Get Laid or Die Trying by Jeff Allen

Author:Jeff Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2011-04-11T04:00:00+00:00

MÉNAGE-À-CANUCK-STRIPPER

At the door of the Rio, the guy is refusing to let Chess-Club in because it’s after midnight. Not thirty minutes have passed since I left this place, picked Chessy up from her bartending gig and brought her back. I start haranguing him. “I’ve been here every week for the past consecutive ninety-three Mondays, and you won’t let my fiancée in? This place is like my home. I can’t bring my fiancée into MY HOME? What if I was President Bush and she was First Lady Laura Bush?!! Would you let us in then? Huh?”

He starts laughing a little. “She’s Laura Boosh?” he says in an indeterminate Caribbean accent.

I say, “This guy is hard, he’s like those Buckingham Palace guards with the big hats.” He laughs more and waves us in.

Unfortunately, there are no worthy targets in sight, so we’re back out the door almost as soon as we came in. We decide to go to Kostume Karaoke. We’ve had a good week, pulling off another threesome just two days after the first one. We aren’t planning on doing any pickups, but sometimes God just drops shit in your lap. As we’re picking our songs, the door opens, and in walks a 9, surrounded by six chodes. Quite a rare specimen for this particular bar. Just goes to show, you have to be ready to act at all times.

I shrug and turn to Chessy. “Okay, so there she is, I’m going to run Dental Floss, then Little Sister, then A-Crowd.” The bartender, who by now is well acquainted with my antics, just laughs and shakes his head as he overhears this. A couple of seconds later, the girl walks over to us to look at the karaoke book and BAM! I’m in.

I’m spitting the hot fire, and she’s loving it. Within seconds, Chessy’s chiming in, building rapport and getting rather touchy-feely with her. She’s eating it up. We find out that she’s Canadian. A fortunate coincidence, as Chessy was just there, and I’m about to go there myself to conduct a workshop. We explore this further for a while, using the commonality to build more comfort with her.

She asks Chessy to sing with her, and requests that I join them onstage to “be her little bunny” while she sings “White Rabbit.” During the song, she begins getting freaky with ChessClub, rubbing up on her leg and dancing suggestively. Meanwhile, I’m down on my hands and knees in front of them, behaving like a weird animal, screaming and clawing at the crowd with a pair of bunny ears on.

After the girl’s risqué performance, ChessClub deduces that she’s a stripper, and asks her about it. Confirmed. Then it’s my turn to sing. Chessy convinces the chick to get up there with her and do a bit of “backup dancing” for me. I’m putting my heart and soul into the track, belting it to the rafters. The crowd goes wild, cheering for me. I surrender to the moment, and something inside ignites, surrounding me with that shimmering nimbus of golden, holy light.

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