As soon as the lights lowered into darkness between his and the next group of dancers, Ira jogged off stage and pulled his robe back on, tying the cloth belt tightly around his waist, frowning a bit at the smirks from some of the more senior members of the 'staff' who were hanging around in the wings backstage. He was a fairly new hire. It was only his second week at the c**k Pit. And stripping wasn't Ira's first choice of a job. But he was 19, half way through college, and living alone. The family hadn't been so keen on his homosexuality, and providing for himself and his tuition made the lucrative spot at the club just too good to turn down. So, Ira swallowed his nerves and forced himself to get up and 'shake his thing' as it were for the men in the crowd.
With his arms crossed tightly around his chest, Ari huddled off to his seat at the counter of the men's dressing room and began removing the cash from wherever the onlookers had deigned to store it. On stage, he was able to put everything else out of his mind and do his best for the clients. But as soon as he was away from the eager eyes... Ira was back to being his usual skittish self. Well, his more than usual skittish self. It was incredibly lucky that the owner, hand't decided to assing him to the other...services... offered by the club yet.
Glancing in the mirror, Ira blushed. He was even more pale here under the florescents than on stage. But, he still looked good. It wasn't vanity, Ari was just a good looking kid. A bit slender, he filled a certain niche in the club between the dancers impersonating women and the super-bulky male dancers aimed at the bolder clientele . He had broad shoulders, left-overs from the varsity swim team in high school, and narrow waist. All in all, the slimmer, athletic shape fit well on his short-ish six foot frame.
With a quick glance at the clock, Ira sighed softly. He had at least twenty minutes to relax before he had to be back up on stage again.
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