Eighteen Months

by Giulia Napoli

  Sex with Rina was fabulous, though I was concerned that her unmodified body wasn’t giving her the immeasurable pleasure my custom-designed (as I preferred to think of it) one was giving me. One night, after a particularly rousing time for me, we were lying back smoking and relaxing before we went to sleep. That’s when I asked her if it was as good for her as for me. She assured me that, based on what she saw of my reactions, it wasn’t, but it was giving her more than she’d ever experienced with anyone else.

  Once again, I believed her.

  I actually told her that when I had some money saved, I’d pay for her to get similar “upgrades,” if she wanted. She told me that she’d think about it.

  I think I’m becoming the poster child for genital piercing.

  **********

  Friday came. Opening night. I practiced from 10:00 until 2:00, then ate a little lunch with Pat and laid around the dressing room. I was reading my first real braille book, using the new braille e-reader. The e-reader would verbally read the book to me, of course, but I wanted to do it myself. It was still a lot slower than the days when I could read with my eyes, but it was a lot better than nothing but listening.

  As of tomorrow, I would have been in River’s Edge for five weeks. This coming Tuesday would mark four weeks since they took my sight. Assuming the doctor’s measurements were accurate, I still had 17 months to go: 16 to 17 months of darkness or legal blindness, over 17 months to dance. I made a personal decision to stop counting. As Rina kept telling me, I needed to live in the now, not in the distant future.

  Both Rina and I had a vested interest in the now. We were lovers.

  Rina wasn’t allowed backstage during the performances, but she was coming for my first set and then staying in the audience all night. I didn’t want her to be out there alone, so she was bringing a couple of friends with her. Other women, I assumed.

  I would dance five times for about seven minutes each - a long performance as I understood it - at the top of the hour starting at 8:00, ending after the 12:00 dance. Two of the routines Phil and I had worked out – we called them dances 1 and 3 - were heavy on the erotic, lighter on the striptease. Think of Salma Hayek’s dance in From Dusk Till Dawn, without the snake and with me naked when it was all over. Salma’s music was also about the tempo of dances 1 and 3, with dance 2 being up-tempo from the others. Dance 2 was similar to Demi Moore’s in Striptease. It was the most frightening to do blind, because there were a lot of fast stage movements. Phil claims that I’m prettier than Demi, but I think he’s full of shit. Gay shit at that. I love him for saying it, though.

  I would do them in the order of 2, 1, 3, 2, 1. If there was an encore after the 12:00 performance, I’d do another dance 3. This weekend, since it was opening weekend, there would be no encore. Roger specifically said he wanted to be stingy with my talents. That made me feel good, until I realized the tips I might be missing. Oh well.

  I was a brunette in dances 1 and 3, a redhead in 2. So my makeup would be somewhat redone three times during the night – mostly eye shadow and brows, but my foundation and blusher would change a little. Pat would be there for the makeup and wig changes.

  It was more of a production than I’d expected. In addition, of course, there were the veteran girls who always danced. I’d be the headliner for the weekend, since Roger’s former top girl had left town. After the weekend, I’d continue as headliner if I were judged good enough by Roger and the patrons’ response. Rina was convinced it was a slam-dunk – her words.

  By 6:00, I was already more nervous than I’d ever been in my life. I’d chain-smoked four cigarettes in a row. Phil gave me a tablet, and told me to take it immediately. “What is it?” I asked, shocked that he’d offered it, and afraid of what it might do to me if I took it.

  “It’s Easy X, sort of the son of Ecstasy, for contemporary times. It’ll calm you down and put you in the mood. Safer than the old Ecstasy.”

  “No way am I taking that.”

  “Its dangers are overstated. You’re safe here.”

  “No thanks, Phil.”

  “Okay, I’m only offering. Suit yourself.”

  Half an hour later, I was a wreck. The cigarettes were not helping enough. Phil wasn’t around. “Where’s Phil?” I asked anyone who might hear me.

  “Want me to get him?” It was Crystal, one of the other dancers.

  “Thanks, Crystal, would you, please?”

  I’d worried that the other dancers would resent me coming in here and immediately taking the top spot. It didn’t happen. Maybe they felt sorry for the blind stripper.

  “How ya doin’?” Phil asked, a minute later.

  “Terrible. I’ve never been this anxious about anything.”

  “Then simply pretend the audience is all naked.”

  “No good. I can’t see them anyway.”

  “Makes it easier.”

  “Not really. Give me the pill.”

  There was no argument, “Open up,” he said, then popped it in my mouth and handed me a glass of water. It went down.

  Easy X was fast. I was better in twenty minutes. I could hear the music coming from the stage back in the dressing room and began to feel it take me. I might be able to do this.

  Makeup done and wavy red hair flowing well-past my shoulders, Pat put me in my outfit: G-string, an almost-bra, a white, low-cut blouse covered by a short, navy jacket, and a tight navy skirt that ended about six inches above my knees. I was wearing four-inch navy pumps – still dangerous for a blind girl.

  “How do I look, Pat? What about my eyes?”

  “You look like a gorgeous office-professional mixed with a hooker and blended with the sexiest girlfriend anyone ever had! You’re eyes are the same deep-blue, vacant orbs and your right is slightly turned in like always. It adds to your mystery. Your pupils are slightly dilated, probably from Phil’s Easy X. You’re perfect.”

  “Can you tell I’m drugged?” I asked Pat. At that moment, I was more concerned that the audience would see that I was high, than I was about stripping.

  “Yeah … if a person knows what to look for, they could tell you’re high. On the other hand, they might think your eyes were that way because you’re blind. The dilated pupils and glassiness is a give-away, though. That’s nothing to worry about. Focus on performing. There aren’t that many people who’ll be watching your eyes anyway.”

  Five minutes before I went on, I did, indeed, find myself impatient to perform. It seemed so uncharacteristic of me that I was shocked at how I felt. I WANTED to be out there! Thank you Easy X, I thought.

  I heard the group of girls before me running off the stage. At a minute to go, Pat put me in position.

  “The house is packed – go get ‘em,” she said encouragingly.

  I realized that I wasn’t at all concerned about taking off my clothes in front of a couple hundred people. It struck me again that it was so unlike me. I suppose it was a combination of the Easy X and the fact that I wouldn’t be able to see them, or see the hungry, lewd looks on their faces. I wouldn’t see their shock, awe and admiration either.

  But I was doing this for me, not them. At least, that’s what I was telling myself.

  “And now, on stage for the first time, and only at the Jolly Roger, our headliner … MINX!”

  I heard the guys in the audience whistle, the girls shout, and I confidently pranced onto the stage amid light applause. I immediately ripped off my jacket, and flung it behind me. I began to gyrate rapidly, with force and purpose, loosening the top three buttons of my blouse at the same time.

  I used the pole in this routine more than in the other two dances. This performance was loud, fast and I delivered it with energy. The idea was to get the crowd rolling for the rest of the evening. A minute into the dance, my skirt came off and I danced in blouse and thong. Before the crowd grew louder, I heard a woman in the audience say, “I think she’s blind.”

  “No way,” was the response from a man.

  I was totally in the zon
e a minute in. I could have told you nothing of what was going on. Riding a high I’d never experienced before, I executed the moves, sways and tantalizing thrusts, bends and steps with perfection. I was in my own, dark world, but I knew I was flawless. As my blouse came off and I was left in my white bra and thong, the cheers and whistles got even louder.

  From the shouts I could hear, they were already appreciating my custom-designed breasts.

  I teased the audience with my bra, turning with my back to them. I unhooked the front and pulled it out, baring my breasts to the back of the stage, and those few tables far back on either side. I never lost a beat as I turned back around with the bra refastened and my hand on the pole. I used the pole a lot at this point. Then, several minutes into the act, I repeatedly teased the audience by opening and closing my bra, until I finally cast it aside. My enhanced breasts with their nipple jewels and rings were on display.

  This was the dangerous part for me, and the part that was most embarrassing when I did it in rehearsals. The danger was stepping off the stage and falling as I moved near and along the edge of the stage. The embarrassment was shaking my healthy round breasts – my stripper’s tits as Phil and Rina called them - in time with the music, to the delight of the crowd all around. I carefully, blindly moved along the semi-circular stage from the front to my left, then back around to my right, then back to the center.

  Based on the noise – shouts of approval, more whistles, clapping and every kind of sound people can make – the crowd was going crazy. One guy yelled from near the front row, “Those are the greatest tits and nips I have ever seen!” I felt something, paper money I thought, tap my ankle and fall to the stage. I continued on, beginning to play and tease with my G-string.

  When the G-string came off they could see my pussy and rings. I thought the place was going to explode when I did a pelvic thrust with my legs spread, exposing all the hardware piercing my intimacies. I spun around, bent over with hands on thighs, and twerked the audience to show off my pussy and cute, perky bottom from the back. I kept dancing, and now I was also praying that the audience wouldn’t get unruly. I hoped Rocco and his small cadre of heavy-duty bouncers could keep things under control if necessary.

  I’d been told to concentrate on what I was doing, and forget about the rest. Do my job and let Rocco do his. I was so much into the dance by then that these were only passing thoughts, and I continued my deafeningly-appreciated, naked-except-for-shoes erotic performance.

  Finally, I left via the back of the stage, still in time with the music. The applause and shouting continued and Pat led me back behind the curtain. I went back out to shake it again, to encourage the crowd to throw tips onto the stage, which they were apparently doing in droves. I couldn’t see it, but I found out later, my take for that dance alone was $320, of which I’d keep $256, with 20% going to the house.

  I heard the guy’s voice from earlier say, “She is blind!” And the woman say, “I told you so.”

  I left the stage. Pat was still there, waiting. “Well?” I asked.

  “You knocked ‘em out, kid. The best first performance I’ve ever seen, and one of the best performances. You’re a natural.”

  That made me feel really good … fantastic, in fact. Until I thought about it a moment.

  I was a natural. A natural stripper. It didn’t feel so good when I thought about it that way.

  I’d shown my completely naked body to more than two hundred people. How was that supposed to fit with my self-image?

  Either it wasn’t gonna fit, or my self-image was gonna change. I had to work. I was playing the cards I was dealt. Hundreds of people had seen me erotically dancing naked. At this point what difference did it make if I showed myself to thousands more?

  I wished Rina would come backstage, if only for a few minutes. I wanted to talk to her. Maybe it’d have to wait until I finished for the night.

  **********

  Makeup and hair re-done as a brunette, Pat put me in my next outfit: G-string, an almost-bra, and a long cape.

  I could hear the applause, solid but not overwhelming, as I stood at the back of the darkened stage. The music started and, though I couldn’t see it, a light came on above me as soon as the announcer said, ”Minx!” I strutted forward, my arms wrapped within the cape covering me. My hair and makeup were dark.

  At mid stage, I flung open the cape, very briefly displaying my thong-bikini-clad body, then closed it again and spun in time with the music. When I turned toward the front again, I flung the cape open, dropped it, and began to sway, “As sensually as any woman possibly could,” to borrow Phil’s words.

  The crowd began to rumble and then burst out yelling and clapping and whistling. The sound died away as I continued to oscillate to the slow, sensuous, Latin-like beat, and the band’s Spanish guitars. At that early point in my second performance, as I found out later from Phil, I had the entire house in a hypnotic trance from watching the undulations of my belly and the blood-red stone in my navel. “Eating out of my hand already,” were Phil’s words.

  As my dance continued, I began to play with the bikini top, not spinning or turning away from the crowd, but rolling and flexing slowly in time with the delicious Latin music. Unlike the first dance, which was loud, wild and frantic, this routine was supposed to drip with sexual need and desire. I actually liked this dance a lot – I wish I could have seen a recording of me doing it. The music and Phil’s choreography appealed to me at some visceral, primal level.

  The crowd was eerily quiet as my ringed, unnaturally-round, bejeweled breasts swayed with my body movements. The crowd was mesmerized. I could feel it. They actually were eating out of my hand at that point.

  For a moment, the feeling of power was intoxicating.

  My sensual, irresistible dance continued as I discarded my G-string and now swayed and rippled before the crowd with my body and my jewelry fully exposed. The strains of the music numbed the audience into an enthralled, totally submissive crowd that I controlled with my movements.

  “Jesus Christ,” more than one man and several women whispered, loud enough for me to hear with the patrons hushed as they were. “Oh my God,” and “I can’t fucking believe this,” were also called out over and over.

  I was their goddess for the moment, and they were my captive people.

  The dance ended and there was dead silence. I don’t even think people were breathing. I was both glad of my blindness, that hid their faces from me, and yearned with all my heart to see their expressions. Then, as I turned my back on them and slowly walked to the back of the stage, disappearing behind the curtain, the house went completely crazy with clapping, whistles, shouts, stomping, and every other noise a person can make. The bedlam went on and on and on for five minutes or more.

  My other three dances were as successful as the first two.

  “Holy shit, Roger! Where the hell did you find her?” I heard someone shout as I left the stage for the fifth time. I found out later that the guy had been there for all five performances. So had many of the rest of the audience. Coupling the people who stayed with those who came in during the evening, the Jolly Roger hit an all-time high, record crowd.

  Rina counted it for me, and in addition to my pay, I took home almost $1,300 in tips!

  Roger, apparently afraid he’d jinx my performance if he interrupted me before, came backstage after the last dance. I was talking with a gushing Phil, Pat and Rina.

  “Son of a bitch, Alie! In forty years in this business, I’ve never seen an opening night performance like that. Girl, you have found your true callin’! We are gonna make a shit-pot full o’ money!”

  “Was she great or what?” Rina exclaimed.

  “Hell,” Roger said, “she was so far beyond great that there’s no word for it. Phil, baby, you delivered the perfect routines! And Pat, the looks couldn’t have been better. But Alie, you were the star of stars tonight! Goddamn, you were great! I think more than half the people didn’t even know you were blind, and
those who did thought it added to the sex appeal that was drippin’ off ya!”

  It looked like I was a hit as a stripper. Maybe my success was even assured, until I could see again and move on. None of this had been in my wildest dreams or nightmares when I’d moved to River’s Edge. What was really happening? Where was Natalie in all this?

  I don’t see Natalie, I thought, therefore she isn’t here. The fact that I can’t see her means she’s gone for now. Natalie could see … perfectly. What’s left now is a blind Alie, the exotic dancer, the stripper.

  When it came to taking my clothes off, I was very, very good.

  Chapter 12 – Let’s Get It On

  “Let me take you home,” Rina said after I had spoken with a small group of “VIP admirers,” to use Roger’s words.

  “Weren’t you here with a couple friends?” I asked. “Rocco said he’d take me home tonight, and help me avoid anyone who might be too enamored with me.”

  “My friends left already. I told them I wanted to see you. I thought we could walk to your place.”

  “How were you gonna get home, otherwise?”

  “I figured I could make the last train. You got something going with Rocco?”

  “No. Not at all. He’s just a kind, helpful man. A big one too.”

  “Thank yous,” I heard a deep, rumbling voice say.

  “Hi Rocco! So, what did you think of my dances?” I hadn’t known he was there.

  “Best I ever saw. You are the goddess out there, Alie.”

  “Gee, thanks, Rocco.” That really did please me. I knew Rocco didn’t hold anything back; he said what he felt.

  “Rocco, can you take both Rina and me to my place?”

  “Sure, Alie. I’ve got a big caddy out there. Plenty of room.”

  Rocco even walked us to the door to make sure we got inside safely. Once inside, I heard Rina lock the door and she immediately dragged me into the bedroom and began tearing off my clothes. Her movements were frantic and I could tell she was trying to get undressed at the same time she was undressing me, all the while we were kissing and fondling each other.