Q life: with GABRIEL TABASCO

Q Magazine - - Q Life -

Full Monty Wannabe Soon af­ter grad­u­a­tion I got a job in a con­sul­tancy firm, which in­volved a lot of travel. I en­joyed my job but I be­came bored dur­ing the long evenings in ho­tel rooms while trav­el­ling. All the men on Grindr started to sound the same. Not all places I went to had gay bars. Af­ter a long day at work I wanted an adren­a­line kick.

Fol­low­ing on from my oil wrestling ad­ven­ture in a Manch­ester gay club (see Q Mag­a­zine, July 2018) I found that I quite liked per­form­ing. I was com­fort­able be­ing naked and I en­joyed in­ter­act­ing with peo­ple. If I was good at deal­ing with ego­tis­ti­cal CEOs over busi­ness strat­egy, surely I could deal with any­one. Right? Well…

I was in Hong Kong for work. Af­ter what was the world's drea­ri­est meet­ing, I re­turned to my ho­tel room and bored I up­loaded some pho­tos and posted an ad­vert as a strip­per on­line. I never ex­pected any in­ter­ests but af­ter some back and forth with in­de­ci­sive men, I had a cou­ple of book­ings. I made an ap­point­ment for the next day with Ron, an IT con­sul­tant from Delhi, and his friend Harry from Guangzhou.

The fol­low­ing evening, with my heart rac­ing, I stood out­side Ron's apart­ment. Since be­com­ing a strip­per was an im­promptu de­ci­sion, I did not have a strip­per cos­tume to un­dress out of so I wore my work suit and mar­keted my­self as a ‘sexy busi­ness­man'.

Like me, Ron and Harry, were also wear­ing their suits as both were re­turn­ing from work. Ron car­ried a six-pack of beer. ‘To en­joy dur­ing the spec­ta­cle' Ron said with a smile and led me into his apart­ment.

‘Do you want to chat or .... maybe…' I be­gan, more for my ben­e­fit than theirs.

‘No. It's fine. You can be­gin' said Ron as he and Harry sat down on the couch and popped open their beers. I fresh­ened up in the bath­room, went into the liv­ing room, pressed play and be­gan my half-im­pro­vised rou­tine.

I was un­sure how long a strip show should last. I es­ti­mated 20 min­utes and put to­gether a playlist, be­gin­ning with a high-en­ergy song like LMFAO's ‘Face Down, Ass Up' be­fore mov­ing onto a pop song, where I could thrust and gy­rate, then end­ing with a mel­low song like Jill Scott's ‘Get­ting in the Way'.

Since I never stripped be­fore I was not as con­fi­dent as I wanted to be and kicked my­self for not hav­ing a shot of whiskey to re­lax. But as I peeled off my suit, my con­fi­dence along with my erec­tion grew. I danced pass­ably and twerked badly. When I was down to my briefs, I told the boys to rub baby oil all over me.

They quickly fin­ished their first beer and were onto the sec­ond by the time I was down to a neon-green thong, that I had bought as a sex shop that morn­ing. Through my legs, as I was bend­ing over, I spot­ted Harry's re­ac­tion. With a smile, he nudged Ron's who winked and smiled at his friend be­fore toast­ing with their beer bot­tles. Danc­ing prac­ti­cally naked was an oddly em­pow­er­ing feel­ing. I led Harry off the sofa, sat him on the floor and did press-ups over him. I fol­lowed the same rou­tine with Ron, al­low­ing him to re­move my thong with his teeth. By the time Jill Scott's mel­low voice came on I asked them to rub more baby oil over me. They rubbed me ev­ery­where the right way and just be­fore the 20 min­utes were up, the show ended with a bang. Mine.

I kept in touch with Ron and when I trav­elled to Delhi I called him for rec­om­men­da­tions. He in­formed me I could stay in a gay-only bou­tique ho­tel. Dev, the ho­tel owner, hav­ing been told I stripped for Ron, agreed to of­fer me a lower rate if I put on a show one night. Be­ing of the mind­set ‘make it un­til you fake it' I agreed.

I spent the day ex­plor­ing Delhi be­fore I re­turned to the ho­tel for the show. As the ho­tel had six rooms I as­sumed there would be only a hand­ful of guests so I was shocked to see there were at least a dozen peo­ple there. At that mo­ment I would have paid Dev dou­ble my rate not to per­form! But not only had Dev charged the party-go­ers some of them had trav­elled to Delhi for this. (I'm re­ally not that spe­cial', I wanted to say.) But the show must go on… even a semi-chore­ographed strip show by a Full Monty Wannabe. (And no. That's not my strip­per name.)

Be­fore my set be­gan I did a shot of vodka. Then an­other. I went into the guest area where I was greeted by smiles and cheers. I kicked off the act with Usher's ‘Bad Girl'. But man, were they an im­pa­tient au­di­ence! Some of them kept chant­ing ‘off! Off! Off!'

Dif­fer­ent mem­bers of the au­di­ence be­haved dif­fer­ently. Some were more forth­com­ing while others wanted to en­joy it from afar. I quickly got to dis­cern who was more com­fort­able to be in­cluded in the more in­ter­ac­tive el­e­ments of the show, such as rub­bing lo­tion on me.

Not sure of what type of de­mo­graphic the au­di­ence would be, Dev was not ex­plicit on whether the crowd wanted nu­dity or not, but he cer­tainly did not want a big bang at the end of the act. (‘The floors are car­peted, you see' he ex­plained.)

And so for my fi­nal act, I chose a cute man named Sa­hel to sit on a chair as I slowly moved around him in my neon-green thongs. He rubbed some lo­tion on me (care­ful! The car­pets!) be­fore he slowly slip­ping the thongs off me. With my back to the au­di­ence I let him have a look and a quick feel of my cock. Dev shouldn't have been con­cerned; most of the au­di­ence was peer­ing to­wards me hop­ing to get a bet­ter look. So I in­dulged them for a while. Once it was over I took a bow and put on some shorts where I re­mained chat­ting to the guests.

The fol­low­ing day my friend An­drea called and I told him what I was up to.

‘So… you worked in a gay bar, did nude oil wrestling, then you be­came a strip­per? All the while work­ing as a busi­ness con­sul­tant.

You've done it all' he said in­cred­u­lously. ‘Yeah… but so what? Other than my real job, it's not like I can put it on my LinkedIn pro­file, is it?

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