Chapter 3
The hall ended at a door that Mrs. Claymore pushed open. They went into a room with rainbow-striped wallpaper and low, ivory-gray divans. On one wall hung a whip like the one Mrs. Claymore carried.
"The Ribbon Girls' lounge," she said. "To the right, the john. The door ahead is to the club. Now, sweetheart, have you ever gone bare-breasted in public?"
"No!"
The woman eyed her. "I forgot to say you must address me as Ma'am, and you will call Apron Girls Miss. Miss Barbara is your leader. Now, wearing only ribbons you may be embarrassed at first, especially since people will stare at your lovely breasts. But that will pass. Walk chin-high, and if people make any requests of you, say that you must refer them to Miss Barbara."
Janey nodded. "I understand."
"Ma'am!"
"Yes, Ma'am, I understand."
"Make no mistakes with Apron Girl Barbara, or she'll bring you in here to the whip."
She pushed open the door to the club.
At first glance it appeared to Janey like any nightclub, low ceilings and muted light, reddish. Off to the left was a long bar, ahead some dozens of tables, booths on the right wall, and between a small dance floor. Soft music filled the place, and the murmur of voices. The crowd -- most of the tables were filled -- appeared quiet and well mannered, and from what Janey could see, expensively dressed. Most were couples, though the bar was populated largely by men.
She saw Ribbon Girls carrying trays of drinks and waiting on tables.
Mrs. Claymore nudged her to the left, to a little alcove where a tall, dark-haired girl stood, chin-high, surveying the crowd. She had a lovely, all-over tan. She wore a gold apron the size of a man's hand hanging from a gold chain over her crotch. She also had gold earrings, large gypsy loops. Seeing Mrs. Claymore, she moved quickly to her.
"Janey, this is Miss Barbara."
Janey thought Miss Barbara was utterly gorgeous. She had high breasts with big, protruding nipples, sleekly-rounded hips and long, long, tapering legs.
Barbara studied Janey, eyes narrowing. She nodded. "Very pretty, Mrs. Claymore. But we'll have to see, huh?"
"I'm sure that with your help she'll do very nicely, Barbara darling. Now, as I told you on the intercom, no closed room for her tonight. Just let her get used to things out here."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Mrs. Claymore left. The two girls stood staring at each other.
"Scared?"
Janey nodded, her lips trembling.
"Look, kid, you stay here in the alcove for a while, and watch. Pretty soon you'll see that going around bare-titted is no big thing."
Grateful, Janey edged back into the corner, a darkish place, and gazed wide-eyed at the scene in the club.
There were about a dozen Ribbon Girls waiting on the guests, and two Apron Girls besides Miss Barbara. The girls walked chin-high, just as Mrs. Claymore had ordered, smiling easily. When they bent over a table with a tray of drinks, ribbons sometimes slithered away baring a buttock or the cleft between. Yet none of the clients grabbed ass. Like the Ribbon Girls, they smiled, seemed at ease.
A few Ribbon Girls sat at tables or in booths and chatted briefly with clients. Of the several couples on the dance floor, one was a client with a Ribbon Girl.
The bar. Mostly men, but not entirely. The two bartenders were handsome fellows wearing what looked like black leotards, naked above the waist. One blond looked particularly attractive to Janey, green eyes and a broad, white-toothed grin. But the bar was now crowded enough that she had only occasional glimpses.
Her attention settled on Miss Barbara.
She guessed the girl was only a year or two older than herself, but, chin-high, smilingly poised, she made Janey feel like a child. She spoke with easy confidence to the three girls in her charge, and graciously greeted arriving clients, seated them, took drink orders that she relayed low-voiced to her underlings. She seemed unaware that her tanned body was clothed with only the patch of golden apron.
Her walk was seductive; her hips swayed but not provocatively. She walked with pride, with dignity.
At last she came to Janey and smiled ravishingly, saying, "I see you're more at ease. You've dropped your arms."
And Janey found she was no longer hugging her breasts.
"There's no hurry," Miss Barbara said. "We're not too busy at the moment."
Miss Barbara's kindly manner prompted Janey to voice the thousand questions that were on her tongue. But behind the girl was the work counter, and on a shelf below a ribbon-girl whip lay coiled. Seeing it, Janey clamped her mouth shut.
The girl's gaze switched from her to the front door of the club. New arrivals, three men and two women, shaking rain water off their coats, then handing them to a Ribbon Girl. So it's still raining out, Janey thought. She had scarcely thought about the outside world. But now she remembered Orvil, the terrible man in the pickup truck, and she shivered.
The new arrivals did not come to Miss Barbara's section.
Janey ventured, "The guests seem very nice. Quiet."
Barbara's eyes flicked and her mouth tightened. The statement had been very near a question. "They come from the Palm Cove Hotel which is a mile down the road. It's very exclusive, in fact stuffy. They come here to let off steam. I mean, the hotel has a famous golf course, indoor and outdoor pools, beachfront and all, but it attracts people with big money who are not flashy. They're so rich they don't want anybody to know it, you understand. Well, they come here to let it all hang out."
Puzzled, Janey said, "They don't act that way, I mean as though they're letting off steam."
"They save it for the closed rooms," Barbara said, turning away then and going off to a table where a man was signaling to her.
The closed rooms! Did she mean like what Mrs. Claymore had shown through the mirror window, the Ribbon Girl riding the naked man backward and strapping his ass?
Fear as cold and black as the bottom of a well settled into Janey's stomach.
She stood in her corner for an hour when Barbara at last said, "Get the drink order from table three, third down the aisle. Ribbon Girl Grace is off on an assignment."
Janey took a deep breath and launched herself shakily toward the aisle. She raised her chin, thinking: my breasts are firm and look good, but I wish they were smaller. People are staring! I'm walking into a roomful of eyes! They smile politely, but there's a man licking his lips and a woman, how dark her eyes had become, and her nostrils flare. Lesbian! Oh God, I'll bump into something, it's terrifying!
Reaching the table, she forced a smile. "Sir?"
"Three Scotch on the rocks, two old-fashioneds, darling."
"Yes, sir," she squeaked, and was turning away when he raised his hand, stopping her.
"You're new," he said. "May I ask your name?"
"Janey, sir."
"Well, Janey, you're a lovely thing and we're happy to have you as our Ribbon Girl."
She choked on the next words. "Thank you, sir."
The return to Barbara's station was no easier, a thousand eyes boring at her like spotlights, watching every bob and toss of her breasts. And the ribbons, were they covering her behind, her pussy? She could not guess from the feel for they slithered about with her movements, feathery, as light as currents of air.
"Three Scotch on the rocks and two old fashioneds," she gasped to Barbara.
The girl patted her hand. "Very good, sweetheart. And you looked adorable going out there. What a sexy walk!"
Sexy? Janey had thought her progress was a stumbling, shambling stagger.
"Now, Janey, I'll take care of their bill. You go to the bar for the drinks. There to the left, the Ribbon Girls' counter."
Again she left the alcove, heart hammering, face burning as she walked to the bar. She knew her breasts were as big as those of any ribbon or Apron Girl present, maybe the largest. They had been her pride, and she gritted her teeth and told herself, I have beautiful big boobs, I'll show them off the way Barbara does hers! Also, she felt sure that the slithering ribbons were spilling off and baring a buttock from time to time.
A boy she'd once had a hot affair with, Petey, used to call her Miss Tits and Ass.
The blond boy took her order, turned away swiftly and seized bottles from the shelf. In her confused state, she saw him as a blur but she did note that his broad chest was utterly hairless, and the crotch bulge in his black leotards appeared to be the size of a grapefruit.
As he loaded a tray with drinks, he leered at her breasts. He had red lips, a cupid's bow; lips a girl might envy, and which Janey did not quite like. His green eyes glinted. Cold!
"I'm Burt."
She hesitated, then mumbled, "Janey."
Staring at her breasts, he smiled. "Some jugs!"
Janey glowered at him. She could not help it. All her resentment, her fury at Orvil and the anguish of being whipped by Mrs. Claymore welled up in her and she stared daggers at him.
"If you like them, suck them!"
He drew back, surprised. Then an eyebrow rose sharply. "I guess you didn't know. So I'll tell you once. I'm apron."
Apron. She felt sure that meant he had whip rights.
"I didn't know," she choked.
"Sir," he snarled. "You call me sir. And Mr. Burt. You understand, cunt?"
"Yes!" Hurriedly she added, "Sir! Yes, sir. Mr. Burt."
"Then get going with these drinks. And if you spill any, you clumsy cunt, tonight I'll whip your ass bloody!"
Shaking with fear, she seized the tray of drinks and started back.
Perhaps Barbara had observed the incident, for she welcomed Janey back with the warmest of smiles and a caress on her back. "Sweetheart, our shift only lasts another hour. By then you'll have learned that it's all so easy."
Delivering the tray of drinks did seem easier, though when she leaned over the table, she saw her breasts hanging outward. A flush burned her eyes, down her throat, even washed pinkly over her tits.
"Five more minutes," Barbara said as Janey walked back to the alcove. "Then you and I will go to bed."
Janey's heart was hammering. Despite her experience with Marcia back home, lesbianism seemed foreign. Men, boys mostly, had been her sex objects, and her most satisfying orgasms had been when her cunt was filled by a good hard prick.
During the five-minute wait, her gaze washed over the Apron Girl. Barbara the beautiful, with her velvety black eyes, her glossy hair, her high, round breasts and long, long legs. Janey gazed with awe, a little fear, and much thankfulness for Barbara's sweet kindness. And something changed inside her.
But had Barbara meant they would go to bed together.
Midnight. Barbara turned her accounts over to another Apron Girl. Then she signaled to Janey to follow.
Heart thumping, completely indifferent now to clients' staring eyes, she followed the other out of the club to the Ribbon Girls' lounge, and through to the curving hall.
Barbara seemed headed for number six, Janey's room.
Trembling with excitement, Janey's gaze was fixed on the Apron Girl's bobbing, lush buttocks.
Janey's mouth watered. As they reached number six, she glimpsed an object in Barbara's right hand.
A coiled-up ribbon-girl whip.