I danced and they yelled.
"I want to sit on your lap!"
"I want you to sit on mine!"
"I've been naughty!"
"I've been nice!"
"Come down my chimney!"
"Show us your jolly little elf!"
"Yeah, show us the elf!"
"Take it off!"
"Free Rudolph!"
What the hell, I thought. They'd paid me $250.00 plus tips.
I grabbed the hat.
"Not the hat!" they yelled.
I gripped the elastic of my jock and slowly peeled it off my body.
Wadded up bills started hitting me.
"Ho, ho, ho!"
"Show us your ass!"
I bent over, spread my cheeks.
More money hit me.
A hand tried to grab my ass.
I let it.
Then I watched the fifty hit the floor.
The guy on the phone told me that I'd have to do a little "extra" if I wanted to make the good money. "It's what they expect," he said.
"What do you mean by extra? It's a Christmas party, for crissake."
"Look, I know it's hard the first time. But, you don't do it, you don't getpaid."
I'd let each man (for a tip) help cover my body with baby oil.
I watched their faces; a bunch of drunk faggots, giggling and girlish.
My hand moved with my body. Slow, at first, then faster. Like they wanted.
They all hooted.
"Let me help," one guy yelled.
The crowed cheered.
I moved away from him and gave some others a better view.
After I came, I picked up the money off the floor, cleaned myself off and got dressed.
They patted me on the back and told me how great I was.
They asked me to stay.
I left.
I walked home, letting the night air cool me down.
I had wanted to kill those men tonight.
I wanted to kill myself. 
