nodded impatiently. “Yes, the scare’s out of my system now. It’s a different kind of fear that’s taking over.”
Olivia clasped my hand in hers and drew me up to my feet. She looked so elegant in her pale cream satins and silks, and I still felt like the rough and ready country girl I really was. But perhaps that very contrast would be our success. We would find out soon enough.
“Like I said – butterflies ,” Olivia whispered.
“Well, Mel’s stringing them along just now good style. So get yourselves along and get ready, because we’ve got a hot and noisy crowd in tonight.”
Mel or Melissa was our full-time MC. She was a real hot performer, a Marianne Faithfull fan with a voice that could strip the paint off your car. Strutting and purring her way through the filthiest songs ever written as she would revise the words to current pop hits to be as X-rated as possible, which always got big laughs. The first of her efforts that I ever heard was Another Prick in the Hole , with apologies to Pink Floyd. It was a tough job not to get upstaged by her, but we did our best.
This night she was dressed from head to foot in purple, in full cabaret gear; top hat, tails, opera gloves and all – apart from wearing absolutely no panties, proving to everyone that she was indeed a natural blonde.
“Ladies, gentlemen, friends, admirers, and perverts,” Melissa began, in what I would soon discover was her standard opening. “Get your drinks down your necks now and take a good long hard look at the person beside you, because you’re going to be staring at nothing but our gorgeous ladies from now on.”
She casually strutted the stage as though walking around bottomless was perfectly natural. “We have such wonders lined up for you all tonight. Feasts of flesh and delights the Emperor Caligula would have bitten his own balls off to witness. Casanova himself would have jerked his cock into a smoking stump before so many perfect examples of gushing, grinding, gorgeous girlhood as we have lined up for you , you lucky fucking bastards.
“Sensuous, sexual, slinky and stunning – mere words cannot describe the sweat-inducing, tongue-curling, prick-extending, pussy-dripping beauty hiding beneath these layers of satin, leather, silk, and velvet...and all soon to be revealed in all their glory.”
She rubbed a hand between her legs and licked a fingertip. “Hm, think it’s time for me to go, before I cum,” she sighed, and got a round of laughter at that. “Let’s make some noise for our resident chick in white satin, Miss Olivia. And as a special treat, for her very first time – our new redhead sex machine, the fiery Miss Phoenyx .”
Oh yes, I realized with a start: that was me . The name I had chosen for myself. This was all really happening, then – I was about to walk out and strip naked in public. It wasn’t a dream or a fantasy I once had, after all (although I did have a lot of those – clear, lucid movies in my head in which I was the star. More than mere dreams, they were all that helped to keep me going through all the cold winter nights in my mother’s farmhouse when there was no television signal and I didn’t have anything to read).
Pools of sweat had already gathered in the hollows of my collarbones and ran down my chest and arms like rainwater on a humid summer evening. My hair felt like ragged rope. I was shaking so much it felt as if I wouldn’t even be able to walk the length of myself.
Melissa stepped aside into the wings as Olivia swept out past her, and I made my very hesitant entrance behind her. The applause was deafening. The band sounded as if they were playing right inside my ear, and the lights felt like a furnace. Never mind my make-up running – it felt as if my eyeballs were dissolving in the blazing heat and oozing down my cheeks.
Olivia swirled around and hit the centre stage, and then the lights cooled off to a pale blue and pink as the audience noise faded. I tentatively
Olivia clasped my hand in hers and drew me up to my feet. She looked so elegant in her pale cream satins and silks, and I still felt like the rough and ready country girl I really was. But perhaps that very contrast would be our success. We would find out soon enough.
“Like I said – butterflies ,” Olivia whispered.
“Well, Mel’s stringing them along just now good style. So get yourselves along and get ready, because we’ve got a hot and noisy crowd in tonight.”
Mel or Melissa was our full-time MC. She was a real hot performer, a Marianne Faithfull fan with a voice that could strip the paint off your car. Strutting and purring her way through the filthiest songs ever written as she would revise the words to current pop hits to be as X-rated as possible, which always got big laughs. The first of her efforts that I ever heard was Another Prick in the Hole , with apologies to Pink Floyd. It was a tough job not to get upstaged by her, but we did our best.
This night she was dressed from head to foot in purple, in full cabaret gear; top hat, tails, opera gloves and all – apart from wearing absolutely no panties, proving to everyone that she was indeed a natural blonde.
“Ladies, gentlemen, friends, admirers, and perverts,” Melissa began, in what I would soon discover was her standard opening. “Get your drinks down your necks now and take a good long hard look at the person beside you, because you’re going to be staring at nothing but our gorgeous ladies from now on.”
She casually strutted the stage as though walking around bottomless was perfectly natural. “We have such wonders lined up for you all tonight. Feasts of flesh and delights the Emperor Caligula would have bitten his own balls off to witness. Casanova himself would have jerked his cock into a smoking stump before so many perfect examples of gushing, grinding, gorgeous girlhood as we have lined up for you , you lucky fucking bastards.
“Sensuous, sexual, slinky and stunning – mere words cannot describe the sweat-inducing, tongue-curling, prick-extending, pussy-dripping beauty hiding beneath these layers of satin, leather, silk, and velvet...and all soon to be revealed in all their glory.”
She rubbed a hand between her legs and licked a fingertip. “Hm, think it’s time for me to go, before I cum,” she sighed, and got a round of laughter at that. “Let’s make some noise for our resident chick in white satin, Miss Olivia. And as a special treat, for her very first time – our new redhead sex machine, the fiery Miss Phoenyx .”
Oh yes, I realized with a start: that was me . The name I had chosen for myself. This was all really happening, then – I was about to walk out and strip naked in public. It wasn’t a dream or a fantasy I once had, after all (although I did have a lot of those – clear, lucid movies in my head in which I was the star. More than mere dreams, they were all that helped to keep me going through all the cold winter nights in my mother’s farmhouse when there was no television signal and I didn’t have anything to read).
Pools of sweat had already gathered in the hollows of my collarbones and ran down my chest and arms like rainwater on a humid summer evening. My hair felt like ragged rope. I was shaking so much it felt as if I wouldn’t even be able to walk the length of myself.
Melissa stepped aside into the wings as Olivia swept out past her, and I made my very hesitant entrance behind her. The applause was deafening. The band sounded as if they were playing right inside my ear, and the lights felt like a furnace. Never mind my make-up running – it felt as if my eyeballs were dissolving in the blazing heat and oozing down my cheeks.
Olivia swirled around and hit the centre stage, and then the lights cooled off to a pale blue and pink as the audience noise faded. I tentatively
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