"Are we whores?"
Liz turned from the mirror where she was applying her makeup and stared at her roommate. "Are we whores? What do you mean?"
"Are we prostitutes?" Christy clarified as she checked out a black spandex outfit and a red latex dress. "I mean, we're paid to be at the club. We're paid to be sexy and hang around. No one ever said we had to have sex, but it's kind of expected. Red or black?"
Liz laughed and returned to applying her makeup. "We fuck because we want to. We're paid because it's good for business to have some eye candy in the club. We're not standing around in kammers down in the Wallen taking on anyone with fifty euros. So strictly speaking, we're not prostitutes. I like the red one. It really shows off your sexy ass."
"Ok," Christy said putting the black outfit away. "I was just wondered. My Mom always said I turn out to be a no account whore if I didn’t apply myself. She used to terrify us with that talk. But you know, Lexie’s pretty cool. She’s got a nice place and she gets to travel a lot. Maybe being a dirty whore isn’t all that bad.”
“Your mother has issues,” Liz chuckled. She turned and looked at Christy who was struggling to zip up the tight latex dress. “You know, if you want to be a whore, we could rent Lexie and Sasha’s kammers some night. We could just take the guys we want and ignore the ones we don’t”
“That sounds like fun!” Christy giggled. “If the guy is really hot or really scary, we can insist on doing a two girl show!”
“Your Mama might be right about you after all,” Liz laughed.
“Hey Liz,” Christy continued. “Who pierced your nipples? I think I want to get mine done.”
“Remember that guy you fucked the first time we went to the club? Doc is actually a doctor. Anyway, he does piercings for girls sometimes. It’s usually done as part of some S&M scene. Doc’s kind of strange. You don’t usually find sadists who are and compassionate sweethearts at the same time.”
“Really?” Christy had a hard time picturing Doc as a sadist.
“It may be more that he picks up on women’s inner freak and facilitates what they already want,” Liz said. “When he pierced me, it was a part of a slave girl show we put on at the club. He had me all tied up and whipped me. He pierced my titties as part of that scene. It was certainly more dramatic than going to a tattoo parlor.”
A light rain was falling as the girls got out of the cab in front of the Bulldog. The Club was around the corner and down the street a way, but sometimes the cab drivers get a little strange when they make drops there. Sometimes they ask for trade, sometimes they try to charge a referral fee. It’s just less of a hassle to get out at the Bulldog, go in for a quick smoke and then walk over. The staff at the Bulldog were used to this and could guess what sort of night it was by the number of leather daddies and latex mommas who stopped in for a quick one.
Maurice the Mooch flounced over to the girls with his usual atomic sunburst smile in place. He handed Liz a pre-rolled spliff of Marley’s Ghost and said, “You ladies are hot tonight. When are you girls going to take your favorite barman shopping?”
“When you stop smoking half our joint,” Liz laughed.
“Then it ain’t never gonna happen,” he beamed. “You know I work on tips alone!”
“No Maurice,” Christy giggled as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You take home mad cash ‘cause you smoke the OP’s.”
“Oh darling,” Maurice sighed dramatically. “Other People’s smoke is the best kind of smoke.”
“Now Baby dolls,” Maurice said looking about as serious as it’s possible for Maurice to look. “What is going on at your little social club? I’ve seen the couples come and the couples go and so many delicious men. Something strange is happening at your little play pen.”
“I don’t know,” Liz said. “Wolter didn’t call us to tell us about anything special.”
“Well, something is up darling.” Maurice said as he hurried off to fetch some space cakes for a couple of Brits who’d clearly had too many already.
Floating on a mild buzz, Liz and Christy drifted down to the club. The huge African doorman shook his head when he saw them approaching.
“What’s up, Oz?” Christy asked?
“The Mesilina Challenge,” he replied in a voice betraying traces of French, Senegalese and Dutch accents. “Melora and Millie have are settling who’s the biggest whore in Babylon once and for all. It’s a sporting event. Lot of spectators. Lot of men with cock in hand. Not a normal night at all. You girls gonna be fluffers?”
Liz wrinkled her nose and said, “Only if we feel like it.”
Inside, the club was packed. “I’ve never seen so many men in here!” Liz gasped. “It looks like a rock show at Arena!”
It did look like a rock concert. There were masses of sweaty men pressed around a makeshift stage. Jens slightly less than chalk colored skin shown like a beacon as she played MC, traffic cop and score keeper.
“Hey,” Liz said. “There’s Doc.”
The girls made there way over to the bar where Doc was chatting with another middle aged man. Doc’s companion looked like an aging rock star. He had a main of long graying hair tied back in a pony tail. He was wearing engineer boots, black jeans and a black t-shirt. Like Doc, he looked out of place by how casual he appeared in a sex club where most people are showing off.
“What’s up?” Christy said completely missing the pun.
