Pleasing Her Fans

"Classically trained pianist Kimberly Sterling has made her mark as a highly regarded cabaret and pop songstress, entertaining audiences in both concert and nightclub settings throughout North America. Reviewers have noted that 'the lithesome, dark-haired performer exudes elegance and sophistication in her interpretations of songs from contemporary artists as well as the great American songbook.' Recently returned from extensive touring, she appears on a regular basis at a number of venues in the greater metropolitan area."

My manager, Brian Scott, had asked me to read through this brief bio last summer and make some updates in it. So, it's probably a good place to begin this story. You see, looking the blurb over, I realized it had been almost eighteen months since I had performed anywhere outside of a 100-mile radius, and in fact even the gigs nearby were getting fewer. And at 29 years old, that's not where you want to be in your career.

Thumbing through a few recent clippings in my scrapbook, the only additional quote I could come up with was a brief mention in a local weekly that referred to my song stylings as "sexy and alluring," so I sent that to Brian along with the comment that the reviewer was a college student who interviewed me briefly before the show and spent most of the time staring at my tits. Of course that wasn't the first time that's happened. I'm 5' 7" tall, weigh 131 pounds, and have what could be described as an hourglass figure, 36-26-34. That means I've gotten used to being looked at a certain way by some club managers, other musicians, oh, and of course, my audience.

But not Brian. He's been my agent for over five years and he's really helped me grow as a cabaret and concert performer. He's encouraged me to get additional voice lessons and take dance classes to make me more comfortable moving on stage. And through it all, he has been my greatest supporter.

An old-school manager with long-standing ties to the smaller clubs and local concert halls, he's found work for me as a solo performer in cabarets and hotel bars as well as putting me together with combos or larger groups to play mid-sized auditoriums and the occasional concert hall. He even briefly had me on tour opening for a major national act. He knows how to sell my looks and youth to the bookers and club owners while managing most of the time to hide that from me. Of course, as a struggling artist, I want to be appreciated solely for my talent, but I've come to understood that being an attractive woman with a good figure is an asset, not a liability.

A fateful meeting

The request from Brian to update my biography had come in advance of a meeting that he had suggested. It had been almost a year since we'd seen each other in person and he thought it would be a good idea to talk. In a moment of panic, I thought that he was going to drop me as a client, so I asked him straight out if I was in trouble.

"Not at all." He responded. "Just thought we should get together to go over the pictures from your photo shoot last week. Plus there are a few other things I've been meaning to run by you. Does 11:00 on Thursday work for you?"

"A little early for a musician," I wrote back, feeling relieved. "But for you, anything."

When I arrived at his office later in the week, we exchanged a few pleasantries, with Brian asking about the health of my parents while I congratulated him on his daughter's recent graduation from college. But then he quickly directed me to a table in an adjoining room where we could get right down to work. I could see that he had already spread out a number of the pictures from the recent session he had commissioned for me.

I was eager to show that I was open to any ideas he wanted to discuss. So when Brian began by thanking me for spending the time with the photographer despite my initial reluctance, I jumped right in with an apology.

"I just want to say," I offered, "that I know I was a pain about doing the photo shoot, but you were right." Pointing to some of the pictures, I said, "The session was great and I definitely like the results. I understand how important it is to get some new material on my website and Facebook page and I hope these will get a little more attention."

"I think they will, Kim," he responded, seemingly encouraged by my attitude and openness. "I'll also be including those pictures in the standard back-up material we send out with any press release for your appearances. With these new shots, there's a greater chance some of them will end up in a paper or online." He then continued, "These five I think should all be on your website and part of our press kit," he said, pushing the pictures forward.

They, of course, included the ones that I had found particularly embarrassing - I was posing in an elegant and revealing backless gown that was on loan to the photographer, who had persuaded me to try it on. Two of the shots were taken from behind, and the oval opening went all the way down to the small of my back. "You know you can almost see my butt crack in that one," I said, pointing to the first picture Brian had pushed forward.

"Almost, but not quite," said Brian, "and that's exactly what we should be after. Sexy and sophisticated," he continued, sliding the next two in front of me.

For those, I had worn a black dress that was much shorter than anything I wore when performing, and the photographer had posed me on a bench facing the camera with a piano behind me. My legs were stretched out in front of me, with two thirds of my thighs on display. The scoop neckline showed more cleavage than I was usually willing to reveal.

"Both of those, I suppose," I added, realizing I had lost the battle before it had even begun.

Brian nodded, and we both said in unison "sexy and sophisticated," with a bit of a laugh.

"Bottom line," he said, "I've been letting you down, Kim. Your bookings have been slipping, and I should have had this conversation with you a long time ago."

The bluntness of his statement took me a bit by surprise. It's not that I hadn't noticed my declining income over the last year; in fact, I had concluded that I was doing something wrong - either not adjusting my repertoire to match the shifting tastes of the public or somehow slipping in my performance. So I was grateful for the opportunity to share these concerns with him and to signal that I was open to considering anything that could be done to get me more work.

"For starters," he said, launching into what I quickly realized was a well-rehearsed speech, "we need to change your image, your stage persona, if you will. I'd also like to broaden your song choices, but first we should rethink the story you tell about yourself in your performances."

"I'm not sure I understand," was my immediate reply.

"Think of all the great song stylists - Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, even Lady Gaga. When people hear them in concert, they come away feeling that they know something about them and their lives. We can tell what's important to Lady Gaga, her political beliefs and her empathy for people. Fans were convinced that Frank Sinatra lived like a playboy but at the same time he was no stranger to heartache and loneliness. In the course of an evening, we want the audience to learn more about you."

"And how do we do that?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"We start with a deeper dive into your training. You should add one or two short classical pieces to the start of each show to let the audience see what you can do. We then run through some of your current repertoire but we open it up at the end. Let your hair down a bit, maybe show a little sexier side to yourself."

"So, a good girl gone bad story?" I asked, feeling skeptical about the idea.

"No, that's not you. But I do think you are a performer who's reached the stage in life where you're ready to explore new things and to push your boundaries, and in doing so, maybe reveal more of yourself than you've been doing."

I knew he had chosen his words deliberately. "And just how do I reveal more of myself, Brian? Song choice? Arrangements? The way I dress?"

He pulled the photos together, stacked them neatly and slid them in an envelope. Then he opened his desk draw and pulled out one more shot.

"Honestly, all of the above." He slid the single picture toward me, adding, "I don't think you realized the photographer snapped this one. She took it while you were putting on the backless dress."

I definitely did not know she had taken that picture, but I certainly recalled the moment. The front straps of the dress wrapped behind my neck, and I had been struggling to get them tied properly. This picture was taken when I had undone the straps and the front was hanging down almost to my waist. From that angle, you could only see a hint of sideboob, but it was clear that I wasn't wearing a bra.

Some expression on my face must have signaled my confusion because Brian immediately explained the situation. "And no, the photographer did not submit this as part of the portfolio we commissioned. But I was looking for a few candid moments so I asked to see the entire digital file from the session. There were several that popped out, but I think this is the one that works best for us now."

"Meaning," I asked, "there were other more revealing shots?" I asked.

"There are a few where more of your breasts are visible," he offered, "but I don't think that's what we're after right now."

"I know," I said, metaphorically throwing in the towel, "we want sexy and sophisticated."

"And one final thing," he said, pushing back a bit from the table as if to signal the serious business part of our gathering was coming to an end, "I'd like you to become a more regular user of social media." It was hard to argue against that, so I nodded my head in agreement.

"I have a guy Mark who does most of our technology stuff, and he's already redesigning your website to include a chat feature. Your fans can post comments, ask you questions, that sort of thing. And anything you write will automatically push out to Instagram. He's agreed to get it up and running, then keep an eye on it by acting as administrator and block anyone who posts inappropriate stuff."

So, that was how it all began. We went out and celebrated with a nice lunch, and over the next few weeks I worked up a bunch of new songs and started to incorporate them into my set lists. Also, thanks to a couple of new bookings, Brian was able to come up with the money to buy some new outfits for me. And I became a regular user of social media.

My fans

I hadn't expected an immediate reaction to the photos we posted online, so I was surprised, and I guess secretly pleased, to see hundreds of new followers joining my site in just a few days. And, I noticed, some of the pictures - particularly the one with a bit of sideboob - were getting a lot of "likes."

It took a little longer for the chat feature to catch on, but within a few weeks, a dozen or more posts were appearing each day. Some asked for details about upcoming appearances, some were limited to brief but positive comments about my shows or CDs, and every now and then someone asked a more personal question.

Meanwhile, I continued working on some new songs and performing them for audiences. With the increased bookings, I was now doing four and sometimes five shows a week. And the new wardrobe budget allowed me to pick out several new outfits, including a dark green dress with a slit that went almost halfway up my thigh - definitely daring for me. I'd occasionally wear that for a show, or a fairly slinky red dress that I'd purchased, and as far as I could tell, my audience approved of my fashion choices. And I, too, was starting to get comfortable with this new image.

My wardrobe was also attracting some comments on the website, presumably from followers who had been to my recent shows. One person in particular had posted several messages about my clothes, which I basically ignored. But then one morning I noticed the following post: "Love those gorgeous dresses, Kim. Just curious, are your undergarments equally elegant?"

My first thought was to delete it (Mark had shown me how to do that), but then my curiosity got the better of me. After all, it was complimentary in a way, and the wording managed to avoid being overly creepy. Who knows, maybe I just responded favorably to the word "elegant." So, I tried to decide what the "sexy, sophisticated Kim" would say and post that as a response.

"I think any girl wearing a beautiful dress wants to wear something equally sexy underneath. Makes us feel special." I took a few seconds to read what I typed and then hit return to post it.

My instincts proved right. When I checked back later in the day my reply had led to a string of supporting comments, including a lot from other women agreeing with the sentiment I had expressed. There was also a brief "thank you for answering" response from the fan.

I didn't really give the topic any more thought, but the next week I had one of my regular gigs, a Thursday night appearance at a small downtown club. I typically did two 45-minute sets, one starting at 9:00 and the second around 10:15. I had decided to wear one of my new outfits, a short black dress similar to the mini dress I had worn in some of the photos.

Throughout the first set I was extremely mindful of how I sat at the piano, taking great care to tug down the skirt between numbers and to keep my legs together as I pivoted to stand. But by the second set I had grown a little careless. Without my usual long dress on, I was able to move my legs more easily as I controlled the pedals on the piano, and I stopped worrying about how much of my thighs were exposed.

One of the numbers I had added to my second set was "Anything Goes," a song that has a humorous and sexy quality to it. That night, it got a particularly warm round of applause, louder and more sustained than usual. As I turned to my right to stand up and acknowledge the clapping, I caught my left heel on one of the legs of the bench, which had the effect of pulling my legs apart a bit. Looking down, I realized my dress had ridden most of the way up my thighs, and with my legs now spread, I was giving the audience quite the panty flash.

It was probably a full five seconds or more before I could get my heel untangled and stand up. I think I blushed a bit (fortunately with my complexion, I don't show it as readily as some girls do), so I acknowledged the cheers and sat down, finishing up my set to another round of sustained applause.

I didn't think about it again until two days later when I saw a reference on my website to the older thread about my undergarments and a new comment that read, "Kim was definitely telling the truth."

It took me a minute to make the connection, but some of the responses over the next half hour made it clear that the newest entry had come from someone who had been at the Thursday night show. And it didn't take long for the poster who had originally asked about my choice in undergarments to chime in with the comment, "Not that I don't trust you, but I'd love to see some proof."

Six weeks earlier, I'm certain I would have deleted the entire thread. But now I had begun to think differently about the way I interacted with the audience, both on stage and off, and I found myself eagerly awaiting the original poster's response. "What is going on with me?" I wondered as I sat there impatiently waiting to see the next comment. Brian had encouraged me to develop this "sexy and elegant" stage persona that he felt would sell better. But I could now see these changes spilling over into my "off stage" life as well. And I had to admit that I was intrigued by the way my audience was reacting to the "new" me.

Suddenly, a response appeared, and this one included a picture. Apparently taken with a cell phone, the photographer had zoomed in on my spread legs. The tops of my black lace thigh high stockings were visible against the pale skin of my upper thighs, but the rest was more or less in shadows. There may have been a bit of shiny fabric visible at the juncture of my thighs, which I knew was consistent with the black silk panties I had worn that night. But honestly, you really had to use your imagination to be convinced you could see my anything.

"Not sure that's conclusive proof but very nice nonetheless. Thanks," the original poster replied.

A few minutes went by and someone else wrote, "Waiting for Kim to weigh in on this matter of life and death."

That quickly got a bunch of thumbs up, so almost against my better judgment, I started typing, "Looks like you can see the tops of thigh highs I wore the other night. The rest I leave to your imagination." I knew I shouldn't, but before I could reconsider, I hit "return" and posted the message.

So, now I had opened up a discussion about my underwear with my fans. But apparently none of my followers objected, and my reply got a number of "likes" along with additional favorable comments.

"Just let us know when the next show is, Kim," one fellow posted, and before thinking about the possible meaning of the word "show," I responded, "Next Thursday as usual."

Comments continued to get posted over the next few days but I decided not to reply to any. I didn't want to encourage the idea that I was going to deliberately flash my panties again but honestly, I liked the attention. At the same, I now knew that's what some of my fans wanted, and I found it exciting to realize that people were going to show up at next week's show hoping to catch a glimpse. And that's more or less what happened.

My first strip

The next Thursday, I arrived for the sound check around 8:15 and there was already a crowd lining up to get tables near the stage. For the first set, every seat was taken, even though I performed my standard set wearing a somewhat conservative dress. But when I returned for the second set I had changed into the short black dress I had worn the week before. I was greeted by a warm round of applause that seemed to signal that my audience recognized - and approved of - my choice of outfits.

However, it wasn't quite the same set of clothes I had worn the previous week. After the exchange of messages on my website, I had done a little shopping and came up with some very elegant lingerie - a black strapless bodysuit that could replace my usual undergarments but still look terrific with the black lace stockings. Made of nylon with a cutout in the back, it looked like a one piece bathing suit from the front but revealed the amount of skin in the back that you'd normally display when wearing bra and panties. The underwire cups gave a bit of padding to support my 34 B-cup breasts and emphasized my cleavage while the back provided bikini-style coverage of my butt. However, as the second set began, all of this was concealed from my fans.

I took great care every time I moved or got up from the bench to make sure I didn't reveal too much. And as I neared the end of the 45 minutes, I sensed the crowd was getting restless. I had decided to close with a different number, "Put the Blame on Mame." After standing up to announce it, and to thank them for being such a good audience, I made sure to pull my dress high up on my legs as I sat back down at the piano.

Over the course of the song, I managed to inch the fabric higher and higher, until the tops of my thigh high stockings could be seen by the crowd. When I finished playing, I turned on the bench to face them and, with an exaggerated movement of my head, glanced down at my exposed legs and then back up with a look of surprise. As I stood up to acknowledge the applause, I shrugged my shoulders with a smile. Blowing the audience a kiss, I then kept my hand raised to wave good bye as I left the stage.