Clever Magazine, Summer '05 " Miss Candy Derriere " (www.clevermag.com)

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Miss Candy Derrière

by Wayne Scheer

Wayne retired from college teaching to follow his own advice and write. Some of his work has appeared in The Pedestal Magazine, Laughter Loaf, Stationaery and Moonwort Review. His literary awards include a nomination for a Pushcart Prize. Wayne lives with his wife in Atlanta, and can be contacted at wvscheer@aol.com

Life sure is funny. One day I'm strolling down Bourbon Street with my sweetheart and the next day I'm "Miss Candy Derrière," stripping on a stage while strange men make "whoop-whoop" sounds.

My real name is Annette Guidry. No one outside of the Quarter is supposed to know me as Candy. In fact, as a good unmarried Catholic girl, no one is supposed to know my derrière either. But like my grandpa says, "What supposed to be, ain't always what be." Of course, he says it in his Cajun accent so it sounds better.

Anyway, me and my beau, Jack Brochard, are doing the French Quarter promenade when he points to a sign on the blacked-out window of the Purple Pelican that says: Every Wednesday Is Amateur Night. Winner Gets $500!

"Too bad today is Tuesday," he says. "With your ta-ta's, you'd win for sure." He's laughing, and I know he's making fun because my boobies aren't much bigger than his.

"You think I wouldn't win?" I try sounding hurt, but I'm really just funning with him.

He plays along. "What I'm saying is, you a sure winner, girl!" He slides his hand under my shirt and tries to cop himself a feel.

I slip away and we laugh. I tell him I'm in the mood for lobster at Antoine's, but he says, "How 'bout we just get beignets and coffee at Café Du Monde instead?" That, of course, is what we always do when we're at the Quarter.

We walk all the way back to Decatur Street and it's early so we find a good table looking out at the people. The tourists and street musicians are fun to watch no matter the time. We see that Big Joe, an enormous black man with short, stubby legs, has already set up his saxophone case to collect money. A few folks wearing shorts and cameras around their necks gather to hear him play. Me and Jack start guessing which one will start to dancing first. I guess right. It's always a pot-bellied white guy in Bermuda shorts with socks pulled up to his knees that starts strutting around doing the weirdest pimp walk you ever seen.

Meanwhile, Jack's stroking my arm. He's horny because I have my period and we haven't had sex in a few days, so he's still thinking about me dancing at the Pelican. "Would you ever do that?" he asks.

"Do what?" I can be a real tease sometimes.

"You know. Take your clothes off. For money, I mean."

"Depends how much you offer."

"Would you ever show what you got for money? I'm for real now."

"Course not," I say. "You're the only one who sees what I got. And all it costs is a café au lait."

"And an order of beignets," he reminds me.

We sip our coffee and split the beignets. I love watching him get the powdered sugar all over his face and I lean across the table and kiss it off him. When I lean back, he says, "Uh-oh, you got some on your mouth." And he kisses me.

The next day after work, we're talking on the phone and he's complaining because neither of us makes any money at our jobs since we graduated high school two years ago. He works in a machine shop in Slidell and I wait tables.

"How we ever gonna save for our honeymoon?"

I feel my eyes get so wide they damn near pop out of my head. This is the first time Jack ever talked about marriage without me bringing up the subject first.

I say, "I know how we can make $500."

"No, no," he says, but I know he's turned on.

The next thing, we're at the Pelican and I'm telling this fat guy in a tuxedo that my name is Candy Derrière. He laughs and says, "Don't make me no never mind what you call yourself, long as you shake what God give you."

He tells me the rules: I strip to my undies the first set, take off my bra the second and my panties the third time around. Each set, he says, the girl with the least applause gets eliminated. Then the one that gets the most cheering at the end wins the $500.

I look at the competition. Five of us, and two of them look like they could make a pig jealous. The others are pretty, I admit, but I figure I have a chance at least to get into the final round.

When he calls my name, I almost pee in my new lace panties. Jack says maybe we should go home, but I get up there and start dancing. I just sort of snap my fingers and move to the music. To tell the truth, Jack doesn't dance unless we're at a family wedding, so it feels good to just let go. It doesn't take long before I get so into it I almost forget to strip. Then I hear the men hooting. I take off my blouse and it's like wearing a bathing suit top, so I just keep on dancing. That's when I hear the fat guy on the mike saying, "Okay darlin', time to take off your pants."

I try to do it all slow and sexy, but I get my leg caught and I start hopping around like a drunk rabbit. But I catch myself and laugh and the audience cheers. I make it to round two.

I don't even remember the second round because I had a couple hurricanes with the tip money I got from an old guy. All I know is during the break I stay close to Jack, and before I go on stage again, I slip off my shirt and pants without falling down. When it comes time to undo my bra, I just do it. I'm surprised that the crowd likes my little titties because they whoop like I'm Dolly Parton.

I'm really psyched for the third set and a little drunk. When the fat man gives me my cue and the music starts, I slip off my panties without even looking at the crowd. I turn and shake my booty like I see on MTV, but when I turn around again, "I see a sight that give me a fright," like Grandpa says.

There was Grandpa with his arm around Jack, whooping and hollering. He was making so much noise, they give me the $500 just to shut him up, I swear. Seems he's a Wednesday night regular. He gets there about eleven, just in time for the third set.

He says to me, "Girl, you don't tell your grandmamma what you seen, I won't tell nobody what I seen."

Me and Jack are planning on staying at a big hotel at the Gulf Shores for our honeymoon. Right after our big church wedding.