Armand sat at the dark corner table stirring his drink. Although to any passer by he looked like a lone wolf, scoping out the joint, drinking a vodka tonic. In reality, however, he was sipping straight 7UP (no ice, of course) and waiting for the moment when he would move up to his special table. The table with the best view. She saved it for him. Had a little "Reserved" sign placed on it that made people glance over at it all night as if to see who was special enough to have the best seat in the house reserved for him night after night. Granted, "Andromeda's" was the best, most exquisite night club in town. The only high-class place that offered Armand's type of entertainment. He glanced at his watch. He sighed. Fifteen more minutes and he'd move. He enjoyed having the close up view. Granted, he could see the close up version any time he wanted, but never in this format. This was reserved for the club only. He looked down at his watch again. Time to move. He got up leaving his drink at the table. The waitress would meet him at the new table with a fresh drink. A few minutes after he was settled at the table, the lights in the club dimmed. The footlights around the stage lit up a glowing blue and mist poured from the light pits giving the stage floor a misty look. Conversation stopped at the tables in the club. Patrons put down their drinks and the waiters and waitresses gathered behind the bar that ran along the outer edge of three walls of the room. Stars glittered on the ceiling giving a trompe l'oeil effect that led a newcomer to believe the club had no roof and that it was perpetually night. The stage room, as it was commonly known, sat in the middle of the building and it contained the bar and numerous small, round tables that fit up to four people. Through doors on two sides of the room, patrons could access the dining areas. Most nights, the dining areas were full to capacity but it was first come first served when it came to the stage room tables. People got there early to eat dinner and then move to the stage room to secure a table. Except Armand. He could show up anytime he wanted and he would always have "his" table. He turned his attention back to the stage.
The black velvet, silver star studded curtain at the back of the thrust stage parted. Unfortunately for the eager audience, nothing appeared there. Then, almost as if it wasn't there, Armand only heard it cause he knew to listen for it, the sound of high heels clicking on hardwood sounded throughout the room. The audience held its breath. Even those who had been here before didn't know what to expect. And Armand, the only one in the room who should have known exactly what was coming, was always pleasantly surprised. The audience watched as a pair of long, pale, slender legs that were attached to a surprisingly short, raven haired beauty emerged from the blackness behind the curtain. She stepped into the fog that covered the stage. Armand saw that she was wearing a short, red raincoat, a floppy rain hat, and that she carried a red umbrella emblazoned with silver stars. She walked to the middle of the stage relishing the curious and awed silence that permeated the room.
Kitrina (Andromeda was her stage name. Armand and her parents called her Kit) was beautiful. Her thick raven hair hung down to just below her shoulders, her pale skin reflected the blue lights like moonbeams (that's why she almost always used the blue footlights) and her eyes flashed a spectrum of colors. Mostly they stayed an exotic lavender color, something Armand had never seen before he met Kit, but they ranged from black when she was playing the seductress to green when she wanted to look innocent. Armand bet that they were closer to black right now. Seducing the audience was Andromeda's pride and joy. She had founded this restaurant on the pretense of bringing paying customers more than they had bargained for. She knew it was a risk. She knew she might be branded just another strip bar. But she hadn't. She stood in the center of the stage with the umbrella propped over one shoulder. She tossed her hair and in an almost imperceptible instant the music started and what looked like rain poured down around the stage's edges. Armand recognized the song right away. "I'm Only Happy When it Rains." One of her favorites. To his knowledge, though, she'd never used this one in a performance before. Although there seemed to be a torrential downpour falling from the ceiling, Armand could see her perfectly, and he knew, she could see him just as well. She saved the table for him because she wanted him to be where she could see him from any angle. He helped her performance she said. Gave it more reality. Armand truly believed she could seduce any audience without his help, however. But he knew that she could turn him on like no one ever had before.
Andromeda flipped the umbrella down and twirled and used it like Fred Astaire used to do with his tuxedo walking stick. Finally, she laid it down on the stage and walked over to one of the two poles that protruded out of the stage. Armand's favorite part: the pole dancing. She grasped it with both hands and walked around it stopping every so often to swing her hair and head around causing her hat to go flying. She grasped the pole with one leg and one arm and leaned back as far as she could go, giving Armand a good view of what she wore underneath her skimpy rain coat. He noticed, as she stood back up, that her breasts pushed against the shiny material and that there were gaps between the clasps of the coat. She slid up and down the pull and each time that she did, her coat slid a little further and further up. Finally, she let go of the pole, walked back over to where she had dropped her umbrella, turned her back to the area where Armand was seated, and began to unbutton her coat. As it fell off her shoulders, she bent down to pick up the umbrella. She snapped it open and twirled it so that it covered her bikini-clad body in time to the music. Armand, and the rest of the audience longed to get a good look at just what she was wearing behind that umbrella. Andromeda walked around the stage, twirling the umbrella and writhing her body in time to the music. As usual, Armand had to fight the urge to jump up on the stage and rip off whatever she was wearing. Finally, just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, she set the umbrella down so that it created a type of lean-to and kneeled behind it. Only her shoulders and head were visible behind the giant red monstrosity. Armand knew she'd be wearing a front-clasp bra but that didn't take away any of the fun. She unclasped her bra, slid it off her shoulders, and threw it over the top of the umbrella screen. After this many performances, her aim had gotten quite good. She always managed to land whatever article of clothing directly on Armand's table. It was their sign: I love you, make love to me later. She stood up again, still using the umbrella to cover what Armand knew were perfect breasts. Then, just when the audience thought they were going to see all that she would show, Andromeda lifted the umbrella above her head and showed the audience her beautiful, moonbeam body clad only in black string bikini bottoms.
She dropped the umbrella behind her and slowly began to walk towards the front of the stage. She ran her hands slowly up and down her sides, occasionally brushing her breasts causing her nipples to grow hard. Armand literally thought he was going to lose it in his pants. What he wouldn't give to relieve himself. No one would notice in this dark room; all their eyes were on Andromeda. But he couldn't. Kit would get mad if he did. She wanted him harder than even he thought possible and throbbing like mad when he came to her dressing room after the show. Armand took his mind off himself as much as he could and then he noticed that Andromeda had hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. She was sliding her thumbs back and forth, slightly pushing down on her bottoms each time that she did. Armand would be surprised if she took them off. She usually didn't. She always said that she liked to leave a little bit to the audience’s imagination. And although Armand had seen what was underneath those panties plenty of times, she always had him on the edge of his seat too.