Chapter 8

At the Peking restaurant, the maitre d' signaled to the office, and the manager came out, a big smile on his face. Carol waved. I'd seen a lot of air kisses at ceremonial welcomes to restaurants, but not one like the one in which the manager took Carol into a tango-style bend, as we could see their mouths happily grind. "Everyone, this is Mike Chen, the best Chinese restaurant manager in the world.

He replied, "Huānyíng dào běijīng"

She smiled back. "Nǐ zhè yì zhōu guò de zěnmeyàng"

"Mike is helping me with Mandarin. Mike, this is Cathy." Carol whispered something to Cathy. Cathy stepped forward, smiling. I'm not sure I'd quite say that she towered over him, but a better word didn't immediately come to mind. I could see her hand move to her side, and as she moved closer, her skirt rose even higher. Mike's eyes grew very large, while Cathy said, "Enjoy looking. I enjoy being appreciated."

When Gerri moved close, I noticed that she had opened a couple of buttons. If he liked soft white skin contrasted with black lingerie, it would have been a fine day.

"From what I can see of your aura with Carol, I am genuinely honored to meet you. She and I do dramatize our kiss tradition a bit, but she shows me what I think of as Chinese sensuality. While we are equals, few American women would say to me, as she did a while ago, and I just heard from Cathy, that she honestly likes to be admired. Our custom is that she welcomes the staff directly watching her, as long as it doesn't interfere with their duties, and, for their own safety, they don't get distracted. Equally, if she closes a door or curtain, or otherwise indicates she wishes privacy, she will have it not only from us, but you will have attentive staff both listening for a call if needed, and guarding you from interruption."

"Mike's comments about our privacy also let us have dinner ... well, I'm not sure family-style is the right word, but the style of the culture that I dare hope that some of us are evolving. Extended family? Community? Sex-positive? Now, obviously, the first thing we want to do tonight is enjoy the food. Second, though, we want to enjoy one another. These loveseats can be just that. Sit in pairs, and definitely don't maintain a decorous distance. For what I have in mind, it's so convenient that the women can wear skirts. I expect a friendly hand to be under mine through much of dinner, unless it is needed for eating ... eating food, that is. There's something so visually wrong about a man missing his pants that it's too jarring for an intimate meal outside our private space. Off hours at the club or in back rooms, or at home, Carl, when we are socializing but not fully in the bedroom, I think your default outfits are going to be robes or equivalents. Hey, the Japanese think a yukata is quite appropriate resort wear. I look forward to putting Carl into plush or silky robes in attractive masculine colors.

"Since Curt gets me all the time, one of you sit with him. We could even switch." There was no particular system, but I would up with Cathy while Gerri cuddled up to Carol. To myself, and later Carol, I'd admit that tall and leggy was my preferred body type, although there are many wonderful ones. Carol and Cathy have a lot of similarities.

Our table was set Chinese-style, with chopsticks and spoons. From high school, I knew Carol was completely comfortable with them, as was I. Given the number of Asians that would be encountered in a computer science graduate program, it was a safe bet that Cathy also found them to be a routine way to eat. Carol was careful enough that I assumed she'd check with Gerri unless she already knew.

Going back to high school, something I had always loved about Carol is that she quietly demonstrated that she genuinely hated for people to be unfairly embarrassed. Unless she herself was feeling intimidated, something she appears to have outgrown, she has a genius for putting people at ease. Yet another reason to love her.

Carol had arranged an assortment of dim sum for the first course. Technically, dim sum isn't an appetizer but a light meal. For a meal in which I suspected that there would be quite a few tastes of delightful female fluids, I say, the hell with formal Chinese meal structuring. Carol was right to caution that hot peppers, much as one might like the taste, were a Really Bad Idea if the tongues or fingers that would touch sensitive places picked up chili oil.

With a slight giggle, Carol stopped us for a moment. "Everyone feels pretty competent with chopsticks. I'm going to propose an eating game. If the chopsticks get awkward, your fingers are just fine. No one is to pick up their own dim sum, except maybe the thick stuff like steamed bread or glutinous rice. You will ask someone else to feed it to you." Her tongue came out and slowly, sensuously licked her lips. Turning to Gerri, she requested "a soft, juicy, slightly pink, steamed shrimp dumpling." She opened her mouth wide and wiggled her tongue. Gerri laughed and gracefully put the small dumpling onto Carol's tongue. She extended her other hand, clearly just for balance, and only by accident, of course, around one of Carol's breasts.

I felt Cathy's warm leg against mine. "In the absence of any female lawyers who like to be eaten, Curt, may I have a shark fin dumpling?" This was going to be fun.

The next course just didn't lend itself to cooperative eating. It was a spectacular presentation of a dish in the style of crispy rice. Onto a hot metal plate were placed patties of crispy rice, just taken out of hot sesame oil. The waiter poured a sauce over it, which had the odd but delicious combination of good-sized pink-white shrimp, red tomato sauce, and bright red green peas. The food briefly disappeared in a cloud of fragrant steam. I stroked Cathy's stockinged thigh, which could make me steamy too, feeling its strong springiness as she pressed it against my leg. My fingers slid over the top of her stocking to feel some rather hot skin. I remembered that I liked to eat crispy rice dishes on top of steamed white rice, so this was going to need two hands. "Leg rubbing time, Cathy." She gave me a brilliant smile.

Not surprising given the restaurant's name, it did the rarely seen full presentation of Peking Duck. The next course lent itself to cooperative eating, as it was the usually seen preparation of contrasting tastes -- duck meat, sweet sauce, green onions hand-wrapped into pancakes, another set of contrasts being the crunchy duck skin and green onions, the chewy pancake and meat. Carol rolled up a pancake and started finger feeding it to Gerri. She started licking the tip, and while she did so, she caught my eye and opened her mouth in a blowjob-suggestive O. I nodded. When she turned back to the pancake roll, thicker than any cock, she slipped one end between her red, red lips, and then bit down hard. I felt a sympathy twinge. Apparently, Carol and Cathy picked up on that, and laughed some very evil laughs.

We checked in with Aimee in her office, where she was at a dressing table that I hadn't noticed, and finishing stage-intensity makeup. I hadn't noticed that when I met her in her booth on the show floor, but it made sense. She certainly might be on stage to introduce acts. There wasn't yet a formal master of ceremonies. Many acts just used Sam, the DJ, to introduce the dancer over the PA system.

"Everything's fine. Wanda and Jeanette are here as waitresses and assistant managers.

"Sam is the DJ, and told me that he has play lists for everyone. He keeps wanting to get a piano and provide some live music. I'm just not sure I'm ready to be able to say, "play it again, Sam." Curt, while some dancers pre-record all their music, I think telling Sam the sequence and giving him individual recordings is a much better idea. That gives him flexibility if something goes wrong and an act has to go long or short.

"Curt, since you're going to be around a lot, when I get to my booth, I'll familiarize you with a couple of emergency sound signals. There's one that calls for the bouncer, leaving the doorman in place, for a disturbance on the show floor. A second one calls for quiet backup, which is usually Sam. We might add you to the backup plan.

"There's a signal that comes from the playroom-bedrooms on the second and third floors. That will bring the waitresses running, and they are tougher than they look. There's also a HEY RUBE signal, with the number of dings after telling you the floor. It's very rare that we hear that, but it usually is quite serious and gets an all-hands response. There are monitoring screens behind a panel in my office. If the panic signal goes off, I head for the office and look at the monitors. I'll make a judgment call if I need to call the cops, or if it's a medical emergency. Curt, aren't you paramedic qualified?"

"Yes. DC license, but not registered under a medical control. I've not checked into it, but I've heard there are some private medical control and response companies. Maybe we should look into them, and if it makes sense, get an emergency drug locker. DC fire department paramedics probably will respond very fast in this area, but they vary in quality."

Aimee made a note. "I'm going to pass that to Tana. Also wouldn't rule out putting an emergency locker into your building, and, if you're the only responder, in Carol's place. I need to change into my work outfit." I started to excuse myself. "We don't yet have him fully trained yet, do we, Carol? All the dancers, except the ones who haven't been around yet, know you are family. They won't bat an eye if you are in the dressing room at any time." Aimee stood up, wearing her halter top and red leather pants. She sashayed close, her breasts grazing my chest. Her hands touched mine. "Paul, my husband, will have no problem, before you two meet, of your not just being around me while dressing, but helping me get dressed. My corsets tend to be a lot easier to put on with help." She kissed me, closed-mouth, lightly, then went to a closet and cabinet and took out an outfit. She sat down, slid out of her boots, and then stood up, unzipped and removed her halter, and slid out of her pants. There was nothing underneath.

With a grin, she turned around, model-style. "Pretty good for 52?" That itself surprised me; I thought she was younger. She had a lovely skin color, but maybe, in a few places, it wasn't taut, or even a little cellulite that was lost in the overall effect. Her breasts were substantially larger than those of Carol, Cathy, and Melina, and somewhat bigger than Gerri's. Yes, they probably could hold a pencil, while Tana's otherworldly tits were too upright to do that.

She opened a package of black fishnets. "How about each of you rolling one onto a leg? I don't mind if that's a long, slow rolling with fingers being sure there's nothing invisible that might snag them." Carol and I smiled, knelt, and got up close and personal with Aimee's legs. There wasn't anything to complain about.

"Betty is 41. Now, her boobs will look perfect, but they are solid silicone." She lifted hers. "Mine are real. The way this works, I'm going to step into the corset. My helpers then attach the garters to the hose, loosely for now. They then smooth it on. The elastic is strong. One at a time, take a boob and fit it into a cup. Zip up the fasteners. You are likely to need to adjust the top and boobs until the strapless style is stable. I'm not sure how to define that, but someone said it one day and it became my mantra. Strapless style is stable. Strapless style is stable..."

We carried out her next steps. Her boobs indeed were natural, and very nice in my hands. I grinned. "Maybe we should get together with you and Paul sooner rather than later."

"That might be a very nice idea." She fondled me through my pants, and then did a pretty good Lily von Shtupp voice. "Oh, did I invade your personal space? I'm so vewwyy vewwy sowwy."

Carol laughed at her. "We're going to go check the staging."

We walked out and sat at the bar. The club wasn't open yet, but Molly, the barmaid, welcomed us and asked if we needed anything. "Can I ask for my personal favorite? Biggest mug you've got of club soda, no ice?"

"I can tell you're from the same town as Carol. The only difference is that she likes some lime in hers."

"Sacrilege!"

Carol poked me. She looked around and waved to Cathy to join us. "Here's the working schedule. Cara is going to lead off. Before I get into costume, I want to make a couple of practice entrances, cartwheel and such. I can do that in these clothes, but this isn't just for me -- it's a light and sound check. Then, I'll get dressed.

"Cathy, I'd like you to stay with Curt during my set. Mostly, the two of you should watch and get into the headspace of the act, with the idea of getting Cathy to join it. Nevertheless, I also want the two of you to sample the mingle space. Cathy, gown for you. This may sound silly, but aside from any fun, I want you, Curt, to play some in the booth with all or most of the girls. I want you to internalize -- that's a term in slutty dancer shit talk -- the experience of the pleasant shock of the deliberately quick gown reveal. Since you'll be at the front row, it will be pretty well lit. Later, I want you to experience this in a back booth, which is very dark -- we try to get it that guys do need to feel around, and that they may get surprise touches.

"Curt, it's possible to have lots of fun in a booth, but do get a sense that there just isn't much space. Carol, I'm beginning to think that I'd like you to stay with Curt for the next set. Let me make a slight move. That will be Edie on stage. I'm not all that concerned with you getting a precise stage view of her, but, later, she has special moves for the booth. Terribly hard work for you two, but Cathy, don't let him do more than boob play through that set, which is what we usually do to drive the revenue to a second bottle. Well, I'm not cruel. If you haven't noticed yet, Cathy, both our legs drive him crazy. I know he'd love to put you on the table and eat you out, but I'm not sure that wouldn't be too tension-releasing at the moment."

Cathy swiveled on the bar stool, stretched her legs across my lap, and flicked up her head, muttering that she was wearing panties and that took away from the effect.