A couple of years ago my “horsey” friends put on a bachelorette party for one of our brethren, in her home. A stripper was hired and being true to all our predilections we requested he attend as a cowboy. That he did, albeit in his suburban interpretation. His hat was “cowboy” in style, but more akin to the type you would find in a party store, not what one would expect on any self-respecting cowboy or cowboy stripper as the case may be.
But we were willing to cut him some slack. Clearly, we knew what were getting into. Aesthetically, our new friend was Boyfriend-Hot, not necessarily Stripper-Hot. What’s the opposite of a Butterface? Don’t get me wrong, he was nothing any of us would kick out of bed, just not quite the Chippendale we were expecting. His dance skills…needed work. But what he lacked in a 6 pack and dance moves he more than made up for in youthful enthusiasm and eagerness to please. And most importantly, a sense of humor. He had one, and in our crowd that’s all you need to get by…we’ll do the rest.
By the end of the 1/2 hour or so of us molesting him…enjoying his routine, he’d more than earned his fee and tips. We invited him to retire to the parlor with our classy passel of ladies for a drink. Which shockingly, he did. Much good natured interrogating ensued. Not surprisingly we found out that he had only been “dancing” (it’s so cute when they call it that) for a few weeks. We’re an honest group if nothing else, so we felt obligated (led by our 2-time Iraqi war veteran) to inform him as to the ways in which he could improve his performance. Not only was he given suggestions as to the areas on his body he might consider improving, but moves were critiqued, as well as musical suggestions given. In a gentle and kind way, mind you. We’re not cruel. Perverse, crude, and rowdy, yes. Cruel, no.
After a couple of drinks and the War Vet’s phone number, our friend took his leave of us so we could continue the festivities. Which at that point, entailed decorating paper penii (sp?) for the Pin the Penis on the Stud game.
About 8 months went by and another girl in the group was getting married. Her Bachelorette Party was held at another friend’s home about 50 miles away. Though we had great hopes for our little cowboy, we felt a change was in order so a different company was called. We have all the patience in the world for newbies, but a professional was in order this time. We’d done our good deed for the Stripper Community, or so we had hoped.
This Bachelorette requested a Fireman. The hour arrived and in he danced, complete with big helmet and visor. He worked the room for a bit with the helmet still on. This was more like it! The moves were more polished, the abs (and everything else) was much more in line with what we expected.
And then he took his helmet off.
It was the same guy.
Familiarity resulted in no less debauchery, I’m proud to say. But after we were donemolesting him enjoying his routine, he joined us once again for drinks. We praised the improvements he had made and he puffed up like a peacock. The war vet ended up on his lap again so other parts may have been puffed up as well. We were so very proud. What was once an eager but untested young man, we felt we had a hand in turning into a capable, skilled professional who will continue to bring joy and woman-boners into the lives of countless ladies for years to come….or until he finsihes paying off his camaro and student loans.