It Takes One to Raise One

Yeah, there was a bit of a delay on this. Life got busy, I found a few other interests, and well, after my frantic writing during January and February, I was a bit burned out. But here we go…

"Once upon a time, in a far off land, a purple princess lived in a large city. While she was there, she met a green frog. The frog was kind of a dumb ass and didn't realize that guns work better than stupid fucking sticks but she eventually got him to see the light and pack some heat. She was just a little girl when she first met him, but when she lost her Daddy and started to grow up with the green frog, she realized that maybe their clashing colors could be together after all. Then she kissed the frog and he got a hard on and…"

I crumpled up the paper and threw it on the floor to join all my other vow righting attempts. Sure I like to swear, but I don't think the phrase 'hard on' belongs in my wedding vows. I'd been working on this for a week and I had to admit that I completely sucked at writing romantic shit.

But I don't suck at sucking, if you know what I mean. Wink Wink…

No, I'm not fucking showing you. You'll have to ask Dave. And if he shows you the video I let him record last week which he extra, extra promised to delete later, he and I are going to have a very serious conversation. With a rope and a whole lot of number 10 ex-acto blades. Or is it the number 11's…. Fuck it. The little tiny triangle ones, OK?

Yes it fucking matters!

Anyway, the wedding was getting closer and I really wanted to say something special to commemorate Dave and I getting married. I know I'm not all that respectful of authority or serious situations. But this is Dave and he's worth it. So I was still plugging away at writing the perfect thing for our perfect day.

Maybe I shouldn't think of it as a perfect day. Might jinx it. I mean, Spiderman thought he was going to have a perfect wedding and then the fucking Green Goblin had to show up with those sodding pumpkin bombs.

Seriously, why would anyone go to the trouble of making your bombs look like pumpkins? If you're not fighting near Halloween, you just look like an asshole.

And yes, sodding. I've been watching a lot of British shit, OK?

The real issue wasn't the vows. I could just google something that sounded good and Dave would never know the difference. But what I really needed to do was find a way to open myself up. I need to somehow be more than 'Mindy in the safe house' or Hit-Girl on the street. I needed to somehow prove to myself that I was, well, a woman. Not a kid. That I somehow owned my identity, my morality, and even my sexuality.

And that's when I got the idea. It was totally fucking insane. And while writing fancy shit wasn't my deal, complete barking insanity was pretty much my specialty. If I could do this, if I could pull this off… well, then I'd be able to stand before Dave on our wedding day confident in beginning a new life.

I shook my head and tried to clear it. It was so easy to get distracted and despite my new plan, I still needed some fucking pretty vows. So I grabbed another piece of paper and tried again.

"You're sure?" Dave asked for what must have been the fiftieth time.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure. I've talked to Marty about what he's planning for the bachelor party and I'm fine with it."

"But he wants to…" Dave trailed off, probably uncertain exactly what Marty had told me.

"I know exactly what he wants to do. In fact, he even ran it by me before he told you. Seemed to think that if he tried it without my blessing, I'd remove his spleen."

"Would you have?" Dave asked carefully.

"Nah. I'd let some blood out of him but it wouldn't be that serious."

"Are you sure he told you the truth?" Dave pushed, obviously still afraid. "

"I'm sure. He's going to take you to a not too skeezy strip club. Topless only and as far as my sources can tell, none of the 'dancers' are secretly hooking to supplement their income. You're allowed to look. You're allowed to get a little drunk, but not so bad that it will fuck up the wedding. Is that all correct?" I asked. Dave nodded and I continued. "I'm okay with it. Go with him. Have some fun." I pulled a big stack of one dollar bills out of my pocket and shoved it into his hands. "Be a nice pervert and tip the girls generously. Shit, you can even buy a lap dance or two. I hear the club has some new girl starting tonight. Maybe you can be her first customer?"

"You're shitting me." He replied. I could tell that he was excited at the night of freedom but convinced there was a catch.

"Nope. Not at all. Look, bachelor parties are conventional and every once in a while, we need that in our lives. Tonight is one of those nights. Have a normal bachelor party. Try not to get too drunk, okay? Those ID's should be good enough to get you past the door security but if a cop tries to pull them up in his system, they'll ring like a fucking carnival. So get moving. Shoo!" I said, trying not to laugh at his expression.

"Don't you want to go out too? Call Miranda or something?" Dave asked, his reluctance starting to fade.

Dave finally just shook his head, grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. I puttered around the safe house for a bit, putting the finishing touches on Bethany's flower girl basket but I kept an eye on the clock so I wouldn't completely lose track of things. I'd been a little worried when Dave kept fighting this Marty's great idea because it neatly dovetailed with my plans for the evening. But he'd left and I just had some time to kill before I left. I puttered around a bit more, trying to settle my nerves. Around ten, I finally grabbed my own jacket and headed out. I hailed a cab and, when I got to my destination, I went around to the back entrance so no one would see me. My plan would be totally fucked up if anyone ID's me. Then I knocked on a solid steel door a couple of times before it popped open.

A tall guy who was probably named Nunzio nodded at me and held the door open a bit farther so I could squeeze in. He led me down a tunnel like hallway to a small room. "Everything you asked for is in there. We had to be a little creative. We don't normally get people your, umm, size."

I stared at him. "Is there something wrong with my size?" I asked.

"Nah, it takes all kinds. We just usually get them taller."

"Taller?" I asked. "Don't you mean, umm, bigger?" I asked, kind of vaguely indicating my chest.

"Nah. Lotsa girls don't seem to eat nowadays so we get a lot small tit girls. Seems dumb to me. Big bazooms, big ass, big tips. It all goes together. So you might as well eat, right? Plus they'd probably be a little nicer because they wouldn't be so fucking hungry all the time. But no, almost all of them seem to survive on popcorn and diet coke. Somehow, though, short girls don't seem to go for this kind of thing." He said, then turned and headed farther down the hall. "I've got it all set up for you at 11 so don't take too much time getting used to it, OK?"

I pulled out the bottle of hand sanitizer I had with me and basically sprayed down the room. I mean, I had a baby coming and I didn't want it to be born with hepatitis. Or amebic dysentery. Or whatever the fuck else might be in this place. Then I made sure the door was locked and went ahead and stripped down to my skin.

Yes. Stripped. It's a scary word but I might as well get fucking used to it because I was about to do it. In public. On a stage. And before you ask, I haven't lost my mind and this isn't some sort of perverted dare. I was going to strip. In public.

Put your dick back in your pants please and I'll explain. Unless you don't have a dick…. Then, umm, maybe take your hand out of your pants?

Fuck.

Look, this isn't as crazy as you may think. I'd come up with this who idea of baring my soul by baring my body. Owning my identity and my sexuality. Because seriously, if I was confident enough, who fucking cares who sees me, right? And if I could do this, then I could let go of some other things, like having to be in control all of the time. That was really the other problem that I saw in marrying Dave. If I didn't let off the gas a little, I was going to run him over before we were married a year. I didn't want to become little subservient Mindy…

Well, not outside of an occasional romp in the bedroom and you all know that in BDSM, the sub is actually the one in charge…

Stop fucking blushing.

What I wanted to do was be equal with Dave. And that meant lowering some barriers. And, as it turns out, my panties.

Well, not really, I was only going topless. I'm not totally fucking nuts. But 'lowering your panties' sounds better so I was going with that when I explained it all to Dave afterwards. And as it turns out, Mother Nature was kind of on my side. Since baby was on the way, I finally had big enough boobs for this but I wasn't so far along that my stomach was poking out. So, this might be my only opportunity to really shake things up. Literally.

Have you noticed that I ramble when I'm nervous?

Anyway, I'd come up with this plan and been all impressed with myself. And I'd scouted out the place and then approached the manager. I figured I'd really have to talk him into it, maybe even bribe him. As it turns out, I didn't. Apparently I'm not the first bride to be to have this idea. In fact, so fucking common that he even had a brochure to show me with all of the available options. Apparently once pole dancing classes went main stream, this bachelorette stripping thing kind of took off. The manager even said that he'd done a groupon once but 37 bridezillas all coming in to strip on the same night had almost destroyed the place.

Holy fuck am I nervous about this.

I decided to focus on the practical and I selected an appropriately slutty outfit that would still cover a decent amount of my body. Then I slowly put it on, checking each strap and seam to make sure they'd hold. I was going to be in charge of what I did or did not reveal tonight, not some piece of shit loose thread. I suppose it was kind of weird to try to cover anything given my stated goal but… Baby steps…. The outfit wasn't that much different than the bathing suit that I'd worn on vacation. It had lace but it also had some nude fabric backing so the audience wouldn't immediately know how much pubic hair I had. The bottoms were kind of a cross between regular panties and a thong. It just covered the top half of my ass and that part only with lace. I was pretty sure it was going to stay put (this was a topless only place so I wasn't actually allowed to take them off even if I wanted to…) but I was glad I'd gone ahead and endured the pussy waxing that Miranda had insisted on because, even if I was careful, thinks could slip and… I'm sure you have the appropriate mental image. It had hurt like fuck but they'd removed everything but a little strip at the top of my pussy to prove to the world that I was older than 12. I figured it would be a nice surprise for Dave.

Fuck. Yet another use of the word 'strip'. I'm going a little bonkers here.

I donned the last piece of clothing, a lace and leather mask that obscured my face but still left me beautiful. I hadn't decided if I'd toss the thing away at the last moment or not but wearing it would probably be the only thing that let me step onto that stage without panicking. One last piece of armor. Then I looked at myself in the mirror.

I was… hot. I know it's fucking weird to say that about yourself but, well, I was. I had a white lace bra that fastened in the front. Below that, a garter belt encircled my waist. White transparent stockings covered my legs with a white seam going up the back. I have no idea why a seam in stockings is sexier but holy fuck, it is. They clipped to the belt with four white straps, each of which could be released with a little flip of a finger. Under that was a brief pair of lacey white panties. They weren't a thong and they weren't boy shorts… I don't know what they're called. But they covered the top part of my ass and left the bottom part out to be seen. Over that, I had a short plaid skirt and the rest of a catholic school girl uniform that had severely shrunk in the wash. A knock at me door and a 'You're up, doll face' let me know it was time to face the stripper music.

Doll face? What was this, 1920?

I followed Nunzio up to the stage and waited for it to be my turn. They'd made sure that Dave had a good seat and that he hadn't run out of bills to tip me with. That last was a nice touch and one that I never would have thought of. But apparently after the third bride had gone postal when her groom was too broke to shove a dollar in her panties, they'd started making sure he still had some money.

The music changed and I walked out. I'd tell you what I danced to but I don't remember. Not at all. What I do remember was how it felt when every single eye in the house locked on me. Any fear that I'd still harbored about running away vanished. I controlled the room. I decided what they got to see and how they got tempted. It was beyond a rush. I danced around the stage. I twirled around the pole, even flipping myself upside down. Gravity gave them the first view of my panties and the room cheered. I shrugged out of the school girl jacket and tossed it backstage. Guys were holding out bills hoping for a closer look at me but I was having too much fun dancing to bother collecting the money right now. My shirt was tied beneath my breasts and the crowd howled to see a bit more of me. I quickly looked over and saw that Dave was cheering along with them. He obviously didn't have a clue it was me which was just how I wanted it for now. I moved closer to him while removing the shirt and danced away before he got too good of a look. It got tossed away too and I spun and twirled, my tiny skirt flaring out as I turned. I flipped down into the splits and flipped the first catch on my right stocking. As I pulled myself back up, I flipped the second catch and then, bending forward to give them plenty of cleavage, slid that stocking down. I threw that one at Marty for the fuck of it, not caring in the slightest that he was here. I released the catches on the other stocking while spinning around the pole, a feat I was kind of proud of. Then I moved center stage, dramatically spun, and unbuttoned my skirt. It whirled around my legs like a hula hoop as it slowly dropped to the floor.

Now that I think on it that was probably some sort of stripper foul. I suppose a professional would have removed both stockings and then the skirt but fuck it, this was fun.

Feeling daring, I turned my back to the audience and then bent over to touch my toes so that they were staring at my lace panty clad ass. After a good long pause, I slowly pushed the second stocking down, widening my stance so they might even see the outline of my pussy stretching against the fabric. I glanced at Dave again and actually saw him realize it was me. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. His reaction was priceless and I almost ruined the dance by laughing. In fact, it was so wonderful that I decided not to ask him to explain why he identified me while staring at my ass instead of my face. I slowly rose back to a standing position and took a quick spin around the pole so I could peek at Dave again.

Dave nervously glanced from side to side and then grinned stupidly at me. Then, after a club guy nudged him, he quickly held out some bills to tip me. Actually, he held out the entire stack of money he had left at first before the club guy spoke to him again and obviously told him to slow down. Damn, these guys were really taking good care of us. Definitely a five star review on Yelp. I walked over and let him slip the bills into my panties. Some other guys flung money on the stage and I gave them another view of my ass when I walked over to pick it up.

A scantily clad woman who was probably then next dancer waved at me from off stage. And then pointed at her wrist. That must mean that I'm almost out of time. If I wanted to strip any farther, now was the time. I glanced down at myself nervously. All I had left was bra, panties and mask. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I reached behind myself and couldn't seem to find the clasp. Panicking, I looked offstage at the helpful time stripper who obviously rolled her eyes before miming unhooking her bra in front. Fuck it, I'd forgotten about that. Trying not to giggle in my nervous relief, I turned back to the crowd and moved my hands to between my breasts. My shaking fingers released the catch. My bra instantly loosened but I held it in place while trying to psyche myself up to actually take it off. Then I managed to shuck it away while still keeping my breasts covered by my hands. I'm not sure how. Some bending of the laws of physics or shit like that. Panicked, I looked up and managed to catch Dave's eyes. His expression was both excited and a little shocked that I was actually going to go this far. And then this magical thing happened. We had an entire conversation with nothing but tiny changes to our expressions in the space of only a few moments. Okay, I'm full of shit. It was just a bunch of looks. But I like to pretend the conversation went something like this.

Dave: You're really gonna show your tits?

Me: Yes, shithead.

Dave: You don't have to do this for me.

Me: I'm not doing it for you, asshole. I'm doing it for me.

Dave: Oh. Why?

Me: 'cause I can do what I fucking want!

Dave: Seriously, why?

Me: 'cause… fuck it. I don't know. To prove I'm grown up enough to really marry you and that I can do whatever needs to be done in a non-violent sense and that even though I'm pregnant I'm still attractive and to, like, do something completely crazy before we get married and fuck, I don't know.

Dave: Can you try that again? I didn't quite catch all of that.

Me: Shit! I said that I'm doing this to prove to you and to myself that I'm an adult. That I can handle strange situations. That I'm still wild even if I'm going to get married and have a kid. That, well, fuck it all. I'm Hit-Girl and I can do fucking anything! And god damn it! I finally have boobs big enough that stripping isn't stupid and maybe this is my one chance to show them off!

Dave: Sorry, all I got was that your boobs are big.

Me: FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Dave: I like them, by the way.

Me: FUCK FUCKETY FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Dave: Look, I do and will support you in all your choices. Even this. Whatever you want, you do. I'll still be there for you. Always.

Me: Well, that's really helpful, you dumb shit. I'm still the one on this stage holding my hands on my tits! What do I fucking do now?

Dave: I don't know. But you're running out of music so, seriously, shit or get off the pot.

Me: What did you just fucking say?

Dave: I love you.

Me: Oh. Must have misunderstood. I love you too. But I'm still going to kick your ass later. I'm not sure what for but I'll figure it out then.

Dave: LOL

I broke my gaze away from Dave's and looked back at the audience. Contrary to what I'd been thinking, I didn't have a single damn thing to prove, either to myself or to anyone else. I could be sexy and strong and powerful and nurturing and a mom and a whole fuckton more things if I wanted to. Dave would be there regardless and, whatever dumb fucking thing he decided to do, I'd be there for him too. That's the way it had been all the time we'd been together and, at the very least, a ring was going to make that bond stronger instead of weaker. This had been a blast and I was proud of myself for completely jumping outside of my comfort zone. But some things were just for Dave and I slipped the clasp back together and, after a calming breath, shouted out to the audience. "Sorry guys! These are only for my man. 'Butt' I hope you enjoyed my ass!" And I bounded off stage before I could change my mind.

Miss stripper time clock was doubled over laughing but managed to hand me a robe so I could cover back up. Then she gave me a sisterly hug, which was deeply weird because her boobs where already out and mine were barely covered. "Don't feel bad!" she said, trying not to laugh again. "Most brides go running off the stage before they get half as far as you got. So be proud of yourself. Anyway, they'll be taking your guy back to a private room now. Go join him and you can do whatever you want with a little bit more privacy."