- Joined
- Feb 5, 2012
"So, did you have fun?" The tall blond woman, dressed in a jean mini skirt and white vest, asked her shorter, 5'4" companion. A response was merely a shrug of her shoulders; the girl pulled her cardigan tighter around herself. The blond laughed, then playfully ruffled the girl's shoulder length, slightly curly brown hair. "Aww, come on, Dee, it wasn't that bad. You did fine for your first time, and you'll get better tips as you practice. I promise."
Together they walked down the dark city streets, on their way home from the club they'd just finished their shift for. The girl refered to as Dee sighed, causing the taller woman to pause midstride. "I don't know, Jamie, I mean, you're right, the money's good but…" Jamie smiled, perhaps a little cruelly, and placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. "Don't by shy, Delilah. You've got a cute little body, y'know? And you've got a talent for it. All those ballets you did back in high school? You've got a gift for movement, and with a little more training, you could become the top dancer. Well…" Jamie's smile was clearly malicious then. "...not here, that is. Even if you're a cutie, I'm still the best. Now wipe that pout off your face, grab a cab home, and I'll see you tomorrow, all right?" Delilah groaned softly while pushing Jamie back. "Yeah, all right, see ya."
As Delilah flagged down a taxi, she thought about what she'd done tonight. The club was amazing, that much was true. The building was huge and the line had stretched around the block; inside the interior was upscale and extravagant - sensual colors, purples, reds, blacks, couches and tables scattered around the perimeter with a massive lengthy bar at the back end. The center was mostly bare, serving as a dance floor, with a few raised platforms for the fire breathers to perform safely. Above on each side were balconies, reserved for VIP seating, and there were dozens of suites available if people got too drunk (and, for more private reasons, to which Jamie purposefully did not mention, knowing cute little Dee wouldn't go for a 'happy ending' with the clientele).
Jamie was right, though, Delilah did have a natural gift for dancing, even if she'd never done it in a place like this. If she'd had to remove her clothes, she'd definitely never agree to dance, but this club wasn't a sleazy strip joint. There weren't even poles for that. Instead, cages hung from the ceiling, secured by thick metal plates, that the girls were placed in. All they did was work their bodies sensually above the crowd, though the cages were more strategically placed closer to the VIP balconies, so better paying customers could see the dancers more clearly, maybe even converse with them since the music played from the DJ booth down on the main floor.
Once at home, which was a small studio apartment ten minutes from the club, Delilah took a long, hot shower. She felt dirty, even if she hadn't done anything illegal or gross. Jamie was her best friend, had been since they first met in grade school, and Delilah knew she was just trying to help. City life was expensive enough as it was; paired with college classes and no car of her own, Delilah was struggling financially. She'd been let go from her previous job; everyone had been, for that matter, as the restaurant was closed down due to the owner fraudulently evading taxes, of which Delilah had no knowledge prior to the police suddenly showing up and arresting him. After crawling into bed, Delilah noticed a new text message, from Jamie of course. "I've already got an outfit reserved for you, so don't be late, babe!" Great; she knew Jamie's tastes leaned much more provocative than she'd prefer for herself, but that was part of this job - less clothes, better tips. Fitfully Delilah slept, tossing and turning, nightmares of herself dancing in that cage again only for the bottom to fall out, dropping her not down to the floor of the club, but into the flickering flames of Hell.
Most of the next morning was spent with Delilah at her desk, tapping away to make sure her assignments were complete and research done appropriately. She was studying to become a dance instructor, ironically, wanting to share her passion of ballet in other children, as well as other common dances; waltzes, tangos, and the like. The club opened at four, so at three, Delilah called a cab to take her there. There was already a line formed, dozens of people standing in wait chatting or playing on their phones. Jamie waved from the entrance, and the bouncers slid aside the velvet rope to let them enter. "Ready for round two, babycakes? This night will be even better!" Delilah couldn't help but to smile, just a little, finding Jamie's ever constant enthusiasm infectious. "We'll see. What's this outfit you have for me look like anyway?" Jamie only laughed, stepping behind Dee to shove her toward the dressing room. "You just wait, impatient one! Get in there!"
Several other girls were already inside, leaning to the mirror with makeup brushes in hand. Some were nude, some were half dressed, others waved as Jamie and Delilah entered. It didn't bother Jamie as much as it did the shorter girl; Jamie was used to this, not her friend. A redhead approached with a plastic bag containing some clothes. "Hey, Jamie! Back for more, eh, Dee? Here, this is for you. Worked wonders for me back in the day," she said, handing over the bag to Delilah. "Oh, thanks, Bridgette," Delilah replied, starting to peek in the bag only for Jamie to rip it away. "Hey, no looking! I wanted it to be a surprise. Close your eyes, kay? We're gonna dress you up." Delilah groaned loudly, though she did smile just a little after. "Aren't we too old to play dress up?" Delilah mused. Jamie and Bridgette grinned, shaking their heads at the same time. "Oh, you poor innocent little thing," said Jamie. "That's all we do here. Go on!" added Bridgette. So she did - Delilah closed her eyes tight, wincing now and then as the girls pulled and prodded at her body, slipping on the unknown clothes before being pushed into a chair so they could apply her makeup.
"There, all done! Damn, you look fine as hell, Dee," Jamie exclaimed, helping Delilah up so she could stand in front of the mirror. The girl opened her eyes, then gasped sharply when she saw herself. They had dressed her in a very skimpy beaded belly dancing outfit. The yellows complimented her hazel eyes, and the pinks matched the ballet shoes she wore, with laces crossing half way up her calves, ending in bows at the back of her legs. Pink and gold bracelets jingled on her wrists, and a few butterfly clasps of the same color kept her hair out of her face.
"Jesus, Jamie! What are you doing to me?!" The blond grinned, throwing an arm across her friend's shoulders. "Getting you enough money you won't have to worry about college anymore, my friend. With that on, you you'll get a whole semester paid off. Now go upstairs, Paul's waiting. Doors open soon; we gotta get you in that cage and I gotta get dressed yet. I'll be across the way, so just wave if you need to get down."
Delilah shot Jamie a sharp look, but she did thank Bridgette on the way out. Paul was indeed at the balcony, pulling the chain that brought the cage close so she could safely enter. His eyes widened as she approached, to which she fiercely blushed. The cage was lifted over the edge of the railing, with a flick of his fingers the door opened. One of his hands held the bars firmly, while the other helped her get inside. Once that was done, the door clicked shut; it didn't lock, exactly, but there was a latch that kept it closed so as she moved and the cage swayed, it wouldn't open; she couldn't fall out of it until the cage was brought back to the balcony, where a safety switch allowed the latch to be opened. Delilah sat down as Paul slid the cage back over the edge, where it teetered a moment. Once still, he pulled the chain the opposite way, so the cage went over the crowd. Delilah gave him a gentle wave, letting Paul know she was okay; he nodded before heading back into the staircase; he would stay there, to block people from coming up unless they had VIP access.
Delilah began to stretch and warm up, grabbing her ankle from behind and lifting her foot to the back of her head, repeated on each side. Music began to play, soft pop sounds at first as the doors opened and folks began to enter. Once the vibe picked up the pace and tempo would increase, but for now, it was meant to just get people settled and let the dancers feel the crowd. Delilah didn't pay any attention to them; she just continued to stretch her legs in almost impossible ways - only what a professional ballet dancer could do, or someone who did yoga constantly.
title from this song @ Nightwish
Together they walked down the dark city streets, on their way home from the club they'd just finished their shift for. The girl refered to as Dee sighed, causing the taller woman to pause midstride. "I don't know, Jamie, I mean, you're right, the money's good but…" Jamie smiled, perhaps a little cruelly, and placed her hands on the girl's shoulders. "Don't by shy, Delilah. You've got a cute little body, y'know? And you've got a talent for it. All those ballets you did back in high school? You've got a gift for movement, and with a little more training, you could become the top dancer. Well…" Jamie's smile was clearly malicious then. "...not here, that is. Even if you're a cutie, I'm still the best. Now wipe that pout off your face, grab a cab home, and I'll see you tomorrow, all right?" Delilah groaned softly while pushing Jamie back. "Yeah, all right, see ya."
As Delilah flagged down a taxi, she thought about what she'd done tonight. The club was amazing, that much was true. The building was huge and the line had stretched around the block; inside the interior was upscale and extravagant - sensual colors, purples, reds, blacks, couches and tables scattered around the perimeter with a massive lengthy bar at the back end. The center was mostly bare, serving as a dance floor, with a few raised platforms for the fire breathers to perform safely. Above on each side were balconies, reserved for VIP seating, and there were dozens of suites available if people got too drunk (and, for more private reasons, to which Jamie purposefully did not mention, knowing cute little Dee wouldn't go for a 'happy ending' with the clientele).
Jamie was right, though, Delilah did have a natural gift for dancing, even if she'd never done it in a place like this. If she'd had to remove her clothes, she'd definitely never agree to dance, but this club wasn't a sleazy strip joint. There weren't even poles for that. Instead, cages hung from the ceiling, secured by thick metal plates, that the girls were placed in. All they did was work their bodies sensually above the crowd, though the cages were more strategically placed closer to the VIP balconies, so better paying customers could see the dancers more clearly, maybe even converse with them since the music played from the DJ booth down on the main floor.
Once at home, which was a small studio apartment ten minutes from the club, Delilah took a long, hot shower. She felt dirty, even if she hadn't done anything illegal or gross. Jamie was her best friend, had been since they first met in grade school, and Delilah knew she was just trying to help. City life was expensive enough as it was; paired with college classes and no car of her own, Delilah was struggling financially. She'd been let go from her previous job; everyone had been, for that matter, as the restaurant was closed down due to the owner fraudulently evading taxes, of which Delilah had no knowledge prior to the police suddenly showing up and arresting him. After crawling into bed, Delilah noticed a new text message, from Jamie of course. "I've already got an outfit reserved for you, so don't be late, babe!" Great; she knew Jamie's tastes leaned much more provocative than she'd prefer for herself, but that was part of this job - less clothes, better tips. Fitfully Delilah slept, tossing and turning, nightmares of herself dancing in that cage again only for the bottom to fall out, dropping her not down to the floor of the club, but into the flickering flames of Hell.
Most of the next morning was spent with Delilah at her desk, tapping away to make sure her assignments were complete and research done appropriately. She was studying to become a dance instructor, ironically, wanting to share her passion of ballet in other children, as well as other common dances; waltzes, tangos, and the like. The club opened at four, so at three, Delilah called a cab to take her there. There was already a line formed, dozens of people standing in wait chatting or playing on their phones. Jamie waved from the entrance, and the bouncers slid aside the velvet rope to let them enter. "Ready for round two, babycakes? This night will be even better!" Delilah couldn't help but to smile, just a little, finding Jamie's ever constant enthusiasm infectious. "We'll see. What's this outfit you have for me look like anyway?" Jamie only laughed, stepping behind Dee to shove her toward the dressing room. "You just wait, impatient one! Get in there!"
Several other girls were already inside, leaning to the mirror with makeup brushes in hand. Some were nude, some were half dressed, others waved as Jamie and Delilah entered. It didn't bother Jamie as much as it did the shorter girl; Jamie was used to this, not her friend. A redhead approached with a plastic bag containing some clothes. "Hey, Jamie! Back for more, eh, Dee? Here, this is for you. Worked wonders for me back in the day," she said, handing over the bag to Delilah. "Oh, thanks, Bridgette," Delilah replied, starting to peek in the bag only for Jamie to rip it away. "Hey, no looking! I wanted it to be a surprise. Close your eyes, kay? We're gonna dress you up." Delilah groaned loudly, though she did smile just a little after. "Aren't we too old to play dress up?" Delilah mused. Jamie and Bridgette grinned, shaking their heads at the same time. "Oh, you poor innocent little thing," said Jamie. "That's all we do here. Go on!" added Bridgette. So she did - Delilah closed her eyes tight, wincing now and then as the girls pulled and prodded at her body, slipping on the unknown clothes before being pushed into a chair so they could apply her makeup.
"There, all done! Damn, you look fine as hell, Dee," Jamie exclaimed, helping Delilah up so she could stand in front of the mirror. The girl opened her eyes, then gasped sharply when she saw herself. They had dressed her in a very skimpy beaded belly dancing outfit. The yellows complimented her hazel eyes, and the pinks matched the ballet shoes she wore, with laces crossing half way up her calves, ending in bows at the back of her legs. Pink and gold bracelets jingled on her wrists, and a few butterfly clasps of the same color kept her hair out of her face.
"Jesus, Jamie! What are you doing to me?!" The blond grinned, throwing an arm across her friend's shoulders. "Getting you enough money you won't have to worry about college anymore, my friend. With that on, you you'll get a whole semester paid off. Now go upstairs, Paul's waiting. Doors open soon; we gotta get you in that cage and I gotta get dressed yet. I'll be across the way, so just wave if you need to get down."
Delilah shot Jamie a sharp look, but she did thank Bridgette on the way out. Paul was indeed at the balcony, pulling the chain that brought the cage close so she could safely enter. His eyes widened as she approached, to which she fiercely blushed. The cage was lifted over the edge of the railing, with a flick of his fingers the door opened. One of his hands held the bars firmly, while the other helped her get inside. Once that was done, the door clicked shut; it didn't lock, exactly, but there was a latch that kept it closed so as she moved and the cage swayed, it wouldn't open; she couldn't fall out of it until the cage was brought back to the balcony, where a safety switch allowed the latch to be opened. Delilah sat down as Paul slid the cage back over the edge, where it teetered a moment. Once still, he pulled the chain the opposite way, so the cage went over the crowd. Delilah gave him a gentle wave, letting Paul know she was okay; he nodded before heading back into the staircase; he would stay there, to block people from coming up unless they had VIP access.
Delilah began to stretch and warm up, grabbing her ankle from behind and lifting her foot to the back of her head, repeated on each side. Music began to play, soft pop sounds at first as the doors opened and folks began to enter. Once the vibe picked up the pace and tempo would increase, but for now, it was meant to just get people settled and let the dancers feel the crowd. Delilah didn't pay any attention to them; she just continued to stretch her legs in almost impossible ways - only what a professional ballet dancer could do, or someone who did yoga constantly.
title from this song @ Nightwish