-xo Lenore*
A stare at my phone, and will it to vibrate. A few minutes later it does.
*I regret to say that something has come up.
I won’t be able to make it tonight.
Try not to worry. I have Lurch with me.
I might be able to meet you after your performance*
I frown, and a sense of alarm goes through my body. Before I can reply, I receive another text.
*Please make sure you keep Dwayne close tonight.
If I am not there by 9pm, come straight home.*
Wow…that doesn’t sound like a request. Since when does he get to dictate what time I come home? As it is, I’m extremely irritated by the fact that I have to have Dwayne with me tonight. He acts as thought The Speak Easy doesn’t have their own security.
And just like that, I’m pissed.
Just because I have agreed to move in with him, it does not mean that I will allow him to run my life for me and dictate what I do with my time. I don’t bother replying, the tone of his message sounds cold, and far off. I’m sure he’s very busy, and if I write back to him he will surely know how mad I am.
I don’t want him to know. I plan on having some fun tonight. I also plan on ditching Dwayne. I smile to myself. Yes. I can supervise myself just fine.
When I arrive at The Speak Easy, with Dwayne in tow, I do my best to ignore him and slip down the hallway into the dressing room. The guard outside of the dressing room does not look pleased to have company. I’m not sure how Vincent arranged Dwayne shadowing me with the owner of The Speak Easy, but I’m sensing it wasn’t easy. As soon as the usual guard catches sight of Dwayne he tenses and squares his shoulders. Ugh, I ignore them both and close the dressing room door behind me.
I’m greeted by a blast of noise as the girls offer me some fair well champagne. I flush and feel a burst of shyness; boy do these girls love to make a fuss! I wonder if they will make such a fuss next week when Cat comes back from her honeymoon. I suspect they will, they love an excuse to celebrate. Lucky for them, I’m in a celebrating mood.
By the time I sit down in the makeup chair, I’m sipping my third glass of champagne. My head starts to feel fuzzy, and my body, very relaxed. I think back to the first time I did this. I was so apprehensive, afraid of being the center of attention. Now it has become something I crave.
We’re all dressed for the first number, silver and gold sparkling costumes, small plastic butterflies tucked into our headbands. Jill, Alison and Ginger wear dainty silver butterfly wings with their costumes. They look like pixies! All covered in glitter and sparkles. I’m vaguely aware of how buzzed I am when we reach the stage. A flirtatious smile is playing on my lips.
The band starts the number and on cue we all step out onto the stage. I feel sexy and free. At the first crescendo, Jill and Alison release a few dozen butterflies from small mesh cages that are conspicuously hidden on stage. Even I get distracted as I watch them fan their perfect and colorful wings through the air.
Where does Kazumi find such wonderful ideas?
We move provocatively, seducing the audience with synchronized and practiced movement. I watch the audience become absorbed as the music does what it always does, untethers me from my anxious thoughts.
As we enter the dressing room, I catch sight of Dwayne again. I have nothing against him personally, but I scowl at him anyway. He smirks and purses his thick lips at me. Oh, don’t tell me I have another person in my life that finds me amusing.
I sit down for my makeup to be touched up and I change into our next costume. I wear my customary black ballet slippers with this one. I love the gypsy costume that I’m wearing for this number. I made it for Kazumi a few years back. I would have never imagined that I would at some point in my life be wearing it to perform burlesque on stage.
It is a soft velvet material, the deepest purple, adorned with small circular golden beading. The skirt is extremely short and hangs low on my hips, and the top is basically a bustier, covered in the same beading. The matching headscarf is made of silk and is a luminous shade of gold. My makeup is more intense for this act.
As we head on stage I tell myself, this is it, this is my farewell to burlesque with The Mercuries. This may never happen again. Boy has this been an experience of a lifetime. Fuck, I think the alcohol is making me sentimental. I shake it off.
I see Kazumi behind the curtain; she waves us toward her and gives me final instructions. I take her by surprise and reach out to wrap her in a warm hug.
“Thank you, so much, Kazumi,” I whisper against her ear, I kiss her cheek and dive onstage with Alison; leaving my big red lips on the side of Kazumi’s face.
Alison and I work our way towards center stage and there is light applause as we begin. We’re all hips, and small waists, our arms moving seductively to the music. The tempo picks up and I see Jordan and Benny ensnared by our performance. A look of awe and pride etched on Jordan’s face. I shake my hips and the circular beading of the wrap around my hips jingles along to the music. I’m on pointe as I sashay in my signature black ballet slippers.
My heart swells as I give it my all, and in the blink of an eye our performance is over. Jill, yet again, has done a magnificent job captivating the audience. She is one convincing gypsy woman. We all make our way to center stage, holding hands and take our bows. The audience of The Speak Easy is roaring with delight. And just as the curtains close, I catch a quick glimpse of a man dressed in black. He looks a lot like Henry, smiling that same flirtatious smile.
We high tale it back to the dressing room to have more champagne. I continue to ignore Dwayne, even when he pokes his head in and taps his watch. As we pop yet another bottle, Kazumi comes in and switches off the lights, in her hands she holds a small pink cake, covered in confetti, and lit with long skinny candles. Benny and Jordan have joined the girls in the dressing room.
“A sad farewell to our lovely ballerina! I know I speak on behalf of The Mercuries and The Speak Easy when I say that your help has been truly appreciated, and we will miss you here with us. Good luck with your new business, and your lovely man! Make a wish!”
I grin and close my eyes and make a simple wish.
And with that, I blow out each and every candle.
We share cake and champagne before the security raps at the door and ushers the girls to their assigned private parties.
Alison rushes over to Kazumi as she is called into the Madonna Room.
“I can’t today Kazumi, you’ll have to send someone else with Ginger and Jill. I had a family member pop up at my house today, and I’d like to have the rest of the evening off.”
Apparently Alison’s sister was released from rehab, or at least that’s what Ginger just whispered in my ear. So Alison wants to lead her away from temptation. The Speak Easy is famed for it’s excellent cocktails.
“I’ll go!” I find myself saying before I’ve even had the time to properly consider it.
“What?” Kazumi asks in unison with Jordan.
I nod emphatically. “Yeah, it’s my last night. I’d love to do you the favor,” I polish off the rest of my champagne and set the glass down on the vanity with a loud clink.
Kazumi’s eyebrows shoot up; her face is a picture. Kazumi is never shocked, and I think I’ve managed to shock her.
“That means you’ll have to wear these, Lenore.” She picks up a pair of pasties. “When the girls go into the private rooms, it’s usually to strip down to these,” she wiggles the pasties.
“And these,” Jordan adds, holding a stringy pair of stringy panties.
I stand and try to appear confident, even though she has slightly derailed me. I take both the pasties and the stringy panties from their hands.
“Challenge accepted,” I counter.
Kazumi shakes her head at me. “You sure? How will Vincent feel about this?”
Before I can reply, Ginger chimes in.
“Oh, come on. She’s a big girl. Besides, we’ll take care of her.”
I waste no time and begin to change into a different costume, I slip on baby pink ballet slippers, the stringy underwear, and I stick the pasties onto my breasts. Which is actually a little challenging, I had to make sure they were symmetrical, which is hard after a few glasses of champagne. I find a beautifully beaded halter-top to go over it, adjust a feathered headband and make my way to the door.
“Shit!”
Jordan looks up from his cake.
“What? Did you finally come to your senses, Lenore? I really think you should just—not do this. It’s not a good idea.”
I scowl at him, “You sound just like Vincent. He told me I was to go straight home at nine o’clock tonight.” I cock my head to one side; it’s already after nine. Dwayne will be knocking at the door any minute.
Jordan grimaces, clearly not relishing the idea of saying anything to make him sound even remotely like Vincent.
“Seriously? You have curfew now?” murmurs Benny. He looks mildly disturbed by the fact that his brother has become so over-protective…or controlling, actually.
I nod and roll my eyes. “I completely forgot about Dwayne; someone needs to distract him.”
“Oh, hell. I can do that!” Ginger pipes up; she adjusts her breasts in the mirror. They are overflowing from her corset. “You count to twenty, and then come out, make a right and head upstairs.”
She winks at me, and then opens the door and heads out to talk to Dwayne.
I count to twenty, and Jill ushers me out, covering half of my body with hers. I overhear a bit of what Ginger says to Dwayne.
“Honey, I think you might need to take this pasty off with your teeth, I mean, it just won’t come off.”
I stifle my laugh, but once we hit the stairs we bust out laughing! We wait a few minutes for Ginger. She’s readjusting herself again.
“Silly men. They’re too easy to fool.”
And with that, the three of us make our way into the Madonna room. It is crowded, noisy and jam-packed with men, all wearing business suits. Ranging in age from late 20’s to early 60’s.
“These boys are from the Crown & Brown Law Group. They always have their holiday gathering here.”
They start hooting and hollering as we enter. I must admit I am slightly in over my head here. The testosterone level in the room is sky high. We make our way to the stage. This room is clearly the largest and most expensive. It is covered in renaissance paintings, and the ceiling is painted as a sky, with baby cherubs touching fingers and flying through clouds. There is a large wooden bar off to the right of the room, and two finely dressed cocktail girls are walking around the tables gathering orders. The men are leering and staring at us as if we were the last women on earth.
It’s unnerving. The kind of thing that put me off dancing burlesque in the first place.
I whisper in Jill’s ear, “I think I need a drink first.”
She whistles loudly, attracting the attention of a cocktail waitress. She orders six shots of whiskey.
We duck away behind the pale blue curtains and wait for our shots. Jill and Ginger converse comfortably as we wait for the band to arrive. I believe a threesome will join us. A drummer, bassist and a saxophonist should be arriving shortly. I breathe a sigh of relief when they don’t mention a trumpet. I believe Vincent’s friend is still playing at the club, though I haven’t seen him since the fencing lesson.
The waitress and the band arrive at the same time. I quickly throw back my shot, and resist the urge to vomit it back up. Ugh! I grimace and then shake it off, and quickly shoot back another one.
“One more?” Ginger asks, handing me one of hers.
I take it without hesitation. Hmm…third time is a charm. That one wasn’t so bad.
They quickly brief me. It’s nothing choreographed, but just a slow and seductive strip tease. Usually wrapping up after a few minutes. There’s a brief intermission before a second performance, and then that’s it. Sounds easy enough.
Jill leans in just as the band starts, “If you start to feel uncomfortable, don’t worry. Just take your leave after the first set. The club can make it up to them, offer them a discount on their tab or something.”
When the band starts, Ginger goes out onstage first. Jill and I help her in the background, kneeling before her and sliding off her stockings…gloves…and then Jill slowly unlaces Ginger’s corset.
The men in the room are getting rowdier by the minute; the tension is mounting. I feel as though a volcano is about to erupt. I try not to let the anxiety I’m feeling show. I glance around the room, and see that there are a few security cameras, and two security guards. One is by the bar, and one by the door.
That’s a relief…
Once Ginger’s corset comes off, the men really start to make some noise. I hear a man from the back of the room shout, “Come on baby; shake ‘em for me!”
Ugh…disgusting. This isn’t that type of club. Where the fuck does this guy think he is? Ginger doesn’t react. She must be used to this. I’m not. I don’t like this.
There must be at least fifty men in here. I feel severely outnumbered. Ginger motions for me to sit on the small, black suede seat she was just occupying. I do as I’m told as she crosses from one side of the stage to the other, shimmying and shaking, completely unfazed by the amount of men gawking at her. She is down to just a small sequin G-string and her pasties, grinding her hips and dancing to the classic sounds of the trio beside us. Her moves are timeless, elegant, and provocative.
I shut the men out and do what I came here to do. I came here to be rebellious, and to have fun. One last hurrah! I thrust out my chest and begin to move alongside Jill and Ginger. I turn around and dip, shimmying on my way up.
The guys go wild for it! I suppress a wicked grin, and Ginger laughs haughtily.
Jill, stands behind me and runs her hands down the front of my body. Ginger comes over and grabs hold of my leg. I point my toe and clutch the seat with my two hands, I let Ginger pull my leg up until it is fully extended and resting next to my ear. I’m flexible, thanks to ballet. She lets go and I slowly bring my leg back down. Jill gingerly removes my halter-top, sliding it up and over my head, until I am left in nothing but my glittering pasties and my tiny, stringy panties. I cover my mouth with my hands and pretend to be shocked. These panties look more like ass jewelry than underwear. I pull up my arms and place them above my head, arching my back and pulling back my shoulders like a ballerina.
I turn around, and with both hands on the back of the chair; I wiggle my rear end at the audience and then do a series of pirouettes in perfect time to the jazzy song the band is playing. Ginger and Jill compliment my every move.
I then I hear that same voice, “Yeah, baby! Shake it! Take those stickers off your tits, too! You! The red-head with the big tits!”
The men start laughing, and whistling, encouraging the man shouting at us. I continue dancing, ignoring everyone. Rolling my hips, dipping low. Jill stands with Ginger on her left, me on her right. We unclip her stocking from her garter belt, and Ginger starts stroking her legs, from top to bottom, up and down. Jill rolls her hips and gyrates in time to the beat of the band. This is a strip tease, but a few of these men seem to think they’re at a strip club and they’re going to get to see us naked. I try not to let myself become too unnerved. I’m done after this set.
The men continue to grow louder and louder, inching their way closer to the stage. I can see that many are drunk, and a wave of unease washes over me. Security seems to be keeping a vigilant eye on the crowd, but still…I sense something is about to happen.
Ginger and I continue to undress Jill, all while dancing to the music, until she too is down to her skivvies and pasties.
She has lovely peacock feathers draping artfully from the backside of her costume.
“Show us your tits!” comes in loud and clear from behind the room. What type of place does this man think this is? This isn’t a strip club! I’d really like to slap whomever that is. These are lawyers, these are
supposed to be educated and respectful men aren’t they?
I close my eyes and continue dancing around Jill. Suddenly there is a roar from the audience, I open my eyes to see Ginger hastily covering up one of her breasts. Her pasty has fallen off! It must be the one she was fiddling with to distract Dwayne. Before I can make my way over to her, someone from the crowd grabs at her. A man in his mid 30’s, in a gray suit, and a smug face, clutches her pasty and waves is around, tossing it behind him.
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” He shouts brazenly.
The men laugh and whistle, urging Ginger to take the other pasty off too. I see the security from the bar inch his way towards us. He feels it, too, that immanent eruption about to take place. Ginger turns back toward the stage, and as she stoops down low to pick up her corset from the floor, that same man in the gray suit slaps her behind, hard.
Before I can register what is happening, she turns around to slap him, momentarily freeing her breast from her hand. She connects, his face turning sharply to his right from the force of her slap. He turns back to her, his eyes glaring and red rimmed. He’s extremely angry, and probably severely intoxicated. It doesn’t seem as though it is just from alcohol either. The music stops and there is a moment of silence before all hell breaks loose.
He hurls himself at her, pulls her off the stage and grabs her throat with one hand, his other hand grasps her nipple, twisting and pulling her hard. The security is trying to get through the crowd, but not quickly enough for me.
I am in a complete rage as I dive off the stage and start wailing on the back of Mr. Gray Suit’s head as hard as I can, my fists moving of their own accord.
He releases Ginger, and turns around to face me. The men in the band grab Ginger and pull her back onstage. Mr. Gray Suit curls his hand into a fist as chaos swallows the room whole. People are shoving from all directions, and I don’t know who is with me or against me, but that damned security is nowhere to be seen. I hear a fist smack against flesh somewhere in the background.
Black Burlesque Page 47
