Risky Business

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He took a risk for charity.
1.7k words
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Radames
Radames
25 Followers

The Downtown Council was always looking for ways to keep office workers downtown and spending money after work. One of their longest running events was a monthly after-work cocktail party. I suppose they hoped people would stay afterward and eat at the city's restaurants, maybe even do a little shopping and see a show before heading back to the suburbs.

As a rising executive in my company, I was 'encouraged' to be involved in community projects. That's how I ended up on the Downtown Council's event committee. I wasn't a top executive at work, and the committee wasn't a plum assignment. In fact, the after-work party suffered from poor attendance and was not the networking Mecca it used to be.

Each cocktail party had a theme and a designated charity that received any profits. Our charity for the upcoming party was an AIDS organization. They provided assistance to AIDS patients and education for the general population on the prevention of sexually transmitted diseases. I had the committee laughing uproariously when I suggested a 'Risky Business' party.

"Come on, people. Grow up," I told them. "The whole point of the charity is that unsafe sex is risky business. You've all seen the movie -- Tom Cruise dances around in a dress shirt, underpants, and socks while lip-syncing to "Old Time Rock N' Roll." Everyone will immediately understand the message. Yes, it will be titillating, but we're all adults. No one is going to be screwing on the hors d'oeuvre table or anything."

"Titillating?" one guy yelled as everyone laughed again. "That's an interesting choice of words."

We barely had a majority of the committee approve the idea, and actually, they only approved presenting it to the Council trustees and the charity to see whether it would fly. Knowing how conservative our city is, especially the downtown business leaders, I didn't have much hope. But I personally believed in practicing save sex, and I wasn't so old that I'd given up on reforming the rest of society.

The truth is, I was rapidly approaching my 'sell by' date. I'd never found a woman, or a man, I wanted to spend my life with, and it was starting to look like I was married to my career. I had no sexual experience with men, mainly because I was worried about getting AIDS. Safe sex for me had become no sex. But it was very lonely.

Our major break came when Old Mr. Weller said, "Damned good idea!"

You may recognize the Weller name. It's on many of the public buildings in the city, including the Weller School of Law at the university. And there's Weller Park downtown and the Weller Wing at the Children's Hospital. Old Mr. Weller devoted his time to charity, including the Downtown Council, while his son ran the law firm bearing their name.

The son was, of course, called Young Mr. Weller. No one called him that to his face, but everyone knew who you meant. He was the fourth generation Weller to head the law firm. They were our city's 'royal family'.

Old Mr. Weller probably liked the idea of a no-trousers party because, at the age of seventy, he still jogged four miles every day. He didn't need to worry about having ugly legs. In fact, practically everyone downtown had seen him jog past wearing only running shorts. Too many others, though, were not as active, and the event committee debated for hours about attendance and whether we were excluding overweight people with the 'Risky Business' theme.

The heaviest woman on our committee asked, "May I wear a slip under my dress shirt?"

"I'd call that underwear," I replied.

"Then count me in," she said.

She worked in my building and I'd often passed her in the lobby. Her name was Helen, and I didn't get to know her until we started serving on the committee together. Helen was friendly and outgoing, and I think she had more of a social life than I did. Looks aren't everything; you have to aggressively approach life if you want to succeed. I was aggressive at work, but meek at other times.

Most of the committee's arguments were over publicity for the party. Some of them wanted a really detailed dress code published, and the rest of us argued that a few of us 'guarding' the entrance would take care of any exhibitionists. It did me no good to suggest that 'tightie whities' weren't any more revealing than Speedo bathing suits. We ended up with a line saying, "Dress Code: dress shirt (with tails), underwear (men - boxers or boxer briefs, women - boxers or slip), socks, and shoes." For humor, we added, "No shirt, no shoes, no service! Sunglasses optional."

And we advertised a 'coat check' for trousers and skirts. That was another big debate -- particularly the liability for what people might leave in their pockets. We finally decided to suggest that people wear a fanny pack or a passport pouch for their wallets and other valuables. One of the travel agencies heard about it and offered to set up a booth selling a variety of items for carrying keys, money, and documents when traveling or at the beach. That's when I first started thinking the theme was going to work -- people were beginning to look at the opportunities.

A hotel was donating the banquet room, and I felt a little guilty asking for their largest ballroom. I wanted it because there were side rooms where we could set up separate dressing areas for men and women. That caused another riff on the committee. What if a transgender person comes, or a transvestite! I tried my best to start ignoring their asinine sidetracking issues. I finally said, "We'll handle it the same way we've handled it at all our other parties."

Fortunately, the ballroom was available for that date, and the hotel could not have been more accommodating. The room was free, and the bartenders made their money from the cash bar and tips. The bartenders even followed the dress code, wearing tuxedo shirts with bow ties over black boxers. One bartender told me it was more clothing than he wore when he worked at a local nightclub. I'd never been to that club, but it jumped to the top of my 'to do' list. Someday.

Yes, I was nervous the day of the party. Perhaps because the theme was 'risky', so to speak, I'd checked everything a hundred times. It went off without a hitch. The AIDS charity handed out red ribbons and had a display of their literature. The travel agency, besides setting up their booth, came through with a cruise to be raffled off as the main door prize. A stock brokerage firm had a banner over their booth saying, "Don't Lose Your Shirt on the Market."

We had a three-piece combo with a singer, and I'd asked them to rehearse "Old Time Rock N' Roll." It was the old, familiar song, but she gave it a bit of a soul twist, and she sang the hell out of it! We used the song to fire up the crowd and get them focused on the stage. Then we made the obligatory announcements thanking everyone who contributed anything to the event, and I gave an impassioned speech on the importance of practicing safe sex. I kept it short so people wouldn't notice how badly my knees were shaking.

I had envisioned a white-shirt crowd, but I had not considered how times had changed since the "Risky Business" movie came out in 1983. Shirts were solid colors, stripes, or checks. The underwear, what you could see of it, came in even greater variety. One woman wore bloomers, and there were more than a few women wearing leggings. Some women belted their shirts. Many wore diamonds, proving, I guess, that diamonds go with anything, or nothing.

A couple of the older men wore boxers that came down to their knees. Not Old Mr. Weller -- he showed off firm thighs. But as a bit of humor, I think, he had garters holding up his black dress socks. I'd never seen men's garters before. For all my arguing with the committee that people would act respectable, I spent quite a lot of time looking at legs.

I was grateful when Helen came over to chat with me. After the speech I didn't have much to do, and I wasn't good at making small talk. Helen had probably worked her way around the room twice already. She was in a great mood and congratulated me for the party's success even as I insisted she'd worked as hard as I had to put it together.

Helen wore a hot pink satin slip under a white silk shirt.

"I paid more for this slip than I paid for the dress I wore to my company's holiday party," Helen told me. Then she added, "Hell, I might just wear this slip to next year's holiday party! It covers as much skin as that dress did."

We dished about what others were wearing until I saw Helen's eyes light up. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Old Mr. Weller himself, accompanied by his son.

"I understand you are the young man who planned all this. Excellent! It's been quite fun. And very successful."

He then introduced his son to me. I barely had the presence of mind to introduce them to Helen, and it's fortunate that I did because she immediately started leading the conversation. Helen probably would have introduced herself if I hadn't -- talking to Old Mr. Weller was too good a chance to pass up. Soon, she had Old Mr. Weller to herself as she delighted him with one story after another.

Young Mr. Weller told me to call him Bob.

"These are silk, aren't they?" Bob asked, as he brushed his fingers against my red silk boxers. I know I blushed.

"Yes, silk," I babbled, "and I'm wearing bikini briefs underneath because I was worried about having a 'wardrobe malfunction'. I picked red to go with the AIDS ribbon."

Damn! Too much information. But Bob didn't seem to mind at all. He put a hand on my shoulder as we talked. He remembered a good part of my speech and wanted to know if that was my personal feeling or just something the charity gave me to read. And when the cocktail party ended, Bob asked me to continue our discussion over dinner. Bob Weller was obviously a leader, and I decided I was more than willing to follow.

Radames
Radames
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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 3 years ago

I liked it, it sucked me in, and then it ended abruptly. As a result, it left me feeling disappointed.if more is on the way, I will happily retract that one criticism.

ananduananduabout 13 years ago
and what about the End?

A good start,interesting theme, good plot....but the end was anything but satisfying...if one can speak of a proper end . one or two more paragraphs would have done the trick

adetaildivaadetaildivaabout 17 years ago
Wonderful!!!

This is a wonderful story!! I think you've done a great job of presenting the ideas of the character(s). Orientation is on the very periphery (if it's that close) of what's going on with the rest of the story. Don't pay any attention to the "nay-sayers". Keep up the great work!!

adetaildivaadetaildivaabout 17 years ago
Wonderful!!!

This is a wonderful story!! I think you've done a great job of presenting the ideas of the character(s). Orientation is on the very periphery (if it's that close) of what's going on with the rest of the story. Don't pay any attention to the "nay-sayers". Keep up the great work!!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 17 years ago
I had wondered when reading

about the sexual orientation of your primary character. It did not take much more to unerstand that this was a gay story hiding under a different category. I normally give the lowest score for the writers who hide their story under false colors to try to get non-gender readers.

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