All I Could Bare: My Life in the Strip Clubs of Gay Washington, by Craig Seymour Page A

a muscle," he continued, pointing toward his cock. "If a guy touches me here [his arm], they can touch me there [his cock]."
    "What do you say if a customer asks if you're gay?" I asked him one night as we sat in the dressing room.
    "Usually," he said, looking up from counting a stack of bills, "I'll tell them that I'm straight, but that I messed around with a few guys when I was in high school. That generally keeps them going."
    Danny wanted to talk to us because the manager of Mr. P's, a gay dive in Dupont Circle, was looking for some guys to dance on Wednesdays, one of the nights when Secrets was closed. I felt a little uneasy about doing it because Mr. P's was located in the official gayborhood, so there was more of a chance to be seen by someone I knew. Mr. P's also had the reputation for a relatively rough clientele. There was no cover, so anyone could walk in off the street.
    I was on the verge of saying no when Danny told me that they were paying $50 for two hours' work plus tips. I was taking Seth to see Rent on Broadway for his birthday, and this extra money would come in handy. Besides, Mikey readily accepted the offer, and I seldom passed on any opportunity to work with him. We were buddies of sorts. He told me about his girl problems; I quietly lusted after him.
    The first night at Mr. P's started strangely. The club wasn't licensed for nudity so we had to keep our G-strings on and we couldn't play with ourselves. This left me feeling self-conscious because I had nothing to do with my hands.
    Adding to my anxiety, they made us dance on a tiny bar located in a dark upstairs room. TINY. BAR. DARKNESS. The words triggered my near-constant fear of ASS ON FLOOR. But I thought I could stomach it for a couple of hours.
    And I was looking forward to working with Mikey. A lot of dancers thought he was a prick, but he was always nice to me. As we stood naked in the upstairs employee bathroom that they made us use as a dressing room, I noticed him staring at me in the mirror. He stood there big, muscular, manly, and tan, while I looked short, fleshy, boyish, and pale.
    "What the fuck are you looking at?" I said, jokingly.
    "Oh nothing, just comparing," he said with a laugh.
    "Fuck you," I said, shoving him playfully. "Get away from me."
    "Don't worry, I may beat you in some ways, but definitely not if we're comparing cocks. You have me beat by a mile, or at least a couple of inches."
    "Yeah, yeah," I said.
    "No, seriously. We should give you a nickname or something, like The Little Boy with the Big Toy.' Or, I know, what about 'Li'l Big Chief'?"
    "No thanks," I replied, secretly thrilled that he even noticed my cock, much less wanted to give it a nickname. I imagined this is what it was like to be on a football or basketball team and share a sort of casual, ass-baring, locker room intimacy with other guys.
    "Man Saber," Mikey offered.
    "Nope."
    He paused for a moment. "OK, I've got it," he said. "The Weapon."
    'That's better," I said, just as Danny came racing in the room.
    "Craig, you're on now. Mikey, you take the next set."
    "OK," I said, pulling up my red G-string and following him out the door and down the steps to the club.
    "Mikey's so hot," I said to Danny as we walked down the stairs.
    "Yeah, I'd probably date his father," responded Danny, who had a thing for older married men.
    There were only a few customers at the bar, and the one paying the most attention to me was an older guy with a handlebar mustache. He especially liked it when I stood over him and slowly bent down until my dick, bundled in the pouch of a red G-string, nearly rested on the tip of his nose.
    I didn't recognize any of the customers from Secrets or the Follies until I saw the infamous Mr. Tickles. He wore his trademark trench coat and his face was flushed red as always. In the past, Mr. Tickles had never tipped me and by now I'd learned not to take this personally. I knew I wasn't going to be every guy's type. But that night, Mr. Tickles walked