Chapter 6

I called the concierge, who asked about parking needs, found I was on foot, and suggested that the housekeeper, who would help pack, load up with boxes and then drive us to my apartment. "Before that, though, let me see if I can scare up a dresser for you, and get it moved into Carol's extra bedroom on a temporary basis. That will give you a place to unpack. We may have some furniture in storage, but, if not, I'll borrow it from one of our unoccupied guest apartments."

"Great. I'm sorry, but I haven't learned your name"

"It's Barnard, sir."

"No need for the sir. From some things I've heard, I have the impression that if I let you use your talents, my life will be far more smooth."

In rather a caricature of the tones of a stuffy but expert butler, he said, "Curt, we sometimes use the model of staffing a perfectly run psychiatric facility, in which we do not want to upset the inmates."

That made perfect sense. Laughing as I told Barnard goodbye, Telling Carol of the plan, I kissed her cheek. "You're going to write, correct? Then I'll check back after I return. If you don't answer, I'll assume you are with Marie. If you need to leave for the club, leave a note on the refrigerator. It might be nice, though, to go over there together."

The doorman came for me. The driver had a great smile. "Hi, Mr. C. I'm Hazel. But if I'm in French Maid mode, call me Carressa. Just don't call me late for dinner. I decided to bring Bruce to help, especially carrying things. We call him Mongo.

I followed Hazel to the van. Following Hazel was a rather pleasant experience. I wondered if her jeans had been sprayed on, or just painted with a brush. While she didn't give a showgirl look, hers was definitely pleasant. Given that she confirmed that she did French Maid, I wasn't worried that friendly teasing and flirting would be unwelcome.

At my apartment, my first act was to pick up my Foreign Legion green beret. While I wasn't going to wear it out, I did put it on. I told Hazel just to dump dresser drawers into boxes, and grabbed an assortment of things from the closet. In my office, I had my prepacked Rollaboard weekend bag, and a briefcase that I kept ready for consulting visits. I took working files from the desk, and then the sorts of little things that you don't always find in someone else's office.

In the kitchen, I picked up my knife block. Given our mutual interests in Southeast Asia, if Carol cooked the cuisine, she'd already have most of the special ingredients, but I realized that I had no idea if she liked to cook. The process of discovery was continuing.

Back in the bedroom, Hazel was working on some lower drawers. Now, I've known women that for good reason, in an office where modesty is courteous, to do what was sometimes called the "secretarial squat" when bending. In other places, Tana's office immediately coming to mind, the practical need to get things out of low drawers was a dual opportunity for a leg show.

Hazel wasn't wearing a skirt, but she gave me a distinct ass wiggle as she bent over. "Nothing wrong with a nice squeeze to oil the creaks of the day, my mother used to say."

At Carol's building, we unpacked. Carol wasn't in the apartment, but had left no note that she had left for the club, so I assumed that she was with Marie. I hunted around in the kitchen, found the fixings, and made coffee. After reflecting, I put the beret back on.

As I sipped my coffee, Carol came in. Her facial expression was complex. I sensed exhaustion, but also a sweet loving. I guessed that her face showed the complex emotions of a visit with Marie.

"Marie?"

"Yes, dear. All in all, it's happy. She's mentally sharp today, but only for brief periods before she gets sleepy. I'm not sure how to explain this, but she has lost a lot of weight. Sometimes, to look at her, I'm scared that I will breathe too hard and blow her away. Before I started talking, though, I had the sense that she was in one of her improving cycles, and that was the case. She actually ate a fair bit for her, which is really good.

"When I told her that you were here, she got an enormous smile, and started weeping happy tears. Somewhat to my surprise, she told me not to worry much about how she looked when I brought you over, although she hastened to say that still meant reasonable hair, or wig, and makeup. What concerned her more is how long she'd be able to talk. She guessed that today would have been less than five minutes, but if she had three days or so of eating, and not sleeping constantly, she'd be alert long enough to have a real conversation and looked forward to it.

"She did say that the dress code for the visit was French Foreign Legion green beret, with Airborne flash. She would wear the maroon beret of the regular Airborne.

It was a nice afternoon, so we walked to the club, chatting on the way. "Curt, the club is a lot more complex that it seems, in what I call an artistic manner. Now, let's keep it that in perspective. It is also a place where you can spend varying amounts of money for sex, but the exchange is more complicated than it would be with a pure hooker. Many people would look around and assume that the stage is just to get customers turned on to particular dancers, for whom they'll pay a premium. Others won't connect between the floor and playing with a specific dancer, but just think about it, if they think much, as a way to sexualize the enviroment.

"The dancers, if not necessarily the bar-only girls, almost all are going well beyond dance alone. None are bad dancers, but some are considerably better than others. More than the dance aspect, though, is that almost all the girls act. That doesn't mean act as in rip off. No, they consciously play one or more roles. Their outfits cover a wide range, but usually support a characterization rather than simply making her attractive. Sure, everyone wears heavy makeup, if only because you need that under stage lighting. You'll see that some girls may seem to have imperfectly applied makeup. A dress might seem oddly chosen, or perhaps not worn well. Sometimes, lingerie shows in a seemingly careless way. It may have taken time in front of a mirror, and even a little costumer's tape or skin adhesive, to get it to be where she wants it to be.

"You know the theater saying, actor to director, what's my character's motivation to do something or other in the performance? You know how Disney refers to their people as a cast, and has an underground city so you never see a costumed Disney character out of role? In a small way, we do just that. There isn't a formal director, but I have a lot of that role, at least in helping the girls with characterization. If we're doing it right, you won't understand the characterizations until you start getting backstage information. We don't have to be that creative, although it helps. It's a hell of a lot of creative fun for me, and it can make some of the medium and high roller experiences something nicely out of this world. At the low end, someone can come in, talk to a bar girl, and, I hope, not feel unfairly hustled if he buys some champagne, gets to play in a booth, and finishes with a blowjob. We try to do that with as much class as possible, but it's not a particularly creative process. I hope you learn to like it as much as I do, and maybe you might become part of something special. By the way, I'm aware that while some other clubs up and down the street have been raided, it's never happened to us. I don't know, and I don't want to know, if the friends of the friends have fixed anything. I prefer to think that it's we are lower key and try to deliver quality. Our front is far, far more modest than any other club in the area. There are no naked women in neon. There are a couple of posters, in the window, with showgirls in full Vegas-style costume. People have wandered in thinking it was a restaurant. We don't have a full kitchen, but we can do a few things, and if customers want something, we can usually get it from a decent nearby restaurant.

Entering through the stage door, I followed Carol, not to Aimee's on-the-floor manager booth, but to Aimee's actual office. I could see that she was wearing a zipped black leather halter-top, which didn't look as if it would be overly warm, and gave a very light sense of off-duty dominatrix. It struck me that might be exactly what Aimee wanted, for in a sexually oriented business, there might well be interpersonal interactions in which a manager very much wanted to dominate. At the same time, full domme would be too confrontational. I'm terrible at guessing ages, but Aimee was nicely in the late MILF category.

"Aimee, I feel absolutely wonderful. You might have heard a little last night, something like Curt knowing my real name, and that I left with him. The more accurate way to put it is that Curt and I go back to high school, where we had a strong bond that we were scared to exercise. At this point, while everything is moving very fast, he and I know we are soulmates. That's not just sex, as we coauthored academic papers.

"While I don't expect him to be involved in club management, speaking as an owner, I want him considered to have the darkest, shiniest black card that we've ever issued. His money isn't good, but anything that would involve money goes to my personal account. It took us a long time to say it, but we finally admitted that we love one another. We both want open sexual relationships, although absolute emotional loyalty to each other. He's going to cherish me afterwards, and actually be turned on, if I mingle with a customer. It will excite me just as much to know that he makes it with the girls, either with or without me. Neither one of us is stupid and we do not intend to interfere with your having and enforcing rules.

"While he won't be involved in management, I definitely expect him to help me work on my act, and also help any girls who want it. From our art classes together, it's a running joke that he has an extremely fine sense of color, but his color vocabulary is Guy. Things are Red, Blue, or, to be technical, Pink. It took me a long time to learn that fuchsia is not pronounced fuck-see-a and has nothing to do with fucking. Tana and I have gotten him to understand what we mean when she's wearing a Units-style cling dress that is not just Pink.

"Curt, Aimee plays some in the club, but principally with women. I haven't known her to join physically in mingling. She has a very nice husband who doesn't come to the club for reasons similar to those that Marie isn't going to the club. The three of us have had some nice times outside the club, and rarely brought one of the girls into that.

"She and I have an understanding that sometimes, when one of us stresses out in managing, we can slip into Aimee's office, lock the door, and have quick, undemanding sex, just for the pleasure of the stressed one, put our clothes together, and go back to work. It's my assumption that you and I are going to develop that habit.

"Sometimes, it's not even stress, but just that there's a flash thought and it's a friend that will scratch an itch. For example, I'm not what anyone would call a submissive. I don't think Aimee's top is part of any roleplaying outfit. Leather sometimes is there just because it looks good. But dammit, I haven't seen this top before. It keeps drawing my eyes to it, and making me keep getting little thoughts of Aimee ordering me to do something or other, not necessarily to her boob. Strange feeling, but, Aimee, you are a trusted friend as well as a co-worker.

"Carol, I couldn't be happier to hear things like this from a good friend. If you say something about relationships or trust, I absolutely take you at your word, because you are one of the most rational people that I've ever met. You two met with Tana? She may share Vulcan heritage with Carol. Of course, Vulcans also can go into pon farr insane lust.

Carol was wearing the blouse and skirt outfit from earlier today. "Basic orders, Carol. New brand of stockings, maybe? The color is especially attractive. I want to look at your legs and think nasty thoughts. Be sure I can see your stocking tops and some skin, OK?" Carol smiled and pulled up her skirt.

"Aimee, would you be so good as to continue scratching my itch before we move into the plan of the day? Curt, for now, just watch and enjoy. As I remember your rules with Paul, he has to meet and approve of any men with whom you play in the club. There is a special case where they might visit you, with a female escort, at home. Let's do that soon. For now, command me."

Aimee stood. Her red leather pants contrasted with the black halter and boots. She pulled them to her knees. If she had anything else on, it wasn't obvious. "Get me off with your mouth. Quickly." Carol fell to her knees, and applied her mouth for a couple of minute. "Faster and harder, you cunt!" Aimee raised her head, gave me a brilliant smile and a friendly wave, then went back into what clearly was a domme act. After a few more threats and curses to Carol, Aimee looked at me and said, rather formally, "If you will excuse me for a moment, sir?" She pulled at Carol's head and climaxed within a minute.

Carol rearranged her clothing, gave a chirpy little "Thanks. I needed that," watched Aimee wipe herself with a small towel, and pull her pants back on. I did have the opportunity to note that Aimee's hips and thighs were superbly toned. "I'll fix my lipstick before leaving the office. Back to work?"

I knew that I was going to have an interesting time acclimating to this small but fascinating culture. Obviously, it was one in which there was no such thing as sexual guilt, so it would be very, very good for me.

"Let's review, though, what's going on in the club. For today, we have six club dancers. Curt, they do 20-minute sets, so we go for two-hour blocks before we need someone on stage. We have two waitresses who have assistant manager authority. One is older and doesn't show off, while the other has quite a body and wants everyone to know it. We use Wanda for any customers for whom the mood improves if he can fondle the waitress. It would be rare for her to go beyond that, but I won't say it never happened. I expect to have three or more additional bar girls, who don't dance but do mingle.

"Curt, the way the economics of mingling tend to work is that the bar girls get more volume, do shorter sessions in the back, and get a little less commission than the dancers.

"Which dancers are here?

"Cathy, Gerri, Betty, Edie, Melina, and Mara." She looked at her desk calendar. I know that Cathy specifically wants to talk about her act. Betty probably is here just because she doesn't want to deal with rush hour. Gerri and Mara just left me a note they'd like to see you, but didn't say anything specific. Melina wants to rehearse, but she said while she'd welcome your ideas, she needs to work on the timing of some moves. Edie didn't mention anything."

Carol turned to me. "You've seen Melly. She's very serious about her dancing. She also does artistic dance. Melina, probably has the least characterization besides the dance itself, but she's trying to come up with one.

Cathy's character is an elite college student-scholar-athlete. It's one of the easier roles, because it's mostly true. Offstage, she may wear something that might be what a very confident, sexy graduate student might wear to a seminar where she wants to get full attention. Talk to her in here, and she won't sound like some people's stereotype of a bimbo dancer. She talks like the academic she is." Carol giggled. "She has gotten me to agree that if a customer talks to her about something from at least the junior level in computer science, they get one extra orgasm at no charge.