Gregor hired me for a one night performance, a special birthday gift for his Steve, and with a little logistical planning, I pulled it off to perfection. I’m not like the pretty muscle gods they’ve got dancing here. Most of the guys I hang with don’t even realise I like to swing with a guy any morning, afternoon, or night. The guys I hang with really enjoy (no, make that love) their motorcycles. That’s where the thrill and power lies – sitting on top of a two wheeled machine surging with power – the feeling of leather and chrome and speed at our total command, riding where we want, doing what we want, as often as we want.

At 11:00 that night in full riding gear, I got my ’51 Indian (for you bike enthusiasts who need to know that kind of thing), revved up the engine and rode right on stage, gently shoved the dancer to the floor, rode down the ramp and braked in front of the VIP table. I looked Steve right in the eye and bellowed, “You the guy who runs this pansy club?” Instantly, uniformed security people were surrounding me. I got behind Steve, grabbed his neck in an arm lock, and hollered at the security guards. “Back off but stay in sight, unless you want a corpse on your hands, and that goes for the rest of you, too. Hey Bartender – take the phone off the hook and set it on the bar top where I can see it, and don’t let me even see a cell phone.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the place. I slowly took my trusty blade from my boot and began to pick my teeth with it. I loved being the centre of attention. “What!” I shouted menacingly, “You pretty boys like seeing guys take their clothes off? That really pops your cookies? Well, fine with me. You, come here,” I said glaringly at one of the security cops. One came forward. “Don’t none of you try nuthin’ right now, you hear?”

“Stand there.” He obeyed. “Come closer. These pretty boys here wanna see a man – a real man.” I took my knife and deftly sliced the threads on his shirt buttons so it fell open. “Now, get out there and tease us. Give us a show like you’re used to seeing here.” He slowly obeyed, having no other option. “Peel that t-shirt off – show us what a real man’s chest looks like.” He complied. “Glad you got a nice one for the boys here. Wouldn’t want them to be disappointed.” He wiggled and did a rather good strip. “Give us a show, Mr. Officer. That’s it, you can do it. Pretend you’re one of the pretty boys. Sell your body.” He hit some bodybuilder’s stances like he had been posing for years. The other security staff looked on helplessly, wondering and fearing that I had something in mind for them, too.

I skillfully took the knife and sliced open the seam of his trousers from the crotch through to the belt line, and his pants fell to his knees. “Ooh, nice!” I said. “Come on, Officer. Make it hot. Give the boys here what they want.” He again complied. “Okay, boys, give the nice officer a round of applause.” There was some polite applause.

“Well, what do you know? It seems the nice officer really belongs here. You’ve got customers here who want to see something different and really hot, so give them their money’s worth. They paid to get in here tonight.”

I hollered over to the bartender that I wanted a bottle of the best champagne in the house. A very nervous waiter brought it to the table, and it took him several tries to get the bottle popped. He could barely pour it into the glasses. “Don’t you go away, pretty boy,” I told him. I took a sip from my glass and looked over at the officer.

“Very good, Officer. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Rene.”

“Well, very good show, Rene. I think everyone should give Officer Rene here a round of applause.” A huge round of applause followed as he scrambled to gather his uniform. “Hey, Rene, been a guard here long?”

“No, Sir,” he responded. “Tonight was my first night.”

“Maybe you can get a promotion to dancer here, Officer Rene. What do you think, Stevie?” I asked, slightly releasing the hold I had on him. “Would you hire him to dance here for all the pretty boys?” I waited for an answer. None was coming.

Looking into his eyes, I said, “You know what I think, Stevie baby? I think you should hire him as a dancer. You know what else I think, Stevie baby? I think you should have one memorable birthday. So,” I continued in a voice still loud enough for all to hear, “Happy birthday! I hope this birthday is always remembered as something special.” In front of everyone, I planted a big long wet kiss on his lips. Then in an even louder voice, I apologised to everyone present. “I am sorry for any emotional terror I may have caused you in the last fifteen or so minutes. To make up for it, the drinks are on me for the next half hour, so get the waiters and the bartenders busy.”

Steve sank back in his chair totally weak. Then I introduced him to Rene, a new dancer at Winchester’s – Montreal I had hired for the night. By the time Steve found out his security guards were in on my part of the night’s festivities, he immediately deduced who had hired me. I hung around to make sure no murder would follow. By the end of the night Steve and I had made peace, once he regained his composure, and I made a few friends that night.

Come in and say ‘Hi’ to me. I really won’t bite, unless you want me to.