“Shake 'em, Lolly-that's the girl!” came a voice from a nearby table.
Obligingly, the girl shook herself more vigorously, swinging her breasts from side to side as she backed towards the centre of the floor.
The spotlight lowered.then, covering her from the hips downwards, leaving the rest of her body in shadow. Her hands went to the waist of her panties, paused; her thumbs hooked into the elastic, paused again. Then slowly, she peeled them down over hips and bottom. A gasp went up as the flimsy nylon slipped half-way down her thighs, showing a triangle of dark pubic hair. When me panties reached her knees, she let go, allowing them to drop to her feet. She stepped back out of them, picked them up and put them on the chair.
She faced the audience once more, drawing herself up, running her hands slowly upwards from her thighs, over her stomach to her breasts, holding them up, pushing them out, as though offering them to the onlookers. She turned her back, thrust her behind out at us; turned again and stood with wide open legs, hips jutting forward, showing us the shadowy slit of her sex. Her hands smoothed up the inside of her thighs, met at her crotch; legs widened, slim fingers probed, opened up the lips of her vulva, glistening in the spotlight. Her upper body swayed back, pelvis still thrust forward; she posed like that for perhaps half a minute. The music had stopped and her only accompaniment was the murmur of gasps and comments from the tables. Then came a single chord of music and the spotlight went out.
“Well, what did you think?”
“She certainly showed us everything she had!”
“Not quite everything.”
“What do you want-blood?”
“We've had that, too!”
“Blood?”
“They had a couple of lesbian flagellants here-they had quite an act. They'd start off by miming an argument, then a fight; one would pretend to be knocked out while the other stripped her naked. Then a pretty solid-looking wooden triangle would be pushed on to the floor and a couple of the audience would be invited to help strap the naked girl to it-you can guess there were quite a few very willing volunteers! A whip would be produced and then the 'victim' would pretend to wake up just as her flogging was about to start.”
“And you mean to say the other woman whipped her until she drew blood?” I could hardly believe anyone would go to such lengths to earn money.
“Well, not- not exactly. I saw the act three or four times and the woman wielding the whip was quite clever. She made a great show of drawing it back and making the whip hum as she brought it over, but then she had the knack of making it crack viciously only an inch or so away from the bare back or bottom of the girl, so that to the casual onlooker, she was really flogging her. I do know, though, that the girl used to take two or three light blows to show some stripes- George tells me the whip had some sort of red colouring on it. The girl used to gasp and cry out and jerk about as though she was really being flogged.
“Then, one evening, they must have had a proper row before the show. They went on with the act, but as soon as the girl was strapped, naked, to the triangle, the other one must have seized her opportunity of settling whatever score she had. She began to flog her in earnest; the girl cried out, jerked, and even screamed for someone to stop the woman. Of course, we all thought it was a whale of a show they were putting on that night, until we realised that each time that whip cracked, another stripe was laid across the girl's back or behind. Then someone at one of the tables yelled that it was the real thing as a trickle of blood ran down the girl's back.
“George came trundling on, then, and shoved the woman away. I helped her unstrap the girl-she really had been whipped-poor thing was in an awful state. They didn't have that act any more!”
“Golly!” I shivered. “Some people go in for that, don't they-whipping each other, I mean.”
“Quite a lot — in a very modified form, it has its points as a sort of hors deurvre to the main course!” Stella topped up the glasses and smiled. “Don't worry — I'm not going to start beating you! Ah-here's the next act.”
The second turn was almost a repetition of the first, except that the girl had bigger breasts and stripped down from ordinary street clothes. The third act really was, as George had said, “a corker”!
The woman, I would say, was in her late twenties, a brunette, with ripe, mature curves. She was dressed in summery street clothes — light raincoat, belted, very high heeled shoes; an inch or two of a print dress showed beneath the raincoat and she carried a handbag.
At first, I thought it was going to be a copy of the first two acts, as she strutted around to music, gradually stripping until she was down to her bra and panties. She put her high heeled shoes back on after peeling off the stockings, then slowly swayed around the edge of the floor, close to the tables, followed by the spotlight. She began to sing in a low, throaty voice, pausing at odd tables; it was a pop number, but the words were laden with suggestion.
She stopped at our table, leaned, giving Stella and I a good view of her scantily-covered breasts. She walked round the table, paused again behind us, reached down and chucked Stella under the chin; her stomach pressed hard against my elbow as she bent forward. Stella grinned up at her, then the woman turned to me; her face was very close to mine as she sang words that went something like 'You do things to me-let me do things to you!' The strong perfume she was wearing tickled my nostrils as she came even closer; I looked at her heavily made-up face and decided she was quite pretty underneath it. She stopped singing and the music stopped with her; there was a tense silence in the club as her face came closer to mine. My heart-beat quickened as her lips came within an inch of mine; I didn't know whether to draw back or stay where I was; I thought she was going to kiss me as her scented breath blew on my mouth. Then she smiled, winked, ran the tip of her forefinger lightly down my nose and she was away, moving on to the next table, taking up the song where she had left off.
“Whew!” I let my breath out as I sat back.
“What's the matter-think she was going to rape you? Perhaps hoping she was?” Stella chuckled.
The singer went back to the centre of the floor again, body swaying in the tight pants and bra. Then came the final stripping. Off came the bra and knickers, slowly, in what seemed to be a conventional pattern.
Naked, now, except for the high heels, she posed for us, giving views of herself from the side, to show the firm, upward jut of her large breasts; the back, to let everyone see what a well-fleshed bottom she had and finally, she faced us, legs well apart, holding open the lips of her vulva.
She went over to the chair then, kneeling in front of it, giving us a side view of her. Opening her handbag, she put both hands inside, paused, then slowly drew them out again. Another gasp went up from the tables as a huge rubber affair came into view; shaped like a male penis, it had a big bulb at the base of it, just where a man's testicles would be.
The woman went through all sorts of suggestive movements with her hands; stroking the rubber penis, squeezing the bulb very gently, putting her face close to the tip, her mouth opening as though she were about to suck it, then pushing it away from her.
“I don't know if you've ever seen one before, but that's a dildo,” whispered Stella.