XXV. Tokyo Decadence, Part Three

Evan was interested. He surprised himself even more than he surprised me. I may have been jumping for joy, I don’t remember. All I know is that he told me to calm down, that nothing was settled yet. He had to run the idea past the club’s owners. Ordinarily, he had the authority to hire anyone as he saw fit, but for something like this, he wasn’t willing to make that decision on his own. And since no description of my act could truly do it justice, he said I’d probably have to do another audition for them.

I lay on top of my cheap dorm bunk bed, dreaming about the job. I never even remotely considered professional male stripping before, but now it was everything I ever wanted. Not only enough money to live on, but money which was shoved into my crotch by bored Japanese housewives. And who knows, I might have a good chance of picking up one or two of the very bored ones.

Late the next morning, I got the call on the payphone in the hallway. Evan set up an audition with the owners. He wanted me there at four o’clock that day.

I sat in Evan’s office, wearing the smoking jacket and jester’s hat, waiting for Evan’s cue. The door opened, Evan stepped in. He looked nervous, “Okay, they’re here. Go. And good luck.”

I strode onto the octagon once again. I could see the owners sitting together on a couch against the wall. I was surprised – they looked like two respectable, professional couples. I was expecting something a little sleazier, a Japanese Bob Guccione, perhaps – open shirt, thinning perm, a couple of giggling bimbos hanging on to him. But these people were well-tailored, conservative even. There had to be more to them than met the eye. When I saw the slits in the women’s skirts, offering glimpses of well-toned thigh, I took it as a good omen.

Evan came out of his office to stand beside the owners. One of the men spoke to him in Japanese. Evan told me to begin. It was the same routine as the day before. I took off my jacket slowly and shimmied, but I couldn’t quite lose myself in the fantasy like before. I was trying to gauge the reactions of the owners. The men sat motionless, stone-faced. The women merely crossed their legs occasionally. I didn’t what it meant, if it meant anything at all. When I twirled the jacket over my head and let it fly, my aim this time was better: it landed at their feet. One of the women picked it up, brushed it off and carefully draped it over a chair. Not exactly tearing it to shreds in rabid devotion, but it was nice of her.

I lost my nerve when it came time to finger my bellybutton (Evan seemed relieved). I felt it best to proceed directly to the balloon penis act, which garnered a few covered-mouth giggles from the ladies and polite applause from the men. When I revealed the big finish – my ejaculation, there were gasps. They weren’t exactly sexually aroused gasps, more like scandalized gasps, followed by Japanese murmuring. Evan brought me my jacket and escorted me offstage. The owners again applauded politely, stood up, and walked single file into the office. Before closing the door behind him, one of the men called Evan over and said something while gesturing towards me.

“What did he say? I asked.

“You should put your pants on,” Evan translated.

We waited for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes outside the office. I asked if this was a bad sign. And what about that gasp? And the murmuring? What did those mean? Evan didn’t know. He said he’d been living in Tokyo for close to nine years and still couldn’t figure the Japanese out. The office door opened. They called Evan inside and shut the door again. After a few more tense minutes, Evan emerged, shaking his head. The vote was three to one. Three in favor, one against.

“Why are you shaking your head? I’m in, right?”

“No, not in this club. The vote has to be unanimous. If one has doubts, they all have doubts.”

“That’s not fair! I want a recount. Who voted against me? It was one of the men, wasn’t it? It couldn’t been the women – they giggled! One folded my jacket! They loved me, didn’t they? Just give me a minute with them, I could convince them…”

“Look, it’s over, forget it. Let me buy you a beer,” Evan walked me over to the bar.

The owners filed out of the office and passed me as they exited the club, each bowing in turn. The woman who picked up my jacket flashed me a quick thumbs up before she left. Again, not my fantasized reaction, but it was nice of her. Evan opened up a couple of large Sapporos and sat down on the stool next to me.

“It was one of the men, wasn’t it?” I couldn’t let it go.

“Yeah.”

“Did he say why?”

“You were just too hairy,” Evan said, “Maybe if you were black…”