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“Nice to meet you, Don.” I want to ask what his role is here, why he’d need to be shirtless for this job, but I don’t dare. His light brown eyes may look warm and inviting, but his expression is guarded.
“Dressing room’s on the right,” he tells me, looking me up and down in a slow perusal that makes my heart beat double-time. “One of the girls will sort you out.”
I’m so relieved that this is the right place, and that the job is real, that I don’t stop to thank him. I race down the corridor in the direction he pointed, pushing through the first door on my right without checking the signage. Thankfully, it is the right room.
The dressing room makes my jaw drop. It’s insane. It doesn’t even occur to me to question why a bar would need a dressingroom, because I’m so blown away by the luxury of this place. It’s more like stepping into a spa, with its marble and gold accents. There’s potted plants on every surface, and a whole host of cosmetics and hair products to use, spread out along a massive counter with lit mirrors and velvet stools. This is too freaking weird.
I’m just kind of staring at everything in shock when a different door to the one I came through opens, and the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on enters the room. She’s wearing so much shiny black PVC that my eyes widen. Holy crap, I really hope that’s not the uniform! There’s no way I could pull off all those...straps and buckles and studs and things. She looks positively terrifying in her thigh-high boots, but so sexy that my heart races.
“Hi, I’m Vixen.” She beams at me, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. “You must be Candy.”
“Erm, I prefer Grace a-actually,” I gently correct her. She pulls a face.
“But Candy is so perfect! And the boss-man already told us all to call you Candy.” She laughs, but I don’t really understand why, only that it’s sort of infectious and I find the corners of my mouth lifting up, even though Ireallydon’t want to be known as Candy.
“Are you here to show me around? I’ve done waitressing and bar work before.”
She gives me a funny sort of look that I can’t really identify and then nods.
“Yep! That’s what the boss-man said for me to do. But first, we have to get you ready. Don’t get me wrong, you’re gorgeous. But I have to turn you into a knockout before I can take you out there.” She waves vaguely in the direction of the door she came through and then points to one of the stools. At a loss for words, I take a seat.
Vixen – odd name, but it does suit her – immediately gets to work on my blonde curls, teasing them into tight tousled corkscrews that have a little more definition than I’m ever able to get. She chatters away about everything and nothing while she works, talking like we’re old friends and not total strangers.
Once she’s satisfied with my hair, she gets to work on my face, wiping off all my – well, Elle’s – carefully applied makeup so that she can start again. It takes ages and I’m getting seriously twitchy about getting into trouble with Wint for not showing my face, but Vixen seems completely unconcerned. She gives me an icy, silvery blue eye and a neutral but glossy lip that makes my pout look even fuller. I look doll-like and innocent when she’s done. I look nothing like Candy from the streets, or struggling to get her life back on track, homeless Grace. I’m not sure what to make of it. I’m not sure if I like it. I don’t look or feel like me. But it’s just a job. I can play make believe and dress up for the kind of money that’s on offer here.
“Let’s get you in your uniform so you can see the whole effect.” She pulls me to my feet and ushers me over to the row of benches on the left of the room. There’s lockers to the right. “Strip. I’ll grab your stuff.”
I desperately try to fight a blush, not wanting to strip off in front of this beautiful woman. I feel...lacking. Severely lacking. But she doesn’t even bat an eyelid, crossing to the bank of lockers and returning with something pale and flimsy looking.
She tosses it at me and I catch it, just. The silky material almost slides through my fingers. Holding it up against me, I see that Vixen has given me a...dress? It looks like underwear.Indecentunderwear. It’s a tiny silk slip with shoestring straps in the palest baby blue. Short, and with a plunging neckline. I hold it away from my body to turn it. The straps cross over in the back, what little back there is, because it has a wide, low sweeping cut out. At my feet, there’s a minuscule matching silkthong that I failed to catch. That’s not the worst thing though. The front of the slip has diamond shaped lace panels on each side, completely covering the chest and under boob area. Sheer lace with no modesty panel. My nipples will be on show for all the world to see.
I gulp.
“It’s beautiful right?” Vixen gushes, mistaking my speechlessness for awe. “I could never pull something like that off, but on you it’ll be perfect! Oh shoot! I forgot your stockings and shoes. Hang on.”
Hanging on is not a problem because I seem completely frozen to the spot and incapable of moving. A moment later, Vixen is back and waving white strappy stilettos in my face. I’m going to kill myself in them. She hands me a pair of white sheer stockings with lace tops and blue bows on the back, then stares at me expectantly.
“Erm,” I clear my throat as I frantically search for something to say. I can’t go out there in this! “Won’t they, erm, slide down?” I nod to the stockings. I’ve never worn them in my life but I’m pretty sure you need suspenders or something to go with them.
“They’re holdups. Absolute magic. No need to undo all those fiddly clips every time you need to pee, right?” Vixen beams. “Are you going to get dressed then? Cause we’ve kinda been a while and I think the boss-man wants to check you out...Well, check your skills out. You know what I mean.”
She grins at me and indicates with a sharp flick of her wrist that I should change, and what choice do I have? I can’t exactly say there’s been a misunderstanding and leave right now. It’s one shift. Practically half a shift by now. May as well give it a go. Although, if I make it through the night without breaking my ankle in those shoes, it’ll be a bloody miracle.
Turning my back on the vivacious chatterbox beside me, I take off the cashmere sweater Elle lent me and the boots, socksand jeans. When I’m standing in just my underwear, I pull on the slip before turning round to sit on the bench to roll up my stockings.
“What are you doing? You can’t wear your bra with that outfit! It totally ruins it. And didn’t I give you a matching thong to wear? Take those off.” Vixen’s friendly demeanour has thawed somewhat, and her tone brokers no argument. I can just imagine her handling rowdy punters with an iron fist and a whip.
Cheeks flaming, I do as I’m told and remove the offending items, replacing the lace panties Elle gifted me with the tiny string thong. I quickly add the stockings and my shoes, and stand on wobbly legs.
“You need to wax. Or at the very least, shave,” Vixen says, her hard impenetrable gaze staring right at my crotch.
“I don’t think anyone will be looking that closely,” I reply, trying to keep the offence I’ve taken out of my voice. I’m grateful that she’s worked so hard on getting me ’ready’ for my shift, but it’s not like it’s the Amazon Rainforest down there (besides, it’s been so long it’d be more like the Sahara for me). I have a neat little strip of hair. I’m tidy.
According to Vixen’s face, my landing strip is the most offensive thing she’s ever seen. Ridiculous.
The door opens with a bang, making me jump and then teeter on my heels. With a huff Vixen reaches out to steady me and we turn to see who’s just joined us.
“You girls coming out anytime soon?” An icy voice drawls. The speaker has ‘my type’ written all over him before I even see his face. He just sounds like an asshole. An absolute dick. A bastard who will fuck me up and fuck me over. If my life wasn’t already so fucked, he would make it worse, I can tell. But for a night of pleasure with him? Totally worth it.
