"I want to talk to the Director," said the woman. She was a curvy girl, wearing jeans and a sweater that hinted at but did not reveal large breasts. She had only subtle makeup on, pale pink lipstick and a hint of eye-shadow. People who wanted to get into the club dressed up. She looked vaguely familiar, but Catherine Vincent couldn't place her.
Tall, willowy, and elegant, Catherine wore a black evening dress slit high on the thigh. She often used the daringness of the women's outfits to help her make decisions about who got in. With the men, it was more a matter of whether they put in an effort to look attractive. This woman was a clear no, by either standard. Even her footwear was lacking. Tennis shoes would be incongruous in Club Incognito.
"I want to talk to the Director," the woman repeated.
The Director had changed Catherine's life, the day he rescued her from the bridge and made her want to suck his cock. She understood now that "made" was the appropriate term, and that the Director had powers over people. She also didn't mind one bit. He tried to use those powers to help, rather than hurt. He was more moral than herself, perhaps. She cared only about serving him. She had been an unemployed actress, out of luck and ready to kill herself. Now she was running Club Incognito, the most notorious nightclub in town, and the young lady talking to her was in the line of people hoping to be admitted, standing outside. That change she credited entirely to the Director, and she was glad he found her useful. She had purpose now.
Some people knew about the Director's existence as the shadowy backer of the club. Most didn't, as Catherine was the highly visible frontwoman. "Who are you?" she asked. "What's your name?"
"My name is Sandy."
"Well, I'm very sorry, but the Director isn't here," Catherine lied smoothly.
"I'm Julie Ann's sister," Sandy said.
Ah. That's why she looks familiar.
It didn't change the answer. Julie Ann was waiting tables inside, wearing nothing but a thong and heels. Catherine wasn't going to presume that Julie Ann wanted her sister to see her like that, or that Sandy understood quite how wild things got inside. Julie Ann had once said something about a domineering grandmother who taught her to repress her sexuality. Sandy looked like she was still following that script.
"I'll let your sister know you're here, if you like," said Catherine.
"I don't want to see my sister. I want to see the Director. He's done something to her." Sandy's voice rose. People stared.
As Catherine knew, Sandy wasn't wrong. The Director had done something to her, and Catherine had helped. She was sure the new uninhibited Julie Ann was happier, so it was all for the good. Sandy probably didn't see it that way.
"I'm sorry," Catherine said. "I have a job to do. Perhaps you'd like to leave your name and number? Just write it on something and hand it to me, I'll have the Director get back to you."
"Julie Ann told me she was going to see him tonight. So I know he's here."
"Not right now, he isn't," said Catherine. She turned from Sandy and spoke to a woman who showed she'd understood the dress code. Green dress, with a V-neck that reached her navel. No bra. Short hem, barely covering her ass. "Are you wearing panties?" she asked the woman.
"Uh, yeah."
"Toss them in the basket in the foyer and you can get in."
The woman didn't hesitate, and flashed the crowd in her rush to get them off. They were crotchless, Catherine noted. If the woman had told her that, Catherine would have let her keep them on, but the question and the request was for show, partially. Those who didn't get in would be that much more sure they wanted to get in next time. The less daring would be scared away. Drama like that spread the word about the club. She glanced over the crowd and noticed something odd. Sandy wasn't glaring at her. Instead, Sandy's face had turned a little pink.
Catherine had an idea. "Stick around," she whispered to Sandy.
Quickly, she worked through the line. She was only planning to admit two more women and one man, anyway. They always let in a bunch of regulars first, and then a few newcomers to fill out the numbers. She picked out a woman in a tube top and matching miniskirt -- it was a trashy look, but she'd done trashy well. Then another in a leather corset and a severe skirt that barely uncovered her knees, and five-inch heels. Diversity was a good thing.
There was a guy with a tailored tux, and he got in too. "That's all for tonight," Catherine said. "We'll be open next Friday night if you want to try again."
Sometimes people lingered, hoping persistence would get them in, or that someone would leave and there would be a spot. This time the crowd cleared, leaving only Catherine and Sandy.
"Well?" Sandy asked.
"I'll ask. That's all I can promise. Wait here." Catherine opened the door to the club, intending to ask the Director what he wanted to do.
It wasn't the first time someone had tried to push her way into the club, but Sandy doing it surprised her. She nearly knocked Catherine over in the process, but grabbed her to stop her fall. Either way, she was inside. Fortunately the club had a little foyer, separated from the main floor by a velvet curtain. Cliff, a well-built blond man who was the only man who served the Director, sat at a desk there. His job was to collect release forms, and to be a bouncer if Catherine needed one. He got up the moment the two women entered the club.
"I'm not going to just let you lock me outside and ignore me," Sandy said. "I'm not that stupid."
"Need a little help there, Cat?" Cliff asked.
Catherine nodded. "Just keep this girl under control for a bit while I go ask something inside."
"Yes, Ma'am." Cliff moved to stand in front of the velvet curtain. Sandy wasn't getting past him. "Who is she?"
"Julie Ann's sister."
"Important family news?" asked Cliff.
"No," said Catherine. "She doesn't want to see Julie Ann. She wants to see the Director."
"Ah."
Catherine slipped past Cliff, confident that he could keep Sandy contained, and headed in. She was sure the scene inside would have shocked Sandy. Apparently Julie Ann didn't have any orders at the moment, because she was dancing on a table. On big screens, what most people took to be porno was playing. In fact, the screens displayed things happening in the side rooms. She recognized Lucy giving a guy a blowjob, and on another screen a woman was being DP'd. There were a few people fucking in the main room, too, one of which was Cliff's wife Jane. When Cliff saw that, his cock would try to get hard, but Jane kept him caged most of the time.
She didn't know where to find the Director. He was a master of disguise, and could be any of the men in the club. She went to the office. It was empty. There, however, she could pull out her phone and send him and email without anyone worrying about being photographed. It was her only way of getting in touch with him. He'd check it, or not. He was often surprisingly prompt.
She wasn't the sexiest of the Director's women. She had small breasts, and the Director clearly liked full figured women. But she knew her communications had priority, and her service was valued. She went back to the foyer.
"Well?" Sandy asked. "Will he see me?"
"I am waiting to hear back about when he will arrive. Until then, we will wait," said Catherine.
"You're just putting me off," said Sandy. "He's here. I know it."
Catherine smiled, with effort. Years of acting training helped. "Sandy, I'm doing my best. Trust me, I'd rather be walking around the club than sitting here baby-sitting you, and so would Cliff." She grinned sidelong at him. "His wife is getting fucked, and he can't even go watch." At that point, her phone buzzed.
"Did the Director do something to you, too, like he did to my sister?"
Catherine ignored her. "Well, then, the Director will see you, providing you follow directions."
"What sort of directions?" asked Sandy.
"You need to sign a waiver to be admitted to the club, like everyone else. Then you are to be blindfolded. Cliff and I will walk you to him. We will bounce you from here if there's any attempt to deviate. You will walk as if you are doing so entirely of your own free will, which you will be. You will take your sweater off, and a shirt if you're wearing one, so you look like you at least halfway fit in. You will see the Director, and only the Director."
"You're trying to stop me from seeing my sister."
"You told me that you weren't here to see her," Catherine said icily. "I assumed you were telling the truth. Was I incorrect?"
"No. Okay, let me see the waiver."
Catherine picked up a waiver, which was on a clipboard with a pen, and handed it to her. It was pretty standard stuff. The waiver stipulated that anyone could be removed by the management for any reason, and that the signer agreed that they were of age and consented to watch other people in a state of undress and engaging in adult activities.
While Sandy read it, Catherine entered the club, and got a blindfold from the supply closet. She returned just as Sandy affixed her signature.
