Hardbodies Entertainment of Arkansas: The Long and Hard Beginning Exposed

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This week is notable for me as it was 21 years ago – on April 16, 2004 to be exact – when I launched Hardbodies Entertainment of Arkansas. My adult entertainment agency of male (mostly me) and female strippers that tore up private parties throughout the state and beyond for 14 years and a couple of weeks. Many would-be competitors came and went without a single one lasting 90 days. It was also this week in 2018 when the long-running drama surrounding Emily’s birthday party reared its ugly head. All of this and oodles more is covered in my bare-all memoir Naked Ambition: A Male Stripper’s True Account of Making Girls Behave Badly. Which, coincidentally, went back into print in both paperback and non-Kindle eBook editions this week. Get your copy if you haven’t already. And if you’re still on the fence, you can read the first chapter for free right on this website and enjoy titillating anecdotes such as this one recalling the first Hardbodies booking:

“Oh yeah, baby. You work his big cock,” cooed the client as she videoed the bachelorette giving me a hand job.

A week after walking out of the pool and spa dealership, I was performing at the inaugural Hardbodies Entertainment of Arkansas booking in the unincorporated community of Hattieville. My excitement ran high during the hour drive there. The final minutes especially magical as I traveled AR 213 shaded from the late afternoon sun by endless rows of majestic trees. Arkansas has many flaws, but it’s fucking gorgeous.

I was a cowboy that evening. Rocking tear-away jeans and repeatedly cracking my bullwhip to the sound of Kid Rock. The festivities got off to a shaky start as the groom’s mother quickly became upset with my presence and left. Not sure why she was there in the first place, but whatever. It was still better than my first ever stripping performance at a male revue in Denver. One for which I earned $14 in tips and was flashed by a woman with crooked titties and no front teeth.

With monster-in-law gone, I immediately gelled with my audience and delivered an enthusiastic performance. Inspired by excitement for my new entrepreneurial journey. My bachelorette paid me the compliment I would receive at nearly every performance:

“Mmmm… You smell good.”

Along with my impeccable hygiene, I’ve always been a cologne enthusiast. Mainly rotating between Preferred Stock, Eternity, and Bottega Veneta. Being told I smell good is one of the highest compliments I can receive from a woman.

The bachelorette wasn’t the only one to cut loose. I allowed another girl to eat food off my bare ass. Mini quiches, tiny chicken salad sandwiches, and other standard bachelorette party foods of the era. I would go on to eat a lot of these myself over the years but not off anyone’s bare ass. Not usually, anyway.

The spring and summer of 2004 was an exciting time for me and remains the least anxious period in my life. A dragon I continually chase. Wanting to live that magic again. I was young, hot, and butt-ass naked. I still am, and even hotter to boot, so it’s definitely within reach. With hindsight being 20/20 and all, I should’ve focused on scoring gigs solely with the wild and crazy party girls while leaving the prudes and other basic bitches to kick rocks. The former more generous and polite while the latter excelled at being cheap and rude. But I was confident that I could please everyone. And it wasn’t that I couldn’t. It’s that some women chose to be dissatisfied. Realistically, I gave more than any other male stripper ever. And with a porn star-size cock. Even on my worst nights I did it oh so right.

I shot many self-portraits for marketing at the time. My photography skills were still in their infancy, and I was using a 35mm Nikon point-and-shoot, but it didn’t matter. Those wild and crazy party girls appreciated knowing exactly who they were getting. Unlike when they contacted those bullshit “nationwide” agencies with websites full of stolen photos utilizing the bait-and-switch business model. Anyway, my most popular self-portrait from that time was my naked cowboy photo. Nothing but boots and a hat as I rocked out with my cock out. Gripping my bullwhip. Ready to spank some party girl butts with my own firm round butt on display. This image was so popular that I uploaded a cropped photo to Hot or Not and scored 9.8 on the strength of several thousand votes. Only the rule prohibiting nudity kept me from achieving a perfect 10 as you can see for yourself:

That photo is the unequivocal visual representation of where I was at the time:

I looked great. Of course, I had to. But I was content with where I was at that time. My weight hovered around 180 lbs. Although longing for increased muscularity, my even six-foot frame was undoubtedly a lean, mean stripping machine. My head was held high everywhere I went as I rocked platinum blonde hair and an athletic physique in the tightest jeans I could squeeze into. People noticed as I received equal amounts of cheers and jeers everywhere I went. These were halcyon days indeed.

Young, hot, and self-employed. I was truly living the dream.

Aside from weighing a lean 190 lbs with long black hair now, those words capture the mood I’m in right now. And I feel even better about myself now than I did then regarding both looks and the mountains of wisdom I’ve acquired the hard way during the past two decades. Really, my struggles now aren’t that different from what they were then. This realization has helped me to ease my anxieties of late. And that only enhances my physical aesthetics.

Anyway, get the book already.