In 1996, a good friend got married. Me, being the best man, was entitled to throw a Bachelor Party. I’ve been the best man six times since this wedding so throwing a Bachelor Party is kind of a no-brainer. Now. Back then, not so much.
There were 12 of us. Some under 21, some over 30. This is where the problems started. What do you do where the underaged can have as much fun as the middle aged? Going to a dry, 18 and up topless bar is not the answer. After 2 hours and untold amounts of singles given watching backwoods midwestern girls spin their pasties, we decided to look for greener pastures.
The obvious choice was to hire a stripper.
A little background is needed here. In 1996, the internet was around, but it was basically AOL, dial up and chat rooms. You still had phonebooks and cell phones were of the 2 lb flip variety. In order to hire a stripper, we had to drive 40 miles to my empty house and start perusing the phone book. Strippers, under “S” right?
The drunken late night phone conversations that followed in an attempt to hire a stripper were hilarious in and of themselves. Who knew finding a stripper would be so difficult. Hair color, eye color, race, age, 1 girl or 2, do you want them to “entertain themselves” why we watch, etc, etc, etc… We ended up settling for “We’ve got just the girl for you. She’s blonde, young and ready to party.”
From here, the party split, half cleaning the house, half making a liquor run. After about an hour, the liquor search party stomps back in with, no lie, “someone in your neighborhood is dating a hooker…” What? Just then there’s a knock at the door.
What my friend mistook for a hooker walking down our sidewalk was in fact, our stripper… accompanied by the biggest, baddest, blackest bouncer I’ve ever seen. Think Grape Ape but not purple. And instead of being on top of a van he was in my doorway, towering over a tiny blonde holding a boombox, asking “did you order a girl?”
Yes, sir, we most certainly did.
We had cleared my living room out so that there were seats around the perimeter and an area suitable for whatever she was planning on doing. Also, I need to point out that not a single one of us had ever seen a stripper. We were basing everything solely on the movies we’d seen involving this scenario and the many many “Dear Penthouse, you’re not gonna believe this…” letters we’d read over our misspent youths. The girl introduced herself as Annie and she directed us to take our seats, she’d take care of the rest. She pointed to Grape Ape and told us to say hi to Cocoa.
“K. O. K. O. like the gorilla,” he said. Apparently there was going to be a spelling exam later in the evening. (Grape Ape doesn’t sound so racist now, does it?).
Annie, turned on her tape deck to Motley Crue’s “Smokin’ in the Boys Room” and she went right into her dance in the middle of the room. Before the end of the song, it became obvious she should have limbered up. Whenever she twisted sexily or bent over, her joints sounded like they were filled with bubble wrap. It was so bad, I was getting concerned.
Finally she starts to make her way toward me because I’m the only one holding any cash.
Let me pause and explain a little further. It was decided that instead of all of us spending our dollars on this girl, we’d pool all of our cash and just give it to her when she got there and just let her have fun and do her thing. We thought that was the honorable thing to do. Annie wasn’t having it. She took her agreed upon fee then told us we were to only give her tips if she deserved it. I was left holding the wad of $300 - $400 in 5’s and 1’s. What we ended up doing was just passing the wad around, Annie following it like a puppy after a laser pointer. Dance, Dance, Pass.
Anyway, here comes Annie with a lapdance. We’re a very tame crew so it was nearly silent at this point. A few giggles and cat calls for the lap dancee’s benefit, but for the most part, we were being very well behaved. This was obviously what prompted Annie’s next move.
She leans into my ear and whispers in a sexy raspy voice, “I want you to go get me a glass of water, sugar. And take Koko with you. Make him stay in the kitchen. I want some alone time with you boys.”
Up I go, heading to the kitchen, taking a detour in Koko’s direction. “Mr Koko, Annie said to ask you to go to the kitchen.” If I remember correctly, I had to look up at Koko to give this request, regardless of the fact that he was sitting in a folding chair.
Koko follows me to the kitchen where he takes a seat at the kitchen table and pulls a book out of his back pocket. “No worries. That just means she feels safe with you guys.” Koko could apparently read my apprehension to asking him to stay in the kitchen.
I reached into the sink and grabbed a cup. Not a normal cup, mind you, because I’m a jackass. No, I grabbed a plastic Kool-Aid Man cup received as a prize for collecting Kool-Aid points throughout college. It was the only clean cup in the strainer. Don’t judge me. Thinking Annie wanted the water to hydrate, I grabbed ice water from the fridge and filled it up.
Back in the living room, Annie was completely naked at this point with one foot on top of the back of my couch and the other on the arm, her hands on the head of the best man… grinding herself as close to his face as possible. Everyone else is in total silence. Not a word spoken or uttered. It was surreal to say the least. Annie sees me approaching and hops down. Snap, crackle, pop.
“Do you need to stretch out or something?”
“Thanks for the water, now sit back down and relax”… Annie stands up on my coffee table and slowly begins to pour the ice water down her chest. The sheer shock of the subzero beverage coupled with her overactive synovial fluid sends her foot off the coffee table, falling face first into the crotch of one of my friends who jumps up quickly, grabbing his balls, in turn sending Annie flipping over again, spilling the remainder of the cup’s contents all over herself and the best man.
The book must have had Koko’s full attention because the chaos only prompted a “You okay?” from his direction.
“Yep, I meant to do that.” And with that she was up and continued with her lapdance.
After a while, Annie suggests that we take turns laying on our backs with a bill over our face which she’ll pick up strategically, hands free. Ok? I’m confused at this point. (It was 1996 and we were young remember).
My brother sits on the ground in front of me, $20 on his face from chin to forehead. Here comes Annie, eyes locked on me, straddling my brother. She starts to squat over his face,… the snapping, crackling and popping get louder. And louder. Slowly she sways her ass from side to side as enticingly as possible…. until…. her fucking knee gives out. She goes to grab for me to steady herself, but seeing her hand coming at my junk, I jump back and out of the way (damn relfexes). Nothing to steady herself on, Annie crumples like a beer can at a frat party, planting her lady parts square on my brother’s face.
Annie’s legs are at odd angles so as she struggles to get up, she’s pulling herself back and forth, burying herself deeper on his face. Finally, she falls forward, completely nude save the $20 bill sticking out of her ass. My brother jumps up and runs to the bathroom.
Annie rolls over and goes, “Fuck, you guys know how to party!”
From here, Annie did a few more dances, then ended up hanging out with us for about 3 hours while we just shot the shit and finished the beer and liquor. Even Koko came out of the kitchen and had a few. All in all, the Bachelor Party was a success.
EPILOGUE: My brother finally came out of the bathroom with the story that he was scrubbing his face just in case he got home and his wife could smell stripper on his breath. About a year later, I ran into “Annie” (it was not her real name I came to find out) at the University of Cincinnati in an Art History lecture class of 500+ people. I recognized her, but assumed she had no clue who I was. Leaving the class one day, we walked out together by coincidence. I said hi, she said hi. Ten steps into the courtyard, she turns to me and says, “Kool-Aid cup? Really?” laughed and walked away.