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“I’m Merkin,” the Tressalar says as he strides through the narrow crew corridor, then to the no-frills elevator marked “crew only.”
“Jarrn.”
“Yeah. I know.”
He’s a prickly guy, this one. I shake my head and race after him when he exits on the main floor. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me. Doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of me.
I scratch my head as I trot at Merkin’s side. Usually, I don’t lie to myself, so I might as well admit that there’soneperson in the galaxy whose opinion means a lot to me–Delia.
Delia of the petite human body, pixie-like blonde hair, and delicate features. The first time she saw a hospital staffer look at me with distaste, she let out a stream of curse words that would make a prisoner on death row blush. It was doubly shocking because of her sublimely innocent face. Now that I know her better and have seen her in many moods, I’ve learned to appreciate all of them.
Just to make sure my head isn’t in the game for my very first stripping performance, my mind throws me picture after picture of the highlights of my time with Delia these last few months.
Delia, with her bottom lip puffed out as she blows her hair out of her eyes while she cooks. Delia watching in eager anticipation to see how I like the inedible, cremated roastbixlarshe spent all day cooking for me.
Then there’s Delia lying on the recliner in my living room, a bowl of popcorn nestled between her breasts as she watchesGergens Through Time. It’s our current favorite program after we finished binge-watching all twenty-six installments of the Magical Flying Circus franchise.
We enter a poorly lit corridor. I’m new on the ship, but already aware they spare little expense on the crew. After a few rights and a left, we land smack in the Monsters’ dressing room.
“No time for introductions. Hulcet just filled his bag and walked off at the last stop. Usually we’re highly choreographed. Just do your best,” Merkin says with a casual shrug. “That’s your costume.” He gestures at the only hanger with clothes on the clothing rack.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Shouldn’t be offended that I’ll be wearing a sparkly silver triangle over my cock that is somehow held up by bandoliers that double as suspenders. Their over-the-top tackiness is surpassed only by the matching thigh-high silver boots someone managed to clip to the crotch-thing’s hanger.
Delia would call them heinous. She’d be right.
“Come out shooting,” calls a seven-foot male with brown, leathery wings and what appears to be one pointed tooth protruding between what I assume are his lips.
“Shooting?” I ask. I’m still hopping on one booted foot as I tug on the other one. All the other guys are lined up at the door, ready to run onto the stage.
“The gun!” Merkin says, his tone full of disdain. “It’s part of your costume.”
Of course. How could I miss it? A lifelike laser replica is clipped to the hanger.
As I tug on my other boot I ask, “Is this crotch-thing even on properly?”
“We call them cock hammocks, and who gives a shit if it’s on right?” A deep, purple male whose body is shaped like an upside-down triangle on top of two cylinders says. “You’re going to be ripping it off in a minute anyway.”
“Welcome, audience.” The announcer’s voice floats through the open door.
Just these two words evoke a loud roar from the audience. Some are female voices screaming with excitement, but there’s a literal, actual roar that drifts to my ears. Is this job even safe?
“Excited?” This question is met with another roar. “Well, you should be. Here on theJeweled Empresswe have spared no expense to bring you just what you asked for. Here’s the one, the only… Monsters in Review!”
The audience goes wild as Merkin leads us onto the stage. The venue is plunged in darkness except for the bright stage lights focused on the stage.
The room is larger than I expected; it must hold three hundred people surrounding the circular stage on three sides. There are curved couches in rows facing the stage, though the front row is tiny tables with chairs that seemed to be crammed in to accommodate even more patrons.
I try to stay in the back as I watch all the males move in perfect synchrony. First, they form a line at the lip of the stage and thrust their hips at the audience, then they do a move we used to call thread the needle when we were in training to play halchuck in high school.
The moment I quit worrying about the choreography and simply follow their moves, my anxiety disappears. The roar of the crowd fades into the background.
Maybe later I’ll wonder what words they’re screaming at us. If they’re salivating with desire or insulting the monsters on stage. At this moment, I just want to blend in, learn the moves, and think about what I’ll do with my first paycheck.
It’s all going well until the third song. When I’m on the stage apron, Merkin takes center stage with some advanced moves as he acts as though he’s humping the floor. As I take a moment to look out into the sea of faces, I could swear I see Delia there.
Didn’t I tell her I didn’t want her to come? I thought I was perfectly clear. When I take a second look, I’m sure it’s her. She’s not cringing in a dark corner in the rear. She’s in the middle seat in the front row.
Chapter6
