He Makes Me Feel Like a New Woman
Chapter 7: Reunions
"Em! We were all worried about you!" the large man said as he threw his arms around Emily. "Come on in, I bet you're looking for your phone and wallet, right?"
"Thanks, Sam," Emily said as she followed Sam into the basement bar. Sam walked slowly, favoring his right leg. Emily started turning over the upside down chairs on the bar's tables without being asked. She was a regular here, and it felt like a second home to her.
"Is Mike working tonight?" she asked hopefully.
"No, he's not on again until Thursday," Sam replied, putting her phone and wallet on the bar and patting them for emphasis. "Everyone's going to be real happy to see you. You sticking around or you just stop by for these?"
Emily looked up at the high windows near the ceiling, seeing patches of sunlight where the black paint on them had chipped away. "No, it feels weird being here in the daytime. Plus, I have an errand to run."
"What kind of errand?"
"I'm trying to find a job."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, I'm going to head to Downtown Crossing to see if the strip clubs are hiring."
"Uh oh."
Emily squinted at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you're going to make a killing as a stripper. We're never going to see you again."
Emily blushed. She hoped she had the body to be a stripper. She was thin and tall, with long, slender arms and legs. She had been trying to add more weight to her frame recently, self-conscious of her protruding hip bones, small ass, and too-skinny thighs. She recently had breast augmentation, and even though she had them for a little more than two weeks, she couldn't imagine herself without the round, hard fake tits that dominated her narrow frame.
She hoped she was pretty enough to be a stripper. She had always thought of herself as plain looking, but recently she had started wearing makeup, and sometimes she was surprised at how pretty her own face looked in the mirror. Her flowing lavender hair gave her a distinctive look, and she wore a stud in her tongue that was a matching color.
She had recently started tailoring her old wardrobe to be sexier, and while the results lacked in craftsmanship she was proud of her work. She was wearing a top she had fashioned from an old sweater. It was originally a baggy, formless thing with a print of cats playing with yarn. She had taken in the sleeves to be tight around her arms and cut the length of it so that it only hung down to her ribcage. Her ordinary movements revealed glimpses of her large round breasts, and when she put her hands over her head her nipples were clearly visible. She knew because she had checked. A short teal skirt and thigh-high brown boots made from fake leather completed the outfit.
"You're sweet, Sam," she said, putting her hand over his. As she left the bar she called to him, "tell everyone I'm ok if I can't make it later!"
"See," he called back, "it's starting already!"
*****
The sun was just going down as Emily arrived at the strip club. She had just learned that there was only one club in Boston, and that people looking to visit one usually traveled to neighboring cities.
The club looked uninviting from the outside. All of the windows were papered over with pink paper that had faded in the sun to the color of salmon that was past its prime. The cloth awning announced the establishment as The Crystal Palace under an accumulation of years of grime. The front door was locked, with a sign directing visitors to an entrance in a nearby alley.
Emily walked in with a sense of trepidation. On the inside the dim overhead lights and the riot of blue and pink neon seemed out of place with so few people in the club. Behind the bar she saw a middle-aged blonde woman with her hair pulled into a tight ponytail and a snug white t-shirt clinging to her large breasts. Emily thought about ordering a drink to loosen herself up before she tried to find a manager. Would that be unprofessional? Were they big on professionalism in places like this?
Emily felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see a gorgeous blonde wearing a silver bikini and a baby blue collar with the word SLUT printed on it in rhinestones.
"I thought that was you!" the blonde said, wrapping her arms tightly around Emily, then a second later wrapping one leg around her too. "Oh my God, you look so good!" she said as they separated, grabbing the front of Emily's top and lifting it up to look at her breasts. "I LOVE the fake tits!"
"Fuckdoll?" Emily said, surprised to run into the woman. Then a second later, with a jolt of excitement, "is Master here?!?"
"No, he asked me to stay here and make him some money. I'm waiting for him to come back, but I don't know..."
Fuckdoll stopped herself and held up a finger as she listened to a voice on the PA calling Trixie to the stage.
"That's me! That's my stripper name. I've got to go on!" Fuckdoll said as she hurried towards the stage, bouncing with every step. Emily saw the rest of Fuckdoll's outfit, which was a pair of leg warmers in the same baby blue as her collar and a pair of black stiletto heels.
Emily decided she would have a drink after all and walked to the bar to order a vodka tonic. She turned back to the stage to watch Fuckdoll dance for a crowd of three men. The blonde had untied her top but not removed it, and as she swayed from side to side, her arms holding the stripper pole over her head, the silver material swung back and forth over her breasts, revealing glimpses of perky pink nipples.
Fuckdoll made eye contact with Emily and invited her to the stage with one crooked finger. Emily remembered Master beckoning her the same way, weeks earlier. She had been powerless to resist his wordless command then, but this was different. Emily felt no need to obey, just an intense curiosity. She had spent so long thinking about this woman, imagining what she might be like, that she felt oddly close to her. After the excited way the blonde had greeted her, Emily hoped they could become friends.
Emily set her vodka tonic at the edge of the stage where Fuckdoll was dancing. She had intended to sit down, but when Fuckdoll held out her hand Emily accepted it and climbed onto the stage with her.
"What do I do?" Emily asked over the music that was unexpectedly loud at the stage.
"Don't worry about it," Fuckdoll replied, putting a hand around Emily's waist to draw her in. "If you fuck up, there's nobody here to see it anyway."
"Thanks," Emily replied sarcastically. Then she jumped a little as she felt Fuckdoll pinch her bare ass under the hem of her skirt.
