Pleasing Her Fans

I returned quickly for the encore, but before seating myself at the piano, I waited for the crowd to quiet a bit and then looked down at the first few rows of tables. "It seems like I experienced a minor wardrobe malfunction on that last number," I said with a bit of a girlish giggle. "So, I wasn't sure if I should perform an encore because, frankly, the number calls for some rather vigorous playing. I'm worried that this dress," I continued as I pointed to the outfit I was wearing," "might cause some problems."

With that, there were a few rumblings from the crowd before I resumed speaking. "But I've come up with a solution." And reaching for the zipper that ran along the side of the dress, I quickly tugged it down. For just a moment, the fabric seemed to hang there as I flicked off one shoulder strap and then the other. But then the dress slipped to the stage floor and I faced the crowd wearing just the bodysuit, black silk stockings, and my high heels. "Now I shouldn't have any trouble. So let's play In The Mood," I practically shouted as I sat back down at the piano.

I hoped I was answering some of the requests that had been posted on my website, but regardless of that, the audience that night thoroughly enjoyed the encore. They clapped in rhythm through much of the song as I pounded on the keys and bounced up and down in time to the music. To say the least, it was a new and exciting experience performing in my underwear, even though I was in fact showing less skin that I might typically expose in a bathing suit. The simple fact was that I was playing in front of more than a hundred people wearing only some sexy lingerie, and I loved it. And I could tell that the crowd did as well.

I started to leave the stage and then realizing that my dress was still off to the side of the piano, I returned and bent over to pick it up. This gave everyone the chance to get a good look at my ass and earned me another big round of applause before I finally made my exit. I hurried to my dressing room, knees shaking and heart pounding. Once there, I was glad to be able to close the door and be alone. As I looked in the mirror and saw the reflection of myself in the bodysuit and stockings, it somehow all seemed more real. Yes, I really had put on a bit of a display for my fans, and I realized I had enjoyed it as much as they had. But these thoughts were quickly interrupted by a knock.

Slipping on a robe, I cautiously opened the door just a few inches and saw a young woman standing there. She seemed familiar but I was struggling to come up with her name, when she thoughtfully introduced herself. "Oh hi, Miss Sterling. I'm so sorry to intrude but I'm Brian Scott's daughter. I knew you were performing here tonight and I couldn't resist coming to see the show. I hope you don't mind but Dad said I should be sure to stop by and say hello."

It had probably been three or four years since I'd seen her, but as soon as she mentioned Brian, I remembered her name. "Of course, Samantha," I said, opening the door wider and giving her a hug. "Come on in while I catch my breath," and I ushered her in, inviting her to take a seat on the small sofa that, along with my dressing table and chair, pretty much filled the dressing room. "And please call me Kim."

"And I'm Sam," the petite blonde said with just a slight degree of awkwardness. "I hope I'm not intruding but I really did want to say what a great performance you gave tonight. The audience loved it."

"Well, I hope you did too, Sam," I said, struck by the sense of quiet confidence she projected.

"Dad said you've been drawing a big crowd lately and I guess I can see why."

"Thank you," I said, with just a hint of embarrassment. "But tonight was kind of a new thing for me." After a slightly awkward pause, I continued. "Your Dad told me you had finished school this spring but I really haven't heard what you've been up to me. Do you have something lined up yet?"

"Not really, Miss Sterl...I mean, Kim," she replied, catching the look in my eye as I prepared to scold her for being so formal. "I'm doing some temp work before deciding what's next. I may try to learn more about Dad's business, help out there I guess. But he's encouraging me to look around and make sure that's what I really want to do."

Thinking of the ups and downs I had experienced as a performer, and knowing that managers have similar peaks and valleys, I nodded sympathetically. "Your dad's very wise," I said. "It's a competitive world for sure, but once you're bitten by the show biz bug, I guess there's nothing like it."

Sam smiled, and we continued talking for a while, but she was eager not to intrude for too long. And I was pretty sure I could hear some other people waiting outside my door. So, as she stood to say goodbye, I asked for a quick favor. "Do you mind handing me that skirt and top?" I said, pointing to my street clothes I had worn to the theater that night. "I think the club manager has some people waiting to meet me, and I'd feel more comfortable if I weren't showing quite so much skin. "

She handed me each piece as I slipped into my clothes and, without being asked, grabbed my hairbrush from the dressing table and handed it to me. I was touched by her thoughtfulness and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thanks for stopping by, Sam. It was great to see you again. And let me know if I can ever be of any help to you." We then hugged again briefly and she left while I did the standard meet and greet, signing a few autographs and chatting with some customers.

Meanwhile, traffic on my website was increasing every day, although my busy performance schedule didn't leave me much time for responding. However, that Sunday I had nothing scheduled so I decided I should use the free time to check in on my followers.

There were now pictures posted from three or four performances, including several from the other night, capturing me in the black bodysuit.

"So she's starting to incorporate an actual striptease in her show," one fan noted. "Hope she keeps that number in."

"Sexy as hell," someone else noted, and I felt obligated to respond.

"But sophisticated, too, I hope," I typed, and got a number of "likes" for that comment.

"Seriously, Kim, you should do more of that," another person wrote back. And that got even more "likes" than my posting.

I was beginning to pay closer attention to the identities of the people on my website, noticing that there was definitely a large group of frequent responders. So, partly in response to their requests, I started including "In the Mood" as my encore, sometimes keeping my dress on and sometimes stripping to the bodysuit. After one of those shows, several new pictures were posted by my followers, including one of my butt as I bent over to pick my dress up before leaving the stage. As soon as it appeared, up popped a question from one of the "regular" contributors.

"Just curious, Kim, do you practice that number in your underwear?"

I knew it wasn't a totally serious question, but it was a subject that I somehow felt compelled to explore. So I answered, "Actually I don't wear any stage outfits when I practice."

"What? You practice in the nude?" came the almost immediately response from some joker, followed by a laughing emoji.

Now the obvious answer was, "of course not." But somehow it seemed a little more exciting and in keeping with my new persona to reply differently. "Only when I'm planning on performing that way," I typed and followed it with a little devil emoji.

That drew a number of responses, ranging from "let us know when you do" to "can't wait to see those pictures." I was loving the attention but was especially pleased when one of the regulars eventually replied, "We'd all love it if you did."

Next steps

As the summer progressed, things were becoming increasingly busy for me. Brian was definitely getting the word out to a larger audience about my performances, and I was landing bookings at some places I hadn't worked before. At the same time, he was urging me to be wear more new outfits and experiment with different songs. The plan was to cram in a lot of shows leading into the fall, then take a few weeks off. At that point, Brian wanted to make some strategic decisions about where I would be playing. And with the extra income, and offers coming in from bigger theaters, this would also be the time to redesign my show and scale things up to highlight the changes in my performances.

So, with only a couple of weeks to go before this break, Brian summoned me for another in-person meeting in his office. "First thing," he stated in his typical no-nonsense approach, "there's good news to share with you. I'm getting a lot more demand from larger venues that pay significantly more than you've been earning. But to play those places, you're going to have to do a bigger show, performing with a back-up-group, doing only one longer set each night, and traveling with a small crew. A theater can choose to put on a warm-up act before you, but most nights it's going to be just you. What do you think?"

His rapid-fire delivery almost took my breath away. "I think it's fantastic" I said in astonishment. "But do you really think I'm ready for this type of transition?"

"Absolutely, Kim," he said with great conviction. "You've spent a long time paying your dues," he continued. "If anything, I should have pushed you in this direction years ago. But now we need to expand your performance options." He paused to look at me, making sure I understood the implication of that last statement. I did, and I nodded in agreement.

"I've roughed out a budget," Brian offered, "that allows us to hire a five-piece band, similar to the groups you've worked with before."

"Drums, bass, guitar, trumpet and sax," I chimed in, thinking about some of the musicians who had accompanied me in the past. "That opens up all sorts of possibilities for my repertoire."

My manager nodded in agreement. "And the guitarist I'm thinking of can double on keyboards, which will give you the chance to add some numbers where you sing but don't have to stay at the piano."

At first I wasn't sure where he was going with this, until suddenly a light clicked on in my head. "So," I cautiously asked, "if I'm not playing the piano, what am I doing?"

Brian, in his typical manner, cut right to the point. "Performing a striptease," and he paused to let that sink in.

"I guess that means you like the new persona I've been experimenting with on stage," I said, trying to suppress the butterflies in my stomach.

"More to the point," he pointed out, "your fans like it. In fact, they love it. And Mark's been going over the online chat on your website and it's clear they want more of that. We should listen to what they're saying."

For some reason, it hadn't occurred to me that Mark, or Brian for that matter, would be monitoring my conversations with fans, and I suddenly felt a little embarrassed. Whether Brian could sense that or not, he quickly continued.

"By the way, you're doing a great job of responding online. Mark says you're a natural, and we think it's become a significant part of the word-of-mouth promotion that's bringing more people to your shows."

"Thank you," I said, being genuinely pleased that my conduct was being professionally approved by my manager. "But let's talk a bit more about this stripping stuff."

"I saw some accounts of your recent addition to the act, including this review." He stopped, and then slid a newspaper clipping across his desk to me from the daily paper in a neighboring city.

I picked it up and glanced at the headline - "Don't Put the Blame on Kim" - followed by a first sentence that I knew would end up on my website. "Sultry songstress Kim Sterling flashed her blue-green eyes and delivered the goods during her visit to our town last night, and you have only yourself to blame if you missed this evening of sophisticated and - dare I say it in this era of political correctness- sexy entertainment."

"Wow, not bad," I said.

"So, he saw you take off your dress and perform the encore in, as I understand it, your underwear. And he and his newspaper had no problem with that. I'd say you left them begging for more."

"And," I said, seeing exactly where this was going, "you recommend that I give it to them."

"My professional opinion is that you would have a fantastic closing number worthy of a headliner if you ended each show with a full-blown striptease." He paused to study my reaction. "Show them some more but be sure to...," he said as if laughing at a joke.

"I know," I chimed in with a smile, " keep it elegant and sophisticated."

"Exactly."

And that's what I decided to do. I won't say I didn't have moments of doubt and hesitation, but I had more moments of excitement and anticipation, so in the end, the choice was easy to make. I was going to get more bookings as a headliner at bigger venues, and I was going to continue to explore a side of myself I hadn't realized existed. And, apparently, I was going to be pleasing my fans.

In addition to working with a band, another appealing aspect of the proposal was that I could hire an assistant. Brian took the lead in putting together the band working from a list of musicians I already knew. My task was to hire an assistant by the following week, when Brian and I were going to meet with a consulting director and stage designer to iron out the details of the show. To that end, he passed along several names of people to interview for the assistant position. Only one proved to be currently available, but when I explained some of the changes we were making in my act that would require her help with wardrobe changes, she responded with a kind of superior, judgmental tone. "Not the right fit," I quickly concluded.

It was then that I recalled my backstage conversation the previous month with Brian's daughter, Samantha. We had met the night I first did my mini-strip, so I knew she wouldn't be shocked by the direction I was taking with my show. I immediately texted Brian to ask if she might be interested in the assistant position.

"As far as I know, she's still doing temp work, so why not check with her," he replied promptly. "But I don't want any favors here. You should decide whether she's right for the job. That's the only thing that matters." And he attached her cell phone number.

"Absolutely," I replied. "But I liked her when we met, so she's already passed the first test."

I texted Samantha before heading off for a performance that night, and within 24 hours we met in person and came to an agreement. She had been a business major in college and had minored in dance, so she had some performance experience and seemed to understand the decidedly unglamorous part of getting ready for a show. All in all, she was a perfect fit for the job, so I hired her.

By this point, I was talking with Brian on an almost daily basis. We worked through the standard terms that would now be included in my performing contracts, outlining the requirements for additional dressing room space to accommodate wardrobe changes, stage arrangements to allow for musical and "specialty" numbers, and guarantees of backstage privacy and security that included restricted access between my dressing room and the stage. As Brian explained to me, any theater or club owner would know enough to call and ask for an explanation of those terms, which would allow Brian to describe some of the changes in my act without putting anything into the formal language of a contract.

"So," as Brian made clear to me, "your only legal obligation is to show up with a band and sing. But anyone booking you will understand that they'll be getting a bit more. Just how much more is up to you. You'll have figure out what you your audience wants."

As he said that I could feel a warm feeling surging through my body. I hoped he didn't hear the little bit of tremor in my voice as I responded, "Based on what some of the people are posting on my website, I'm pretty sure I know what they want."

By the time of the planned meeting with the set designer and consultant, Samantha had been working with me for several days, helping to formalize a set list for the new show. In the past, I simply jotted down the song titles for myself each night before I went on, but now we were going to have to block out the whole evening well in advance - not only the songs and my wardrobe but also our positions and movements on the stage. So, it was important to provide everyone with the list of songs and some initial thoughts about the "production numbers," as Brian now referred to them, in advance of the group assembling in person.

When Sam and I showed up at her father's office, we discovered two additional people were there as well - the sound technician and stage hand who would work each show with us. This was a perfect opportunity to meet them and make sure we were all on the same page as we blocked out the show with the designer and consultant.

Part of my new standard contract with the theaters called for a runway to be added to the front center of the stage extending fifteen feet or so out into the audience. Brian was able to persuade the venue managers to absorb the cost of this by pointing out that they could designate the tables closest to the stage front as premium seats, charging extra money that would more than cover the routine work of the temporary stage modifications. This in turn, gave me additional room to move around during the evening anytime I stepped away from the piano.

The set designer called for my piano to be placed near the front of the stage and a bit off center, what we call stage right, that is the right side as I faced the audience. A dark curtain would run across the back of the stage, helping to prevent the sound from echoing off the rear wall and at the same time creating a more intimate feel. Then, about six feet behind my piano but still some distance from that rear backdrop would be a second curtain, starting at the far right and running almost to the middle of the stage. This provided a natural passageway that I could use to enter or exit at any time, allowing me to simply appear at center stage near my piano. Plus, Brian felt it would make it easier for the theaters to ensure that my access to and from the dressing room would remain private, shielding me from any unwanted backstage viewers.

My band, as I now thought of them, would be positioned on the other side, that is, stage left. As we talked that day, it emerged that we'd need at least one prop, a white-screen room divider, and it would be easy to place that out of sight along the passageway behind my piano. When needed, the stage hand could quickly move the screen to center stage, with some backlights positioned at the rear center to provide the effect we wanted.

All of this was all more complicated that I had imagined as I was putting together my suggested set lists, and I was glad Samantha was there to take notes. I also realized that I needed several additional outfits and some modifications in my accessories, so we concluded the meeting with a set of clear marching orders for me and Sam.

"Sunday night's performance is your last show for a while. So, next week the first priority," Brian explained, "is to buy whatever clothes you need. And as soon as you've got those, we'll need some updated photographs to use on the website to promote the new show." He turned to his daughter and said, "I know you've done some photography before for me, so take the digital camera that's in Mark's office and get us some pictures as soon as you can."

As we left the office, I asked Samantha to join me in a few days on a shopping expedition. I explained I could use her help choosing some of the new outfits as well as brainstorming about some of the details of my "specialty" numbers. That sounded more sophisticated than "stripteases," but of course that's exactly what I meant.