Taming the Bad Boy

Fill a lonely city with one dash of playboy comedian.

Add a splash of adult webmistress.

Do not shake.

Stir.

From up here on stage, I can see her. Even with her First Lady hair and Sunday school shoes, I can’t take my eyes off of her.

The music starts. I swing my hips to the thumping bass. Oh, so slowly I slip one button through a hole, then another, then another. I ease the black silk from my shoulders and toss it right toward her.

I watch her pale glossy lips form a big ‘O’ before she catches it like a major league baller. The flashing lights blind me. Between beats, I can see her blue eyes zeroed in below my waist.

I know what she wants. I give it to her. With a zip and a tug, the leather pants join the rest of my clothes. In my skin tight briefs, I dance just for her. With the last chord of the song, the stage goes dark.

I know when the lights come up again, another guy will be dancing in my place because this is my last time. I’m not doing this ever again. It’s too bad I didn’t get her name. I really liked that shirt. But not enough to go back and claim it.

If she wants me bad enough, she’ll have to find me.