Evidently so was everyone else’s because Shelly waved at one of the waitresses and said, “Let’s go with a round of Vodka Gimlets.”
I know that is just vodka and lime juice because Shelly has me make her one once in a while when she is studying. “Make the newbie’s a double,” she said with a laugh. “She appears to be thirsty tonight.”
Apparently the bartender at The Club adds a little sparkling water because there were bubbles in mine when the drinks arrived. I usually don’t like a Gimlet, but this one wasn’t quite as bitter as the ones I made for Shelly. Again, I tried to nurse it, but mine was the first one gone.
“We’ll have to wait until after the first show for refills,” Dianne said calmly. She then snapped her fingers and pointed at the floor next to her chair. The kittens immediately slid off their chairs and assumed a kneeling position at her feet.
“Good kitties,” she said as she pressed a button her small remote. Soon both kitties were purring gently as they swayed at her feet.
Margi leaned across in front of Shelly and said to me, “This first show is a pole dancing contest. The winner gets a thousand dollars.” She looked up at the stage and laughed. Then she looked back at me and said, “The loser gets to do a different kind of pole dance.”
I looked over at Shelly hoping for an explanation, but all she said was, “Their Mistresses made the bet. If I made the bet, it wouldn’t be the losing dancer on the punishment pole. It would be her Mistress.”
The lights got even more dim and bright lights came up on the stage. An extremely beautiful black woman in a white catsuit very much like what Shelly was wearing walked out to the middle of the stage. She was apparently the Mistress of Ceremonies or Head Mistress… or both.
“Mistresses, Ma’ams, and slaves,” she began. It wasn’t until she spoke those words that it sank in that there were no men in the club, only women. She continued, “Our first display is a wager between Mistress Luann and Mistress Kiara. Mistress Luann thinks her slave, raven, is the best pole dancer in our club. Mistress Kiara, however, thinks that her slave, madeline, is best. Your vote will determine the winner of this wager.” She paused, looked around the room, and then said firmly, “Remember only Ma’ams and Mistresses may vote.”
I leaned over to Shelly and asked softly, “What’s the difference between a Ma’am and a Mistress?”
It was Margi, however, who answered me… more or less. She gave me a really strange smile and said, “It all depends on who’s moving and who’s on top.”
Shelly gave her a very stern look and said very softly, “A Ma’am is an independent woman who knows her own power. A Mistress is a Ma’am who exercises power over another woman… or man.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” I replied. Then I turned very red. I had called Shelly Mistress. I would have to be careful with what I drank for the rest of the evening or I would totally lose control.
Shelly just smiled at me and said, “You are so precious, Precious.”
I tried not to look at her. Besides, raven and madeline had come out onto the stage and were standing next to their poles. Both were totally naked and from the way the lights reflected off their skins, both were heavily oiled or greased.
The music was unfamiliar to me, but it was loud and had a strong, swaying beat. There must have been some agreement as to who went first because raven stepped back and madeline grabbed her pole and began swinging around it with her feet on the ground. After just a few minutes she had one leg bent around the pole and was swinging faster and faster with her other foot right at the bottom of the pole evidently pushing her along. Then suddenly she flipped herself into the air and began circling with her body fully out from the pole.
When she let go with one hand, everyone in the place gasped, but their gasps turned to applause as she twisted her body and placed her hand back on the pole about three feet higher than she had been. She did this several more times until she was at the top of the pole. She was losing momentum and her spin was slowing, but she somehow kept her body almost straight out from the pole. As she slowed almost to a stop, she suddenly seemed to lose her grip on the pole and began falling. It looked like she was going to crash headfirst into the stage, but somehow she was able to regain control– or perhaps she had never lost control– and curved as she reached the floor so that she came sliding out onto the stage on her stomach with her hands held high above her head as if she were flying. As her body slowed, she brought her feet up under her body and brought herself to a yoga sitting position so that she was facing the tables at the front of the stage. She then bowed low with her face touching the stage just in front of her crossed legs.
The applause was tremendous.
Margi disappeared from the table and when she returned, she was carrying a small tray with six champagne flutes on it. “Waitresses can’t come out during a show, but there’s no rule that says I can’t go over to the bar.” She smiled, held up her phone, and said, “Besides, I texted an order over to the bar for pickup as soon as madeline finished her portion.”
“Someday you are going to go too far, Margi,” Dianne said dryly. “And the whole club will enjoy watching you get your just desserts.”
“Until then,” Margi said, “drink up.” As she quickly handed the drinks around she said, “The Newbie’s is the one with the bow on the stem.”
My drink didn’t look any different from theirs. I wondered why it was marked. For a moment I was worried that perhaps it was drugged. Shelly must have sensed my concern because she took it and downed about an inch of it. “They have to mark the free drinks,” she said. “Something with the liquor license.”
“Oh,” I said, “thank you.” Champagne normally tastes like bad wine to me, but this wasn’t too bad. There was an overtaste of something that tasted almost like lime, but I couldn’t place it. I was still trying to figure out what it tasted like when I realized that I had downed the whole flute before anyone else had taken their second sip.
The applause finally died completely away and a new song began. This one was more… haunting. It was slow and had violins and everything that normally makes me cry. I’m a sad drunk, I guess because tears were flowing down my cheeks as I watched raven grab her pole and seem to somehow slither up to about half way. Then she began doing a series of very slow, very athletic, acrobatic moves. At one point she was holding herself straight out from the pole with her legs spread wide as she slowly rotated herself around the pole using just the strength of her hands.
I giggled slightly and Shelly leaned in and said, “What?”
“It’s true,” I said between giggles. “We’re all pink on the inside.” She glared at me slightly and I quickly said, “Sorry, that must be the bubbly talking.”
Margi must have caught her drink in her throat because she started coughing and hacking and gasping for air. Both Shelly and Dianne shot daggers at her with their eyes and she immediately took several deep breaths through her nose and quieted down.