Private Stripper

Casey adjusted his shirt and stepped in front of the full-length mirror. The dark blue colored cowboy snap away jeans molded to his muscular thighs and the light blue work shirt hugged his muscled body.
His green eyes did a sweeping gesture up and down the mirror making sure he had fastened everything in place. The image of his unsmiling chiseled features stared back at him. The frown would have to go if he wanted to entertain the crowd tonight. He purposely pasted a smile on his face and pushed his hand through his dark hair before slipping the Stetson on and lifting the brim slightly to make sure he could see where he was going.
While he waited for his number, his memory drifted to last year and his old partner. He and John had broken up more than six months ago, but there were times when he relived the experiences they’d had together. He thought they’d shared love and affection, but John didn’t live up to his end of the bargain when they moved in together.
I caught him cheating, and I wanted something more stable in my life. After parting ways, Casey realized he’d learned a valuable lesson. When your instincts tell you something isn’t right, heed them. He dismissed John from his thoughts; no good would come of dredging up the past.
“I guess that’s my cue,” Casey said, snapping out of his silent musings and moving toward the hallway.
“Break a leg,” Skip called out to him and Casey waved his hand.
He strutted out with a swagger into the spotlight and lifted his hat bowing slightly to the gregarious ladies crowding the stage. When he moved his hips suggestively, more cheers went up from the crowd. He received a round of whoops and applause at his small gesture.