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QColumn: A Gay In The Life: The Stripper

The Stripper
By Steve Prince
“Come on hurry,” Troy pounced on my bed.
Fresh from the shower, I crossed to my closet to fish for my favorite jeans.
“Turn around or you’re going to see Kool and the Gang,” I said, as I dropped my towel.
“Noooo!” Troy squealed in his falsetto. He buried his face under one of my pillows.
I shook my head and smiled. Even though he’s thirty-four, sometimes Troy acts like a six-year-old boy. He always acts like this when he’s excited. It’s very cute.
“Now, why are we rushing again to go out on a Wednesday night?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. It liked poking fun at the “Troy” show. On cue, he popped up from the pillows and bounced on the bed.
“Because my stripper is going to be there,” he said smiling. “And I’m going to touch his butt. MMM-MMM-MMM!” He bounced on the bed for each of his MMM’s.
Ah yes, Troy’s stripper. Troy was in love. Okay maybe not really—perhaps “in lust” is the better word. Still, the ever-realistic Troy wasn’t putting too much into this relationship—except for dollar bills. He just liked having fun with it.
“You’re so in love,” I said teasing.

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