"This time you've gone too far," said Anita. "I know you like to play little jokes on me on my birthday...but an appointment with Weight Watchers?"
"It's not what you think," replied Tina with a meaningful smile. "Just ring that number and all will be revealed."
Anita stopped wondering which of Tina's bodily orifaces to jam the appointment card into and took a closer look at it.
True, it didn't look like she imagined a card for a weightloss program would look. No skinny model. All it showed besides the writing was a woman's leg, a rather large one, clad in a stocking and suspender belt. No, it certainly didn't look like an official Weight Watchers appointment card.
"All right," she relented. "I don't know why I should trust you after all the tricks you have played on my birthday in the past, but I'll play along for now. But if this turns out to be another one of your little jokes, I'll woop your ass so bad you won't sit down for a week. O.K."
"I don't think there will be any ass-whipping going on after my friends have finished with you," Tina replied with a naughty smile.
So Anita rang the number later that night.
"My friend Tina wanted me to ring you," she explained. "I think she is playing a little joke on me for my birthday."
"You must be Anita," replied the friendly male voice on the other end.
"Yes, that's right. Did she tell you something about me?" she asked, suspiciously.
"She told me a lot," he replied. "All of it good, I assure you."
"What exactly do you do?" Anita wanted to know. "You aren't the weight loss people, are you?"
"Oh, my word, no!" he replied. "Far from it. Weight Watchers is a nightclub."
"A nightclub?"
"Oh, yes. A men's club actually."
"But I'm a woman. Why would Tina make me an appointment for a men's club."
"Well, we do like to throw parties for women. Usually only our dancers, but Tina thought you might enjoy our special treatment."
"But how does Tina know about your parties?" Anita wanted to know.
"You mean, she hasn't told you?" he asked.
"Told me what?"
"That she is one of our strippers," he replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Anita burst out laughing. "Are we talking about the same Tina?" she asked, incredulously. "She's nearly as big as me. And you're trying to tell me that guys pay to see her take her clothes off?"
"Well, our club caters to special tastes," the man explained. "Hence the name. Our clientele prefer large women like yourself."
"And you think that just because you throw me a little birthday party, I'll get it all off for you guys and give you a free show, is that it?" she asked. Tina was definitely going to get her ass whipped over this one.
"You don't understand," the man replied. "For our special parties, the members provide the entertainment."
"What sort of entertainment? Like a male stripper jumping out of a cake?"
"Well, sort of. Of course, when dealing with women with larger appetites, actually putting a man inside of a food product can prove to be a little risky. We've lost so many of our male strippers that way," the man explained matter-of-factly, before bursting out laughing. "Just kidding off course," he added. "I hope you will forgive my sometimes tasteless attempts at humour."
"I must admit, you have got me intrigued," Anita conceded. "And, for all her practical jokes, I know that Tina wouldn't have set this up, if there was anything suss about it."
So that is how Anita ended up knocking on an unmarked door at 8.00 P.M. that evening and descending down the steep staircase behind it into the murky depths of the Weight Watchers nightclub.
"Welcome to our little pleasure palace, Anita," came a voice from the shadows. As the man approached she saw that he was a tubby, balding man in his fifties. From his voice she recognised that he was the man she had spoken to on the phone, the proprietor. "Our little parties are, of course, not open to the general public. Tonight is just for you and for our long standing members. And, believe me, some of our members are long-standing indeed."
"Bragging, are you?" asked Anita, entering into the spirit of things.
"Oh, not about myself of course," laughed the proprietor. "But I don't think you will be disappointed with the entertainment."
Now that her eyes had adjusted to the semi-darkness of the club, Anita noticed a man standing behind a counter near the door. His chest was bare above the level of the counter. She couldn't see if he wore anything below or not.
"Oh, by the way, my name is Lester," the proprietor informed her. "And that gentleman over there is Sebastian. He'll take your coat...and your dress...and your bra...and your panties..."
"I thought you said I wouldn't be expected to give any free shows?" Anita responded.
"Of course not," replied Lester. "But it was worth a try, hey?" He nudged her gently. "But seriously, please feel free to make yourself as comfortable as you wish. You may find that the entertainment improves in response to your generosity. And I don't mean tips. Oh, and let Simon, over at the bar, get you a drink. All drinks are, of course, on the house."
When Anita went over and gave her coat to Sebastian and ordered a drink from Simon she saw that both were wearing nothing but the most miniscule of g-strings. What the pouches of the g-strings held, however, was anything but miniscule.
As she sat at the bar with her drink, various members of the club came up and introduced themselves. They were all very pleasant and respectably dressed. Some were as young as twenty, some as old as sixty. Some were large, some small. Some were white, some black, and one was asian. The one thing they all had in common was that they all looked admiringly and unashamedly over Anita's body and found excuses to touch her subtly on the shoulder or the thigh as they chatted with her.
