Chapter 14

As promised, the winner of the Kitten Contest was invited to dance on the main stage at Club Velvet. When the night arrived, Naomi was thrilled and ready to launch her new career. The second and third-place winners were also given the opportunity to perform, having impressed the judges enough to earn their place on stage.

One final invite was extended to a special contestant—Sandy Ellison, the young girl whose interpretive dance, “Breaking Free,” had captivated the audience and judges alike. At just 12 years old, she had displayed remarkable talent and artistry, but her age ultimately kept her from claiming the top prize. Now 13, with her performance still fresh in everyone’s minds, she had been personally invited to showcase her routine once more.

The buzz around the event was electric. The working girls at the club had been prepped, the fire marshal had been notified, and even the police were aware of the night’s significance. Word had spread fast—so much so that the entire seventh-grade class of Cedar Ridge Junior High seemed to know about it. From inside the club to the crowd gathered outside, it was clear that this was going to be a night to remember.

Frank was collecting entry fees at the door to cover the event’s expenses, while the bar cashed in on sales of mocktails and Cokes. It was an “all hands on deck” kind of night, with every employee working to keep up with the overwhelming turnout.

At 7pm the show began with Sandy starting things off. Her classmates were all crowded near the stage, a good mix of boys and girls, all excited to see their friend perform on a stage in front of a crowd. They had missed her performance at the contest, but this was not going to be missed.

Mrs. Ellison came out from backstage once again and put the big pair is scissors on the stage near the stripper pole then retreated backstage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Frank Devon, and I am the owner of this club. Tonight, you are going to witness four incredible women who impressed the judges of the recent Velvet Kitten Contest with their artistry, skill, and beauty, earning their spot on this stage.”

“You’ve already been entertained this evening by our own talented dancers, but now we’re switching gears to showcase these four exceptional amateurs for your enjoyment.”

Frank stood center stage, the bright lights illuminating him as he addressed the crowd. He was dressed in a sharp tuxedo, his polished shoes gleaming under the lights, exuding confidence and authority as he set the stage for the night’s main event.

“Our first amateur was a personal invite by me for her dance that blew everyone away. This is 12 year old...”

“13 NOW!” came a girl’s voice from backstage which was heard by everyone and gave everyone something to laugh about.

“Thank you. Yes, 13 year old Sandy Ellison and her interpretive dance she calls “Breaking Free.”

Frank moved out of the way and the lights darkened. Sandy moved silently onto the stage and took up a position toward the back of the stage to give herself room to dance.

As the music started, again it was Clair de Lune, the lights came up to focus on Sandy as she held her pose. Arms behind her back, legs together with one in front of the other.

Once the music was up to speed and at the right spot, she moved. Bending forward, whipping her hair around as she moved then popping back upright. She did this several times then started her rolls across the stage. Once, twice, three times she rolled across the stage and each time she popped up to a standing position with her arms up.

When she popped up the last time, her hands held the large pair of scissors toward the ceiling in triumph.

She started snipping away at her black leotard just like she did the other day. A snip here. A snip there. The middle of her chest. Her stomach. Her hip seam. A snip over her bottom. A shoulder strap. Over and over again she would make a beautiful dance movement then use the scissors to snip away at her leotard until the song neared its end and the leotard was nothing but tatters and shreds barely holding on.

As the song ended she tore the leotard from her body in triumph again leaving her body nude for everyone to see.

The lights went out plunging her into darkness.

The crowd took one breath then everyone in the room burst out with applause showing the young woman what they thought about her performance. Sandy stood in the middle of the stage and accepted the applause with grace and price. She bent forward bowing to the crowd several times before she picked up her shredded leotard and left the stage as the applause continued.

The kids at the front of the room, near the stage, were the most enthusiastic about their classmates’ performance. Their young voices rang out happily as Sandy disappeared backstage. Their voices were hushed as they all talked about what they had seen and how beautiful Sandy looked on stage. The boys made wishful statements about wanting to be with her when they get back to school while the girls made comments about how talented she was, wishing they had a talent like that. The chatter continued until the WE all spoke to the excited teens to calm down, the real performances were about to start.

Once the crowd calmed down, Frank walked back out on stage.

“Thank you, Sandy. That was another incredible performance. Well done, young lady.” Frank’s voice carried through the speakers, his admiration evident. He gestured toward the crowd before continuing, “And now, we move on to the third-place winner of our Kitten Contest. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome—Amanda Reynolds!”

As Frank exited the stage, the sultry, unmistakable sound of brass instruments filled the club—the opening notes of Big Spender ringing through the speakers. A hush of anticipation fell over the room as all eyes turned to the stage.

Amanda strutted forward with effortless grace, the rhythmic click of her heels in perfect time with the music. A fedora tilted low over one eye, a feathery boa draped over her shoulders, long satin gloves trailing past her elbows, and a sleek corset cinched tight against her hourglass figure—her ensemble was a flawless blend of vintage glamour and seductive charm.

She moved like she owned the stage, each step deliberate, each sway of her hips commanding attention. The audience was riveted as she began her slow, teasing unraveling—sliding one glove free with a dramatic flourish, then the other, both falling like silk to the stage floor.

With a coy smile, she ran her hands down her corset, tracing the curves that had every pair of eyes locked onto her. She bent low, giving just a teasing view of the sheer lace beneath, then stretched back up, tossing her head, letting her hair cascade in a sultry wave.

Dropping to her knees, she played with the edge of her thigh-high stockings, slowly unfastening the garters, drawing out the anticipation. One leg at a time, she peeled them away, her movements languid, seductive—knowing exactly how to make them watch, how to make them want more.

As the music swelled, she spun back to her feet, the corset’s front zipper teased down inch by inch. A flash of bare skin here, a glimpse there, a turn of her body just at the right moment to prolong the suspense. When the garment finally slipped from her shoulders, she let it drop carelessly to the floor, standing tall in sheer lace, her confidence electrifying.

Crawling across the stage now, Amanda locked eyes with men and women alike, her expression playful yet utterly in control, her movements slow and deliberate. By the time she reached the pole, the second song had begun—I Just Want to Make Love to You pulsed through the speakers, the bluesy rhythm fueling the next phase of her performance.

With effortless skill, she gripped the pole, arching her body into fluid, sensual motions, working the crowd with every extension of her limbs, every tantalizing curve of her form. The final reveal was drawn out, deliberate—a slow, teasing descent of lace and silk until nothing remained between her and the adoring gaze of the audience.

She ended the performance against the pole, one leg hooked around it, arms stretched high above her head, her body a vision of confidence and allure as the stage lights dimmed. A second of silence—then the crowd erupted in cheers and applause, their enthusiasm shaking the walls of Club Velvet.

Frank stepped back onto the stage, microphone in hand, his voice booming over the sound of the ovation. “Thank you, Amanda. Another stunning performance! As you can see, the talent just keeps getting better here at Club Velvet!”

The applause continued as Amanda gracefully gathered herself, a victorious smile playing on her lips as she made her way offstage, her performance cemented in the minds of everyone who had just witnessed it.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to welcome our second-place winner—the breathtaking, mesmerizing, and utterly unforgettable Rachel Donovan!”

Rachel Donovan stepped onto the stage with a bright, playful energy, her soft pink lace bralette and matching mini-skirt giving her an innocent, girl-next-door charm. White knee-high socks accentuated the look, paired with platform Mary Jane heels and a delicate ribbon choker tied around her neck. Her loose curls bounced as she moved, feigning surprise at the audience’s attention. The music started—I Touch Myself by Divinyls—and Rachel swayed her hips, twirling her hair between her fingers, her expression somewhere between coy and mischievous. She rolled her shoulders, ran her hands down her sides as if simply feeling the music, then bit her lip, glancing away shyly before peeking back at the crowd, sending the room into a frenzy. She playfully lifted the hem of her skirt, flashing just a hint of her thighs before quickly smoothing it back down as if she hadn’t meant to. Dropping to the floor, she stretched one leg out, slowly sliding down a knee-high sock and tossing it aside, repeating the move for the other. When she reached back to adjust a strap on her bralette, the crowd leaned in, knowing exactly where this was going.