by Margot Kyle from Westmount, Quebec
This story goes back to the party my husband, Hugh planned for my 40th birthday-17 years ago. My girlfriend Nancy had suggested to him that he hire a male stripper as a surprise. Hugh thought it was a great idea.
The event arrived and the evening progressed with everyone having a great time. At around 10 p.m. all the guests suddenly decided that it was time to leave.
Hugh and I started to tidy up a bit when the doorbell rang. I opened it there was a policeman standing there. He told me that the neighbours had complained about the noise. Strange, I thought, as everyone had left about an hour. Sure enough, the policeman broke cover as he came in, pressed the button on his tape machine, and started to reveal – to music – that he was definitely not a police officer.
I suddenly realized why all my fink friends had cleared out so quickly. Word had gone around and they were not in the mood for a male strip show (or the husbands weren't anyway). So that left just Hugh and I. And what were we to do but sit down and watch the already paid for show.
The policeman had definitely done this show before and had it down pat. As he pealed off layers of clothes we sat in awe of just how many layers there were. Finally the last layer came off and some silk black briefs which were flung into the air.
They landed on my husband's lit cigarette.
The show then ended with the scantily clad stripper eating a plate of party leftovers and discussing home renovations with my husband while I sat sewing up the hole in his silky black briefs.