A Dark Beginning: A China Dark Novel (12 page)

China really wasn’t sure how to dress for going into a lap-dancing club. If she dressed too sexily she was worried that she might be seen as a fellow lap dancer, or even worse, a hooker. If she dressed too conservatively she would pale by comparison to the dancers, and she didn’t want that either. Not that she was trying to compete with the girls. That would be silly. Conflicting arguments ran through her brain. At work she could resolve complex issues faster than any of her colleagues, but this one was stumping her. In the end she decided upon some stretch jeans and a white t-shirt, with a smart leather jacket, tailored to pull in tight at the waist. Middle ground. Safe ground, she hoped.

She was excited to see what the inside of a lap dancing club was like, and what the girls really did do. She had no idea, and she hoped it wasn’t too extreme. She had seen strip joints in films and programs on the television and they seemed fairly tame, if a little sleazy, but real life wasn’t always truly or fairly portrayed on the small screen. Philip had never been to one, or so he claimed, although China did find that a little difficult to believe. As she walked to The Dog and Duck that Thursday, she was alive with anticipation. She wondered if she would just be too ashamed to even look to see how the girls posed and performed.

Mark and her walked East and ended up in the Bishopsgate area of London where he promised her there was a whole range of these types of establishments, ranging from the down and dirty sleaze pits to the more classy. “So what do you fancy, China? Sleazy or classy?”

She always loved the way he growled her name in his multi-cultural accent. “Definitely not sleazy. I’m not ready for that. Somewhere in the middle.” She was worried that she could not bear the comparison of standing in too classy a place, where she imagined the highest echelons of the strip world performed. Like her clothes, middle ground seemed the safest approach.

“That’s fine. In sleazy the girls try really hard. You’d see some amazing moves, but you’ll also see some pretty extreme stuff too as they try to outdo each other for attention from the punters. At the classy end the girls are elegant and beautiful, but there’s a certain distance, not just physically. Personally, I’m with you. I know just the place.”

When they entered the pub the first thing China noticed, and was horrified by, was that there were no other normally dressed women. Amongst the throngs of men, many in large groups, and most looking like they’d come straight from office jobs, wandered heavily made-up women in various states of undress. They chatted with the punters in a friendly way, often draping an arm over a shoulder or around a waist. They seemed quite familiar with some customers, even knowing them by name. They were all very attractive, and all looked incredibly fit.

“What amazing bodies,” she said.

“You’ll see in a minute the kind of workout they get every night. It’s no wonder they’re fit.”

One of the girls approached Mark and spoke in an Eastern European accent. “Hi, handsome, we haven’t seen you in here for a few weeks.” Mark glanced over at China but she just smiled at him. What was it to her if Mark came to these places? She had no right to any sort of jealousy in this relationship. The girl looked about twenty years old. She was short and had long straight dark hair framing an angelic face. She was dressed in scarlet underwear with a lacy red gown that left little to the imagination.

“Been a bit busy, Esta.”

“Too busy to come and see us. That makes me sad.” She tipped her head to one side and pouted.

“No Zilda tonight?” Mark asked. “I haven’t seen her in weeks.”

Esta looked worried. “We haven’t seen her for a few weeks either. Or heard from her husband, Alexandru. I must admit, I thought you had stolen her away from this life.”

He laughed, a little sadly China thought. “No. The last time I saw her was when she posed for me. I thought I’d see her tonight, get the chance to thank her. I wanted to give her this.” He pulled a small envelope out of his jacket pocket and slipped out a printed photograph, the same one that adorned his wall, with his signature in black marker pen scrawled across one corner.

“Ahh yes. Zilda is so lovely. Would you like me to take it? I’m sure we’ll see her at some point.”

“Yes please, Esta. Thanks.”

“And will you be looking for a private dance this evening?” Esta glanced over at China as she asked this, no doubt hoping that her presence would not reduce her profit this evening. Esta’s eyes lit up as she thought of something. “Or maybe your lovely lady would like to see my special dance?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Mark, to China’s horror. She wasn’t sure she was ready for a one on one private dance. Mark noticed her expression. “We’ll let you know a bit later. We’re going to have a drink first.”

“Ok. But don’t forget your little Esta when you decide. You know my dances are very special. The best.”

Mark laughed. “You all say that.” When Esta pouted again at his response he added, “But of course, in your case it’s true.”

She wagged a finger at him and looked comically stern as she walked away and sought out her next potential customer.

“Don’t worry,” he said to China. “If you don’t want a dance from Esta that’s fine. She won’t be the last to offer that to us. It is their job after all. Let’s have a drink.”

Sipping her Vodka at the bar, behind the crowds of men that gravitated towards the raised stage whenever the music was turned up, China began to see why all these girls looked so fit. The central, gleaming pole offered a perfect workout station for the body, especially when used in the ways that these girls used it. They were almost gravity defying. China could hardly believe that muscles could be so well honed to hold the body in such seemingly impossible positions on the chrome pole. The thigh and stomach muscles didn’t shake as the girls, one after the other, displayed gymnastic tendencies that China felt wouldn’t be out of place in an Olympic stadium.

“If they wore more clothes this could be an Olympic sport. It’s basically gymnastics,” she joked to Mark.

“True. It’s amazing to watch.”

China had to agree. There was an elegance and beauty in each performance. The lack of clothes only served to emphasise how amazing these girls’ bodies were. There was an anatomical appreciation to be had besides the pure sexiness of watching a naked woman expose herself at different angles. The girls were proud of their bodies, and rightly so. The hard work that must have gone into creating such works of art. It was a kind of understated bodybuilding. But whereas bodybuilding could create a monster when taken too far, this was pure sculpture, to a perfect vision. Some of the girls were noticeably curvier than others, but even then they looked strong. The extra weight was carried with such grace and poise that China could see the punters were just as appreciative. The variety of shapes, sizes and colours on display only made each girl more special as they represented a different but equally valid vision of beauty.

“What do you think?” Mark asked her.

“It’s not what I expected. Less…” she searched for the right word. “Less, pornographic. It’s really surprisingly artistic.”

“Exactly,” he said, with some enthusiasm. “I wish more women would come and see this. They’re not all skinny beanpoles, they’re not prostitutes, they’re not druggies, and they’re not just lying there opening their legs for customers to drool over.”

China had seen quite a few of the girls presenting the last pose that Mark had mentioned, but she did have to admit that it was just a small part at the end of the act. It almost seemed to be a final reward thrown to the boys watching at the end of an otherwise classy display of artistic posing. Another thing that China had noticed was the steady stream of girls leading men to the back of the pub and through a curtained doorway. A few minutes later the men would re-appear, followed by the girls just a couple of moments after that.

“I presume that’s where the private dancers perform?”

Mark nodded, hardly taking his eyes off of Esta who was now performing on stage. She was one of the shortest girls present and now her body was free of the scarlet underwear she had been wearing earlier, China could see she had an almost boyish figure. She obviously had hardly any body fat because her muscles were perfectly displayed as she contorted herself around the pole to the strains of a hip-hop track that China didn’t recognize. China understood why Mark was so entranced by Esta. Her body flowed effortlessly from one pose to the next, and she remained elevated halfway up the pole, switching between poses without touching the ground or looking awkward. The muscles of her thighs held her aloft at one point, and then it was her armpit, then her calves as she hung upside down and arched her body away from the pole, reaching her arms out in a swan-dive pose. The audience gasped, as did China. “How does she do that?

Although Esta was completely naked at this point in her act, China felt no shame in staring in wonderment, along with everyone else in the room. This didn’t feel sleazy at all, and China started to understand why men appreciated such places. Beyond the pornography that men could find easily enough on the Internet, there was a beauty here that was borne of confidence. A beauty that she couldn’t imagine experiencing anywhere else. It was an art form.

After her dance, Esta slipped back into her outfit and wandered over to Mark, slipping an arm around his waist. But it was China she was looking at. “What did you think? Am I good?”

“You were amazing,” China said smiling. “How do you do some of those things?”

Esta’s laugh was genuine and contagious, “A lot of time in the gym. But I can eat what I like. That’s good. I need chocolate for energy,” she joked. “And pizza. And wine. It’s a tough life.”

“Well I wished I looked that good on chocolate, pizza and wine.”

“If you did that every night,” Esta said, nodding her head back toward the now empty stage, “you would in very short time.”

China suspected that was no joke. Having seen the girls perform she knew that the bodies they all so proudly displayed were hard earned.

“But I think you look great as you are. We are all different. Are you ready for special dance now?” Esta asked China. China blushed. “Tis no big deal. Wives and girlfriends have them all the time.” China wondered which of those two categories Esta had placed China in. She wondered herself which category she fitted into tonight.

“Go on,” said Mark. “You will enjoy it. I promise. You wanted to learn how to pose, and Esta here is one of the best. You’ve seen her.”

China could not argue with that. Esta had performed the most spectacular routine of the night so far. Maybe China wasn’t ready for the depressing concept of trying to pose like the best of these girls, but she had to admit she had come here for a lesson and she might as well get it from a friendly face. Some of the other girls were quite intimidating with their stark offer of sexual allure. Esta must have noticed China’s hesitation because she reached out and took China’s hand and pulled her toward the back of the room. China was intrigued about what went on back there, and how it could be any different to what was publically displayed on the stage.

Behind the curtain was a line of private booths, each cubicle behind a thick burgundy curtain. Esta led her to one of the empty booths where the curtain was pulled back. As she passed each occupied booth, through narrow gaps in the curtain China caught glimpses of writhing flesh that made her stomach churn with fear, excitement and anticipation. She felt like she needed to wee, and her breathing became more rapid. China had never had a panic attack before, but this felt like the start of one. She started to shake.

Esta stopped and looked up at her. “Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as you think. They are not having sex, this is not a brothel. You’ll see. It’s nice. You will enjoy.”

Inside the cubicle there was a single small, comfortable double sofa. There was a shelf next to the sofa and a table just inside the curtain. “If you have any keys or other objects in your pocket, please put them on the shelf.” She didn’t have, they were all in her bag that she placed next to the sofa. “Now please sit down in the middle.”

Esta pulled the curtains carefully so that there was no gap and smiled reassuringly at China who sat forward slightly, hands nervously buried in her lap. “We wait for the track to start. You get one whole song for twenty pounds. But Mark already paid so no worries.”

“Does your husband not mind?” China asked, noticing the stripper’s wedding and engagement ring.

“He may do, but he is happy I send him money so he will put up with it.”

“Where is he?”

“Back in Romania. He is an artist and he paints vampire pictures for tourists,” she laughed. “He is good but he doesn’t make much money. We are saving so we can have a bigger house, but I can’t do that at home. So here I am.”

“And your customers don’t mind you wearing it?”

“Is not up to them. They like it or they don’t get a dance,” she said, in a matter of fact voice. “Most of them are married anyway, so they don’t mind.”

Curiosity satisfied, China relaxed a little and Esta leaned against the table as they waited for the current music track to finish. When the new track started both of them smiled. “My favourite song in the whole world,” announced Esta.

“Mine too.” China sat back, the music instantly relaxing her.

“Pearl Jam. Black. Also a nice long track. You get value for money tonight.”