Tom called me the other day. He runs an adult store and a small members-only nightclub. I had bought sultry bras and other sexy clothes last year in his store, was about to leave when my desire for an adventure hit me. I went back, undressed, and let Tom suck my tits. We swapped phone numbers, and since then, he calls me regularly.
Tom has a funny nature, a man of words who has a good sense of 'what women want.' I love to listen to his entertaining and often amusing stories of customers and the club. All his calls end with another proposal, to allure me in his club, get me on stage in a live show, which I decline likewise. That day he spoke of new photos he planned to exhibit in the club. I mentioned two black and white images Paul had recently taken of me. Tom was thrilled, as he likes to display photos of regular people. He said he had to visit a porn fair and wouldn't be around the following days, but his assistants Neil or Liz would take the pics.
I wrapped the posters in paper and carried them to the shop during my lunch break the very next day. A man in his early thirties took the pictures and looked at them closely. He leered at me, whistled between the teeth, and said sharp-minded 'it's you.'
It turned out, the assistant, Neil, had no idea what his boss and I agreed on, maybe Tom forgot to tell him. The longer Neil looked at the pictures, the more talkative and exuberant he got and leaned the frames on a low shelf in the store. He asked how long I know Tom and blamed himself that he had no idea of a sexy jewel-like me. You are pretty hot, he said, would like to see live what you got and mentioned auditions they run for the shows.
'He is damn right,' yelled a tall woman in her mid-twenties. She smiled all over the face, came closer, and introduced herself as Liz. She was the blonde who assisted me when I bought the Ben Wa balls. Her full tits were an eye-catcher, albeit I thought they were not natural. She was dressed in black leather, matching high-heels, and was wearing heavy makeup. By adult shop criteria, she was adequately dressed. I liked her on the spot. Liz hugged me, looked at my posters, bumped me with her hip, and said, 'you don't need to ask for an audition, do it right here. What do you think, Neil?'
He grinned and answered, 'we need to be sure it's you on the pics before we get in trouble by a filthy lawyer suing us for copyright violation.' He nodded at Liz and added, 'she knows about these things.' Obviously, she was a law student.
I didn't feel like having that kind of conversation. On the other hand, Liz kinda turned me on, and I was too curious to get to know more about her.
'I'm not here for an audition,' I replied 'women like me with high self-esteem and a profound knowledge of their sexual radiance are too hot for some auditors.'
'She is right,' Liz said, laughing, kissed me on a cheek, put an arm around my waist, and squeezed me. 'Neil, you got a problem.'
A group of four male customers entered the shop. They were elegantly dressed, wore expensive suits of a kind I've seen for too long in executive circles. They had explicitly asked for Liz's, as Neil quickly explained when Liz greeted the gentlemen and suggested we should go to his office and talk.
Neil was a co-founder of the shop, offered me a seat, and got going. 'Most of the girls are either students or housewives who make extra money. Some do hard-core, professionals on stage too.'
'Tell me about you,' he said as if I had applied for an audition. 'We run successfully amateur shows, dancing, readings, music, stripping and masturbating, or fucking. I'm positive you fit in very well. The shows have to be booked in advance. We do this for two reasons, limited space in the theater and selected audience, meeting their wishes. What do you think?'
What a bizarre situation, I thought. I listen to a guy I never saw before and whom I'm supposed to tell about me. I gave his question a thought and said truthfully, 'First and foremost, I'm not here for an audition or any on-stage action. It's my lunch break, and I don't have much time.'
No question, I should have left immediately. And yet I stayed because I was interested in the work here. All I knew about sex workers came from the media or watching porn videos. In short, almost nothing. Unlike Liz, I've only toyed with the idea in my early twenties to do something in porn.
'I'm too old,' I added, 'not to mention my job. Colleagues will probably see me, and I don't trade in pussy fun for my job. No, it's ridiculous.'
'No, no, no,' Neil said, laughing. 'Your age is perfect and matches the average age of our customers. Professional strippers and sex workers are just normal girls who eat cereal, watch cartoons, buy milk, have hobbies. As for your job, you wouldn't be the first one on stage. We'd women whose husbands were lawyers, doctors. One lady was a gynecologist and wants to experience what her patients had told her. She provides medical care for some girls in that business. She went the whole gamut, solo, lesbian, and gang bang, and was satisfied with herself only when she was completely physically exhausted. Dress up like her, a mask, a wig, or dyed hair with a washout, and no one will ever recognize you, not even your husband.'
'The gynecologist, is she about my size, brunette, in her mid-forties?' I asked - my good hot doctor. Maybe I'm going to see her for an examination. Neil interrupted my thoughts.
'I don't discuss client business,' he replied, grinning and added, 'I take it that you don't want to hear your name too. Any tattoos?'
'No.'
'All the better! I'll be back in a second.'
He got up and left the office.
I took a deep breath and wondered if I could trust my gynecologist to do this. At that moment, I realized, if true, her behavior lately would explain a lot. Who says goodbye to a patient with a big hug, boob on boob, and a kiss on the cheek?
On the side, I noticed that the atmosphere of the store excited me. It was the décor, the smell, and just the simple thought of being right in the center of the fun, a place that was uncommon for me.
Neil rushed back, masks, a mirror, and wigs in his hands.
'Try this,' he said, handed me the stuff, put the mirror on the desk, and turned it to me.
First strange reaction on my part, I did not object; quite the opposite, I felt flattered, got curious, and tried the toys. The white mask was okay but uncomfortable. One of the black masks fit like a glove. It had long feathers that made me look like an extra who just jumped out of a period movie. Neil was right. The mask covered my face almost wholly, kept up my privacy, with the lips and chin visible only.
'I like your open hair, but try the wig too,' he suggested.
