Dear Readers,
It is that time of year again, the air grows cold, the plants go to sleep and it is time to bid farewell to the year. I would like to tell you a story that happens a week before Christmas, my Second daughters first Christmas and our plucky and grumpy hero finds himself in the worst position a father could find himself, Broke at Christmas. How will he bring a bright joy to his families faces, or will he fail?
It was FUCKING cold out. Florida should no way get this cold. I trudged off the job site at the beach helping in my small way make sure there is another expensive hotel for rich tourists to stay at when the weather was warm, and the drinks cold. I hoped and cursed the place that it would be a rainy summer when this place is open. It was gray and overcast as fifty or so cold men lined up outside of the foreman's work trailer awaiting our meager pay. I had only one thing I wanted to get for my family was something nice for the wife, a walker for my first daughter, and a lovey for my new born baby girl. I would be content with a warm alcoholic beverage as I was legal finally. But my heart would be shattered when the foreman stepped out on to the little steps of the trailer.
"Sorry to tell you all this, but everyone is taking a pay hit this payday due to some mistakes in quoting from the concrete guys. We have you something, but its not much. But once we get back on schedule you will be paid in full from then on until completion."
The foreman reported to us as we all were hit with collective shock. There was only two days of work next week, and if this check isn't good, then fuck Christmas, how will we make it through to the next year. Our parents, while loving and helpful, have their own financial problems, and can't cover us again. And I cant exactly take a payday loan when my checks don't see over the three hundred dollar horizon. I clocked out, collected my check from the apologetic secretary, and a grocery store gift card from the foreman and left. Me and my coworkers were hanging around our trucks, smoking and bitching about the pay cut. They asked me if I looked at my check, and I said I was afraid to. They jabbed at me until I opened it. A full time eighty hour work week would give me three hundred and forty five dollars after taxes. My paycheck was waaay off from that at one hundred and ten dollars before taxes, and around eighty after. I cursed very loudly. They invited me to go out with them to take my mind off of it, and as much as I wanted to go, I needed to be home to see my wife off for her late shift at the diner and to play with my kids before they went down to bed.
I bid them farewell while giving the job site the one finger salute in passing and drove the long drive home. I made it back to the apartment, as my wife had friends over. It was cool, they did not annoy me so much, but it was my whole day that grated on my nerves. I was dirty, stinky, cold and tired, but I swear, the quick hug and kiss from my wife when I entered melted it all away, and even melted the stoic wall I built up to protect myself from feeling like shit for this truly crappy pay day. We all sat at the table talking, as I put the pay stub in the basket on the back of the table. My wife looked at it and she and her friends were highly concerned.
"Writer, is this all you made?"
"Yeah, apparently the concrete guys fucked up the numbers and we all have to suffer for it."
"God damned, might as well have stayed home if you were making this much."
"I might as well fall off the world then, for all the good I am as a provider."
"We didn't mean....."
I left the table wordlessly, pushing down all of the pain I was feeling, stepped on to the crappy little balcony and smoked into the early evening air. Her friends were talking, and I did not hear it. My wife and her friends soon left for work and I fed and played with my kids until it was their bed time. I sat in my crappy goodwill recliner and cried myself to sleep, not paying attention to the t.v. I managed to make it to my bed and crashed out with red, wet eyes.
Saturday Morning.
I got dressed again, because the real nice money was made on Saturdays, showing up to help catch the site up a little, and earn some OT pay. But when I got to the site, the gate was locked and a sign said "No more Saturdays until the new year." Well fuck me hard and call me Betty. I returned home, while everyone except Second Daughter was sleeping. It was first breakfast time for her, so I picked her up, and her and Daddy raided the fridge for an early breakfast. I made her bottle, and we watched what passed for Saturday morning cartoons, until she burped a burp that made me proud and returned to slumber, but not before dropping a nuclear warhead in her diaper, and of course I changed her. But when she was back to sleep in her crib, First daughter woke up and before she could make noise I snatched her up and she got her belly full and content, and it was playtime. I turned it to the little kid show channel, and she played with her toys merrily, and when my wife roused, I had her coffee made and a couple of muffins to nosh on.
We sat at the table to lay out our plans. I put all eighty bucks in the basket, and we soon learned that even if we went super basic, we are short a few hundred dollars to skate by on. It was looking bleak for us and I wanted to cry with her, as the wight of the world was crushing me, but a knock on our door would soon make things very interesting....
*Authors Note*
This is not embellished, and factually 100% true. But I will admit that this was a bad part of our lives, making the struggle seem like an losing battle. But it also will show that there is no depths we would not stoop to, to ensure our kids survival.
This couple that showed up on our doorstep was notorious. Not in the criminal way, but because in a town with more churches than you can shake a stick at, this couple was quite infamous. I had the pleasure of meeting and befriending them when I was doing day labor, and their clubs needed renovations done, and the contractors picked me up to help. The both operated adult entertainment clubs, one for gentlemen, and one for ladies. They are the coolest married couple ever, and I will say that their lifestyle influenced my sexual lifestyle. But why did they show up? That was simple. News of the paycheck cut reached many circles the workers were in, and then made its way to them, and being concerned they came to check up on me.
I invited the devil and his wife in, and offered them some coffee. We chatted a bit, but the topic of why they were there came up quick.
"You both are young and pretty. We need dancers for this weekend, until Tuesday night. You both think you can fill in? its a hundred a night, plus tips."
This stunned us. Wife was not feeling her prettiest, especially a month and a half after having a kid. Me, I was starting my dad bod, still with some sculpting left over, but not really super ripped still.
After a moment of thought, I looked at my wife about to back up her polite refusal, when she shocked me.
"We're in."
I was dumbstruck.
"If shes in, I am in."
Fortunately, both clubs occupied a former industrial complex, albeit a smaller one, but the clubs were nice sized, not holes in walls. So having gotten what they wanted, they left to prepare their clubs for us to have a crash course in exotic dancing. We bundled the kids up, packed them weekend bags and headed to my parents house. After dancing around what we were really doing, my mom agreed to watch them for the weekend. We would let my parents watch them and then take them to her parents for Monday and Tuesday night. The ride was full of nervous excitement, and we had to pull into a parking spot somewhere secluded to scratch the nervous horny itch. We made it to the club(s) at the appointed meeting time, and we were separated. My wife was taken to the gentlemen's side while I was escorted by my friends wife to the Ladies club side.
I am not going to go into full detail on our training, but I can honestly say the Full Monty lied to me. Pelvic thrusting is basic. But after hours of dance training and serving training we were ready. Fortunately she had the time off, as the diner was not so busy to need her every single day during the holidays, But she had to work Monday and Tuesday night. Before I had to go on stage I had to "work" the room, serve drinks, take orders, and generally be a walking slab of beefcake for the ladies in house. Thank God that I could wear a mask to hide my eyes. And no I did not do the Lone Ranger bit. My bit was a bit more..refined. I worked the room, building excitement and getting my banana hammock full of bills. I felt dirty, in a weird way. But some of those bills were twenties, and one single hundred, so I could live with being a filthy man.
My time on stage:
I was...Adonis in a toga. I strutted on stage so confident and cock sure, it was like I was gracing the crowd with my presence. The music started and I tossed the leafy head band to the crowd, and shucked the toga cloth, underneath was the tightest man thong in existence, my package had no choice but to be forced to look more impressive than it was, and baby, I was shaking it like I wanted to fuck the entire city. I danced, gyrated and shook my ass, got it slapped by a couple of brave ladies, and generally wished I wasn't doing that, but having to get paid. My time was over, and the next man. I had a break, so I grabbed a soda, and put my pants on and walked over to watch my wife dance. I did earn a stage name, but that is going with me and my wife to our graves.
My wife on stage:
It seemed like this was a revue, since she already put on a show earlier. She was on stage with two other women, and not being the star she was in the back. I wanted to punch out every man catcalling her, but I couldn't cause women touched my butt. Older women too. alot. I pushed down the rage and watched the dancing and was very impressed with it. Like I could have jumped on stage and fucked her first, the woman across from her second, and the star third. I was enjoying my wife expressing her feminine sexuality through dance, when I was tapped on the shoulder. I was needed back on the women's side for something. I sighed and walked back over, past the bouncers who patted my shoulder warmly.
Back to my grind (lol)
"Ladies, tonight we have something special for you. You see, I have a dear friend who has hit hard times, and things are looking grim for him and his wife. So for your enjoyment, we will be hosting an oiled up wrestling match. So bet on your choice of winner, by putting those dollars in the can of your favorite."
The floor by the stage was cleared and a inflated kiddy pool was in the center, and bouncers with cans were working the crowd, as we were parading on stage. I was in the first match, and was oiled up and had to wrestle with this dude who clearly wasn't a little bit afraid of me. But backstage we were told to make it look real, as it did not matter who won, everyone gets the same pay. So I put on a show, and was put down before the show grew boring. He helped me up and we both bowed to the crowd before the next fight. I showered off as it was nearing the end of my shift, and I went to the managers office, and she handed me my take for the evening, minus the small fee for the banana hammock.
I sat in the truck, my pocket full of tips and pay, feeling slimy, despite having cleaned all the baby oil off of me. Wife skipped to the truck and got in besides me. We both sat, holding each other and sighed. I did not know this until later, but she seen my first show and my oil fight. We sat in the truck outside of Waffle House, hungry and tired and counted our take. Combined we now had almost six hundred dollars. I wanted to say I quit to working construction, but before I could utter those words, my wife silenced me with a finger to my lips.
"No."
"Why baby, other than selling drugs or our asses, what other jobs pays like this?"
"The soul killing kind. Could you look your future daughters in the eyes if this became your career?"
"Well no."
"Then let this just be a temporary thing."
My wife is wise. We sat a few minutes longer, took what we thought we needed for dinner/ early breakfast, and stashed the rest in my hiding spot in my truck. We put down enough food for four people, and finished it off with pie and coffee. We sat picking our teeth, before returning home to sleep off our hard work.
The next shifts were a blur. Monday I lost a little energy, having to come in an hour after I got off the construction site, and wife took the day shift a couple of shifts for a friend who wanted a couple of night shifts.
The last shift for me was special. I was allowed to do a private bachelorette party. That was the lowest point of my short term stripping career. The women were drunk and handsy, despite being told the rules were no genital touching. When it was over I felt like shit. I danced my last dance and was called into the managers office. She handed me my last paycheck and a note. She told me to read it later. I thanked her for the temp job, and she said if I ever needed help again, the stage is always free. I said thank you and left when she had to chew out a dancer for using too much cologne.
My wife was at home but not out of her dancing outfit which was modified lingerie. She waited up for me and after we counted up the total take, and we were up thirteen hundred dollars, AFTER we got our bills caught up, food stocked up and the girls needs taken care of. We of course fucked on the money, because it was alot of money, and well, we busted ass for it. After we fucked on it, we gathered it all up and put it up, vowing to go shopping for the girls the next day, the day before Christmas eve. My mom wanted us and the girls on Christmas eve, and Christmas day was to be spent with her parents.
The next day
We were hitting the town like the mob, We bought gifts for everyone, and ourselves, ate lunch, and returned home when the girls became cranky. They haven't come to like shopping yet at this point. That night our friends came over, and we sat around goofing off, when the question was asked. "Have you heard of XXXXX?" I sat in silence, my wife was blushing.
XXXXX was my stage name, but not the X's.
I was busted.
But my wife was in her mischief mood, and well....
"Oh no, who is that?"
"A new stripper down at ___"
"What is he like?"
"Kind of cute, and new, like a new toy. I could eat him like a pudding pop."
The girls went off into fantasy la la land over me, and I left to put the girls to bed. When I was finished changing them and putting them down, my wife handed me a small bag.
"Pretend to leave, changed in the closet by the front door and come back in."
"Huh?"
"I dare you to do this, or you get to spend a week of diaper duty."
"Fuck."
Wife told me from the kitchen when she left me that we needed more formula. Which was bullshit, I must have bought a months worth at least. I take the hint and dress to leave. I pretend to leave, step into that hall closet and change, walk out the door and knock on it. My wife makes an announcement that since her husband was gone she got them some entertainment. I was let in wearing an elf hat with ears, a red and green mask and a banana hammock with a candycane cock holster. The wife put on some Christmas music, and I came in and danced for her and her friends. it was traumatizing how wild her friends get with male strippers. I thought she was going to shred them for messing with my candy cane, but she encouraged it. She made me shake my ass, get spanked for being naughty and make my cane jump up and down. I was on display and played with for an hour, but with money in my string hammock I was not complaining. The ladies left for the night.
My wife was laughing as we went to bed.
"Feel better now dear?"
"Quite."
We kissed, fucked and went to sleep, to face the uphill battle of Christmas eve and Day.
The note I was given was actually a very risque Christmas card from everyone at both clubs with a gift certificate to a higher end sex shop in town.
I hope you enjoyed this story, a piece of my past.