“I turned him last night,” Candy says. “He’s the best man — he was okay looking, too. He said there would be about sixty-five of them altogether. I said there could be a lesbian show, so I figure Mary and I will do it. You guys will strip, and I’ll lay the groom. After that, it’ll be $60 a trick, so I said for $1,000 he could have everything else. If we do five each, that’s a good night. He’ll pick us up here at seven. It’s in Abbotsford, at some hall.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mary says, lighting a joint.
“Fuck,” Judy says, taking it from her.
“No, it’s just my nails. Sounds great.”
— Amelia Schonbek
I forget my instincts on Saturday night, as we sit around waiting for the buzzer, as Judy rolls reefers, Mary snorts lines, and we all drink scotch. Candy buzzes in the best man and gets our money.
The drive isn’t as long as I thought it would be, a good sign. As we enter the hall through the side door, I can hear men laughing and talking from the auditorium. The best man leads us backstage, then leaves to get the groom. I follow him and peek out at the audience. There are sixty-five men, as promised, maybe more.
“What does it look like out there?” Judy asks when I return.
“Crowded, but a lot of older men. I was worried it would be all young guys.”
“Stop worrying,” Candy says. “The guy’s getting married. We might even make it back for last call.”
The groom arrives, already drunk. “My last night of freedom,” he slurs. “You better make it a good one.” He tries to grab Candy and kiss her; clearly, he doesn’t understand. She tells them they don’t want to miss the show.
Judy and I take turns stripping, then the cries for “Lesbo!” start. Candy and Mary do their show, and the cheers spiral out of control as they return, followed by the best man and the groom. Candy takes the groom by the hand and leads him to the janitor’s closet across the hall. He can hardly walk.
“Why don’t you organize the other guys who want to get laid,” she coos to the best man before closing the door.
“What about me, baby?” he says, grabbing at her.
“After you drive us back. Remember our deal.” She winks; he follows her instructions.
Mary laughs as she gets dressed. “This might be the best stag in a long time. I can feel it.” But she can’t feel it. She has pulled her travel kit from her purse, pulled out the vial.
The best man is back. There’s a problem. “You see, they don’t think they should have to pay any more,” he explains. “They’ve already paid $30 each, and they don’t think they’ve got their money’s worth yet.” The cheers from the crowd seem to echo his words. “You girls like to give blow jobs anyways, don’t you? Isn’t that why you became prostitutes?”
“No, we became prostitutes to make money,” I say, trying to smile.
“Go talk to your friends,” Judy says, playing with her garters. “We’ll make it worth every penny.”
I know we aren’t going to make a penny more, though. I start to get my clothes on, as Candy re-enters — the groom is too drunk to fuck. She can’t believe we haven’t turned any tricks.
“No one wants to get laid?” she says, dumbfounded.
“Oh, yes, they do,” Judy says. “They just don’t want to pay for it.”
I can hear many beer bottles hit the tables, then the fists pounding, in unison. As the best man opens the door, I can make out what they’re chanting: We want head! We want head!
“Hey, the party is just getting started,” he says, seeing us clothed. “You can’t go now.”
“Yes, we can. Where’s your car?” Candy demands.
“You’re not going anywhere until I say so.” He starts to laugh.
I push past them, toward the auditorium, and make my way into the crowd, hoping to appeal to the older men: the fathers of the bride and groom, uncles, grandfathers. I try to smile at the paying guests as they paw at me.
“It’s over,” I say when I reach an older gentleman. “We just need a ride or for someone to call us a cab. It’s getting a little late, a little out of control.” I look into his eyes, pleading.
He stares at me blankly, so I look to the man next to him. My body is vibrating with the chants. “Please, could you just call us a cab?”
“You got yourself into this mess,” he says. “Now get yourself out.”