Call It What You Want (Kellic)

I don't need condoms.

"You're not wearing that." Was Mike's first words as soon as I emerged through my bedroom door, making me look at him ridiculously.

"What? What's the problem. This is my normal clothes." I retorted, obviously getting defensive.

"Exactly! You can't wear your 'normal Vic' clothes." He scolded, using his fingers as air quotation marks.

"Excuse me? Why not?"

"Because they're lame." I raised an eyebrow at him. I honestly do not think that I look lame with my choice of clothing. I think I always look smart and neat and interesting and aesthetic, if that makes sense. I basically wear button-down shirts, short or long sleeved, pairing them with either black slacks or black jeans and nice black, leather shoes (or a pair of sneakers, if I'm feeling casual). I don't wear neck ties, though. I think that would look a little bit too much.

"I look decent and good, thank you very much." I said as he stormed to my room, opening my closet in one swift move, making the door bang against the wall behind it. I crossed my arms in front of my chest as I watched him make a heap of a mess inside my neatly organized closet. Typical Mike.

"You look like you're meeting up with your four year old child's bully's parents." He mumbled, his back still turned to me. "Change." He demanded as he threw some clothes towards my direction, making me look at him disapprovingly.

"These are sleeping clothes."

"Those are real clothes, Victor." He rolled his eyes.

"Do you seriously expect me to change into these?"

"Do you actually expect that you'd get laid or even get a decent lap dance if you go to that bar in those clothes?" He asked, pointing at the article of clothing that I am currently wearing. I looked down on my outfit and sure, I may look over-dressed for the place but this is what I normally wear whenever I go outside! Besides, it's not like I'm trying to impress anyone. My plan is to just sit there, get myself a few good cocktails and supervise Mike because let's be real here, although he's the one who's dragging me into this, he'll surely be the one who'll get hammered drunk in less than an hour.

"I'm not planning on getting laid, whatsoever." I shook my head but took the clothes with me to the bathroom, anyways. Again, this is Mike that I am dealing with, there's no point in arguing further at this point.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. What's wrong with my outfit? I think I look okay and pleasing. Do strippers have a type? Don't they just go with whoever and get payed? They shouldn't be picky, according to what I've heard from some of the college kids that I went with years ago.

"You don't need to plan it, Vic. Just go with the damn flow!" He shouted from the other side of the door as I finished zipping up the knee-length shorts that Mike gave me. My top is this lousy-looking muscle tee that Mike deconstructed a few years back. It has been sitting at the very far back of my closet. I don't know how he managed to dig it up in a matter of seconds, though.

"I'm sure that I'll be going with the safe and reasonable flow." I answered and ran my hand through the small wrinkles of my shirt, trying to tidy it up a little bit as I opened the door, seeing Mike sitting on my bed with his phone in between his palms.

"Better." He said and nodded. "But I don't know what we'll do with those stupid glasses."

"You'll do nothing to them because you know what happens whenever I don't wear these." I rolled my eyes and he shrugged.

"Fine fine, let's get going!" He exclaimed excitedly, clapping his hands as he jumped off of my bed, like the child that he truly is. Seriously, I haven't seen anyone this excited to be going to a gay strip club before.