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“Have I got a tree for you, my pretty Robin,” someone called out.
Robin pretended to look shocked, shook his head slightly then resumed. ‘The boy that I love, they call him a cobbler, but he’s not a cobbler, allow me to state. For Johnny is a tradesman and he works in the Boro’ where they”—he put a hand to his lips and emphasized the next words so they sounded like a reference to something else—“sole and heel them,while you wait.”
The crowd hooted and clapped again. Everyone loved Robin—probably not as much as Robin loved Robin, but there you go. He was a born performer.
“Now, if I were a duchess”—Robin flashed his eyes and stood taller, pretending to walk in heels and clasping the edge of his robe like it was a skirt—“and had a lot of money, I’dgive it,” he said as he grabbed imaginary hips and thrust madly, to much applause, “to the boy who’s going to marry me. But I haven’t got a penny, so we’ll live on”—he mimed sucking a cock—“love and kisses, and be just as happy as the birds on the tree.”
He repeated the chorus and when he sang “As merry as a robin that sings on a tree!” someone yelled out “I can make you sing pretty, Robin. You can sit on my perch!”
Robin cackled. “I know how many have perched on your twig, sir, and I shall politely decline.”
This caused more laughter and some curses.
“Now behave yourselves, gentlemen,” he said, beckoning me to the stage as he descended. “You be nice to Toby. He’s a delicate flower.”
Chapter Four
Seduction
I rolled my eyes as the crowd laughed, since they knew that was far from the truth.
Robin flounced off the stage as I marched up onto it in his place and clapped my hands together.
“Right then, what do you gents want this evening? A striptease?”
There was applause and a cacophony of hoots all around.
I frowned and put a finger to my chin. “Hmm, can’t do that,” I said, looking at Sebastian, who shook his head. I gazed back at the audience. “A poem?”
“Not unless it’s got the words cunt or cock in it!” someone yelled.
“Hmm, let me see…” I said, tapping the finger on my chin and pretending to think. “What about a song?”
“Yes, a song, Toby!”
“Give us a song!”
“Do the bow-wow song, Toby!” Mr. Youngblood begged. His husband tilted his head back and howled, then howled like a dog, as everyone laughed.
“Oh, you like that one?” I asked, as they clapped and whistled.
I found Alastair in the crowd. He was watching the men in the parlor going gaga for me, and I puffed up a bit. I walked over and grabbed the straight chair that we used as a prop and set it in the center of the stage facing backward. Then I straddled it with my hands on my knees, perched on the toes of my leather shoes and gazed out at my adoring audience.
“Here!” Robin said, and I looked over. He pulled a stuffed gray elephant from the prop basket and threw it to me. I caught it in my hand and quipped to the audience, “You’ll have to pretend this is a kitty cat, all right?”
“What’s the elephant prop for, I’d like to know,” someone muttered.
“Is there a song about a giant-sized—?”
“Never mind,” I said promptly, cuddling the stuffed elephant to my chest, where it nudged my chemise apart to bare a nipple.
“Oh, fuck me,” someone commented, so I knew I was on the right track.
This particular ditty required me to assume the character of a young child. What that said about the men who demanded it, well, I mean, I know what it said about them. The gay Daddy/boy thing was something I enjoyed messing around with, although I tended more to the feminine in my performance.
Sebastian started playing the jaunty music hall tune.
“I love my little cat, I do, with long black silky hair,” I purred in a most childlike way, batting my lashes and smiling with as much innocence as I could muster. “It comes each day with me to school and sits upon the chair. When teacher says ‘Why do you bring that little pet of yours?’, I tell her that I bring my cat along with me because…”
