that far behind.

Aside from the lack of morals they're a good team to work with.  They show up for rehearsal on time, they pick up the moves I show them without too many mistakes, and we have a laugh together.  Off the stage they're pretty normal guys.

We've arrived at the theater for rehearsal.  It always feels weird being on stage in front of an empty auditorium. It feels kind of creepy.  Most of the theaters we play in are really old; they have a history of memories and I'm pretty sure some of them have the odd ghost as well.

I'm trying to work on a new routine before the guys join me on stage.  It's a solo I'll be doing whilst the rest of the guys do a costume change.  We quickly discovered the audience doesn't like gaps between performances.  It's the Christian Grey look again.  I come on stage in ripped faded denim jeans and a white shirt hanging loosely over the top of them.

I was too embarrassed to walk into a sex shop for the accessories I needed so I went online. All I can say is thank god Lovehoney deliver in plain cardboard boxes. The last thing I wanted was my post lady knowing what she was delivering. 

In one hand I'm holding a pair of shiny silver handcuffs, in the other I have a black and silver flogger. The metallic silver strands catch the light on stage when it moves.  They had a suede one or a rubber one as well, but this looked the most effective for the performance. 

The intro to
Snow Patrol "The Lightning Strike - What if this storm ends"
comes on and I start to move easily across the stage, more ballet style than anything.  How's that for attention to detail, not only did I buy the FSOG sex toys, I researched the playlist as well.  As the beat
increases and the singer stops, I toss the cuffs away and ease off my shirt, which I also discard. As the song moves on and the words come back I use the flogger, crossing my arm over my body I hit my shoulder with it, then switch to the other side.

There are hardly any words to the song; it's a much more visual experience than aural.  My moves are graceful; I'm trying my best to look hot and tortured. As the music slows and quiets I draw the flogger down my chest, sinking to my knees.  I've kept my jeans on, and done the routine bare chested.

I catch movement in the wings. It's Sally.  She's looking at me almost in awe.

"That was beautiful.,” she gasps.  "I've never heard that song before."

"Thanks. I'm not sure if I'll be able to use it in the show though."

"Why?" I forget Sally hasn't seen our show yet.  She'll understand soon enough. It's not the show as much as the audience that will be a problem.  "I'm not sure they'll like me keeping my trousers on." I answer her honestly.  Sally blushes.  For all her bravado she's actually quite shy.

"I guess that's why it wasn't what I was expecting. I didn't think you'd be a dancer." She starts to look embarrassed at her words. "I mean, well, I mean. Oh crap, I don't know how to say it."

I laugh to ease the situation. "It's okay, I know what you mean. You didn't expect us to be graceful perhaps?" I suggest.  Sally nods her head.

"Yeah. I think that's it.  I thought it would be heavy rock beats, tacky songs and you lot ripping your clothes off."  She's still blushing slightly. It looks good on her.

"It is with some groups, but Eric is happy for me to try some different stuff.  We can't all be Magic Mike."  I smile.  I confess to having watched the movie to see what all the fuss was about but hadn't been that enamored of it. The story line was too dark and depressing to go alongside the stripping action.

"Besides, this routine is to fill in after one of the strip ones and give the guys chance to change for the big finale.  I want to quieten it down a bit for the audience so they can really get all heated up again later."

"It's very sensual. I assume it's a play on Fifty Shades?" she questions, looking down at the ripped jeans and the flogger that's hanging carelessly in my hand.  When her eyes catch sight of the flogger there's a spark in her eye that's quickly extinguished.  I wonder.  I can't let my thoughts go there though. Eric would kill me.  He's told us all how important it is that Sally writes a positive series of articles about the tour.  We need the bookings.

I walk over to the rear of the stage to pick up my discarded shirt and the cuffs.  Sally's eyes are instantly drawn to the cuffs and that sparkle is back. Shit.  A flash of her with them fastened around those perfect wrists, securing her to my bed flashes through my head. I feel a stir in my pants as I think about what I could do to her, what I want to do to her. I'd love to go there but I daren't. Eric would have my balls for it.

What's that phrase that I read in that MC book the other day? Foo Foo Clenching. That's it.  Shit, I know exactly what it means now. Watching Alex on that stage sure as hell made my foo foo clench.  It was sensual and erotic.  I hope Eric let's him add the routine to the show, but perhaps he's right. Maybe it's too sensual and not lewd enough for the type of audience the Naked Night's will attract.

The guys aren't what I expected. Well, mostly.  Alex and Tiny are the total opposite of who and what I thought they'd be.  The other four are slightly more stereotypical with their fake tans and larger than life egos, yet most of the time they're pleasant and polite.

I'm still not comfortable around any of them. I'm not used to the company of men, who am I kidding, I'm not used to the company of anyone.  I'm so much a loner it's silly.  For all my
twenty-four years I'd be a crazy cat lady already if my landlord allowed pets.  Animals are so much simpler.  With people come expectations, disappointments and letdowns.  I don't need a man.  What use are they anyway.  They certainly aren't like the guys you read about in books. I'd love to experience book sex one day but I'm convinced it doesn't exist.  Instead my experiences consist of a quick fumble under the covers, a couple of grunts and groans from him then he turns over, farts and goes to sleep regardless of whether I'm satisfied or not.  Did I mention that's with the lights off? I'm too ashamed of my body to risk the lights on, and let's be honest; the naked male body sure as hell isn't very attractive. I much prefer men to keep their clothes on.  The Naked Night's do have some pretty impressive abs though; as long as they keep their boxers on we'll be fine.

I can hear Eric calling the rest of the guys to the stage for a full rehearsal.  They need to mark out positions and stuff like that. I know, they had all these technical words for it but it went straight over my head.  Grabbing my notebook and a stool I position myself in the wings, out of the way and start recording my thoughts as they run through their routine.  That's easier said than done when Alex comes on stage as my foo foo clenching starts all over again.  Down girl, down!

The show wasn't quite what I was expecting; then again do I know what that was really? I've watched The Full Monty and Magic Mike and even old videos of The Chippendales on YouTube.  This was classier than those. The guys can all dance, well most of them can. Guido does a good impression of it, but to my critical eye his timing was slightly off.  It didn't seem to be noticeable to the hyenas in the audience though.  That wasn't what I expected, it was worse, much, much worse.

Last night, hiding in the wings, I was ashamed to be female.  The audience was feral in
its behavior. Their language and suggestions were beyond crude.  Is there really a need to act that way? I've seen raucous hen parties but last night made them look like a church potluck in comparison.

It seemed to be the larger the girl the more outrageously she behaved.  Guido lapped it up.  He seemed to be the most popular member of the Night's at the meet and greet after the show.  I don't know where he sloped off to but he left the room several times, each time with a different fan in tow.  Either he doesn't know how to use his god given equipment or they weren't doing it for him as he always came back fairly quickly on his own.  I cringe at the memory. 

I'm not a prude.  I read erotic books for a start.  Okay, maybe I am, as I could never picture myself going off for a quickie with a male stripper I'd just met.  I may not be a fan of sex but I do believe there needs to be some sort of connection between me and the man I jump into bed with.  I'm exaggerating again. No one has ever jumped in my bed.  I've only had a couple of partners and neither of them was interested in more than a quick vanilla session before rolling over and taking the quilt with them.  In books the men all grunt and groan and use dirty language.  Does that happen in real life? I wouldn't know what a multiple orgasm was if it came and slapped me in the face to introduce itself, then again I wouldn't know what an orgasm from sex was either. 

Growing up sex wasn't something that was talked about in our house.  It was considered not just taboo but dirty as well. You've never seen a remote pointed so quickly at a TV screen as it was when a bedroom scene came on.  To make it worse I went to an all girls’ school.  No, not the plaid mini skirt and short white blouse all girls school. An all girls school full of bitchiness, laziness and a total lack of interest in education.  A couple of the teachers battled through the apathy for those of us who showed any aptitude, but it was obvious their soul wasn't in it any more.  I did okay at school, I was always top of the class, but I was woefully prepared for what came after. That first day walking into the college was a nightmare. I was the only one there from my school, the others deciding not to continue into further education.  I didn't recognize the kids I'd gone to junior school with anymore. It was as though those last five years apart from them had been spent in solitary. I came to college full of eager anticipation and left that first day full of disappointment. The lack of interest from my fellow pupils had kept me back in terms of education, and I discovered that I had zero social skills to go with my lack of knowledge.  It's possibly why I prefer working alone now. I quickly discovered what life feels like on the outside, realizing that it's safer to stay there than to try and become part of an established clique.

The five years I'd spent away from boys may as well have been fifty.  Even the ones I'd shared junior school with were strangers to me.  Suddenly it mattered not who you were but who your partner was. You were judged no longer on personality, but purely on pulling power.  This strange new world was too much for me and I retreated further into my shell.

Looking back I'd say both the men I'd slept with were immature.  The first took my virginity in a drunken one-night episode on a foreign holiday, mere hours after our first meeting. It was such an unforgettable experience I'm not sure it counted.  What should have been the sharing of something special turned into a quickie mistake.  Alcohol is not my friend. It imbibes a false confidence that leads people into embarrassing situations. You only have to look at the behavior at the staff Xmas party to see examples of it.

The second man flattered his way into my bed and my heart.  Looking back I wasn't in love with him. I was in love with the idea of being in love.  We settled into a boring and normal routine.  Yes I tried to spice things up from time to time buying beautiful french knickers and bra sets and even using the erotic novels I’ve read as reference material, but it was always in vain. I could have gone on forever, lost on that aimless track.  He proposed on my birthday. Well, what he thought was my birthday. Three years of being together and he couldn't even get the date of my birthday right.  He took me to a cheap Italian restaurant, part of a chain, fed me lukewarm spaghetti then leaned over the table soaking his tie in the left over tomato sauce from his pasta, as he dramatically opened the jeweler's box to reveal a gaudy and cheap ring.  He really didn't know me at all. I'm not into show.  His proposal never once included mention of love. It seemed to be more a description of me changing my life to become the proper little solicitors wife, I sat there, looking at this man who shared my bed for the last year and a bit and for the first time I really saw him.  My future looked gloomy at his side.  I politely declined his offer, and suggested that I didn't think we were right for each other after all.  I stood from the table, grabbed my bag and left. His chin was practically hitting the table as he spluttered on about me never finding anyone as good as him in my future. 

That ended over a year ago, and whilst I may have foo foo clenching moment’s, I never act on them.  Look where it leads. Sweaty socks, dirty linen and saying goodbye to the remote control don't loom large on my horizon anymore and I'm grateful. I miss companionship, but I don't miss sex.  My friend Sasha tells me that's because I was doing it wrong.  I guess we'll never know.

I glance at my iPhone on the nightstand. It's three am. I've been lost reading a book again.  I loved this one, there's nothing better than a book where you keep telling yourself you'll stop reading after this one last chapter and before you know it those taunting words 'The End' bring your reading session to a halt.  I decide to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth before calling it a night. That's when it hits me.

I try to move from the bed to find my whole body has almost seized up.  Holy crap.  Everything hurts.  I think back to the gym session with Alex this morning, or was it yesterday morning? At the time it had felt fairly easy, there were points where I felt I could have done more but if I suggested it Alex just smirked at me in that knowing way of his. Now I know why.

My back feels like it's seized into one solid bone. There's no flexibility there at all. I don't get it. I've never hurt like this when I've pushed myself running, and that's when I realize.  My general fitness routine consists of running, and only running.  My legs may be used to the abuse but the rest of my body isn't.  These aches and pains let me know about muscles I didn't know I had.  I rise slowly, shuffling along the floor to the bathroom like a geriatric old lady.

Turns out getting to the bathroom was the easy part, trying to lift myself from the toilet presents a whole new challenge.  What should have taken moment's turns into an almost epic trial just to lift myself from the toilet seat. I remove some ibuprofen from my toilet bag and swallow them down with a mouthful of disgusting lukewarm tap water.

We'll be on the road again after breakfast, as comfortable as that mini bus seat is, I'm not looking forward to it.  I groan as I look back at the phone and see it's now three thirty in the morning. I need to try and sleep as Tiny promised to call for me on his way down to breakfast at eight.  I lower myself to the bed, grimacing as my tender back hits the mattress.

Right at this moment in time I'm plotting how to write an article on the Naked Night's that will not only make them look bad, I'm wishing I was an erotic author so I could kill Alex off slowly and painfully in my next book.  Thinking of Alex wasn't such a good idea. I picture that cheeky grin of his and those blue eyes and go to sleep feeling horny as hell.