A Whole Other Story

Bar Two: The Dance

See Part One

Steve’s driver dropped them off at the end of a busy street crammed with pedestrians. Steve and Helen walked arm in arm chatting and laughing as he pointed out shops and stalls along the way. Arnold walked a few paces behind where he couldn’t overhear their conversation. It seemed the right thing to do. Why couldn’t I get changed too? They both look smart in their suits and I am walking the streets in fetish gear. I do wish people would stop pointing me out to their companions and sniggering.

“Ah we are nearly there, this is one of our flyer girls now,” said Steve pointing out a girl in a maid’s dress handing out leaflets. Helen thought she looked pretty but a little overly made up, as if for a stage.

“Is that one of your boys?” She asked intrigued.

“Oh no, the flyer girls are all actual girls,” he said laughing. “We need to keep something back for the paying customers.”

The maid spotted them approaching and curtseyed. “Good evening Mr Williams,” before nodding to Helen and adding a Mam for good measure.

“Good Evening Fai, is it busy tonight?” He asked as they strolled past, not stopping.

“As always sir,” Fai said thrusting a leaflet towards Arnold. She must think I am just the type dressed like this. He studied the leaflet. Pretty Maids All In A Row. Live Girls, Discrete Table Service, Maids of all kinds and tastes. Nothing to indicate ladyboys. Is Steve just wining and dining on a false promise? Arnold remembered the suggestion of a maids outfit for him, he would be too shy to wear one but the idea intrigued him.

“This is it,” Steve pointed to a discrete door with a medium sized sign next to it. The logo had three maid outlines arranged with two just behind and to the right. Each shape was a different colour. Black, Yellow and Pink. “My Pretty Maids await.”

They paused for Arnold and then entered together through a narrow corridor that opened out into a large night club. they could have been anywhere in the world. A few short steps had taken them from a bustling over crowded street to a sophisticated venue. The most obvious difference from the last bar was the number of people. The room wasn’t full, but there was a buzz of activity and chatter and a lively cabaret was in full swing on the sunken stage.

“Allow Gam here to get you seated and I will join you presently.” Steve said handing them off to a waiting maid that had stepped out of the crowd to greet him. “My table Gam, and they are new here, so could you explain the colour code, I think Helen will be very interested.”

Helen was indeed fascinated. Gam explained that the girls like her, in traditional black dresses were girls, and those in pastel pink were ladyboys. Yellow was reserved for guests that wanted to join in and serve their masters and mistresses. Helen picked out the various maids scurrying this way and that. Goodness is that a boy?  If it wasn’t for the pink I would never know. They walked past a table with an attendant yellow maid standing to one side. Helen tried not to laugh. He doesn’t look remotely female. He carries himself well though. I bet Arnie would look meek and embarrassed in a costume like that. The image was pushed from her mind as Gam pulled back a curtain to reveal a spacious area with a couple of low tables surrounded by comfortable looking sofas.  They ordered drinks and were left taking in their luxurious surroundings. Helen noticed they had a clear view of the stage, as the walkway they had been following fell away before them. Wow this place is much more like it.

On stage girls in skimpier versions of the back and pink costumes posed and danced to a forties show tune. Some of those pink girls look better than the ones in black. Those skirts don’t leave much to the imagination when they lean forward. Thank goodness for those frilly knickers. Oh except that poor ladyboy in the thong! Helen felt herself blushing as the drinks arrived. Now that is a Manhattan!

“This is quite the place isn’t it Arnie?” She said looking at him for the first time.

“Yes.” Arnold was a little overwhelmed. At least I am on the sofa. I feel a bit underdressed here. “Very swish.” He sipped his cheap beer and eyed her cocktail enviously.

“Did you see that poor guy in the yellow costume?” Helen asked.

“Which one?” Arnold had spotted four on their short walk to this alcove.

“Well, I only saw the one. I guess I wasn’t sizing up the costumes for myself like you were,” Helen said chuckling.

“No I wasn’t. The yellow stands out in the dark,” he said feeling himself blush. God she is going to ask me isn’t she. Please don’t ask. Is it getting warm in here?

As if to save him, Steve strode into the alcove with the demeanour of someone who owned the place.

“There you are. Are you comfortable? Did Gam look after you?” He asked.

“Yes thank you! This place is wonderful,” said Helen.

“Very comfortable” said Arnold. Steve glanced momentarily at him then back at Helen.

“He’s on the furniture I see. There are cushions.” He picked up a cushion from the other sofa and dropped it on the far side of Helen.

“Thank you Steve” she said, then without even glancing at Arnold she pointed to the cushion. “Kneel Arnie.”

“But Helen…”

“Now” She said forcefully, cutting his protestations short.

Arnold meekly stood and moved round to the cushion. It looks comfortable at least. Soft Leather. As he knelt Steve took Arnold’s place beside Helen and draped his arm over the back of the seat behind her. He pointed to the beer and flicked his finger upwards. A maid appeared and took it away, and almost immediately a chilled bottle arrived. The surroundings had changed but their relative positions had not. Arnold felt his erection returning. He remembered the last time he had been on his knees, outside their hotel room, listening to Helen and Steve choosing her suit. Their conversation punctuated by suggestive silences and whispers, and Helen’s playful laughter.

Three things competed for Helen’s attention, her submissive husband allowing another man to take charge and implying permission for more. Steve’s physical closeness and confidence in his domain, and the vivid extravagance of the stage. The dance routine won. The ladyboy with the thong panties was playing a clumsy chorus girl, haplessly losing her clothing in a comedic farce. Helen was transfixed as she was stripped by circumstance, slowly revealing her delightful figure.

“I see you like Kanda. She is very popular here,” said Steve, “you have good taste”.

Helen glanced at him. He is watching me. Studying my desires. He had read her earlier. I gathered you had a kink or two yourself. What is he after? Does he want me or my money? She found it more comfortable to watch the show than meet his gaze.

“Would you like to meet her?” He asked. “She can be very attentive. Her table service commands a high price, but I did promise that your visit would be on me.”

Helen watched as Kanda was reduced to just her thong. The lights extinguished to cut short a brief view of her firm pert breasts. I should be polite. I couldn’t possibly take her from her duties. Is Steve hinting I would be indebted in some way? No, I must decline.

“Oh yes please, that would be delightful,” she said, downing her champagne.

“Very well,” said Steve nodding to a discretely positioned maid. “Speaking of service I think we need another bottle. Arnie, take the ice bucket to the bar and tell them I sent you.”

Arnold was snapped out of a daydream. He has imagining himself on that stage, swishing and twirling in those lovely skirts, while the ladies and gentlemen watched on amused and laughing.

The barmaid had been following Arnold’s approach and moved to meet him on the customer side of the bar. Placing his bucket on it, she wordlessly gestured for him to follow her through a curtained doorway and down a narrow corridor. Where are we going? Are we fetching the champagne? Her silence made him feel self-conscious about asking. They came to an alcove where a pink maid was carefully applying her make-up. Wow she looks stunning. Is she the right word? The barmaid paused and leant over the maid’s shoulder to study her reflection.

“That is much better” she said reaching for a wipe from the thin table. “Again,” she said simply, and the maid took the wipe forlornly. The barmaid continued on her march. Arnie watched as the maid began to wipe clean her face. They shared a moment of eye contact and Arnold could tell she was close to tears. Realising the barmaid was escaping he hurried on. He caught up with her at a doorway and was ushered inside. The door closed behind him and he found himself standing before an older Thai woman behind a small office desk. Her eyes wordlessly watched him as he decided what he should do. There was no chair.

“Good evening Annie. I am Madame Somsak,” she said. Her perfect pronunciation suggested an English education. Even her hair, tightly tied up into a high bun, suggested school corridors and dusty libraries. “You can call me Madame.”

“Good Evening Madame,” Arnold said uncertainly. Annie? Has she misheard my name?

“Mr Williams tells me you are to be a maid for the evening,” she said, smiling broadly as if honoured. “That is such a nice gesture. Your wife is a very lucky lady to have such a generous husband.”

“Um. Thank You Madame” he said, “But I…”

“Normally our paying customers wear a yellow dress…” She paused and stood, walking slowly around her desk. She was dressed in an Edwardian cotton blouse, all gathers and shaping, and a narrow knee length woollen skirt. Arnold’s attention settled on her perfectly polished calf length boots. If it wasn’t for her ethnicity she could have walked off of the set of an English costume drama. She was devastatingly attractive.

“But… Mr Williams tells me it will be on the house. Is that correct?” Said Madame Somsak, standing directly before him, looking him up and down.

“Yes Madame.” That simple phrase seemed to trap him. I could call it off. Run back to Helen and ask to leave. Stand up to Steve and reclaim my wife. Yes Madame.

“Mr Williams is too generous I think. You should be paying me, and Mr Williams probably won’t,” she said contemplating the arrangement. “So in a way you will owe me”.

“I am sure Mr Williams will…”

“Don’t contradict me Annie!” She said sharply. “This is my establishment, I think I understand how these things work better than a mere maid.”

“Yes Madame,” he answered reflexively. “Sorry Madame.”

“That means you will be in my employ this evening. And that requires a pink dress.” She snapped her fingers twice and two maids bustled in and led him out of the office.

Continued in Part Three
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