Stranger's On A Train.
Two strangers' their secrets lives.
The train taking me to London Euston was already ten minute's late leaving as a passenger sat down alongside me, we were the only two reserved seats in the last carriage. He introduced himself as 'Toni, with an 'i' not a 'y' I should have recognised it their and then.
He was flamboyantly dressed and showy, ok for London but Wick in the far north of Scotland, where we are nearer the Arctic Circle than London is to the South of France, locals although not prudes would be watching their six around him. Gave me his business card 'Toni Erotic Dancer, Sexologist and Party Organiser.
Not to be outdone I gave him my card, which I would later regret, 'Donald (Don), Builder & Carpenter.'
I asked; "What is it you do?"
"Striptease and sexology that's where the money is and what I was doing at an overnight party a few miles away for a wealthy estate owner who was entertaining his swinger friends."
"What does that entail?"
"I start off with a slow striptease to erotic music, encouraging them to fondle me as I dance naked amongst them, then they join in, it's off to bedrooms, discreet places, walled gardens with nooks and crannies. Goes on all night I coach them in interesting ways, always looking for something new."
"I have heard of those parties, local's claim they are hired as party staff, some boast were also paid for services."
Toni asked; "Is being a builder as fulfilling as that?"
"Can be."
"Do tell; I have told you about my secret life?"
"A few months back I was renovated an extension where a roof was damaged after a winter storm, it was part of a 300 year old fortified house complete with murder holes and walled gardens. I drove up to the house in my truck loaded with wood and roofing materials, I had already surveyed the job. You could see the Castle of May across the valley where the Queen Mother used to live now the King from time to time.
Richard the owner, mid-forties, was a photographic artist with a pen name of '
Ricky'
wasn't quite sure what that was, had plenty of money and a Porsche sitting outside. I had just put my ladders up and starting to strip off the damaged roof, it had been one of those freaky June hot months all I had on was shorts and boots. Ricky came out insisting he help me, after a couple of hours ripping off materials and dropping them down into a skip, we stopped for a break.
I opened my coffee flask and packet of builder sandwiches, I had made from last night's left over sausage casserole. It may not have been eloquent for an artist but was a builder's staple mid-morning fair, Ricky wolfed it down insisting he would make our lunch.
He wanted to photograph the work as it progressed and went to get his camera. By the time he came back I had started lifting damaged roof panels, pure muscular job. He photographed me through an enormous lens as I carried panels tossing them down into a skip. He was in his element, I was enjoying it too and I needed macho photographs for a dating site.
We had stripped and cleared most of the roof by lunch, it was a dirty job, normally I would sit in my truck and have lunch but Ricky had gone down to shower and make our lunch. Left my boots outside walked bare footed to the shower room. After showering and drying off. I could smell the Bolognese as I walked into the farm kitchen with only a towel on, I only had my dirty shorts to put back on.
Ricky asked did I want to see the photographs he had taken, went to his studio camera was in a dock showing rolling images on a large screen. Even although they hadn't been artistically processed, I thought they were great. Took me to see some of his artwork he had hanging on a gallery wall, they were fantastic, but, were all of naked guys, no porno or anything like that. It was then he asked would I mind being photographed naked as I worked?
Last time I did anything like that was during my college days which ended up in a shit storm, after some photographs turned up on the web, I was still excited about the thought of it. As we ate our lunch outlined what he was looking for, it wasn't for the web but one-off photographs processed into artworks and I would get a commission.
After lunch back on the roof doing my building thing, self-conscious being naked not that anyone could see me nearest house or road was over a mile away, I started posing as I worked. After we had finished the outside work started replacing the internal dry lined walls plastering and painting them.
Don't know how many photographs he took using time elapse stills and video as we both worked naked, he was a bit of an exhibitionist too. After finishing the renovation work asked, would I like to go with him to his next art exhibition in Berlin, it would include the photographs he had taken.
The following month we were in Berlin he had processed and mounted his artwork, being their meeting buyers boosted prices. At first I was embarrassed seeing pictures of me and Ricky naked, as everyone looked and commented on them, he sold all his artwork."
Toni said; "I suppose we are not all that different, I am intrigued, what happened at college was their any blowback."
"Blowback yes but not as bad as the first Time, at college my friend Jack was a student cinematography technician, his mother a dance teacher. I helped my Uncle, who I work for, convert their old barn into a dance school and studio, including fitting dance poles. Jack set up the cinematography and lighting equipment in a studio and editing bunker, cameras all discreetly hidden away.
It became very popular with locals who are inherently secretive about their going on's. One day Jack and I hid out in the control bunker, we didn't expect to see people we knew doing naked pole and erotic dancing. Streaming it live onto pay as you view web servers, it wasn't just pole dancing but live sex. I always thought locals were not as prim or worldly innocent as they made out; now I knew it.
Both Jack and I had been to dance classes before and were enthralled with what we saw. After they left we tried pole dancing, crashed out quite a few times but persevered, Jack wanted to do it naked and talked me into it. For novices we were good but Jack had screw up, the server feed and our antics were also uploaded and live.
Jack's mother found out when she was editing the Saturday morning shows, we were last on. As way of retribution edited our pole dancing antics then outed us about what we had done, there was no sexual content, other than implied. When Jack was away on work experience with a film company in Thurso, she showed me how to do it properly. Jack found our videos, without telling anyone posted it on a pay as you view site creating a blowback shit storm.
It didn't end there, at any one time there are a lot of energy and oil workers in and around Wick. One off their fixers was given copies of the videos by my local College lecturer Olly Docherty an Aussie. I received an invite to a private gathering of civil works companies, Olly encouraged me to go, to make business contacts.
When I turned up met the suites, we chatted about my Uncle's tender for work which we desperately needed to avoid pay offs. Rather they talked I listened, one put a brown envelope on the table and said 'yours' if you do your poll dance striptease live for us and your Uncle will get his contract.'
They had a dance pole set up in an anti-room, gave me some strip-off clothes. Music on; did my slow erotic strip combined with an athletic pole dance to their vocal enjoyment. I was much better at it live than on video, after Jack's mother's additional tuition.
Finished I was standing confidently naked waiting for them to say something. Anticipating something I had popped pills, on a high I was starting to get an arousal. The same Mr. Fixer put a second brown envelope on the table 'this is yours if you entertain an official upstairs.' I knew what they wanted this wasn't my first time, Olly already had me doing this for him and colleagues.
My naked walk of shame was up a cold soulless fire escape to a bedroom. I knocked; squeaky voice said 'come in' a politician I recognised from television last night ranting on about shutting down the oil industry. He reminded me of that meerkat character with glasses.
All he had on was one of those white fluffy dressing gowns which he dropped on the floor after I shut the door. No talk, no foreplay, I ended up kneeling on the bed with him banging me, finished left without explanation. Mr. Fixer came in with my clothes in a plastic supermarket bag, two brown envelopes and a signed contract, put them on the bed and said 'wait here for an hour before leaving.'
I waited looking down out of the bedroom window, saw him return to his electric driven limousine which was parked alongside my diesel truck. Opened the two brown envelopes thinking, this will go to my truck replacement fund and, how I ended up doing this.