Amy's Stage Debut

This story was first published (elsewhere) in October 2011. All characters are 18 or older. The story is set in Christchurch, New Zealand, and was written following a real earthquake on 4 September 2010.

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5 January, 2011

To: "Angel"

Vixens Strip Bar

Dear Aunty Eileen

It's Amy here, your sister Mary's daughter. I hope this letter finds its way to you ok. We did get the card you sent following the earthquake here in Christchurch (thanks for thinking of us!), but my parents threw away the envelope before I could get your address. So in the end I had to contact your first husband who gave me your stage name and the name of this club he thought you were working at. As I say, I hope you get this letter.

I feel guilty that I've never tried to contact you earlier, but I hope you understand how it's been. While my parents never actually banned me from contacting you, it will come as no surprise that they will find it very upsetting. They're just the same as they've always been, and they remain convinced that you would be a bad influence on me. It's ironic that, despite no contact with you all these years, their worst fears are coming true anyway. Maybe it's something in our gene pool - a naughty recessive gene that pops up every now and then. You will see what I mean when I tell you my story. I really want to tell you in detail what I've been experiencing, because I think you might be the only member of our family who has a chance of understanding. Then I want to ask you for your advice and assistance as I plan my future.

It might help to fill you in on my last few years at high school. As you may know, I'm now 18 and have just finished my last year (Year 13) at school. You will remember that we were living in Ashburton until two years ago. The reason dad asked for that transfer to Christchurch (he had to accept a pay cut to do it!) was because I was doing so badly at Ashburton College. While I really liked the school, especially the music programme, the rest of the teaching really sucked, and I only just scraped through NCEA at the end of Year 11.

So anyway, mum and dad decided that the only option was to move to Christchurch and send me to a private school for Years 12 and 13. Because mum and dad are still such staunch Presbyterians, and because they are so stupidly proud of their Scottish heritage, it was no surprise that I ended up at St Andrews College. You may remember St Andrews as a single-sex boys' school, but they've also been taking girls for years now.

It took me a long time to fit in at first. Music is a huge part of my life, and I loved playing drums in one of the school rock bands at Ashburton College. When I asked the admissions guy at St Andrews whether or not I could do something similar here, I was horrified to discover that the only extra-curricular music stuff they have is their pipe band! He told me the pipe band was always keen for one or two more side drummers, but I told him I wasn't interested. Playing a snare drum for a bunch of bagpipes was hardly what I had in mind.

I was pretty lonely for the first six months or so until I struck up a friendship with a girl called Peggy. You'll laugh, but it turned out that Peggy played the side drum, and was in fact the only girl in the entire pipe band. She was in love with a guy named Kevin who played the bagpipes, and she had joined the band just to be near him, despite the fact he didn't seem at all interested in her.

So anyway, when Peggy found out I had played drums in a rock band, she insisted on giving me a go on her drum. I played a few beats, and she immediately declared that I was far better than she was. After that she kept on at me about joining the pipe band, saying it would be heaps of fun, and eventually I said yes. Being lonely in a new school really affects your expectations of fun.

You may wonder what it was like being one of only two girls in the band. You may have assumed that we would have had the boys swarming around us, but that wasn't the case at all. This was probably because we were both quite chubby. You may remember me as a skinny little girl, but once I hit my teenage years I really piled on the weight. I could tell the boys didn't find me attractive. What's more, I always ended up making friends with other chubby girls, so when you're part of a group of fat girls the guys find it easy to ignore you. Obviously you will see from the enclosed photographs that I've since lost a lot of weight. In fact, my dad recently said (in an unguarded moment) that he thinks I've now inherited your good looks. You should have seen the dirty look mum gave him!

So anyway, I'll skip forward in my story to the end of Year 12. After our exams, when we were technically on holiday, it was a tradition for the band to get together and perform at the Christmas party of one of the local rest homes. I didn't mind giving up one afternoon of my holiday for this, but I was very surprised at how enthusiastic all the Year 13 boys were to participate. After all, they had all now left school forever. It began to make sense when Peggy explained that after the performance Mr Walsh (the teacher responsible for the band) took the Year 13 boys out for dinner, and for those who were 18 (most of them), they got free beer and wine as well.

There were also rumours about some sort of exciting after-party. As Peggy and I walked home after the performance alongside Kevin and his best mate Robert who happened to be heading in the same direction, Robert (who had several older brothers in the pipe band in recent years) told us that it was a tradition for Mr Walsh to take all the 18-year-olds out after the dinner to one of the local strip clubs. Peggy and I were astonished, not just at the behaviour of the boys, but also at Mr Walsh. He's a very nice man and we liked him enormously. He was one of the younger teachers. I suspect he wasn't 30 yet, and he was good looking in a well-dressed 'pretty boy' sort of way. Robert swore us all to secrecy. While Mr Walsh was technically doing nothing wrong, it's likely his career would still be affected if this became widely known.

Year 13 was the busiest year of my life so far. Our studies took a lot of our time, and band practices and performances also kept us busy. On top of all this, Peggy and I bit the bullet and forced ourselves to get in shape. We joined a gym and got stuck in, doing circuit training, swimming and Zumba. Our favourite was the Zumba. We went to at least 4 sessions a week, and often as many as six or seven. Over a period of several months our exercise started to make a huge difference to the way we looked, and our parents started to complain about the fortune they had to spend on new (smaller) school uniforms and other clothes. Lo and behold we started to get noticed more by the boys. Kevin started to return Peggy's attention, and I was soon hearing her tell me stories of their first dates, holding hands, their first kiss, and some heavy petting. She was very happy.

As for me, there wasn't any particular boy who grabbed my attention, but I was becoming aware of changes in how the boys were behaving around me. I could sense them checking me out when they thought I wasn't looking, and they started to get more nervous when they were talking with me. My own opinion of them started to change at the same time. The previous year I had seen them as 'almost men', but as my own confidence grew I gradually started to think of them as just a group of boys. I believe I was just as nice to them as always, but I didn't do anything in particular to give them encouragement.

I'll now fast forward to towards the end of the year. Of course there was the big earthquake in September (thanks again for the card), but we just had to get on with life. A few of my classmates didn't cope with the stress when the exams came around, but I did all right. Then, like our predecessors in the pipe band, we started to look forward to our end of year performance and final dinner.

This year the dinner was being organised by a small committee of some senior band members including Robert, who had been appointed the Drum Major. We knew they were struggling to work out what to do because so many restaurants were still closed following the earthquake, and it was extremely difficult to make dinner reservations for large groups. I also happened to know that the part of town where the strip clubs were was still damaged, and I was amused by the fact that the boys wouldn't be getting their traditional eyeful.

As Peggy and I came out of our final exam, we were surprised to find Mr Walsh and Robert waiting to speak with us about the dinner. "As you will know," said Mr Walsh, "it has been very difficult trying to organise something, but the boys have worked hard on putting something together."

"Yes," said Robert. "After a lot of frustrations we've finally ended up hiring one of those large launches in the harbour. We've organised a caterer, and arranged for a keg of beer and a heap of wine."

Peggy and I were pretty excited by this news, but our initial excitement was short lived. "I'm sorry to have to tell you," said Mr Walsh apologetically "that we've decided to make the dinner a 'boys only' affair!"

"You can't do that!" exclaimed Peggy.

"Why can't we come?" I asked.

Mr Walsh and Robert both look embarrassed. "It's because the boys have decided to hire a stripper," said Robert sheepishly. "It wouldn't be fair on Mr Walsh if we exposed him to any complaints if you find the stripper offensive."

"This isn't fair!" said Peggy, her voice rising in anguish. "We're members of the band just as much as anyone else. You can't do this to us."

"I'm sorry," said Mr Walsh. "I understand what you're saying. But in this case it isn't my decision to make. This isn't an official school trip, and none of the people going on it will be school students anymore. The organising committee appear to represent the majority of the band members, so I have to respect their decision."

Peggy had always the more assertive of the two of us, and she continued the fight. "You guys are assuming we'll complain about your stripper, but you're wrong if you think we won't complain about being left out. That's the worst type of discrimination. Can we come if we promise beforehand not to complain about the stripper? It's not as if the boat isn't big enough that we can't find a stripper-free room somewhere if we find it offensive." I chimed in with my support of Peggy's argument, and in the end we won the point.

Less than two weeks later I was putting on my school uniform for the last time. When it came to band performances the girls essentially wore the same as the boys, which included a knee-length kilt. The boys normally wore uniform trousers or shorts at school, but the school kilt was always an option and sometimes compulsory on special occasions. Because it was a dress occasion we would be wearing sporrans with our kilts. None of us were expected to own sporrans. The school had a collection of them which were handed out when the occasion required it, and Mr Walsh planned to do this just before the performance.

We wore our school tie over a plain white shirt. Because it was expected to be a hot summer day, the plan was to dispense with the school blazer. On our feet we wore our sensible black school shoes. We were expected to wear our school socks, but they were generally considered to be ugly by all the girls. The allowable alternative was to wear plain black pantyhose. It was too hot for pantyhose on hot days, so I planned to wear thigh-high stay-ups, and I knew that Peggy planned to do the same.

Naturally the main difference between the boys and the girls was what was under our uniforms. Because our parents had protested at our most recent request for smaller shirts following further weight loss, we had ended up with tatty second-hand shirts which were expected to get us through our last month of school and not much more. The thin material of the shirt necessitated not only a white bra, but also a plain white singlet top over the bra. The one last item of clothing was my underpants. At school many girls wore black bike shorts over their panties, but they were uncomfortable when it was hot. I opted instead for pale blue 'boyshort' briefs which were similar in colour to the main colour of the kilt.

What the boys wore under their kilts was always the subject of much jesting at school. The more boisterous boys were always saying that a man should never wear underwear, and they were always threatening to 'out' any boy they suspected of wearing any. However, they were always either too chicken or too homophobic to actually pull up another boy's kilt, so there was always a lot of inconclusive banter without any outcome. For some reason the issue never came up with the girls. Maybe the idea was just too hackneyed, because whenever a boy suggested the girls should all 'go commando', the suggestion was usually met with weary groans.

Once I was dressed I walked over to Peggy's house, and from there we walked to the rest home, which was just a short distance from school. As we walked I asked Peggy whether or not she was going to watch the stripper. My question was greeted with an enthusiastic "yes". She declared herself very curious to see what happened. I felt a surprising sense of relief when I heard her answer, because that would mean there would be no problems with me watching as well. I too was very curious. It wasn't that I was curious to see a naked woman - I had seen hundreds of them over the years. But the sight of a woman taking off her clothes as part of a performance in a room full of males was something completely different. What would be going through her mind? How would my band-mates react? I didn't want to miss this for anything. I also had to admit to myself, although I didn't say so out loud, that I was turned on by the prospect, but I didn't understand why.

Our band performance was well received by the old people, and after a polite afternoon tea Mr Walsh brought the school bus around to the door and all the Year 13 students piled on for the drive down to the wharf. There were 11 of us plus Mr Walsh. None of us had brought a change of clothing. The boys had decided to wear their uniforms to dinner, and Peggy and I had gone along with the idea. The boys were all in an excited mood both at the rest home and on the bus. While they just managed to restrain their exuberance when they were actually talking to Peggy or me, we could overhear them talking excitedly with one another about the evening ahead. The subject of the stripper was frequently heard, and many boys were talking confidently about what they would say or do when the time came.

We arrived at the wharf about 20 minutes before the time the boat was hired for, so we just sat on the bus and waited. We watched as the catering truck pulled up, and a couple of men took some trolleys on board. Another van arrived with the beer and wine. These sights were greeted with excited cheers from the boys. Finally, a few minutes before we were due to embark, the boys were excited by the arrival of a red Ford Mustang with tinted windows. Typically for boys, arguments erupted over what year it was made and what size engine was under the bonnet. As we watched, the doors opened and a man and a woman climbed out. The man was very large with a shiny shaved head, and despite the heat he was wearing a black leather jacket. The woman also seemed overdressed. She was wearing a long coat that went all the way down to her ankles, giving glimpses of feet encased in black stockings and high heel shoes. She had long frizzy blond hair running down her back. I didn't see her face.

For some inexplicable reason the bus went almost silent as the boys worked out the reason for this woman's arrival. I think for many the reality of the situation started to sink in. This woman was the stripper they had been talking about all afternoon (possibly all month), while the guy was obviously her security. The boys watched quietly as the man and woman climbed on board the boat and went inside. Eventually one or two began talking again in muted tones, reverting to the safer topic of the Mustang. I could have sworn they were all too nervous to say anything about the stripper. One thing that impressed me as I sat and listened was when I realised that the Mustang, being an American car, was left-hand drive. When I had seen the woman getting out of the left-hand side I had assumed she was the passenger, being driven to the job by some pimp. But she had been driving him. It was obviously her car. What's more, it now seemed likely that the security guy was working for her rather than the other way around. I had been having some nagging feelings of guilt, worried that I should feel sorry for the poor stripper, but all of a sudden those feelings were gone. I could have been wrong, but my impression now was that this woman was in charge of her life.

It was finally time to board the boat. We were greeted on the wharf by a deck hand who took us aboard and showed us around. The boat was quite large with three decks. The gangway went to the middle deck which consisted of a large saloon containing two large tables set for dinner. They were laden with plates, glasses and numerous wine bottles. The saloon was separated from the wheelhouse by windows and a door, and we could see the captain making final preparations for our harbour cruise. Stairs led down to the lower deck, where we were shown some toilets for our use. The rest of the lower deck was hidden by a door labelled "Crew Only". Finally we were shown the upper deck, which consisted of a large party room. There was a small stage at the bow end of the room, and a bar ran down the starboard side. The bar itself wasn't open. Instead there was a keg of beer sitting in front of the bar, and a few bottles of wine on a little table next to it. The boys all helped themselves to a pre-dinner drink from the keg, while Mr Walsh, Peggy and I started on the wine. The stripper and her companion weren't anywhere to be seen, so presumably they were in the crew only area of the lower deck.

The deck hand went below to cast off, and we enjoyed the view out the window as we pulled away from the wharf and headed out into the harbour. The deck hand also doubled as our waiter, which involved bringing trays of food up from the galley into the saloon. The tables were filled to capacity when we went down for our meal. There is no need to describe our dinner in any detail apart from a quick mention of the mood of the group. The wine had the effect of making Peggy and me more animated, including a bit giggly, but I wasn't "out of control" drunk by any means. My memories of the evening are complete and crystal clear. The boys, however, continued to be a little more subdued than expected, although they livened up a bit while eating. Robert (the Drum Major) made a humorous speech, and Mr Walsh made one too, but there was still a cloud hanging over the proceedings.

Eventually the dinner came to an end. The deck hand/waiter came to start clearing the tables, and his suggestion that we take the remaining wine bottles upstairs was perceived as a pointed hint to get moving out of his way. We all headed up to the party room and refreshed our drinks. Some of the boys sat around small tables while the rest of us perched on bar stools or leaned against the bar. The boys seemed so quiet that Peggy and I felt the need to try to liven them up, including making suggestions that maybe one of them should compensate us for the lack of a male stripper. This sparked them up a bit, with each suggesting some other boy who should strip for us.

The animation was short-lived as the room soon went silent following the entrance of the large man in the black jacket. Although his head was completely bald, when we saw him up close we realised he was only about 25 years old. The man walked up to the small stage and began his patter.