Following the car that was carrying their all too willing friend away from her home, Victoria and Michael barely stopped to think. They wound their way up the highway as the escaping vehicle took their friend to some unknown location, both cars keeping up roughly the same pace on the public roadway. Eventually, as they worked their way away through town the nondescript car up ahead turned off the highway, followed by Michael and Victoria, the latter having scrambled to dress herself in the passenger seat as they drove, her old bra and panties going on over some roughly fitting clothes she had pulled from the pile scooped out of April's cupboard back at home in the mad rush to grab what they could before the chase. 'She might need some of them,' Michael had said regarding the pile affirmatively. 'And maybe other people will too. We can't know what we'll find when we get there.'
Wherever 'there' was...
It was about ten minutes later that the pair pulled to a stop a short way behind their target car, their headlights off. Birds chirped as the last of the sunlight dipped below the horizon; it was nearly nighttime. They had come a considerable way and found themselves in a new part of town; the sounds of cars and noise reached them from places vaguely nearby, as though activity was rife a few blocks away, but not closer. They had come down a back street that edged onto the interstate rail line - only cargo came in here for processing, no civilian transport trains or trams which meant there were only a trains that passed by on any given day and then those were rarely interested in the goings-on outside their own dirty windows. Mike and Victoria watched as the doors opened and three figures stepped out of the car ahead - the two men and April, still dressed in her blue shirt and track pants. As if she was part of their group, April followed the men up the curb and across to a blocky, dark building just ahead of where they had parked, the lead man unlocking a door there and ushering the others inside. The door shut behind him.
'C'mon,' Mike said, swinging his door open. The pair approached the building quietly, searching for entrance. They could hear the muted sound of a pulsing rhythm coming from inside, and as they neared, loud voices and the waving, melodic screech of synthesizers reached their ears, dull and muted by the thick concrete and brick walls.
'It's a nightclub,' Victoria realized. Unable to find an entrance other than the rear door the men had used earlier - and it had no handle, it was clearly opened only by the key and would probably spring open on it's own when unlocked - the pair went around to the front to see if this club was open. To their delight, and dismay, they found that it was.
'It's not a nightclub,' Mike said as he saw the bright neon lights and imagery coating this side of the place, aimed into a carpark that itself hung off a hooked, one-way side street. 'It's a
strip
club.'
After a little time to think, Mike and Victoria had a plan. Now dressed in the most appropriate of April's clothes they could find - Mike in a gay Hawaiian shirt and shorts, Victoria in a more skimpy vee-neck and tights - the pair entered the club. A nondescript bouncer eyed them, but clearly this club was particularly lax on it's entrance rules and the pair weren't stopped. They pushed through a few doorways, the beat growing louder and louder until a pair of double doors swung apart to reveal a glittering pink, purple and red runway, neon lights burning, pointing right at them. Men and a few women leaned on the long runway, many chucking bills up at the woman who danced sensuously above them. Two rounded sections that allowed for two more dancers were on either side of the far end of the runway, and as he looked at it, Mike noticed with a grunt that this runway took the shape of a dick and balls, like the synonymous hand drawing found in bathroom stalls the world over. He looked around; there were larger pole-sporting tables adorned with dancing women, and more barely-clothed girls waited and served. Themed tables were arranged in the empty space and there was a bar in the wall on the left-hand side. The only man Michael could find that wasn't a patron was in the back, protected from serving by the presence of two more women. These two, from this distance, appeared to either have nothing on their upper halves or were wearing skin-coloured tape over their nipples.
'Let's not be too obvious,' Mike shouted in Victoria's ear as he pulled her to a corner booth. 'We'll just have to see if we can find a way out the back somehow. See if we can find her.'
'Alright, but if we're getting lap dances, I want my own,' Victoria said, grinning through the worry that wrapped around her heart and trying to cope with humour. Mike laughed and they sat at a table shaped like a love heart, frowning at the wax candle on it which was a mould of an erect, veiny dick. It's tip had burned itself a crater and was starting to drip white wax down it's shaft and onto the table - a neat, if cheesy, effect. Victoria was sure there would be selfies out there of people pretending to suck these novelty candles.
For a while, the pair watched the entertainment from afar. At the premier spot on the runway, a blonde woman with only a thong hiding her most sacred area from view squatted and worked her backside, using her pole to swing her legs wide, occasionally tipping herself upside down and letting her patrons see her breasts, her powerful legs holding her as she pushed out with one arm as if inviting them to touch her upturned tits. Money coated the floor, and as she squatted upright once more, she quickly scooped it up, stuffing it right over her lady parts.
'That can't be hygienic,' Victoria said, scrunching up her face.
It was as the woman worked her crowd, turning and showing herself off that she eventually manoeuvred around to face them. Staring at her, Mike and Victoria both noticed it at the same time as she went upside down, her hair falling away from her shoulders. It was less obvious than April's or Victoria's - which had been left in the car when they had changed - because this one was cream-coloured, not far off the colour of her skin, but it was nonetheless unmistakable from this angle. There, around the stripper's neck, sat a collar. Victoria's hand grasped Michael's thigh and he grabbed it right back.
'Yeah, I see it. Let's check out the other girls.' They stood and moved along to the penis's right ball, where a new pole hosted a red-headed woman who was wrapped in what appeared to be only tape. Red and purple stripes wrapped around her neck, behind her shoulders, across each breast and back around her to curve across each butt cheek, hook between her legs to cover her vagina and then across her thighs, seamlessly disappearing back into the tape at her back so that she seemed to be dressed in an endless ribbon. The tape allowed her complete freedom, which she used to great advantage, throwing herself about with energy, sometimes dropping to her knees or into a crawl, other times rolling on her back or twisting her body across the floor and around her pole. As the couple took a seat at a new shaft-shaped table, Victoria sitting under the bell-shaped helmet, they watched for signs of a collar. Sure enough, a white band with red fixtures was clasped tightly around her neck too. At that moment, the models rotated, and Red Head swapped with the dancer from the front, while the dancer from the dick's left ball stood and collected her money. As she got up, Victoria pointed, and they watched her walk off the stage to swap with a new performer. When she flicked her hair, the unmistakable sight of a cream collar came momentarily into view.
