History: Story first appeared in KNIGHTBEAT XI, 1998,
published by Fenis House.
Disclaimer:  The usual.
Archiving:  Permission granted by author.

        Applause reverberated through the dimly lit,
haze-filled, crowded bar as a slightly built young
man, wearing only a pair of colorful briefs, took his
final bow.  He quickly gathered up the clothing
scattered about the stage, waved to his audience then
jumped down from the stage and rushed into the waiting
arms of his proud and laughing girlfriend.
        “Now, you see!  That’s the way to do it!”
        “Do what?”
        “Show a girl she really means a great deal to you.”
        “That’s just showing off.  Anyway, he’s a mortal.”
        “True.  But, he’s letting everyone here know he’s
willing to do anything for her.  Things are different
now.  This is the late 20th Century, Vachon.  It’s men
who have to prove themselves, not only us women.”
        “Forget it, Urs.  You’ll never get me to do that!  I
won’t strip publicly for anyone!”
        “Not even for Tracy?”  Vachon and Urs stood
side-by-side, leaning against the Raven’s long solid
wood bar.  Dance music started playing again as
couples took possession of the floor around the small
platform.  Amateur Night officially now over and the
bar was returning to its usual activities.
            “What do you mean by that?”  Demanded
Vachon in annoyance as he glared down on Urs.
        “I know that Tracy has feelings for you.  And that
you have feelings for her.”
        “And so what business is that of yours?”
        “Oh Vachon,” Urs replied.  “I know when you are with
me, you’re also thinking of Tracy.”
        “I am not!”
        “We women have needs--whether vampire or mortal,” Urs
continued.  “I’m sure you and Tracy are aware that to
try to do what your heart’s desire would prove fatal
for one, if not for both.  So, just like you have to
come to me for relief, she must go to someone else for
her’s.  It’s only natural.  And....”
        “And just what are you getting at!”
        “Think of it this way.  Why not give her something to
remember when she’s with the other guy.”
        “There’s NO other guy!” Vachon injected.  He stood,
arms folded, face set with strong indignation.
        “Okay,” Urs replied, smiling.  “You can take the boy
out of 16th Century but you can’t take the 16th
Century out of the boy.”
        “Now what was meant by that?”
        “I’m just trying to tell you, do something special.
It’ll make all the difference in the world.”  And with
that, Urs pushed herself away from the bar and walked,
disappearing into the dancing crowd.
        “Did you hear that?  Get up there and expose myself
like that!  She’s got to be kidding!”  Vachon turned
to the person standing next to him.  “Hey, Knight!
You listening?”
        Nick Knight leaned against the bar next to Vachon,
staring into the red depths of the liquid in the
wineglass in his hand.  “Oh, sorry Vachon,” He said
looking up quickly as though startled.  “Uh, ah…. err,
I just remembered, there’s a report I have to finish
back at the precinct.  Night off or not, it’s got to
get done.  I’d better get over there before the
Captain finds out.  I’ll talk to you later.”  Nick
gulped down the rest of his drink, and then he too,
disappeared into the mass of moving bodies.
        As Vachon watched Nick leave, he shook his head in
bewilderment.  “What’s going on tonight?  Everyone’s
acting strange.  It’s got to be the humidity,” he said
as he turned to order another drink.
        Feeling the presence of an ancient behind her, Urs
turned.
        “Well, Detective Knight, what can I do for you?” she
inquired.
        “I would like to talk to you.  It’s about what you
were saying back there,” he said, and then fell into a
thoughtful silence.
        Urs stood patient, waiting for him to continue.
        “Ah, you’re aware,” Nick started, “that I have a
mortal friend, too--Natalie.  I know that she and some
of her friends from work go to a male strip club over
on....”
        “Yes, I know the place.”  Urs said, her smile warm
and encouraging.
        “Well, her birthday is coming up in about two weeks.
She...she means a great deal to me and I would really
like to do something special for her.  But...” Nick
paused again for a few seconds.  “It’s true,” he
continued with a shy smile lighting his face, “ you
can’t take the 13th Century out of the boy; but...just
maybe, the boy can leave the 13th Century behind.  Can
you help me?”
        “Sure!”  Urs said.  She nodded her head with
confidence.  “I’ve got inventory to do down in the
cellar.  We can talk there.  Private and undisturbed.”
        As they started down the stairs together into the
cool dryness of the cellar, Urs turned to Nick.  “You
are certainly the last person I would’ve ever thought
would try this.  So tell me,” she asked him, “just how
far are you willing to go?”

        Two weeks had passed.  In one of the back rooms of
the Raven, Nick stood scrutinizing his reflection in a
full-length mirror.
        “Not bad!  Not bad at all!”  He commented as he
turned side to side continuing his meticulous
examination.  “It looks almost like the real
thing--well, at a distance.  All the seams are held
together with Velcro.  Makes getting out of far easier
than I ever remembered.
        “This whole experience has been interesting!  And
fun!” Nick said while he adjusted the belt around his
hips one more time.  “You know there’s more to this
business than just the removing of one’s clothing.
There’s the timing, the movements, the
preparation--it’s all a science.  Urs had to help me
with the body makeup, to give that more natural look.
Also if you noticed--damn!  This G-string keeps
rubbing against...!”
        “Oh, please!  Spare me the gory details!”  LaCroix
groaned. He sat on the couch directly across from
where Nick stood at the mirror.  Boredom stamped on
his face.   “Once again, Nicholas you’re making a damn
fool of yourself.  If you ask me,” he added, “the
solution is very simple.  Just bring her across and
you wouldn’t need any of this.  For your own sake, I
should really force you...!”
        “Don’t!”  Nicholas turned to LaCroix, eyes flashing
with anger.  “Don’t try to stop me!  She has been
through a lot!  All of it because of me!  Almost
killed, if you remember!  I want to do this!  No
matter, if it’s only to make her laugh!”
        “Alright, Nicholas.  Don’t worry.  I’m not going to
try and stop you.  I’ve finally learned forcing you to
do anything against your will can be highly hazardous
to my health--if not down right fatal!  I just hope,”
LaCroix continued with a smile, attempting to defuse
the seriousness of the moment,  “you aren’t thinking
of this as a permanent change of occupation.”
        “Don’t worry, LaCroix.”  Nicholas said.  He turned
his attention back to the mirror and again readjusting
his costume.  “I’ve no intention of changing
professions.  As one of my young instructors very
kindly informed me--I’m too old!  A bit long in the
tooth!”  Nicholas chuckled at his own pun.
        “Well good, I must agree.  Stripper material you’re
not, Nicholas.  Not with those knobby knees and
spindly legs!”  LaCroix emphasized by gesturing with
enthusiasm at Nicholas’ legs.
        “Excuse me!” a voice from the doorway called, but the
two men   in the room paid no attention.
        “Oh, and let’s not mention,” LaCroix continued, “You
have the flattest ass I’ve ever seen!”
        “Gentlemen!”  Again the call was ignored.
        “I’ve got a flat ass!”  Nicholas yelled.  “Yours….
yours makes mine look perky as a ripe apple!  A
quarter would get loss in all those wrinkles!  Oh, and
let’s not forget your love handles!”
        “Boys!”  Urs screamed.  Turning as one, LaCroix and
Nicholas glared in anger at the young woman standing,
smiling at them in the doorway.
        “I am sorry to break up this friendly family
discussion but---WE’RE ON!”
 

        Nervously, Natalie Lambert leaned over to her friend
sitting next to her at the small table and whispered.
“Alright Grace, what’s going on?”  She demanded.
“You’ve been grinning like a Cheshire Cat ever since
we walked in.  And just what have you and Nick been
planning?  I saw you two whispering--thick as
thieves--back at the lab!  What’s this all about?”
        “I know no more that you.”  Grace said, shrugging her
shoulders.  “All Nick said was to get you here, at
this place and this time.  He would do the rest.  Just
calm down honey, and enjoy.  What could possibly
happen?”
        “You don’t know this place like I do,” Natalie said
as she cast hasty glances around the room.  “You know,
it’s funny.  The last time I was here, I don’t
remember seeing tables this near the stage.  Or being
seated by a maitre d’!  Or the champagne either!”  She
nodded at the two fluted wineglasses, both filled with
the sparkling amber liquid, on the table.  A bottle
sat chilling in a silver bucket of ice on a stand next
to the table.
 Just as Natalie was about to say something else, the
lights dimmed and the loud dance music ceased playing.
        Two spotlights flared on, twin circles of light
illuminated the stage.  Emerging from between a pair
of heavy, black curtains that hung just beyond the
lights, Lucien LaCroix walked to the stage’s center.
        “Ladies and Gentlemen,” LaCroix announced in a clear,
strong voice.  “Tonight we make a slight departure
from our usual routine.  This is by special request.
So, please put your hands together for the first and
hopefully the last...” Raising his voice still louder,
 “Interfang productions presents--in the days of old,
when knights were bold!”  Recorded trumpets blared in
triumphant.  LaCroix backed out of the spotlights. The
curtains parted again and from them emerged a figure
straight from the Middle Ages.
        The knight’s conical helmet covered the entire head,
hiding face and neck, with slits for eyes and nose.
It gleamed silver in the overhead lights.  Three blood
red feather plumes sprouted from the helmet’s top.
They bounced in the air as the knight walked.
        Metal gloves with wide sleeves covered his hands, and
the rest of his body was clothed in what appeared to
be a two-piece suit of shining chain mail.  Over all
of this, a long, red garment edged with gold hung
front and back, held together with ties at the
shoulders.  It reached to just below the knees.
        The whole costume was cinched at the waist with a
double wrap-around leather belt.  Hanging from the
belt was scabbard that held, instead of a sword, a
large, long-stemmed red rose.
        The knight stepped down from the platform and on
reaching Grace and Natalie’s table he stopped.  After
removing his gloves and placing them on the table, he
lifted the helmet from his shoulders.
        “Nick?”  Natalie gasped in shocked surprise, as the
all too familiar face appeared smiling.
        With the helmet tucked under his arm, Nick bent down
on one knee in front of Natalie.  He pulled the rose
out of the scabbard and held it out to her.
        Natalie, visibly shaken by the excitement, put out
her hand for the rose.  As their fingers touched, Nick
gently took hold of the offered hand, brought it up to
his lips and planted a kiss on her fingers.
        “For my Lady,” he said after the kiss.  “I have two
roses for you.  This is the first.”
        The blaring trumpets ceased and the recording changed
to one with a more contemporary beat.  Nick jumped up.
 With a low and courtly bow, he turned and ran to the
center of the dance floor.
        In the spotlights, Nick threw his helmet to Urs
standing among the crowd.  The music began a slow,
sensual melody.  And as the male singer’s deep, rich
tones belted out the words, Nick began to dance.
        When the unbuckled belt hit the floor, Natalie’s
mouth fell opened.
        As the song’s first chorus came to a finish, the
scabbard and long outer garment joined the belt
scattered about the floor.  A sleeve went soaring over
into the cheering crowd.  Nick paused in a risqué
pose, an impish grin on his face, and began to tug at
the false seams of the now sleeveless shirt.  Loose,
the shirt slid down from his shoulders.  Mimicking
bashfulness, Nick played at struggling to retain the
escaping item to the delight of the audience.
Finally, with a nonchalant flick of the wrist and a
toss of his head, Nick sent the garment flying.
        The bar reverberated with cheers, laughter and
applause for the performer.
        Catching the shirt, Grace checked to see if her
friend had seen want she had done.   Noting that
Natalie was for too occupied watching Nick’s dance
burlesque, she quickly hid it under the table.  With
it resting on her lap, the knitted plastic ribbon
fabric felt harsh to the touch as she ran her hand
over its surface.  Even from under the table, she
could smell the fresh scent of an expensive aftershave
coming off the material.
        As the singer raised his powerful voice in the chorus
for the second time, the audience sang and clapped in
time to the music.  Nick, now minus shirt and shoes,
paused in his suggestive gyrations, reached down and
on cue jerked the pants free from his body.  All that
was left was a red loincloth circling his hips.  Like
the others before, the pants too were sent sailing
into the air.  A tall man in the back of the room
caught them.
        “I’ll be damned!”  Grace sighed.  “Who knew, under
all that clothing?  Man’s got a body. Not bad.”  She
sighed again with a slow lick of her lips.
        Nick sashayed over to where Natalie sat and lowered
himself on her lap.  She found herself swaying in time
to the music with him.
        Stunned, Natalie looked up into Nick’s face.  He
smiled and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief.  As
she returned the smile, Nick leaned closer.  Grasping
both of her hands in his, Nick held them while he
rubbed them up and down his chest.  He sighed with
pleasure at the feel of the palm of hands against his
flesh. At last, slowly guiding her hands down to the
sides of his rhythmically moving hips to the two tabs
that held the delicate red garment in place.
        “Be very careful.  Just hold on to the tabs.  If you
grab anything else...” he whispered in her ear, “Well,
let’s just say I’m not ready to go all the way.  Not
just yet.”
        The deep, rich voice of the singer warbled out the
final chorus and the music reached its crescendo, the
lap dance ended.  Nick jumped up, leaving the red
costume clutched in Natalie’s hands.
        As the last notes of the song died away, Nick stood
at center of the stage, arms stretched out in
triumphant under the brilliant overhead lights,
dressed only in a white G-string.   A large, red rose
embroidered on it’s front.  Wild applause thundered
through the Raven as both Nick and the spotlights
disappeared from the stage.
        “Oh, girlfriend!”  Grace cried out.  “That was one
hell of a birthday present!  Forgive me for saying
this, but that is one big, bad Crusader I would love
to take for a nice, long ride!”  Grace looked over at
her friend.  “Natalie, are you alright?”  She
inquired, concerned.
        Natalie, motionless and silent, the red undergarment
still held tightly in her hands.  Her cheeks were as
scarlet as the cloth in her hands, and her face held
that look of complete dumbfounded ness when something
wonderful but totally unbelievable takes place.
         “You better drink this.  You look like you need it.”
Grace said as she pushed one of the glasses of
champagne to her.
        Vachon stood in the back, shaking his head.  “I don’t
believe it!  I don’t believe he did it!” he repeated.
“Not old straight-laced, anal retentive, Knight!”
        “I think that worked out well,” Urs stated with
growing pride.  “He did a great job.  See, that’s what
I mean about doing something special.  That’s one
happy girl over there.”
        She doesn’t look happy to me,” LaCroix interjected
into the conversation.  “In fact, she looks absolutely
nauseated.  I would too,” he added, sarcastically, “if
I’d had someone’s flat ass wiggled in my face.  Now,
if you children will excuse me.  Someone must maintain
a certain degree of dignity around the place.  And I
have work to do.”  With that LaCroix strolled away.
The lower part of Nicholas’ costume was still draped
over his arm.
        Judging that LaCroix had moved a sufficient distance
away, Urs leaned over to Alma and whispered.  “And men
say we women are catty.  Meow!  That was a juicy fur
ball if I ever heard one.”  She continued in
confidence, “We all know about LaCroix and his
‘love-handles’!”  Both women giggled.
        Vachon watched as Nick, now dressed in shirt and
slacks, escorted Natalie and Grace to one of the
booths along the wall.  Natalie still held the red
loincloth and the rose close.  Her smiling face no
longer carried a look of stark bewilderment.
        Before sitting down, she leaned close to Nick and
kissed him on the cheek.  They smiled at each other,
and then burst out in hearty laughter.
        “Ah, Urs?”
        “Yes, Vachon?”
        “Could you help me?  Ah, well, Tracy’s....”
        “Sure, Vachon.  But first, tell me just how far do
you want to go?”