Chippendales, Old man, Henry Wilkes, Reginald Crawley, Champagne
DAVID 530
At an exclusive men's club for connoisseurs of the finest things in life "Colonel" Henry Wilkes, a very distinguished elderly gentleman from Alabama introduces his friend to his favorite waiter.
"David, I have the pleasure of introducing you to my dear friend, Reginald Crawley."
"Well howdy Mr. Crawley. It's a real pleasure to meet you."
Mr. Crawley could not respond. He simply smiled, dumbfounded at the mountain of muscle before him.
"Well say something Reginald. The boy will thing you're rude."
"I....I........"
Colonel Wilkes shook his head. "I do apologize my boy, but I'm sure you're used to this."
David smiled. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. But don't you worry Mr. Crawley," David said to the stupefied man. "You just collect yourself and anytime you're ready we--"
"I....I....I could feast off that chest for a week."
Colonel Wilkes chuckled. "Well, that's a start."
"Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry," said Mr. Crawley. "I can't believe I said that...I just have never seen anything so....magnificent before."
"We'll I'll take that as a compliment," said David.
Mr. Crawley tried to collect himself. "I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, young man."
"The feeling is mutual," said David. "Well," he began, turning to Colonel Wilkes, "is this the correct order, sir? It's not your usual."
"Well, this here's one of Mr. Crawley's favorites. We're celebrating his long awaited visit from England. It's been, what, twenty years since last you set foot in this fair land of ours, eh Reggie?"
"Quite. And I can tell you it's been worth the wait. My, but you grow things big in America."
"Well I thought I heard a trace of an accent," said David. "I'm from England too!":
"Oh you are not!" said Colonel Wilkes. He placed one hand gingerly on David's butt. "This here is a product of the heart of Dixie! My Texas stallion I call him."
"Well, uhh......I'm afraid I'm not I'm not as much of a good ol' boy as I've led you to believe, Colonel. You see, technically I am still a British subject."
"What?"
Mr. Crawley smiled and attempted to mimic David's Texas accent. "A Briddish subjict."
David nodded.
"You don't sound like a British subject."
"I guess I've kind of picked up the local's accent."
Colonel Wilkes caressed the muscular globes before him. "Oh Reggie. You should feel what I'm feeling. So round. So firm. So high. So powerful. Just the thought of their trusting power leaves me weak in the knees."
"Oh Henry. Your knees haven't been strong in twenty years."
"Sir! How dare you! Well I must say, there is only one thing that can assuage the crushing disappointment you have caused today," he said looking up at David.
"And what's that?" David asked.
"Do your little trick for us."
"Oh but Colonel, I told you, the management doesn't like me to do that. I'd get in trouble."
"Should that happen, be assured I will take care of everything. Now you simply must. Reginald has come all the way from England after all."
"Where exactly are you from, young man?"
"London," said David.
"Really. How fascinating. And where were you born?"
"London," David repeated. "At Saint Bartholomew's."
"Bart's!" said Mr. Crowley.
"That's right. Just a hop, skip, and a jump from where I lived."
Colonel Wilkes was not pleased with the change in subject. "I must insist. My champagne is getting cold."
Mr. Crawley managed to look away from David for a moment. "I thought it was my champagne."
"Whatever," muttered Colonel Wilkes. He looked up at David. "You simply must. I even brought some of Reginald's heart medicine with me for the occasion."
David chuckled.
"You didn't!"
"Trust me Reggie. You might need it."
David sighed. "Well, all right." He set the tray on the table and carefully removed the wrapper from the bottle. He took a small corkscrew from a well concealed pocket in his impossibly tight, black stretch pants and turned the device slowly into the cork. His forearm muscles, biceps, and pecs rippled and bulged with each twist.
"Oh!" exclaimed Mr. Crawley.
David gripped the bottle with his thighs and drove the corkscrew deeper and deeper, grunting and grimacing with each twist. When it was in as far as it would go, he began to pull, and tug.....rhythmically. Harder and harder. His grunts got higher, louder, stronger. The two elderly gentlemen gripped the arms of their chairs. Their eyes grew wider. They held their breath.
The smooth glass of the bottle and the tissue-thin, black, satiny fabric of David's pants afforded no traction and the bottle began to slide up between David's thighs until it came to rest underneath his balls. The upward pressure pushed everything above it up and forward.
The cork was tight, and to prevent an uncontrolled eruption of champagne, David was forced to pull the cork with steady, but ever forceful, tugs
The cork began to fizz.
Mr. Crawley put one hand to his heart.
Colonel Wilkes swooned.
And then "pop!" Champagne gushed from the bottle. David gave a huge sigh of relief. Clumsily, he tried to stop the rhythmic spurts with his right hand which still held the corkscrew.
Some of the men in the room stood and applauded. The ones that didn't stand could only sit, their mouths agape, as champagne ran down the bottle to soak the front of
David's pants.
Mr.Crawley had fainted.
Colonel Wilkes felt frantically in his jacket pocket for his friend's heart medicine.
David quickly poured a glass for the elderly Englishman.
"Is he going to be ok?" asked David.
"He'll be fine," said Colonel Wilkes.
"Should I carry him to one of the couches?"
"If he were to wake up in your arms, with his face next to your chest and your blue eyes looking down at him..........that might kill him. Let's just give him a sip of champagne and maybe one of these."
"Ok."
"Heh heh. I promised him the South would rise again. And so will he. And I should tell you, my boy, that you've earned quite a tip."
"Why thank you sir."
2012