Let It Happen

This story may seem a little conventional, but a friend related it to me about someone we both knew. So yes, sometimes these things do happen in real life.

***

Rachael Grammar wondered what she wanted to happen. Rachael worked at Hedda's, a suburban strip club, at the door. She greeted Misty, a tall brunette with obvious breasts as Misty rushed past her inside for her shift.

"Hi," she called at Misty who was too rushed to respond.

Rachael had never been to a strip club when she took the job and she was always too busy working the door to go in to find out what happened inside Hedda's. But she had applied her imagination over the months and reckoned she had a reasonable idea of what went on there, as she quickly adopted an offhand distaste for the men who slunk in off the street into Hedda's. Nothing overtly offensive, just enough to maintain the space between her and the punters. She nodded to the girls who worked there as they raced in at the start of their shifts and as they marched out to their taxis at the end of the nights when she had been too busy to leave early. She accepted that the girls inside didn't need to spend any time around the place if they didn't have to. Why should they waste any time getting to know the distant door girl.

Rachael was attractive in a universal way and she knew it. The job gave her few intrinsic pleasures but she enjoyed how most of the men avoided the judgement of her hard, blue-eyed stare as they ducked her eye contact while handing over their cash. She had a special look of distaste for those who tried to haggle for a discount. She was hard and cold, at least that's what she thought. In truth she needed the money from her three nights' work each week there, a second job, to support herself and her child. After her marriage ended, her husband had conveniently disappeared shortly after she won custody and maintenance payments, so she never saw any of that. She was pretty much done with men, that's also what she thought. And Hedda's reinforced her views regarding that half of the human species.

Bob Rizla had hired her because she had appeared at the right time and looked right for the job. He believed that he had a sense for such things. And sure, he had desires. Rachael kept him at arms' length, suspecting that his interest in her was about the chase rather than any appreciation of who or what she was. She dressed the part for the job with low cut or open blouses and short black skirts, understanding that her appearance would help entice any men who were wavering at the door.

Bob did not seem to mind her rebuff of his vague attempts at advances early on. Bob Rizla was a rational man. Since Rachael attracted the punters without taking her clothes off, he chose not to spoil that. She knew how to dress for the door, and he noted that the girls working inside seemed to appreciate her even if she kept them all at a distance. Rachael didn't judge them and didn't say much to them as they raced in and out past her. She didn't smoke and she was reliable and efficient. She didn't take much time off and didn't seem to need to be away from the door much during the night. And she appeared to be honest to Bob. He was sure that she wasn't putting her hand in the till.

Of course that had to change.

One slow weeknight the club closed early when the last punter slunk out over an hour before the advertised close. Since there was no chance of any more customers, the girls decided to get Rachael to come inside. Sensing early on how the night was going, Bob had left hours before.

Misty led the campaign by appearing near her as she was locking up the till. "Come and have a drink or two with us," she simpered, taking Rachael by surprise.

"I don't know, she automatically replied." Knowing the place was about to close, she was looking forward to getting a longer night's sleep if she could get home.

But Misty's piercing eyes could pierce even Rachael's. "What if I said it was my birthday. And if I added that the girls want to get to know the mystery woman on the door a bit better?"

What could she say to that? Misty got her at a vulnerable time. She had had too much time alone that slow night to contemplate the regularity of her life and her lack of a social life what with her time divided between her day job, her youngster and the front door of Hedda's at night. Rachael shrugged and succumbed to the desire to chill out and have a few drinks, to relax with a few other adult humans. Her mother was looking after baby Jonah until the morning, so she was not needed back home. There was no excuse, if she ruled out the sleep idea.

With Bob gone for the night the girls were in charge, and that meant that they had the run of the room. Four of them were there when Rachael came in, three sitting around a table with four chairs in the centre of the room, close the edge of the stage. The redheaded barmaid Brandy kept control of the bar and served up a round of drinks not taking no for an answer from Rachael and not giving her a chance to ask what she had mixed for her.

Misty introduced her to the other two at the table, Rizty and Alexis, both of whom apologised that they were always running too late for work to stop and introduce themselves to Rachael. Finding she liked their company, especially after a second round, Rachael asked the table the obvious "so what do you actually do in here?"

After they had started to all answer together, Misty held up her hand for some order. "What do you think we do?" she asked.

"Since it's a strip club, I'm guessing you take your clothes off. Is that right?"

"And?" Misty teased.

"I don't know," she faltered. "All of them?"

Ritzy laughed heartily. "That is the general idea of a strip club," she elucidated.

Rachael looked shocked. "You take off all your clothes?" she asked, wild eyed.

"What did you think we do?" Ritzy demanded, but carefully.

"Discuss nineteenth century Norwegian literature," she said, with a straight face.

"What?" Misty asked almost spitting out her drink.

Rachael laughed. "Of course I know what this place is. I was having a lend."

"I like this girl," Ritzy insisted and put her arm around Rachael, squeezed her shoulder.

Brandy came over with another round of something alcoholic in glasses. "Since Rachael doesn't know what a strip club does why doesn't someone give her a demonstration?" she suggested, winking at Misty.

Rachael missed the wink and looked around the table with concern as the other girls started to chant Misty's name. "You don't have to, whatever, for me..." she started.

Misty smiled at her and shrugged and marched up to the stage. The girls started to chant a rhythmic la la la, which Rachael joined, so Misty followed the rhythm as she started first of all to loosen her blouse. She was quickly down to a lacy black bra, matching panties and suspenders. She kept her eyes on Rachael who either pretended to look shocked or she actually was.

Encouraged by that, Misty undid her bra and lifted her breasts at Rachael. She dropped her panties and marched up to the table, leaning over each of the girls there, rubbing their shoulders. Back on the stage, she twisted her nipples, stretched them out between her fingers then ran her fingers up and down her slit. She sat down on the edge of the stage, spread her legs and got herself off, still eyeballing Rachael who had gone beyond shocked, to something like flushed in the face. Suddenly Misty stopped, stood up and collected her clothes, put them back on, sat back at the table and sipped her drink like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"What do you reckon, Rachael?" Ritzy asked her.

Rachael laughed. "I have no idea." She turned to Misty "You were quite good."

"Why thank you," Misty replied.

"Well," Rachael continued, feeling a little light headed but like she had to try to say something insightful, "you are quite attractive and you know how to move."

Misty smiled in thanks and decided not to explain that they could not go that far for the paying guests. They all sat in silence for a moment.

"Come on, Rachael," the blonde Alexis finally speaking up, urged, "why don't you have a go?"

Rachael looked hard at her. "Are you serious? That is just so hackneyed. I mean, is that why you got me in here and tried to get me drunk?" She looked at Misty as if she'd been betrayed. "It's like some adolescent porno cliché. Did you think I'd fall for it?"

Misty shrugged. "Basically, yes."

"Why?" Rachael asked. "Do you need to see these so badly?" She gripped at her breasts through her blouse.

Misty gave her a look of approval. "We just want you to be comfortable around us."

"And the only way is to take off my clothes?" Rachael retorted.

Rizty looked like she was seriously considering the implications. "Pretty much," she concluded, "yes. That's how we roll. Women in here take off their clothes. That's what binds us."

"Solidarity sister," Alexis added, as if that made any sense.

Rachael looked at Misty who smiled back with an intent that suggested 'it was easy for me, so it can't be so hard for you,' so she smiled with resignation. And encouraged by the others starting up their la la la, Rachael got up onto the stage and started to dance. All four onlookers clapped and cheered. Which of course meant that she felt she had to do it. The girls stood up and crowded around the stage. Even though she was sure she must be somewhere between wooden and awkward, she swayed around and pretended to dance to a song that came into her mind that approximated their singing. She settled on You've got to move it, move it which at least meant that she was rhythmically thrusting. Undoing her blouse, Rachael surprised herself at how easily she could remove all her clothes. Down came the skirt, off came the bra. And with a shrug at Misty who kept eye contact, Rachael's panties hit the floor, with the others crowded around, approving and cheering.

She swayed, she gripped her breasts, pretended to play with her pussy, thinking of what Misty had done. Only to find suddenly when the girls stopped chanting, that someone has taken away her clothes. Before she could react, Alexis took her by the hand to sit her back down with them totally nude. Brandy had another drink ready for her. So she found herself nude drinking amongst the strippers who all had their clothes on. Surprising herself again, she relaxed, succumbing to this further understanding of their lives. Especially when Misty told her that it was one of the things that they do inside the club for money. Although, Misty warned her, club rules meant that the customers were not allowed to touch.

"How do you like this?" Misty asked her.

"Oh, normal, like I do this all the time with my friends," she replied, laughing. And tingling.

They all laughed but in different ways.

"You're one of us," Misty beamed.

But was she? Was this her fantasy or theirs?