Cursed Ch. 06

Cursed: Chapter 6 - Dancing for Carmen: Part 2

Tiffany's Story Continues

It was barely nine o'clock, when the bartender said, "Ashley and Tiffany, Carmen wants to have a little meeting with you ASAP."

As we walked towards the owner's office, Ashley said, "I have a bad feeling about this little meeting. It would just be like Alberto to come up with some excuse to discipline us."

I paused outside of Carmen's office to check my makeup in the one-way mirror. I was well aware that my fat froglike boss could see me standing there in the skimpy, semitransparent baby doll pajamas that were the official uniform of The Dollhouse. I had to brace myself with a hand on the wall to counteract vertigo caused by the scintillating reflections from the mirror ball spinning overhead.

Ashley said, "Damn, girl, your pupils are still the size of an extra-large pizza. I'd hoped the drugs Carmen slipped in your drink would start to wear off by now. How are you feeling?"

During my so-called job interview, the bastard had opened a bottle of water for me while I watched. It looked legitimate, but Ashley informed me that Carmen was skillful at pretending to open a bottle that he had previously dosed with ecstasy and amphetamines.

"I'm pretty fucked up, but I feel like I'm on top of the world. The tequila shots I did with the college boys took the edge off the speed. Come on. Let's find out what has Carmen's panties in a knot."

For a moment, I wondered how I would feel tomorrow. So far, this evening had been a shit show. I'd been fingered by a burly crew chief until I came and then raped by two virgin college nerds who almost asphyxiated me because of their inexperience. Two weeks ago, I could honestly claim I was a good girl who had been betrayed by her fiancee. Then everything changed. After I danced nude for the first time, Tony had raped me in The Pink Pussycat dressing room. The next night Tony had taken me again and then sold my body to my best friend's husband, Frankie. That nightmare night had concluded with my being raped by a renegade payday lender. Even though I had been well paid by Tony, I could at least claim none of it was consensual. I doubted my feeble claims of innocence meant anything to anyone. After all, it was my choice to put myself in situation after situation where men would assume my body was for sale. I felt numb.

Carmen sat behind his desk and smiled at us. "We have some important Japanese guests tonight. The president of Yamanami Heavy Industries is visiting his local operation for the first time. Mr. Masahiro is here with his personal assistant Hisayo and the local managers. I am sure you know how important Yamanami is to Rivervale after all the mills headed south. Even more important to me is how much the Japanese spend at The Dollhouse every week. Normally, I would have a couple of my regular girls take care of someone as important as Mr. Masahiro, but his managers saw you two dancing last week at The Pink Pussycat and asked that you attend their little party."

Ashley said, "What do you want us to do?"

"I want the two of you to wait on their table and take care of their every need. Give our guests the same care you would give the President of the United States. These gentlemen are big spenders and tip like crazy. I want them to be happy, so they'll continue as regulars. When in doubt, give them a smile and bow. Capisci?"

Ashley said, "What about our turn dancing on stage?"

Carmen thought a moment. "We're swamped tonight, so I need Ashley to do her performances. Tiffany will have to cover Mr. Masahiro's party solo while you dance."

Ashley said, "OK."

Carmen said, "Ashley, just one thing before you go. How is Tiffany doing? Is she smiling at the customers?"

Ashley looked at me and grinned. I forced a smile in return.

Ashley said, "She's doing really great and smiling all the time. The tables I covered with her all loved her. She's a professional and left the guys wanting more."

"I am glad to hear she is doing well. Just so you know, Tiffany, the Asian rooms follow the same rules as the party room. You don't have to split your tips with the other workers. Whatever you make in tips is between you and Ashley."

I nodded. I hoped the Japanese would tip well. Maybe it was worth the extra effort. I was beyond desperate for every dollar I could get to help my sick daughter.

"Now, go to the bar and get a couple of bottles of sake for Mr. Masahiro."

Ashley and I went back to the wait station at the bar. Mike came over with two wine bottle size containers of what he said was premium sake. He set one on a wooden tray with eight ceramic cups and handed the other one to me. The large green bottles were decorated with cherry blossoms. Besides the Japanese script, there was an English inscription that read 'Soul of the Sensei."

Mike said, "We have a couple of cases, so pour the sake liberally."

I was puzzled at the large size of the sake bottles as well as the big cups. The bottle I was holding was surprisingly cool to the touch.

I said, "Mike, we can't serve it like this. You need to heat the sake. Also, I thought it was supposed to be served in a small flask and little cups."

Mike laughed and said, "This is premium sake. Only cheap sake is served hot. Very special brew sake is served at the same temperature as wine. We leave the bottle sealed, so they know we didn't substitute cheap shit. Show them the bottle before you open it. You will be expected to overfill the cups when you pour. It's a demonstration of wealth to waste some. Just don't drop a bottle, or you'll be crying when you learn the price."

Ashley said, "Thanks, Mike."

I followed Ashley across the room. I hadn't noticed the two alcoves across from one of the stages before. One was dark and closed off by sliding bamboo screens. The room next to it was open and lit. A couple of steps led up to a raised floor. Four men and a woman were sitting on cushions around a low table. An enormous and very dark-skinned Afro American was standing in the back of the room facing the door. He stared at me for a moment before dismissing me as a harmless.

Three of the men were dressed in business suits. The fourth man was older and wearing an elaborately painted silk gown. His robe was short and open at the neck. The fancy garment left the bottom of his muscular thighs exposed. The men were all smiling and chatting animatedly. The men in suits were very deferential to the man in the kimono. All of them had a good view of the stage where one of the club dancers was spinning around the pole wearing nothing more than a smile.

A young Japanese woman was kneeling on a cushion at the end of the table. She was wearing a short robe with a large bow on the back of her waist. The colorful silk robe was too short to be a kimono. Her jet black hair was done up with a sprig of flowers. I thought the long flowing sleeves were impractical. She smiled as Ashley, and I climbed the steps. She rose and guided us to a pair of cushions across the narrow table from the men. Ashley very carefully set down the tray. I knelt down and set my bottle next to the first one.

The woman spoke excellent English but with an accent. She said, "I am Hisayo. I am Mr. Masahiro's personal assistant. I am sure we will have a very fortuitous evening. I am sorry, but Mr. Masahiro does not speak English. I will translate his wishes for you."

My friend said, "I am Ashley, and this is Tiffany. We are eager to make you happy."

Hisayo introduced the other men. I only remember that Mr. Jiro was the general manager of the Rivervale branch. She said something about security when she motioned toward the man standing behind Mr. Masahiro. I assumed the muscular black man was the president's bodyguard.

Hisayo picked up one of the bottles and casually inspected it. She said, "Ah, most excellent sake and at the correct temperature. Please pour. Don't be afraid to overfill the ochoko."

I was glad Mike had told us to overfill the cups because I didn't have an idea what an ochoko was. The ceramic cups looked a lot larger than the ones we had used to serve warm sake to the occasional Japanese worker across the street.

Ashley said, "Tiffany, you can pour your bottle first."

After I had opened the bottle, I rose up on my knees and leaned across the table to fill Mr. Masahiro's cup. I filled it to the top and then some. When the cup was full, I glanced up. All of the men were grinning, and their eyes were fixated on my pajama top. I realized my hanging breasts were easily visible down the front of my loose garment.

Hisayo said, "Please pour more for Mr. Masahiro as a courtesy."

I glanced at Hisayo. Mike had said Carmen charged three hundred dollars a bottle for this sake. I dutifully spilled a quarter of a cup of sake before overfilling cups for the three suits and Hisayo. I noticed the table had a lip around the edge. It was just as well because there was a lot of sake spilled on the table. The spilled brew all flowed toward one corner of the table.

Hisayo said, "Tiffany, please pour a cup for Ashley and yourself."

I looked at Ashley, and she smiled at me. I had seen the alcohol content on the sake label. It was almost 17% alcohol. It was all I needed on top of no sleep, drugs, and a couple of shots of tequila. I obediently poured a cup for Ashley and me. When I was done, I looked up at Mr. Masahiro and nodded. He raised his cup and said something in Japanese. The four men and Hisayo raised their cup to their lips and drained all of the sake at once. The men all slammed their cups down on the table and yelled, 'kampei.'

Our guests all watched intently as Ashley, and I slowly downed our cups. I had never had sake before. It tasted soft and luxurious, with a hint of honeydew and rice. I was surprised at the long finish.

Mr. Masahiro laughed when Ashley and I finished. He recited something that sounded like a poem, and the men cheered.

Hisayo smiled at me and said, "Mr. Masahiro just composed a haiku about your beauty. I am sorry, but I cannot translate it for you in the haiku form. He compared your breasts to a pair of snow-covered peaks sprinkled with cherry blossoms in the Spring. He esteems your generous alabaster breasts speckled with freckles."

At first, I didn't know how to respond, so I followed Carmen's advice. I smiled at Mr. Masahiro and bowed.

I turned to Hisayo and said, "Please thank Mr. Masahiro for his kind compliment. I am happy that I bring him pleasure."

Hisayo relayed my reply to Mr. Masahiro and then said, "Tiffany, please pour another cup for everyone."

My bottle ran out before I filled everyone's cup. Ashley finished pouring. Once again, the Japanese gulped their sake down and shouted when they slammed their cups on the table. Ashley and I were a little faster, finishing our sake this time.

Hisayo said, "And again, please."

Ashley barely had enough in her bottle for another round. I was feeling a warm glow by the time I finished my third cup of sake.

Hisayo said, "Ashley, can you please bring more bottles of sake."

When Ashley left, Mr. Masahiro said something to Hisayo, and the men responded with enthusiasm.

Hisayo said, "I have seen you dance. You were excellent. Mr. Masahiro is an ardent fan of the American singer Van Morrison. He would be very pleased if you would dance for him to his favorite Van Morrison songs."

I said, "If the DJ has the music, I would be glad to dance my next set to Van Morrison."

Hisayo laughed and said, "You can dance here on this very sturdy table. There is an excellent sound system in the room, and we can slide the doors closed."

I forced another smile and said, "I would be pleased to dance for Mr. Masahiro and his guests."

Ashley returned with two more bottles of sake and set them on the table. She filled everyone's cup.

When she finished her cup of sake, she said, "Hisayo, please tell Mr. Masahiro that I have to perform my set on stage. I will return when I am done. I will leave you in Tiffany's skillful hands."

Hisayo said, "Thank you, Ashley. We will await your return with eagerness. We will be fine for now with Tiffany."

Hisayo got up and closed the sliding doors. I had thought they were just decorative bamboo, but when the doors locked together with a click, I couldn't hear the music and noise from the main room. Hisayo went to a panel on the wall and tapped on a screen. Van Morrison's song 'Astral Weeks' began to play. She took my hand and helped me to my unsteady feet. I was tired, and the sake had hit me hard. Hisayo held my hand as I stepped onto the low table. I was surprised that the table wasn't slippery from all of the spilled sake. I adjusted my ruined waistband as I listened to the familiar song. After a moment, I began swaying to the hypnotic tune.

"If I ventured in the slipstream

Between the viaducts of your dream ...

Could you find me?

Would you kiss-a my eyes?

To lay me down

In silence easy

To be born again

To be born again."

Happy memories of my childhood came rushing back. I remembered dancing to Van Morrison for my father. My Dad had told me many times that 'Astral Weeks' was one of the greatest albums ever made. What I wouldn't give to have my father and mother back. A fiery crash had stolen my childhood. Shortly after their deaths, I had lost all of my dreams when my fiancee abandoned me after he had learned he had gotten me pregnant. I was forced to surrender my dream of becoming a nurse and had taken a job as a dancer at The Pink Pussycat to support my beautiful daughter.

My eyes were beginning to tear up. I had to force myself to focus on the present. I found myself dancing like I had as a young girl. I raised my hands over my head and waved them in the air as I swayed my hips. In the back of my mind, I was aware that the men seated at my feet had a clear view of my breasts under the short, loose top. I could feel the bottoms of my PJs slip lower on my hips.

When the song ended, Mr. Masahiro slapped his hand on the table. I noticed that his eyes were glistening. He said something to his party. The man on his right slapped a hundred dollar bill on top of another one on the table. I hadn't noticed when the first tip had been placed on the table.

Hisayo said, "Mr. Masahiro relished your dance. He said, you revealed your soul."

I bowed and smiled.

Hisayo said, "Tiffany, please pour another round of sake."

My hands were shaky as I poured the round. I didn't have to worry about spilling a little sake. I realized I was beginning to love the taste of sake as I drained my cup.

Hisayo smiled and said, "Mr. Masahiro would like you to dance to the next song on Van Morrison's celebrated album. If you are agreeable, he would be most pleased if you would dance the next number topless. Mr. Masahiro would be most appreciative."

Once again, I followed Carmen's advice. I smiled and bowed to Mr. Masahiro. When I bent over, I noticed that my PJ bottoms had slipped enough to expose most of the small red triangle of trimmed pubic hair at the top of my swollen pussy. My bare pussy lips were still engorged from earlier in the evening and were far too close to being on full display. I blushed and pulled up on my semitransparent shorts. I tried to hang one side on my hip. Hisayo went to the screen and played the third song on the album, 'Sweet Thing.' I danced a few lines of the bouncy tune before I grasped my top and slowly pulled it over my head. I felt a cool breeze from the vents over the table, and my nipples became rock hard. My firm breasts jiggled to the throbbing rhythm. I heard Mr. Masahiro sigh as Van Morrison sang:

"And you shall take me strongly

In your arms again

And I will not remember

That I even felt the pain.

We shall walk and talk

In gardens all misty and wet with rain

And I will never, never, never

Grow so old again."

I closed my eyes as I danced and let warm memories fill me. I was exhausted from weeks of stress and lack of sleep. The sake had replaced my worries with a warm glow. I raised my hands over my head and spun around. My loose shorts slid down my thighs. It was a hopeless task keeping the torn garment in place. I moved my feet close together and shimmied until the annoying garment fell to my feet. I kicked the shorts to the end of the table next to my top.

As I danced naked, I felt excited and powerful at the same time. I was electrified by the awareness that these foreign guests were admiring my body. Perhaps it was the sake, but I felt in control of their passions. I desired to drive them insane with lust. I was intensely aroused by their response to my dance, but somehow, I felt safe.

I finished the song wearing nothing more than my pole dancing shoes. At the end of the song, I sank to my knees on the table in front of Mr. Masahiro. My back was straight, and my ass rested on my heels. I was breathing heavy as I looked into his smiling face and bowed.

The men in suits were slapping their hands on the table and shouted 'Kampei' as they drained their cups. Mr. Masahiro said something to the man on his right before talking excitedly to Hisayo. The man slapped two more hundred dollar bills on the table with the first two. I stared at the growing pile and thought about my gravely ill daughter. At least I wasn't being assaulted by a drunk construction worker who treated me like a piece of meat.

Hisayo said, "Tiffany, could you please pour another round of sake."

I remained kneeling on the table as I twisted around to fill everyone's cup to overflowing. I groaned when I saw the spilled sake flow to the end of the table. My skimpy outfit was soaking in a pool of sake. I shook my head and drank my sake. I shouted 'kampei' when I finished my drink at the same time as everyone else.

Hisayo leaned across the table and whispered in my ear. "The next song I will play is 'Cyprus Avenue.' It is a favorite of Mr. Masahiro, and he would like to request a special favor. He will be most generous if you are willing."

I smiled at Mr. Masahiro and said, "I am here to please Mr. Masahiro. He is an honorable gentleman, and I will be happy to comply with his wishes."

Hisayo said, "Tiffany, please pour another round of sake before I convey Mr. Masahiro's request."

I poured another round. When I knelt in front of Mr. Masahiro to pour his sake, he reached out and brushed my red hair out of my eyes. I looked up and smiled as his soft hand cupped my cheek. When I finished pouring his sake, he took the flask from me and filled my cup. He held my gaze as we picked up our cups of expensive sake. He gave me a slight bow before slowly sipping his sake. I watched him over the top of my cup as I savored the delicious drink.

Hisayo leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Mr. Masahiro is captivated by your beauty and exceptional dancing. He has asked other beautiful women to dance for him before, and none of them has ever managed to capture the spirit of Van Morrison.

"Please tell Mr. Masahiro, I share his love of Van Morrison, and I am happy my modest performance pleased him."

Hisayo put her small delicate hand on my left shoulder and moved her mouth to my right ear. She whispered, "Tiffany, I am not sure how to convey Mr. Masahiro's request, so I will just say it in the same heartfelt manner he used. He said he has always dreamed of finding a dancer talented and beautiful enough to fulfill his fantasy. He would like you to dance to the song 'Ballerina' while you pleasure yourself."

I lurched upright and stared at Hisayo with my mouth open. Had I heard her, right? Did Mr. Masahiro want me to dance naked on top of the table and masturbate in front of him and his party? I remembered Carmen shouting at me that if he ordered me to dance nude on The Dollhouse stage and masturbate, I would be beaten and thrown out if I refused. The only difference was that this room was much smaller and more intimate. The customers were more refined, but there were no bouncers to protect me here. Surely, Hisayo had mistranslated Mr. Masahiro's request.