The Strip - Max

4 / Sweaty Mess

I hated every bit of my first time. Every bit. First times are supposed to suck, right? Megan and Nat enjoyed Ryder's way, so I was convinced it was just me. Just my first time being as horrible as I had heard it would be. A painful, messy, awkward, uncomfortable, hellish experience. Over time I got used to it. Got used to the way he treated me. Did I enjoy it, definitely not. Each time we did it, I hated it less, but I never enjoyed sex. Being the only man I was sleeping with, at the time, I didn't have anyone else to use as a reference. So, I used Nat and Megan in comparison to myself and could only conclude that I was the problem.

Despite the rumors, there were no foursomes or even threesomes going on in our house when Ryder spent the night. And he spent the night often. He might start off in one bed and finish in another before morning came. Occasionally he visited all three in one night. But, to my knowledge, there was only ever one of us girls in there with him.

There was a duality or whatever you might call it with Ryder. I took it as a lesson for future consideration. In one scenario, or in his case, the 75% of his normal day he was the kindest and seemingly most gentle and understanding person you might want to invite to your bed. But in the remaining 25%, when you do take him in, that person you thought you knew... wasn't.

A couple months after that first night with Ryder, nearly two years after my first day on the stage at Bunny's, I was in the changing room at Busters preparing for my first night of work in a very different business.

It had been a while since I had visited the club. Regular shifts at Bunny's meant my weekends were spent waiting tables and dancing in a tiny bikini, not hanging out in the backroom helping the ladies with their hair and makeup. Other than a few new faces and the notable absence of Baby, not much had changed.

"Ladies, listen up. Most of you already know Bridget, aka Max," Becca said as she escorted me into the room. "She needs a place to live, and I think we all know what that means."

The room went silent as all eyes turned to the memorial that had occupied Baby's station since the accident. "She gave Max her name, so I think it's sort of fitting, don't you all? It's been long enough. I think Baby would want this."

Tears stained my eyes as I watched the ladies clear the photos and stuffed toys that had sat in front of Baby's mirror for two months. The DJ had to delay Trixie's set to allow her time to fix her makeup. "Can I keep the little bear?" I asked as I reached for a small tan angel bear stuffy. The top right corner of the mirror seemed like a nice place for her, and she already had a string loop to make it work.

I unpacked my makeup kit, making the station my own soon after the memorial had been cleared away. Directly behind me, I located my locker and costume rack then unpacked the things I had loaded into a small suitcase for transportation to the club.

"Oh dear," Megan said as she looked at my costumes. "I'll get the steamer and take care of the wrinkles, just put on the denim thing for your first set. You go on in thirty."

While Becca spoke about some problem in the building, I zoned out and got started preparing. I stripped naked and slipped on a navy-blue thong and matching bra, then pulled up a pair of black denim shorts. After hair and makeup, I was ready. Physically. Mentally? I wasn't quite sure. Some deep breathing and reassuring words helped get me backstage, but could I actually pass through the curtain once the music started? I gripped the collar of my denim jacket and waited. My stomach was in knots as I listened for the DJ to make my introduction.

Shakira, Loca, started and over the first few bars of music I heard my name. My stage name. Max. I busted through the curtain with a wave of confidence that swept in with force then receded as soon as the audience came into view. I didn't need any body glitter or oil. The sweating mess look I sported while prancing around the stage, came about naturally.