Get dressed and get breakfast

You get dressed in the clothes your mother laid out for you on the bed already switched with clean bedding. You walk downstairs to see your dad sitting at the kitchen table, as usual. He flicks through his phone, reading the most recent news, finding the next thing that tells him the world is going to hell. He glances up as you step into the kitchen and move towards the fridge to make yourself breakfast.

“There is the man of the hour!” Your father, Jeff, bellows. “Happy Birthday Son!” He stands and gives you a manly hug. The kind where he pounds on your back like he’s trying to knock the wind of you, and halfway succeeds. “Don’t worry about breakfast, I am taking you out this morning. Grab your wallet, you’re going to need that.”

“Where are we going?” You ask as you collect your wallet off the cabinet by the door. Your father leads you out the front door, grabbing his wallet and keys along the way.

“Well it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.” He smirks coyly before closing and locking the door behind you. You both climb into the car and start the drive.

You know better than to turn on the radio. “Nothing good is ever on the radio.” Your dad would always say. He preferred to talk, which in your opinion was far worse than anything the radio could play.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for you to finally turn 19, to finally become a man.”

Here it comes, you think to yourself and groan inwardly.

“I know you and Jessica have been dating a while now. Couple years now since highschool, right? Listen, I just wouldn’t be doing my fatherly duty if I didn’t pass on the lessons from my own life.”

It was definitely going to be one of “those” conversations.

“When your mother and I got pregnant with your sister, we weren’t much older than you. We had been dating in highschool, just like you and Jessica. I never got the procedure because I don’t believe in running from responsibility. Don’t get me wrong, when your mom first told me the news, I was petrified. But we made it work, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You stare out the window, unwilling to make eye-contact with your father as he shares his embarrassing past with you. You do notice that you are driving closer to downtown and wonder where he is taking you.

“However, if I could do everything again. I might have taken my time enjoying life before I got wrapped up in being a family man. Do you get what I’m saying to you, Ryan? There are plenty of opportunities and adventures out there, don’t lock yourself into the first one just because it’s comfortable.”

Just at that moment, the car rolls to a stop in the parking lot of a red building with no windows. A old school theatre marquee says “Clothes, now 100% off!” and a sandwich sign at the front reads, $10 breakfast buffet.

“Are we at a strip club?” You ask quizzically of your father as he walks you towards the entrance.

“As far as your mother is concerned, we went out for breakfast to discuss manly things, got it?” His eyes stare into yours before you nod. “Good.” He says before opening the door.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. A large man stands in front of another set of doors, obviously acting as a bouncer.

“Hello Mr Gregory.” The bouncer says, nodding to your father before noticing you standing behind him. “And who is this young man you have in tow?”

“This is my son, Ryan. Today is his 19th birthday and I want to show him some of what the world has to offer.” Your father turns to you with a look of almost pride in his eyes. Like he is bringing your into some sort of secret society. “Go on, dig out your ID to show Trevor.”

You nervously pull out your wallet and fight to get your ID out. Trevor takes it from you, his big meaty hands making the card look small while he shines a flashlight on it, and then on you. “Happy Birthday kid, mind the rules.” He says before handing you back your card. Trevor opens the door and ushers you in.

You take a few steps before looking at a round stage in the middle of the room, seating and booths raising up from the floor with a bar against the wall. Beside the bar are tables set up with heat warmers and hotel pans of eggs and bacon. The smell of bacon is odd, mixed with the smells that must be from the strip club in general. Your father goes to the bar, gets two drinks and two tickets for the buffet. He sits you down at one of the booths before going to the buffet to dish you both up your plates. You sip on your rum and coke, the first time you have tasted **** this early in the morning.

Your dad returns to the table with plates heaping with eggs and bacon, although you can’t imagine eating right now. The announcer comes on and the lights dance as they announce the next dancer, Mystery. Classic stripper name you think as you poke the eggs with your fork. Could this get any more awkward….

“Listen son, I know this may feel weird, being here with your old man. But I want to be the first one to show you this so you know how to behave yourself.” Jeff explains the rules of the strip club, about no touching and no cameras. He then passes you $300. “These are your “fun” coupons, spend them as you want. Or take them home and spend them on Jessica, it’s your choice.”

You slip the fold of $10s and $20s into your pocket as a server, wearing a latex bra and booty shorts walks up to your table. “Hello Mr Gregory!” She says exuberantly. Obviously your dad comes here a lot. “Who is this handsome young man you have with you?”

“My son, he just had his 19th birthday and is scheduled for the procedure next week.” Your dad says, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving you a little shake.

“Well isn’t that wonderful! It’s always nice to hear when a young man like yourself is willing to do his part. And I’m sure there would be lots of girls who would be delighted to entertain you. Tell me, are you a tits man, or an ass man?” The server pushes her tits together in your face as she says tits man. And as she says ass man, she turns around and sits her round butt on the edge of the table and glances over her shoulder while she waits for your reply.