Seasonal

 

Seasonal

And to all a Good Night!

by

Gym Dude

 It's December and that means parties. Now I'm a social kind of guy and I enjoy parties as much as the next guy, but this time of year gets kind of crazy.  There are parties you really look forward to then there are those you feel obligated to attend.

I have a friend, well, let's say a client of mine who invited me to her holiday party last week. She is a business owner and has become a pretty important account of mine. It's an interesting relationship, most of the time she is very professional, but on occasion I think she is coming on to me. Things are fine if we are in her office or mine, but in a social setting she always finds a way to squeeze my arm or rub my chest or abs and make this "OOOOOhhhh" sound.  She comments on my muscles and how strong I must be, but it never goes any further than that. She is no school girl, but an adult lady in her mid-thirties and I'm only 22. I do work out every day and am proud to carry a very solid 196 pounds on my nearly six foot frame. Compared to the rest of the lifters in my gym, I would say I look pretty hot and Carol seems to appreciate a man who is put together right. Anyway, I appreciate her business, so when she invited me to her party I pretty much had to be there.

Carol's house is cool. It's the kind of place you would find in Architectural Digest, with a forested section of the golf course right behind it. Walking in, I felt a little under-dressed, many people were in suits and the ladies wore fashion-plate outfits. She told me dress would be casual so I wore decent slacks and a long-sleeved ribbed knit shirt. My shirt was not too tight, but on my body, it looked damn good. I knew how to dress for Carol as I thought to myself, "A guy does what he needs to do'.

The door was answered by this tall dude, maybe six-foot-two or three, who asked to take my coat. As the guy turned, I could see the outline of broad shoulders and solid looking lat muscles running down his back. Yes, undoubtedly hand-picked by Carol.

The place looked like it was decorated by a pro, not only the furnishings but all the holiday trimmings were carefully selected and perfectly placed. Normal party stuff was everywhere as I worked my way from room to room. The women seemed to go out of their way to bump against me as I made my way through the crowd. "Oooo! Solid" one would say, or "Nice bod, Sonny" from another. More than a few of the guys seemed a little pissed at the attention I was getting from

their women, but I would just give them my "Hey, what can I do?" look and move on toward the bar. Most of the refreshments were on one side of the kitchen that faced a social room setting. I had the bartender pour a healthy dose of Jack Daniels on the rocks.

As I looked across the room, I saw him, a freaking MIME. I hate mimes! Oh, I know they consider this some kind of performance art, but to me it's creepy and people who do it are . weird.

This mime was about my height and wearing a loose fitting mime costume. Mimes generally look in fairly good shape and so did this guy in fact he could be a little more stocky than most of them. I thought, 'Well, this is a really big house, I'll just move around and pretend this ass-wipe isn't here'.

I worked my way to another room when I felt a pair of hands grip around my right biceps and squeeze.  "OOoooohhh! I see your workouts are .. Mmmmm .. Working out!" I knew before I turned around that I had found the hostess. Carol whisked me off to a dozen people I will probably never remember and each time she'd introduce me she found some excuse to bring muscle into the conversation. She'd mention how hard I work for her company then add, "Just look at these muscles from all that hard work" and run her free hand down my abs. It was a little embarrassing, but after the reaction I got from the ladies, I began to rather enjoy it. Even a few of them reached up to cop a feel of my chest and arms, much to the dismay of their men, especially one guy who actually grabbed my biceps himself.

He was a guy in his mid-twenties and seemed to be in pretty good shape himself. He looked really pissed off when his wife said something about my body being stronger and harder than 'Greg's'. Greg gripped my left biceps like he wanted to rip it off my arm.  Unfortunately for him, his fingers couldn't dent my already flexed arm and he pulled away, embarrassed that he had tried and failed.

I smiled and invited Greg to a workout some time, "Come on, Dude!" I said, "You look like you might have been in decent shape at one point in your life. It's not too late to put some muscle back on that body of yours. Listen Dude, come on down to my gym and I'll give you some pointers. Train with me and we'll get you back into shape!" Greg's wife thought that was a great idea! Greg was even more pissed off, which is pretty much what I intended.

After a few more introductions, Carol was off to attend to other guests and I was back on my own. I worked my way through another room and as I turned, I stood nearly face-to-face with that freaking MIME! I was instantly pissed off but calmly instructed the

dude to go somewhere else and give me some space. In really exaggerated movements the clown backs up a step

pretending that he is scared, which I think he should be, but the ass-hole has me cornered and keeps up his act right in front of me.

I'm already pissed, but I get even MORE pissed and warn the weird dude again to leave me alone but the mime just continues his 'afraid act' and stays right in my face!

I'm really frustrated by now and I kind of forget where I am. As the white-faced bastard moves in on me once more, I haul off and punch the ass-wipe right in the center of his gut!

I delivered a good powerful right that made solid contact. In fact, I instantly worried that I had hit him too hard. I mean, I'm beating up the entertainment at my client's party? This can't be good!

The mime stepped back a few paces with both hands covering his stomach obviously over-acting that he had been mortally wounded by my punch while I'm standing there surprised that the mime's body was so damn hard.

He grabbed himself by the collar and pulled himself upright then taking an exaggerated boxer's stance with his fist’s way too high, the mime stepped forward as though he were going to fight me. OK butt-hole, if you want more, I'm just the man to give it to you. As he approached, I nailed the bastard with a right / left combination to the gut with exactly the same result as my first punch.

My punches confirmed my first suspicions; this guy has an incredibly solid gut. While he was over-acting as though I had killed him, it was obvious to all that I hadn't hurt him at all and that really pissed me off!

This went on for another round, before the mime made a signal like he had an idea. He pointed at himself, made a few punching moves, pointed at me then tapped his stomach and pointed at me again. It was clear the guy could take my punches, and wondered if I could take his. I smiled and braced myself for the big show.

The mime stepped forward as though he was afraid of me, and I was thinking he should be. He stood right before me, wiped his hand across his face and his expression changed from apprehension to one of bravery. Then he raised his right arm and pointed with his left at his flexed biceps.

I stood in amazement as a massive twin-headed cantaloupe-sized muscle exploded from the guy's right arm. This guy's arms look freaking bigger than MINE!  I was so shocked at the sight of that much muscle that I forgot my protective flex and was caught relaxed and flat-footed when the dude's right fist slammed into my gut like a damn freight train. The mime's punch ripped through my abs like they were melted butter.  My jaw dropped down and my eyes bugged out of my head. In one instant I was breathless, unable to even gasp for air! It wouldn't have made any difference because half-a-second later his left fist smashed into the same spot and my big bad-ass body dropped like a rock.

 The mime acted like he was so apologetic that he had hurt me. Pretending to be helpful, he pulled me up and leaned me against the fireplace. He pressed my chest with his right hand while he brushed me off with his left. He made such a big deal of it as he wiped his hand across my abs, very much like Carol had, then he stepped to my other side and pressed me back against the fireplace with his left hand and I expected he would brush me off some more, but instead he smiled to the audience and fired a series of machinegun punches straight up the middle of my broken down abdominals. I lost count of how many times his big right fist slammed into my gut, but at some point, I passed out.

I awoke to a cup of water splashing in my face.  Gagging and gasping for air, I was on my back with party guests surrounding me, some ladies looked concerned, the guys looked like they wished they could have been the man that wasted me. The mime was looming above me and as I caught my breath he reached down with a shockingly solid grip on my triceps and without much effort pulled me to my feet. Still wobbly, he pressed me against the fireplace so I wouldn't fall down. I could barely stand up straight and my gut hurt like hell.

I looked to see if he was wearing brass knuckles or something, but there was nothing in his hand but a dog leash. What? That's right, he had one of those dog leashes where the cord is actually solid and it makes it look like you are walking an invisible dog. He was whistling as he mimed his daily walk with his dog, of course he wasn't moving anywhere, it just looked like it.

Then the mime pointed toward the invisible dog, then at me, then at the floor and smiled at me. It was his way of saying he wanted me on all fours to be his mime doggie.

Still standing shakily at best I shook my head no.  The mime pointed at me then at the floor again and again I said no. The mime flexed his right biceps for me and pointed at the floor. Wanting no more of his weird act, I shook my head no and the dude's left fist smashed into my gut again! Damn, it was like he wanted to drive his fist clear into the fireplace bricks. His left was followed quickly by an equally powerful right and in an instant, I was on all fours at his feet trying desperately to remember how to breathe!

The mime stood before me and pulled out a real dog leash and while I gagged at his feet in humiliation, he slid a chocker chain around my neck. One quick tug on the leash and I knew instantly why they are called choker chains! The ¾" chain dug into my neck muscles

like a hangman's noose. I tried desperately with my fingers to claw it loose but the chain was digging too deep into my neck. I could feel my face turn red and just before I would have passed out the pressure released.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" I screamed breathlessly, "Let me go or I'm going to ..!" My words were cut off by another pull on the leash. Again, I clawed at the chain digging deeper into my neck cutting off both blood flow and air, but to no avail. Again, the terrible pressure released before I passed out.

As my eyes began to focus, the mime pointed slightly in front of me that he wanted me to crawl to that point. I can't tell you how pissed I was by then.  "Listen you bastard. I'm not going to pretend to be your stupid dog!" I screamed in frustration.

I caught just a glimpse of his gigantic biceps flexing a brief moment before he raised his hand pulling me half-way off the floor. The top half of my body was dangling from the chain like a hanged-man and it felt as though my head was about to explode. I was sure my windpipe would be crushed and never work again. My big body stretched out as he held me upright with one hand while he flexed his massive twin-headed biceps in my face with the other.

The freaking ass-hole smiled at me and shook his head 'yes'. Near death and in absolute agony, I nodded 'yes'. He dropped me to the floor and I slowly crawled to the place he pointed.

The mime then began to walk to the next room and I started to get to my feet to follow him. Suddenly he turned and looked angry. His arm muscles flexed and he pulled me up to my tip toes, my feet nearly off the ground. I couldn't breathe! Again, he pointed at the floor and I got the clear message that I would be there until HE told me otherwise. He nodded 'yes' and I immediately did the same. In an instant I could breathe again. The bastard had taught me to heel!

This time, we strolled into the next room and the crowd parted making a large circle. The mime stood there for a moment. I looked up and saw many of the people Carol had introduced me to earlier. 'Shit!' I thought. 'This is NOT going to do much for my business.' Then I saw Greg looking down at me with a questioning look on his face as though he was trying to understand what I was doing there on my hands and knees. Yeah, me too!

The mime bent at the waist and made a motion for me to roll-over. I was both embarrassed and royally pissed off. I was ready to fight but before I could make a move and get up on my hind legs the chocker chain gripped into my neck again. It was not as hard as the past two times, but hard enough on my now tender neck muscles to remind me of what was in store if I didn't comply. Reluctantly, I rolled over. As I turned over, I looked Greg in the eye. The weak bastard was

grinning ear-to-ear as the muscle-boy was forced to perform. For Greg, this would be his best Christmas Party EVER!

As the evening wore painfully on, the mime and I visited every section of the party and repeatedly he 'trained' me to do trick after trick. After a few hours and dozens of 'tricks' the mime motioned his goodnight and walked to the door, with me in tow!

I had wondered how in the world I was going to be able to face these people when and if this torture ended.  Now I knew. The bastard was taking me WITH HIM. This is even worse than I imagined.

As we left the house and the door closed behind us, the mime lifted the chain again and roughly pulled me to my feet. I staggered around as I clawed at the chain digging into my neck then the pressure lessened and the dude spoke for the first time.

"Ha-Ha-Ha" he laughed out loud. "That was the most fun I've had in YEARS!" he said as he pulled me stumbling along behind him. As we got to his car, the dude finally reached up and took the chocker chain from my neck. The skin around my neck was rough and raw from the night's torture. It stung when I touched it. "You're going to want to put something on that when you get home" he said and it almost sounded like he was concerned.

The mime stood before me, looking me up and down as though he had just discovered the size and development of the man he had humiliated so badly at the party.  He showed no sign what-so-ever of a need to defend himself from the attack that I wanted so desperately to deliver, but somehow, I knew better.

The mime reached up and smiling at me he patted my on my shoulder. "Dude" he said, "You were a good dog tonight. You made my act unforgettable. I appreciate that." The mime reached over and stuffed a couple of 50 dollar bills in my pants pocket. By this time, I didn't know what to think, but somehow, I appreciated the compliment.

The mime took out his business card and wrote an address on the back then stuffed it in my pocket with the money. He smiled and said "I've got a proposition I think you're going to like. Meet me at this address tomorrow night at 7". Then he turned, got in his car and drove off into the night.

I didn't know what to do. There was a chill in the air and I wanted my coat, but I couldn't bring myself to go back into the house to get it. I figured I'd think of something to say and come back another day to get it. I got in my car and drove home, humiliated and bewildered.

The next day at work was a waste. Every moment was spent wondering about last night. I didn't want to face the guy again but my curiosity kept getting the better of me. Every emotion possible was running through my mind, seemingly all at once. This dude had subjected me to the most humiliating moments of my life, beyond even my worst imagination, yet he wanted me for something and I have no idea what it could be.  He acted like it was something good. He said he had a 'proposition' for me, something I would like. NO!  I'm not going. This is crazy. After what he did to me, Damn! I may NEVER live that down. Why would I even CHANCE exposing myself to abuse again? It doesn't make sense, yet ... What if .?

The day dragged on. I finally got home and fixed a light early dinner with a Jack Daniels double for dessert. It was six-fifteen when I found myself with the mime's business card in one hand reaching for my car keys with the other.

My mind was awash with strange emotions as I drove through the darkened city streets to an industrial area not far from downtown. I turned a corner and parked across the street from the address. Anybody who lifts weights in this area would be familiar with the name above the door. This place is famous as a training center for boxers, wrestlers, kick-boxers and martial artists and is known as THE gym for hard-core bodybuilders.

Walking in was like entering another world. This place was everything I had ever imagined it would be.  No frills, no chrome, no bright colors or TV sets hanging from the ceiling. This was a MANS gym. Dark wood, heavy steel and TONS of weight were everywhere.  Not one, but three sparing rings. Wrestling mats, an entire row of speed bags and a dozen or so heavy bags. This looked like a busy time of day for the gym, a great deal of the gear was being put to very good use by some tough looking and obviously very strong men.  It was my first time here, but this place reeked of testosterone. DAMN! It makes my gym look like freaking Jazzercise!

I walked over by one of the sparring rings. A couple of light-heavies were opening up on each other. I couldn't believe the power of their punches as their gloved fists repeatedly smashed into solid muscle. I could feel the vibration from the sound of each punch radiating into my body. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be hit by someone that strong.  Unconsciously I rubbed my abs, yes, maybe I could imagine it.

After a moment I broke away from the amazing demonstration before me and wondered how I was going to find my 'friend'. Without his damn clown suit and makeup, it could be anyone. I noticed a solidly built blonde stud about my height working out with an EZ curl bar. Like most gym rats I quickly totaled up the plates, a 45 on each side with a 25 and a pair of tens, hmmmmm, 180 pounds for barbell curls and the dude doesn't even seem to be working that hard, I'm impressed. As the stud pulled the bar up, I noticed the incredible size and shape of his twin-peaked guns and it hit me like a brick. I've seen these biceps before! I tried to picture baggy clothes, white-face and black hair on this buff, crew-cutted blonde, I couldn't, but those biceps are unmistakable. I have no idea how many sets preceded my arrival, but after his last set of 15 or so, the stud gently lowered the weights, wiped a towel across his forehead and walked to where I was standing.

"I knew you'd be here." He spoke and I knew it was the mime. This guy is built like a freaking rock. His loose tank top did nothing to hide the prime beef on this young stud and I could finally see why my fists did nothing to that wall of solid muscle that made up his abs. Checking out the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders and after the demonstration I had seen in the ring gave me a pretty good clue as to how he demolished me so easily at the party.

The stud smiled as he reached forward and gripped my shoulder. He was leaving himself wide open but was obviously not the least bit concerned that I would attack. HELL! I think I could hit the bastard with a damn monkey wrench and not be able to hurt him.

"Listen, Dude. I've got a business proposition for you. I want you in my act! We'd make a perfect team." He was a man that knew what he wanted.

I was flabbergasted and confused. "I don't understand. I don't know anything about being a mime, in fact, I HATE MIMES! No offense."

"HA. Ha." He laughed, "None taken. Here's the deal.  I don't want you to be a mime. I just want you to be YOU! You're a natural at this. You've got the perfect look and the perfect body for it. You have a way of walking into a room and effortlessly pissing off half the guys there. I watched while you worked every woman there, and how much you enjoyed yourself destroying the egos of their men. Dude! You're a natural Ass-Hole. You do it without even trying."

I didn't know if that was a compliment or not, but this dude was really excited about it. He must think it's good. I must admit, I do have fun doing just exactly what he described and it really isn't intentional. Well, not totally intentional. It's a gift, I chuckled to myself.

He went on, "Here's how it works. When I get hired to a party, I'll make sure you get invited. We'll have it all set up with the hostess to do just like Carol did and take you around to some key guests. You walk around the room and intimidate the shit out of all the guys then we get into it a little and I end up training you to be my mime dog."

"Wait! Wait! Back up the turnip truck, Elmer. You want me to stand there and let you beat me up and humiliate me at EVERY party? This is your idea of fun?"

"Shit, Dude. It's not my idea of fun, its business that just happens to be fun. And you don't have to let me beat you up, feel free to defend yourself any way you can. It just makes the act better and more

realistic. The more you fight and resist, the better it looks. You're going to end up doing what I want anyhow."

It made me think. First, I was getting real pissed that this guy was so damn sure he could take me that he wanted to set up and fight me night after night.  Next, I scoped out this guy's physique again while the sound of powerful punches above us echoed off the walls. I had to admit, this stud probably could take me, but why would I subject myself to this kind of abuse, voluntarily??? "So, let's just say I go along with this. What's in it for me?"

"Listen, Man. You have absolutely no idea the level of response I have already gotten from last night. I think EVERYBODY there wants to book my act. I've never gotten this kind of attention. I'll pay you $300 a party!"

"But even if I wanted to go along with this, I'm no actor." I protested. "I don't need an actor and I don't want an actor." He grinned. "It has to be natural or it doesn't work. You HAVE to really want to fight me. You have to REALLY resist. That's what makes it work! The dude was so excited I was distracted as he made his way between me and the door.

 I stepped back a pace as he reached forward securing a solid grip on my shoulder. The floor was suddenly cushy as I looked down to find us standing on the wrestling mat. The dude smiled as he spoke, "Dude, here's the deal. You can sign the contract and we can workout and train as friends, or if you can kick my ass you get to leave with no more obligation or contact from me. Now on the other hand, if I kick your ass, which we both know I will, I'll force you to sign the contract and I'll just have to find my own way of keeping you in line. You see, I always get what I want but it's entirely up to you how we do it."

I've always dreamed of training at this gym. I've dreamed of really learning how to fight better. I've always needed more money and if I can handle a little humiliation, I can have it all. It's worth a try.

I smiled and reached forward to shake the dude's hand. He grinned a mile wide. "Carol has already booked us for another party." He said, "Maybe this time we can remember your coat."

As they say, A mime is a terrible thing to waste.