The walls were all painted a deep shade of plum and appeared made of some sort of stone. The dark color made the inside feel intimate and cave-ish. There were large posters hanging on the walls in gaudy gold frames. The posters were all of women in sexy lingerie lying across unmade beds, sitting provocatively on chairs or other women, or draping themselves along a stripper pole.
In a couple of the posters toward the back, the women were completely topless.
From the ceiling, a chandelier hung in the same gaudy gold color, dripping in crystals. In between the posters were floating shelves, all with mannequin heads sporting wigs in all colors and styles. There was a makeup counter in the back and a leopard-print velvet sofa in the center of the room perched atop a white faux fur rug.
And everywhere else there were clothes.
If you called the garments that hung on the racks and bars coming out of the walls clothes.
To me it looked more like really fancy, really tiny bikinis.
From beside me Roxie giggled and I glanced at her. “I love newbies,” she said with a grin.
So it wasn’t just me. She knew this place was over the top too; she was just used to it. I guess if I came here often enough, the décor and nakedness surrounding me would lose some of its surprise.
“Honey,” Roxie called toward the back. “I’m here.”
A few minutes later, a woman with dark skin and a bright-red wig came out of the back. She wasn’t a small woman, standing probably close to six feet tall with a wide build that appeared to enjoy a lot of southern cooking. Her wig was styled in an ultra-sleek bob that ended just at her shoulders and was the kind of red you might get out of a Kool-Aid packet.
She was dressed in a loose golden caftan that shimmered when she moved, and she had a ring on almost every finger and the biggest, happiest smile I’d ever seen anyone wear.
“Roxie, girrrllll,” the woman named Honey purred. “You are looking good.”
“You too, Honey, you too.”
Honey’s eyes turned to me.
“Honey, this is my new friend Violet. She’s brand new at the Mad Hatter.”
The woman’s brown eyes lit up and she lunged at me, taking me into a huge bear hug. “Welcome, Shug,” she exclaimed. “Any friend of Roxie’s is a friend of Honey’s.”
She pulled me back and looked me over. “You need a little more meat on your bones. Men want something to grab on to when they reach out their hands.”
I felt my cheeks bloom with bright pink splotches.
Honey laughed. “It’s all right, Shug. I keep telling Roxie here the same thing.”
Roxie nodded sagely.
“So what kind of things do you need?” she asked me, looking me over again.
“I—” I began, but Roxie cut me off.
“She needs everything.”
Honey made an mmhmm sound and headed for the racks. Roxie and Honey began talking real fast and holding up scraps of fabric, debating and laughing about everything they said. Roxie held up a couple things to herself while Honey kept adding to the mountain in her hand, and I began to worry about how much all that barely there fabric was going to cost me.
Then she held up a G-string.
“No!” I said, butting into the conversation that I had purposely stayed out of. “I am not wearing any of that butt floss.”
“Butt floss?” Honey said and looked at me with wide eyes.
Roxie began giggling and then Honey burst out in a huge rowdy laugh. The two of them laughed for a good ten minutes. I mean, I started to get bored. I don’t really know what was so funny about sticking a string up your butt crack.
When they finally stopped laughing, Honey put down the G-string and announced she wouldn’t add “butt floss” to the pile.
“I don’t want anything too skimpy either,” I told her.
She stared at me like I had three heads.
“I want to leave something to the imagination. I want people to wonder what I’m going to show when I get on the stage. I don’t want to be trashy,” I finished, feeling self-conscious. I didn’t want either of them to think I was insulting them, because I wasn’t, but I had my own personal limits I wanted to adhere to.
“Violet is your stage name, isn’t it?” Honey asked, looking at me freshly again.
I nodded.
“Your real name Harlow?”
“How’d you know that?” I asked, looking at Roxie. Roxie shrugged.
“Ty told me there was new girl, a Miss Harlow, at the bar and he told her not to be trashy.”
I smiled. “You know Ty?”
Roxie giggled.
“Child, I’m Ty’s better half.”
I tried not to gape. “You and Ty are married?”
“Did you think that chocolate bar of a man was walking around single?” she said, waving her finger in my face.
I hadn’t really thought about it at all, actually. But now that I did… “No, I suppose not.”
“Mmhmmm,” she said and thrust the pile of clothes at me. “Get your skinny butt in the back and try some of this on.”
I hurried toward the back, stopping to glance inside the makeup case, hoping to spy some body shimmer powder.
Only this wasn’t a makeup case.
It was full of… um… personal massagers.
One of them was so big and bumpy looking that I was sure there was no way in hell anyone could think it felt good
in there.
After that thought, I spun away and ran behind the curtain where the dressing room was.
Half the stuff in the pile I brought back here I couldn’t figure out how to put on. A few pieces were entirely see-through and one was made of what I strongly suspected was fishing net. Those all stayed on the floor.
I realized a stripper had to look sexy. I realized a stripper had to be desirable and entertaining.
But this stripper had her own ideas.
As I dug through the clothes, for some reason the image of my ex-boyfriend flashed through my memory.
You’re nothing but a tease,
he’d taunted me the day I confronted him about spreading rumors about me through the entire school. I don’t know why my brain decided to bring that up at this moment, but I was sort of glad it did… because it gave me an idea.
An idea that I sort of already tried out and it had worked.
If it worked once, then why wouldn’t it work again?
I smiled at myself in the mirror and pulled out a couple things from the bottom of the pile. I held up a black bustier with a black zipper right down the front and nodded my head. I piled it on the round ottoman in the dressing area and laid out black thigh-highs and garters to hold it up. Then I fished around until I found a pair of black panties with little patches of black lace all over them.
It was sexy as hell, it left a little to the imagination, but at certain angles, I had no doubt it gave a little peek. Then there was the zipper… I could have all kinds of fun with a zipper.
Next I pulled out a silver bodysuit. It looked like a simple one piece bathing suit except right over the breasts was purple star-shaped see-through material. It had a sheen to it, and when I moved the outfit, the stars caught the light and shimmered.
I wondered how revealing it would be, so I hurried and put it on, then turned to look at myself in the mirror.
Shock made me do a double-take.
The material was thick and tight. It held in all my curves, smoothed them out, and the soft cups acted like a push-up bra and gave me some hella cleavage. You could see a little bit of nipple through the stars, but I supposed it wasn’t totally embarrassing.
It was very high cut around the thigh and when I turned to look at my butt, I gasped a little because there was more see-through purple material back there. In the shapes of hands. It looked like someone was grabbing my butt.
“I want to see something!” Roxie demanded.
I pulled the curtain back and strutted out and put my hands on my hips. “What do you think?”
“I think you have to buy that,” Roxie said.
“Chiillld,” Honey sang, coming from the front. “I got something for that.” She appeared seconds later with a deep-purple wig. Before I could protest, she slid it down over my head, tucking my dark hair up underneath and smoothing it out.
She made a tsking sound when she pulled back to look at her handiwork.
I turned and looked in the mirror. The wig hit me at my chin and curled under slightly. There was a heavy row of bangs that fell just above my eyes. My blue irises practically glowed with all the purple around them and my lips seemed to look pinker.
Roxie appeared in the mirror beside me. “It’s perfect.”
“You don’t think the wig is too much?”
“Definitely not. Especially not with just the spotlight on when you’re on stage.”
I studied it a second longer and decided she was right. This wasn’t an outfit I would ever step outside in. In fact, I would probably bury it in the back of my closet until I had to take it to work, but this would be amazing on stage—because that’s where an outfit like this belonged. And it fit exactly the kind of look I was going for… not too much, but not too little.
I smiled secretly to myself.
Violet was going to be a tease.
Cam was climbing off his crotch rocket when I parked at the back of the lot like I did the night before. This time I made sure my headlights were off and stayed that way. Although, part of me was tempted to leave them on just so Cam would have to jump my car again.
Once I climbed out of the car, I reached into the back to pull out a canvas black duffle filled with my new items from Honey’s shop. I was pretty happy with the choices I made. A couple of them were a little more risqué than others, but I decided to try and look at it like a business, as nothing but a job, and hopefully that would make parading around in my undies more bearable.
Cam leaned against the side of my car when I shut the back door and slung the bag over my shoulder. It was the first time I’d seen him completely covered.
My eyes kind of missed the skin.
He was dressed in his black work trousers, black shoes, some sort of black shirt, and a black leather jacket. It was a motorcycle jacket with zippers on the pockets and a collar that slipped up around his square jaw.
His arms were folded across his chest and he looked me up and down. Suddenly, I wished I were wearing something other than a pair of light-blue cotton shorts and a striped baby tee.
At least my hair was done. I’d taken time to curl it after my shower and it fell in loose spiral waves all the way down to my shoulders. I decided to keep my makeup to the minimum because I figured no one would be looking at my face anyway. Just a coat of lipstick and some extra mascara would hopefully dress me up enough.
“Figured I’d make sure you remembered to shut off your lights and didn’t trip and fall on your way inside,” he said, watching me lazily.
“Ha. Ha,” I said, swinging the bag and hitting him in the middle.
He made an oomph sound and caught it, tugging it away and carrying it for me.
“We still on for tomorrow morning?”
“A debt is a debt,” I said, smiling.
“Want me to pick you up?”
“Sure, I’ll probably still be half asleep anyway.”
“You can give me your address when we get inside.”
I nodded.
“You ready for tonight?”
I let out a breath. My nerves had been building the closer the clock crept to seven o’clock. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for this.”
“You know the guys here… they aren’t allowed to touch you. If any of them crosses the line, you yell for Ty or one of the other bouncers.”
“Okay.”
He stopped and grabbed my arm, pulling me around gently. “I mean it, Harlow. If anyone makes you uncomfortable, you yell. If you can’t find a bouncer, you yell for me, okay?”
It made me even more nervous, the warning of sorts he was giving me. “Have one of the girls been… hurt before?”
He let go of my arm and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “No. Adam has always been really proactive about keeping everyone safe.”
“Then why the need for the ominous warning?”
“Shit,” he swore and pushed a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted you to know that…” His voice faded and then he swore again. “I just—”
“You just wanted me to know you got me,” I whispered, feeling my chest swell a little.
Relief crept into his eyes and he smiled. “Exactly.”
I felt my own lips tilt up. “Yeah, I know.”
Inside the bar, I wrote my address on a napkin and slid it across the bar as Cam washed some glasses and stocked the bar.
There was already a good crowd in here, and I knew by night’s end the place would be packed. With fifteen minutes until I had to be on stage, I went backstage and set my bag at my little dressing table. I unpacked my cosmetics and then pulled out the wig with the white mannequin head and set it in front of the mirror. It had been a gift from Honey. The wig was over my budget, but she made me take it, saying that it was made just for me.
Her place might have been over the top, but she was just right. I smiled thinking about the way she called me “Shug.”
The girls were all in the back, getting dressed and talking amongst themselves. I felt a little awkward, like I didn’t belong, but I was grateful that I had my clothes and things to busy my hands with so I wasn’t just standing around like a little lost lamb.
Most of the girls back here were all gorgeous and tall with model-like bodies. In fact, some of them probably could be models. I wondered why they didn’t do that instead, but it wasn’t my place to ask. After all, I was doing this too.
None of them seemed bothered by showing so much of their skin, either. Heck, a couple of the girls walked around completely topless and wearing only a thong. It made me begin to doubt my plan and my outfit choices… My clothes had a lot more fabric than these girls’.
I decided to just give it a shot (and go a little heavier on the makeup). If it didn’t work out tonight, maybe Adam would just let me serve tables, and if he didn’t, I could always quit and find another job.
Feeling a little better, I slipped into the black outfit with the corset and thigh-high stockings. I struggled a little with the garter, but one of the girls named Candy offered to help me, and in no time I had them strapped on and was stepping into my black stilettos (the only pair of really nice shoes I owned). The last thing I did was clip the purple hair extension in my hair and give it a quick curl to match the rest.
Roxie wasn’t here yet to give me a pep talk, so it was up to me to get my booty out onto that stage and perform. Thank goodness she lent me one of her mix CDs with music from a set of routines she hadn’t performed in several years. It was already with the DJ, and I just told him to play the songs in order as I came out on stage to do my routines.
And then it was my turn. Candy motioned me to the stage behind the curtain, I was shaking and so nervous I felt like I was going to throw up right there in front of everyone.
I still didn’t know what I was going to do.
The DJ announced me and then the spotlight clicked on over the center of the stage, illuminating a circle of light on the floor. Everything else around it was completely dark. The crowd in the bar had quieted to a low murmur, and I could hear the pounding of my own heart.
The music started playing.
It was something with a heavy beat that made my hips want to swing a little more than usual. This could work.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out from behind the curtain, at the last moment grabbing a white wooden chair and dragging it behind me with one hand as I went. I did my best to slink along the floor, to take long, drawn-out steps and really bump out my hips when I moved.
When I got to the circle of light, I moved around it so I dragged the chair into the center and set it down with the back facing the crowd. I was still in the dark.
The music picked up a little, thumping a little harder, the intensity growing, and I stepped into the light, keeping my back to the crowd. Then I spread my legs wide, planted my stilettos on the floor, and bent, letting my hands touch the floor. Then quickly my butt sank down, and as I stood, I pushed it out so everyone got an eyeful of the slightly see-through panties.
A couple guys whistled and then I spun. I grabbed the back of the chair and straddled it, gyrating my hips like I was riding a wild bull. Then I reached up for the zipper, lowering it between my breasts.
I went on for several moments, parading around the stage, especially the part that jutted out into the crowd. I even stomped the toe of my high heel down on a nearby table and, feeling brave, leaned down and licked my leg.
Seriously? Who thinks this is hot?
the inner girl in me said.
They do,
another voice answered. Apparently, a dirty ho had taken up residence within me without my knowledge.
Dirty ho was right, though. Some guy shoved a twenty in the top of my stocking.
On impulse, I grabbed him by the hair (I was taller than him because I was on stage) and towed him back, and the men went nuts. Then I shimmied my still pretty covered chest in his face and then shoved him away.
He fell to his knees and put his hand over his heart.
Oh please,
said my inner voice.
Undo your zipper,
urged the dirty ho.
I took her advice and slid it a little farther down. Then I took a finger and trailed it all the way down between my breasts and back up again.
As the song winded down, I did a few more shimmies and shakes and then walked toward the back of the stage near the chair.
As the last notes of the song played, I climbed on the chair, stood up, and put my back to the crowd. Then I undid the rest of the zipper, slipping the corset so it was around my wrists, not even on my body anymore.
I couldn’t even hear the pounding of my heart over the whistling and catcalls.
I tipped my head back, like I was going to spin around and show them the goods… and then the song ended and the spotlight went out.
Darkness completely concealed me.
I let out a huge breath and hurried to zip the corset back around me.
I left the chair where it was and collected all the money from the stage and then ran behind the curtain.
Roxie stood there waiting. “Damn, Violet.”
“Was it okay?” I worried as we moved backstage. I hadn’t shown a single glimpse of my really private parts.
“Are you kidding? I’ve never seen men so enthralled by a woman who was still wearing clothes.”
I laughed.
But then I caught a look at her face in the brighter light backstage. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,”
“You look like you’ve been crying.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“I know we just met and all, but if you ever need to talk, I’ll listen.”
Roxie smiled. Her long, nearly black hair fell over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
I nodded as she moved away to get ready for her routine. I wondered if she was late for the same reason her eyes were a little puffy. But I wasn’t sure I should press the issue. I mean, she might be showing me the ropes around here, but that didn’t mean she wanted to confide in me.