Rock Slut

It had been over a month since my return from Germany, and not only had the company not called to offer me a huge movie deal, they hadn't called to offer me any other work either. It got so I was scanning the papers looking for news of a huge prostitution scandal which would explain the silence, but they were as silent on the matter as the telephone.

Bear went to the offices that he knew about, but they were all empty. No real surprise there, they tended to move around a lot. But it was very unusual that neither of us should get a call for so long.

It got so the stage where money started to become a real concern again. My lifestyle gradually got watered down until I was living on less than the state would have given me for free, had I gone and signed on. I was nervous about what to put down for my last job; I doubted that 'high class call-girl' was something that regularly got advertised in jobcentres.

Bear offered to subsidise me, but he was earning little enough himself from his work as a bouncer for the bar downstairs. Then he got offered some extra work at a new club, after the bar had closed, and he snapped it up, which meant that I was increasingly alone at nights.

I was bored and poor, so when Bear came back one night and told me the new club was looking for bar staff I jumped at the chance. I wasn't officially old enough for their license, but the work was cash-in-hand, so they needn't know that.

I went down to the club and spoke to the manager, who Bear referred to as Tony, but introduced himself as Mister Ashton. He asked me if I had done any bar-work before. I considered lying, but finally admitted I hadn't. He said that was okay, as I knew he would, Bear having told me they had trouble finding girls who were prepared to wear the skimpy uniforms. So far all the staff were male, shirtless with black waistcoats and bow ties. They paid well, but not well enough for most.

He showed me around and gave me some money to go buy the uniform. That was okay by me, as the uniform he described I could put together from stuff I already had. Black high heeled court shoes, a black basque and stockings, and a black choker. He gave me the name of a store where I could buy things for the amount he gave me. I thanked him, and went and checked out the store, to see how conservative they were. They had quite a range that met the right criteria, so I felt confident enough that what I had would be fine. I bought my groceries with his money, and went home and sorted through my wardrobe.

I like buying sexy clothes, even though my clients usually preferred me with as few as possible, so I had a large range to choose from. Most were lacy, so I discounted them straight away. I decided to exclude anything that actually showed the obscene rather than hinting at it. After cutting out the non-black ones that left me with a choice of two. The basques at the store had mostly been all-in-one things, but my all-in-one didn't have a suspender belt attached. The manager hadn't said whether it mattered if the stockings were hold-up, or on a belt. I decided to risk the belted version, as normal stockings were more comfortable.

That meant I had to pick knickers too. My basque was a lovely soft leather thing I had bought from a shop in Munich, and I only had one pair of leather knickers They had buckles on the sides and a zip that went all the way around the crotch, splitting them in two if you unzipped it. I hesitated a long time over that one, before deciding it would be okay provided I put some tape over the top to stop it coming undone. Some fishnet stockings and my favourite piece of jewellery, an antique black choker given to me by my grandmother, finished me off.

I checked myself out in the mirror. Sexy, but fit for primetime. I didn't like to spoil the look by putting anything over the top, so I threw my dress in my bag and put on my long black coat before setting off to the club.

It was just gone eight-thirty when I got there. I had been told to be there for nine, but hadn't known how long the journey would take. I was able to walk it in about twenty minutes. The club didn't open till ten, but I had to be shown how everything worked. I rang the bell, and the manager, who I knew as Mister Ashton, answered it himself. He looked very smart, in the standard barman's outfit with an additional shirt. He was quite handsome, if not a little too smooth-looking. He greeted me by my real name, as I had given this before I had known it would be cash in hand, and led me down to the bar area.

The club was a bit of a dive, to be honest. It looked a lot like the pictures I've seen of the cavern, where the Beatles used to play in the sixties. Bare stone walls, bright orange vinyl furniture, and harsh neon lighting. There was a stage area, with a few speakers on it, and just above that the DJ's booth. Most of the place was dancefloor. I imagined it looked a lot better under the proper lighting.

'It looks a lot better under the proper lighting', said Tony, reading my mind. I nodded and smiled. Tony asked if I had found a uniform okay. I said yes, no problem. He pointed out the staffroom and said I could change in there. 'Sorry, there's only one room', he said. 'There's a couple of stalls in there, or you can change in the ladies and just use the room to dump your stuff.'

I told him it would be just fine, went and hung up my coat and dropped off my bag, and came back. Tony was behind the bar when I came back, talking to one of the bouncers. I lifted the bar gate and joined him. He looked me up and down as briefly as he could. 'That was quick,' he said.

'I don't like to mess about,' I replied.

'Good. Then we'll get on just fine.' His gaze kept gravitating to the top of my thighs, though I could see he was trying his best not to let it. What can I say, it's a gift. 'Erm, yes, well I suppose I'd better show you how all this works, hadn't I?'

He showed me how to work the till, and explained the pricing, which was fairly straightforward. He showed me how to pour a pint, which I got wrong several times, once spraying cold lager all over myself. He looked so concerned I burst out laughing. 'It's okay,' I said, 'It's wipe clean.' I dried myself off with a bar towel. 'See?' I hung the towel around my neck like I'd just come back from the pool. Then he laughed too. After a few more successful attempts we went back to his office to discuss shifts, and so on.

'I will try you out once, to see how you get on,' he said. 'If that works out okay I'd like you to work Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. Is that okay?'

I nodded. 'Sure, that sounds fine,' I said.

'We're also open sometimes for bookings. At the moment there's a gay night on the first and a fetish night on the second Tuesday of every month. I have to ask everyone, but there's no compunction if either of those would make you uncomfortable.'

It sounded as though I might fit in here after all. 'No, those would be fine, too.'

'Okay. Oh, one last one. There's a band playing here tomorrow that are a little… Controversial. We've only just obtained a license to let them play. We're not allowed to advertise it, but they have a very enthusiastic following, and so the place is likely to be busy. We could do with you in then as well as tonight, but you probably wouldn't want to wear your normal uniform. The customers might mix you up with the stage show and get a little too friendly, if you know what I mean.'

'Will the guys be wearing anything different?'

'The band are just women, so there's no need, no.'

'Then I'll wear my normal stuff too.'

'Are you sure? You don't have to even come in, if you don't want to.'

I smiled. 'I'm sure it will be fine. I can handle myself.'

He shrugged. 'Okay. Oh, one last thing. The uniform belongs to the bar. If you leave you have to leave it behind.'

Damn. 'I added quite a lot to the money you gave me.'

'Oh? Well, it looks very good, so I guess it's worth it. Just give me a receipt and I'll refund you.'

'Ah. Ermmm.' I chewed my lip nervously. 'The truth is I already had this stuff.'

'Oh. I see. Well, then I guess you do get to keep it, then. Can you just bring me the money back?'

'Can't I just work it off?'

'That assumes everything goes alright tonight. I have to say, Miss ___, this isn't reflecting well on your honesty. You haven't impressed me so far.' He sighed, and looked disappointed. 'I'll have to think about it. You'd better go wait outside. The other staff will be along in a minute.'

I went out and sat at one of the tables, and played with the ashtray. I wished for a moment that I smoked; it would give me something to do, at least. I was annoyed at the way I had felt in front of the manager; he made me feel small. It was a feeling I was unused to. Sex was something that men assumed they were controlling me through; I always felt I was controlling them. Real control went to them when I conformed to the normal rules of society, to the pecking order with people like me at the bottom.

The other bar staff began to trickle in, and I did my best to greet them cheerily. A couple of them did try to flirt cheekily with me, but my automatic returns unnerved them. They were just kids, really, for all that they were all older than me. We chatted about this and that, and I did toy with the idea of being open about my past, but eventually decided it would just cause more problems if I were to stay here for any length of time.

When the customers came in I discovered I was actually quite good at this. Multitasking was obviously one of my talents. The place came alive under the dark-bright disco lights, and the pulsating beats of the music made the work bearable. The customers were friendly but dull, and I remembered only too well the boys at school that made me seek older company in the first place. They leered at me, and made suggestive remarks, but they would have run a mile if I had taken any of them up on their offers.

When the evening drew to a close Bear came down with the rest of the bouncers and gave me a wink. After my till had been cashed up I ran over to him, and gave him a big kiss, making sure all the other staff saw. As we walked home he asked me if I was okay, and I said sure.

'You're just very quiet, is all.'

'I'm fine, honestly. The work's just not what I'm used to.'

He offered to make love when we got home, but I just wasn't in the mood.

I had a disturbed night's sleep, dreaming of bad tasting food and of being lost in supermarkets as a child. The next morning I hardly touched my breakfast, usually my main meal of the day. The day, a Sunday, crawled past in a haze of religious programmes and repeats of Columbo. It got around to seven and I went and got ready for work again. As usual I checked my mobile. Nothing. Dammit.

The atmosphere around the club was very different. A group of ageing bikers lolled against the doorway, talking to three or four bouncers that were already there. One called out to me as I walked to the door.

'Oy, darlin'. You part of this 'ere show, then? Show us yer cunt, eh?'

I laughed. I stepped back from the door and opened up my coat. 'No, love,' I called back as their eyes goggled, 'I'm just the bar staff. The show's much better.'

'Fuckin' 'ell,' I hear behind me as the doors shut. I stole a glance behind me as I walked down the stairs. All of the bikers were at the glass doors, looking down after me. One of the bikers was pushed up against the glass, his large tongue licking wetly against it. Another scrabbled at his flies, trying to expose himself, although he didn't manage it in time before the bouncers wrestled them away again. I sat on the stairs and laughed delightedly. That was fun. Maybe I would steal out at some point and let them fuck me. Nah, too easy. Still, maybe the show would be good, after all.

I still had my coat open as I walked down the stairs. The band were warming up, and checking their equipment on the stage. Al women, all dressed in Jeans and T-shirts, except one lady who sat at the side of the stage in a very elegant gown and a choker necklace, quite like mine. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. The band noticed me at that point, and the sound of electric guitars tuning stopped. A girl, no, a woman with long hair tied up in ringlets jumped down in front of me.

'Hello,' she said, in an accent so clear and perfect you could have cut diamonds with it. 'I'm Clarissa.'

'Hi, Clarissa,' I said. I hesitated a moment before adding, 'I'm Christine. Chris.'

'Very pleased to meet you, Christine. I have to say, your outfit is tremendous. Did you come far to see us this evening?'

'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't come to see you. I work on the bar.'

'Oh.' She sounded so disappointed. Then she brightened. 'Have you seen us before, Chrissie?'

'No, I'm afraid I haven't. But I'm very interested to see what you do.'

'Just what comes naturally, that's all. Do you mind if I ask, Chrissie, but you're just so lovely I just have to, are you straight?'

I laughed. 'Yes. Well, no. It's difficult to say.'

Clarissa laughed along with me. She brushed her forefinger briefly against my cheek. 'Well, if ever you decide, you just let me know, alright? You'll excuse me for now, We have to get ready.' She smiled, and turned away.

Clarissa lifted herself athletically back onto the stage. The other members of the band were already walking off stage, all except the lady at the side, who merely stared unblinkingly at me from beneath heavy lashes. Clarissa walked up to her, and to my surprise picked up a chain from behind her that was attached to her choker. As she was pulled up straight I could see for the first time that her hands were chained behind her back. Clarissa leaned forwards, and they kissed, showing their tongues in their passion.

I watched, eyes wide. As they turned to go I called out after them. 'Wait!'

Clarissa stopped, and turned and looked enquiringly at me. Truthfully, I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. Clarissa put her head on one side. I ran to the side of the stage, and held out a hand. Clarissa came forward, and held out her free hand. I dropped something into it, and Clarissa looked down at it, puzzled. A tiny, balled up piece of tape. 'A gift,' I said, 'For later.'

Clarissa shrugged, and then followed the sound of voices to the dressing room, her slave behind her.

Voices were calling me too, and I made my way back behind the bar. I put the float in my till, glassy-eyed. The guy working the end of the bar with me tried to make conversation, but I can't remember a word he said. Eventually the customers started to file in, lewd loud and greasy, calling comments out that would have made any lady blush. 'Course I wasn't any lady. Any other time I would have responded in kind, but I could feel the heat of the manager's eyes on the back of my head, so I served one, then another, then another. The bar was busy, most buying several drinks at a time. Stocking up for when the band was on.

Finally the lights went down, and the DJ turned down the guitar muzak he'd been pumping out.

A drum beat began, slow and insistent. All eyes turned to the stage, and feet began to stamp along to the rhythm. A couple of guitarists stepped out of the darkness. They were dressed in long, flowing black dresses, and they began to play, with skill I was in awe of. I have always been impressed by good musicians, and this was the first time I had been to any live performance. I was entranced, as was the crowd, who whooped and cheered. Then the light behind the musicians came on, and not only could it be seen the musicians were beautifully made up, in shimmering metallic shades, but also the light behind them lit up their semi transparent robes, and showed that each was wearing underneath their sheer robes only the tiniest of black g-strings. Their chests were also made up in shades of silver, so that they glittered when they moved.

Finally, out into the light walked Clarissa, pulling her slave behind her. Clarissa was wearing a dress made of the same sheer material that the others were wearing, except that her dress was narrow and slit to above her waist, and underneath it she was plainly not wearing anything at all. Not even body hair. She brandished a long whip, which she cracked across the back of her slave, propelling her to the front of the stage. I swear it left a gash, though that may have been part of the show.

The slave's hair was down, and long and straggly it dripped onto the stage. The slave was wearing only her collar, chain, and body paint, shiny gold marks like a tiger's, all over her skin. She walked on all fours, and those at the front of the stage pressed closer to get a better look. Clarissa held her there, and the slave put out her tongue, and someone at the front pulled her down and kissed her. Then Clarissa Made her turn round, and put her rear end over the edge while hands poked and prodded at her. Clarissa picked up the microphone from the stand and held it to the slave's mouth, and her moans of pain and pleasure rang out across the club, and the music fell in time to it.

Then Clarissa came forward and pulled the front of her dress to one side, and pushed her crotch into the slave's face. Cheers again went up from the crowd. Clarissa brought the microphone up to her own mouth, and soon the band was playing along to her moans of pleasure, which gradually escalated in volume and pitch, until very gradually you became aware that she wasn't moaning, she was singing, in a breathy, dirty, but pitch perfect voice…

'I'm a slut

I want what you got

Don't care who you are

Or the make of your car

You can't buy me

I give it for free

I'm your slut

'I'm a slut

Believe it or not

I just wanna fuck

So give me your cock

And I'll give it a suck

Don't have a nice perm

But I'll swallow your sperm

I'm your slut

'I'm a slut

And I can't be controlled

Try to tie me down

And I'll swallow you whole

Can't marry me

'Till you can do it with three

I'm a slut

'I'm your slut…'

Here she held out the microphone to the audience, and they sang along in tones of recognition…

'She's their slut…

'She's anybody's…'

The guitar music rose and fell and died away, to spontaneous applause, hoots, and hollers.

Clarissa bowed low, and the music began again to build up slowly over the applause. The slave lay across the stage, apparently exhausted. Clarissa spoke into the mike.

'Good evening!'

There was an answering cheer.

'We are sluts, and proud of it!'

Cheers again.

'Are there any other sluts in the audience tonight? Any one else love to F U C K?'

There were answering shouts from all around the room, all male. Clarissa grabbed the slave by the hair and pulled her into a kneeling position.

'Anyone here think they're more of a slut than my little Pussy?'

'Here!'

The voice rang out loud and clear across the crowd. I looked around to see who had called out, and realised with some surprise, that it was me. I was even more shocked to discover that I was standing on the bar, looking straight into Clarissa's eyes. There was dead silence, then…

'Well then come on over, and we'll test you out!'

I looked down, and faces were looking up at me, hands were outstretched. I jumped into the seething crowd, and they passed me from hand to hand across to the stage, depositing me next to Pussy and Clarissa. I could smell their juices, and my own.

Clarissa leaned close, microphone held away. 'Are you sure?' She whispered.