Chapter 5
Beth arrived at the Kitty Kat Club at the precise time that the manager, Nathan, had requested. She had never frequented the club before and was surprised at its size. "My word!" she said aloud to herself as she walked across the plush carpeting. "This place is enormous. They must do a hell of a lot of business."
"That we do, sweetie," said a short matronly woman who was standing several feet away.
"Oh! Excuse me," Beth said with a startled tone of voice, turning around quickly to look at her. "I'm new here. I'm looking for the dressing room. I'm afraid that I don't know where it is."
"Is your name Beth Smith?" asked the small woman, carefully examining the features of the tall blonde woman.
"Yes it is," Beth replied with her kindest smile. "I'm supposed to be fitted for a costume this afternoon."
"Very well. My name is Wanda. I guess you might say that I'm the unofficial Dean of Women around this place. I've been here ever since the place opened."
"You must like it here."
Wanda looked at her and smiled. "Yes, I guess you could say that. At least, I've never complained. The hours are good, the money's good, and the benefits are good. When you got those three factors in your favor, you've got everything."
Beth thought about what Wanda had said and nodded in agreement. The woman had a lot of wisdom. She followed Wanda down a long corridor to the very back of the club. The small woman pointed for her to enter a dimly lit room which contained many mirrors. No matter which way she looked, she saw himself in a reflection.
"Here you go," said Wanda. "This is the women's dressing room."
"Which table is mine?"
"Use any you want."
Beth was struck by how many tables lined the walls. She realized that Nathan must employ a tremendous number of girls to have this many tables in this large of a room. As she walked across the plush carpeting she stubbed her toe on something on the floor. "I need some light," she complained, trying very hard to adjust her eyes. "It's too dark."
"You'll have to get used to that around here," Wanda laughed. "Nathan's too cheap to pay the utility bill. God forbid that one of us girls should need some light to get dressed. Ha! He'd rather have us go blind. Anyway, you'll find that there's not much light in the interior of the Kitty Kat Club except on the stage, so you'll have to watch your step at all times."
"Okay, thanks for the advice," said Beth. "Where's my costume?"
"I have to take your measurements before I can give you one. Wait here. I'll be right back."
Beth stood in place and waited while the small woman grabbed a tape measure from the clothes hanger. Wanda came back and said, "Stand up straight and breath in."
Beth did as she was told, maintaining a perfectly straight posture. In this position she appeared to be even more sexy than she already was. Her amply breasts were thrust out even further. Her svelte waistline was even narrower than normal. Her already shapely hips and pelvis took on a more womanly, sexier appearance.
Wanda stepped forward and said, "Raise your arms high above your head-like you're reaching for that overhead beam."
"Like this?"
The small woman watched appreciatively as the blonde's large succulent breasts were thrust outward against the material of her blouse, straining to break free from their confinement of cloth. Wanda reached under the blonde's arms and wrapped the tape around her body so that it went right over the very tips of the nipples. She brought it around the front of Beth and began to take the bust measurement.
Wanda seemed to have a great deal of difficulty obtaining the measurement. Furthermore, she seemed to keep her hands in the vicinity of the the nipples for a longer time than necessary, frequently brushing them in a very suggestive manner.
Next, Wanda took the waist measurement. This time Beth sensed something suspicious in the woman's behavior when she said, "Oh my! You do have a firm little tummy don't you?"
Beth blushed and acknowledged the remark by saying, "I try to keep in shape."
"I'll say 'Amen' to that. With a body like yours, you'll probably be the star of this nightclub in only a matter of a few weeks-if not days."
"Oh, I doubt that."
"I'm quite serious," Wanda replied as she lowered the tape measure to Beth's hips, and began running her hands on the outside of the thighs. "A girl as pretty as you in the face and having a body as gorgeous as this is sure to be a very big hit at the Kitty Kat Club."
The short woman seemed to take a considerable amount of time with the hip measurement. Beth kept looking straight ahead, but she had the strange sense that Wanda was looking directly at her crotch, as if hypnotized by it. And again, the woman kept brushing her hands on Beth's private parts.
"Yes, you are truly a beautiful looking woman," said Wanda breathlessly, standing up. "I'll go get you a costume right away."
Beth was only there for a few minutes when she heard footsteps in the hallway. She had expected to see Wanda returning with a costume, but was instead shocked to see her good friend Cynthia Jones.
"Beth Smith!" Cynthia exclaimed with a happy and lilting voice. "What are you doing here?"
"I should ask you the same question," Beth said with a smile.
"I didn't know that you'd been thinking about working at the Kitty Kat Club. My god! It's a small world, isn't it?"
"I'll say," Beth replied hesitantly, not wanting to confess that the reason she was there was because her hubby had been permanently laid off from his place of employment.
Cynthia set her bag on a nearby table and asked, "So, have they fitted you with a costume yet?"
"They took the measurements, so I'm just waiting for it to arrive. It should be here in a little while."
The lovely redhead smiled as she began undressing. "Don't be too shocked if you think it's a little too skimpy."
"Skimpy?"
"Yes. I thought mine was much too revealing when I was first fitted, but now I like it. You'll get used to it, but it'll take a while."
"How ... how skimpy is this costume?" Beth asked with concern.
Cynthia turned to her and said, "Do you remember those uniforms that the bunnies used to wear in the Playboy Clubs?"
"Of course."
"Kitty Kat costumes are sort of like that, except that they're cut smaller through the crotch, lower across the breasts, and further down the back. In other words-not much material."
"Oh goodness. What am I getting myself into!" mumbled Beth beneath her breath.
Cynthia winked and said, "A hell of a lot of money, my dear. Don't worry about anything. Once you start making the big bucks, you'll be amazed at how much degradation you'll tolerate."
"Degradation!" Beth whispered. She wanted Cynthia to elaborate on that word but was distracted by footsteps in the hallway.
Just then, Wanda came back into the room hurriedly and said, "Here you go. This should fit you. If it doesn't, let me know and I'll bring you another."
Beth looked at the item which was handed to her and was surprised that she could hold it in the palm of one hand. She nearly burst out laughing. She had string bikinis which were bigger. "My word!" she exclaimed. "I can't wear this. There's practically nothing here. G-strings are larger than this!"
"Not really," laughed Cynthia. "We used to wear G-strings here, but our pussies kept popping into view. Actually there's more to that costume than meets the eye," she said as she removed her top, revealing a truly splendid pair of breasts. "The fabric stretches nicely and covers a great deal. None of your vital parts will be showing, my dear."
"I'm not worried about my vital parts showing, I'm worried about them being suggested."
The redhead looked at her and smiled. "Beth, you're one of the best looking women in this town. No matter what you wear will look suggestive. Here, step over here to the mirror and take a look at yourself."
She did as she was told.
Cynthia placed an arm over her shoulder and said, "There. Take a look at that gorgeous woman. Isn't that one of the most beautiful females you've ever seen?"
She blushed. "I'm not that special. There are a lot of American women who look like me."
"I wouldn't bet on that, Beth. You obviously haven't been paying much attention to all the young female porkers that we have nowadays. Even the college girls are starting to resemble a combination of Roseanne Barr and Raymond Burr. Cellulite is in on campus."
Beth felt comfortable standing close to Cynthia. There seemed to be a warmth and a tender closeness that the two women shared. Their friendship seemed to be based on a sense of mutual trust. She allowed herself to relax so that she could savor the moment in the company of a dear friend.
The redhead leaned close and whispered in her ear, "Even the mailman thinks that you look great."
Beth's eyes lit up as she turned and asked, "Leroy, the mailman, mentioned me? Really?"
"Yes. I saw him right before lunch. He said that he had breakfast at your place this morning and that you looked positively sensational."
Beth blushed. All of her life she had difficulty handling a compliment-which was ironic because she received dozens of them every week-sometimes dozens of them in the course of an afternoon. She turned away from the mirror and began taking off her clothes. For some reason the news about Leroy finding her attractive made her feel excited. Yet, she wondered why. After all, why should she be concerned about what he thought of her? He was just a mailman, and mailmen were more or less a dime a dozen. Any woman could stop by the post office and grab twenty of them.
As she pulled her pantyhose down her long lovely legs she asked, "Do you and Leroy talk very often?"
"Whenever I see him," Cynthia said with a wry smile. She knew what Beth was thinking. The blonde beauty had a fire in her hot tight box and was yearning for dark meat.
"How long have you known him?" Beth asked timidly, trying hard not to show her interest.
The redhead realized that Beth was quite interested in Leroy. But then what girl wouldn't be? He was big, handsome, and black. "Oh, I'd say ever since he got stationed on this present mail route about a year ago. We've become very close friends, sharing all sorts of things." She stopped short of saying that they especially liked to share genital fluids.
She looked over at her blonde friend and said, "He's quite good looking, don't you think?"
"Er ... yes. I do think that he's very good looking," replied Beth as she removed the last vestiges of her garments and looked at herself in the full-length mirror.
"I was never attracted to black men before," continued Cynthia. "But there was simply something magical about the way he carried himself. He knows how to walk. He knows how to talk. He knows how to dance. He's so much of a man-if you know what I mean."
Beth was having a hard time handling the costume while conversing with Cynthia. The memories of Leroy was causing little goose bumps to pop up on her flesh, and the recollection of feeling his penis through his trousers was causing her tummy to flutter mysteriously.
Cynthia could see that Beth was jittery. The beautiful blonde was obviously quite taken with handsome Leroy. It would be amusing to get the two of them together to see what might transpire. Maybe something quite interesting, and quite sexy.
Once Beth had the Kitty Kat costume on, she stepped over in front of the mirror and looked at herself. "My god! I can't wear this. It shows everything. I look utterly naked."
There was little doubt that the costume was quite revealing. The sensual curve of her full breasts was easily discernible as were the prominent nipples, the elongated belly button, and the cleft through the middle of her pubic mound. The costume plunged all the way to her buttocks in the back, barely covered her nipples in the front, and was cut to the mid-point of her abdomen, thus accentuating her long and beautiful legs. But the thing which bothered her most was the fact that her Mound of Venus was so openly displayed. She had never worn a swim suit this revealing-much less a working costume.
"Is yours this skimpy?" she asked.
Cynthia had just put hers on and had come over to Beth's side. "Of course. That's the uniform here."
"But Cynthia! I look like I'm naked."
"I felt the same way at first, but you'll get used to it."
"My husband doesn't even see me like this."
Cynthia winked. "He should. Maybe it would improve your sex life."
Beth looked at her in shock, tightly clenched her teeth, and loudly whispered, "Herschel and I have a wonderful sex life."
"Come now, Beth. I know that you haven't been getting laid as much as you want."
The blonde blushed. She had no idea how her friend knew about her desperate sexual need, but she did. "How can you tell?" she asked. "I want to know."
"Women who are sexually satisfied wear a look of contentment on their faces all the time. They walk down the street with a smile. If you look closely, you'll notice that their eyes are glazed. They live in a state of bliss and contentment. Whereas whenever I see you, you're always sneaking glances. It's as if you want to know the size, shape, length, and girth of every man's penis."
"I do not!" exclaimed Beth, suddenly very concerned that her desperate need for sex was becoming discernible to the average citizen on the street. Damn that Herschel anyway! If he had been born with a bigger penis and possessed a more active libido she wouldn't need to walk around with her tongue hanging out. It was all his fault.
Cynthia turned and walked back to her locker. She had to keep herself from giggling. Everything she'd told Beth was fabricated, but she knew the blonde beauty would be immensely curious about sexual matters if told she had a problem. There was nothing quite like making a gorgeous female self-conscious of her already extraordinarily beautiful looks.
"Well, I wouldn't be concerned," Cynthia said over her shoulder. "Here at the Kitty Kat Club it's quite all right to look at men's crotches and wonder what kind of equipment they pack between their thighs."
Beth was suddenly curious. "Do you look at other men, Cynthia?"
"Yes, of course" she laughed. "Whenever I get the chance, which happens to be all the time."
"But you're married!"
"That hardly makes a difference. This is the 1990's, kiddo. We're not living in the stone age of the 1890's. Women have just as much right to check out the bodies of men, as men do the bodies of women. Tit for tat, you know. Besides, I find penis-browsing kind of fun," she said as she again turned to hide her giggles.
"Really? They don't mind it?"
"Of course not. That's where we women have been wrong for so long. It's perfectly all right to stare at the genitals of the opposite gender even though you or he may be married. It's a natural. That's what the kids of the 1960's were trying to tell us. It's all right to have sexual curiosity. It's all right to be turned-on in the presence of the opposite sex. It's all right to have them stare up your dress and try to sneak a peek at your vagina. It's all right if they lick their lips if they're looking between your legs at your panties. And it's all right if you lick yours when you're looking between theirs and sizing them up-if you know what I mean?" she said with a giggle and a smile.
Beth had never had such an openly lewd conversation in her entire adult life. When it came to matters of sex she usually remained quiet and didn't say a word-although she always kept her ears wide-open because she liked to listen. But somehow Cynthia had unleashed a tidal wave of questions. She wanted to talk about her needs. She wanted to talk about her travails. All of those years of remaining silent had finally gotten to her. She had to talk about her husband's shortcomings. Suddenly, in a voice meant for a football game, she exclaimed, "You know, to tell you the truth, I always wished that Herschel had a bigger penis."
Cynthia rolled her eyelids in her head and thought that her friend must be out of her mind to bring up a subject like that in a place like this. Maybe the girl was in worse shape than she imagined.
She walked over and placed her arms across Beth's shoulders. "Poor baby. Making love to a poorly hung man is such a bummer. A beautiful woman like you should have a man with a large cock."
Beth was mildly shocked by the use of that word. "Well, I do wish that he had an additional few inches on his penis. It would increase my pleasure immensely."
"Of course it would, darling. Your box is just burning for something long and hard. By the way, how long is Herschel's?" She asked the question as if ordering a hamburger from the drive-up window at Burger King.
"Well, I don't know if I should say ... "
"Oh, come on. We're close friends. You can tell me. How long is your hubby's cock?"
Beth looked around and asked, "Are you sure that it's all right to discuss these matters in public?"
"Of course. We do it all the time here at the Kitty Kat Club. In fact, we discuss penis length all the time. What do you think they do on 'Geraldo', 'Donahue', and 'Oprah' every afternoon?"
Beth's inhibitions were rapidly melting, "Well, Herschel's penis is probably four inches-at most."
"Four inches!" Cynthia screamed at the top of her lungs. "Holy shit! The guy has a midget dick!"
Beth was suddenly quite worried that the words had been overheard. She brought her index finger to her lips and tried to "Sssh!" while looking around to make sure that Wanda was nowhere in sight.
Cynthia continued shaking her head and talking loudly. "Four inches! I can't believe that! Four inches! That's disgusting. Four inches! Are you sure? Have you measured it?"
"Well, no. Not with a ruler ... but it's about as long as my little finger when it's erect."
"Why that's criminal!" Cynthia said soothingly. "Honey, it's time that you went out and had yourself an extramarital affair with a well-hung superstud."
"Oh no, no!" Beth replied with trepidation. "I could never do that. I'm a married woman."
Cynthia looked at her friend as if she were from the twilight zone. "For your information, you're only half married, darling."
"Why do you say that?"
"A full marriage is one where both partners are sexually satisfied. That means a tight vagina and a big dick."
As these words sank in, Beth smiled and said, "Well, I do have the former."
This admission brought a broad smile to Cynthia's face. "Are you really as tight as you say?"
"Well, Herschel says that I am-and he's small."
"I take it that you were a virgin when you got married?"
"Yes. How did you know?" Beth asked with surprise.
"Because if your labia had been stretched by bigger penises, you wouldn't have stuck around with Herschel and his small organ so long."
Beth thought about the logic of that statement, frowned when she didn't understand it, and then said, "Herschel's an okay guy. Don't be so hard on him."
"He should be harder on you," Cynthia teased. "Over and over again, I might add. That would keep your blues away."
Several other women came into the dressing room and began disrobing. Each was just as beautiful as Cynthia and Beth.
"Cynthia," said a blonde in a perky voice, "Who's the new girl you're sitting with?"
"This is Beth Smith, Anne. This is her introductory night at the Kitty Kat Club."
"Oh wow!" exclaimed Anne. "She's in for a treat. I wish that I would have started on Tuesdays myself."
"Why's that?" Beth asked.
"Because it's black night."
Beth frowned and asked, "What's ... what's black night? I don't know what that means."
"All the patrons are supposed to be black," replied Cynthia.
"You mean ... negroes?" Beth asked while blushing and trying to cover her lovely breasts with her dainty palms.
"Yes," Cynthia replied. "Although the club is usually mixed most nights of the week, on Tuesdays there's an overwhelming predominance of black males in the audience. Don't ask us why, it just happens that way."
Beth looked over and saw that Anne had a trim little figure. She was a bouncy petite blonde who seemed to have the energy of five women stored in that little shapely body of hers. Beth admired women who had small breasts. Hers were such a problem to deal with. She was proud of them all right, but she would have preferred smaller models.
"Well, c'mon," Cynthia said. "Let's go out onto the floor. I can see that there are some customers starting to come in."
"By the way," Beth asked, "how am I supposed to handle it if one of the men touches me?"
Cynthia laughed. "Unlike the Playboy Clubs of the old days, the Kitty Kat Club allows physical touching. That does not mean pawing or kneading-those kinds of actions aren't allowed. But a gentle touch here and there is no big thing. And if a patron touches your pussy or the tips of your breasts you're supposed to meow."
"You mean like a cat!" Beth replied in a horrified tone of voice.
"Yes." Cynthia said with a smile before reaching down with her hand and lightly touching Beth's pubis. "Now say 'meow'."
The blonde's mouth opened in a gasp as she jolted her body backwards. When it came to anyone touching her pussy she was extremely shy. "You've got to be kidding me. You can't ... can't ... can't ... mean that men actually ... touch ... touch ... a woman's private parts!"
"Well, of course."
"Anytime they want to!"
"Well, of course."
"Oh Cynthia, I don't think that I can do this job."
"Nonsense. Anybody can do it. And the more they pet your pussy, the more they pay you. That's it. That's the secret of this place. All you've got to do is be willing to put up with it."
"I don't know if I like the idea of a group of black men pawing me. I find it ... it ... sort of repulsive."
Cynthia looked out of the corner of her eye at the blonde bombshell. If Beth went out on the floor with a racist attitude like that, there could be real trouble. She calmly tried to quell her fears. "Black men are no different than white men-except that they tip better. Skin color means nothing here at the Kitty Kat Club. We're all here to have a good time-regardless of race, creed, or color. I'm a firm believer that every race has its geniuses, just as every race has its morons. There are more differences within a given race between the brightest and dumbest individuals, than there are between individuals from different races. Keep that thought in mind and racism immediately vanishes. So come on, let's get on the floor and hustle our lovely butts."