Fawne
Just as Bambi had suspected, Fawne was a natural. She knew exactly how to move her hips, exactly how long to hold her clients’ eyes before looking down at her body, and exactly which outfits to wear. Fawne realized by watching the other girls that glitter was going to be her best friend. Even after her swollen milk filled breasts went back down to their original size, she learned that glitter would make them look fuller and stand out more under the lights.
“You rich yet?” Starr asked in the dressing room on break. Starr was six feet tall and Fawne wondered if she used to be a man but was afraid to ask. She had strong features and broad shoulders, but used it to her benefit. Starr was one of the most attention grabbing "girls" in the club.
“Beyond rich.” Fawne smiled shyly, adjusting her top. Fawne easily brought home four hundred dollars a night, and had been living in a fancy hotel for nearly two months. She ordered room service every night, could jump on her huge bed and dance along with MTV without getting fussed at. She was living her dream!
“Hell yes! We’re living the life. No doubt about it!” Starr put her signature star shaped pasties on her implants and headed back out toward the thumping music.
Fawne sat back, relaxing for a few minutes before her own song came on. Each night she picked a different song to make her nightly debut to. Tonight it was Corey Hart’s Sunglasses at Night. She listened as the crowd cheered for Starr and knew that within minutes they would be cheering for her. The synthesized keyboard began to play-- that was her cue. She put on a pair of sunglasses and pulled her legwarmers up as she headed out onto the stage to wow the eager patrons. In her opinion, she had the best taste in music out of any of the other girls. Usually the songs that she danced to became club favorites soon afterwards. The other girls just danced to whatever was popular at the moment instead of picking songs that would evoke mental images and pull their audience even closer to the edge.
The lights were dim as she teased the crowd by pulling at her tiny top without exposing any skin. Fawne bent over and shook her barely covered rear, her view of the crowd now upside down between her legs. She was more than a stripper, she was a dancer. She felt the rhythm in her body and licked her lips as she finally pulled her sparkly blue top off. “I wear my sunglasses at night…” The music was loud and Fawne managed to block out the crowd and just dance. She knew what they liked, but still pretended that they weren’t there. Her sunglasses made her feel like she was in another world. She ran her hands down her body and rolled her head sensually, her freshly colored hair catching the light. Her g-string was full of singles and sweat was rolling down her back as the song came to an end. She knew that a night full of lap dances awaited her, she could tell by their lustful hoops and hollers that she had a busy night ahead. She didn’t mind. It was just a job-- one she was damn good at.
Stew approached Fawne with a smile as she tied her top back around her exposed chest. “You’re amazing.”
“Thanks, Stew.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, he was like a Father to her now. He took good care of his girls.
“Ditch the sunglasses and head to table six, four dances in a row over there.”
Fawne did as she was told, sliding the glasses into Stew’s shirt pocket flirtatiously. The house music was annoyingly simple and expected, Rod Stewart's "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy" was playing. “Fawne?” she heard a familiar voice behind her and spun around. Usually her movements in the club were slow, drawn-out, and thought-out, but not this one. She knew that voice. It was John.
“John?” Suddenly the confidence from dancing her heart out drained from her body and she felt like a pregnant seventeen year old girl again, instead of a popular seventeen year old stripper who everyone thought was eighteen.
“How are you?” John looked her up and down. He forgot what a knock out body she had when she wasn’t pregnant.
“I’m good.” Fawne was at a loss for words.
“Want a drink?” John suddenly wanted to get his hands on her again.
“I’m working, John. If you want time with me you have to buy it.” Fawne felt like crying but instead headed over to table six and gave the men empty compliments before climbing into their laps one by one. She made sure that she gave a good show for John’s benefit. He was watching her with a drink in his hand. John was the one man in the room who had already had what every man in the room wanted. He had Fawne Lewis before she was "Innocent Fawne" the stripper. He realized as he watched her slide her breasts across the bald man’s face that he wanted her again.
Stew sent Fawne over to John’s table next. He was sitting alone, lounging back in the chair that like everything else in the club was upholstered with a confetti print that reminded Fawne of a doctor’s office. She couldn’t make herself flirt with him, after all he had abandoned her without giving her a second thought. She wanted to slap him and ask him how his wife was, but instead she sat in his lap and breathed seductively into his ear. Fawne put all harsh feelings aside and just let loose. She wanted him to see what he was missing. It would be much more torturous than throwing a fit and crying would. She pulled at his tie with her teeth and pushed down against him with her hips. She wanted him to remember what it felt like to be with her. John was eating her up like candy. He was aware of every single move that she made and wanted her now more than he ever did before. She was like a different girl. Her makeup was flawless, her firm breasts were covered in glitter, and rear end was rounder than he remembered. This girl was amazing!
Fawne peeled off the same dazzling blue top again for the fifth time since starting her shift. John’s hands wandered up to her inviting breasts but she shook her head and reminded him that he couldn’t touch. She wasn’t his anymore. He was nothing more to her than an extra twenty dollar bill at the end of the night. “I want you so bad.” John whispered, smelling the sweet vanilla scent of her perfume.
“Now you want me…” Fawne snapped, her voice still rattling in her lower register, where all of the sexy tones usually materialized. Time was up but she stayed above him, moaning and wiggling. “Why didn’t you want me then?” she asked, licking his neck. Something she didn’t do to regular patrons. John wasn’t a regular patron.
“I told you.” he tried to focus his mind on the question at hand, but it was occupied elsewhere. It was lingering back with the moans and movements that Fawne made. He wanted her so bad that it hurt. “I couldn’t risk getting caught.”
“You walked out. You gave me a hundred dollars. That didn’t last a week, John.” Fawne had a new concept of money now. At the time the c-note seemed like a fortune, but now she was aware of how insignificant it really was. A hundred dollars to a successful lawyer or event to a stripper in high demand was like fifty cent to a normal person.“You left me and forgot our baby.”
Suddenly John remembered the baby he had somehow managed to force out of his mind. Did she have a baby sitting at home waiting on her to finish riding him like a slow drawn out roller coaster? “How is our baby?”
“I took care of it.” Fawne stood up abruptly, forgetting that other people were watching them. “There is no baby.”
John breathed a sigh of relief. He figured she would abort it and was glad to hear that she did. He tried to compose himself after the awkward conversation and heated encounter, but it was nearly impossible. For lack of anything better to say, John said, “It was good seeing you, Fawne.”
“You too, John. Come back.” Fawne rushed to the back room, hoping that no one would notice her tears.
“That guy bothering you?” Stew followed her.
“No, just an old friend…” Fawne sat in front of the mirror, still topless, and wiped away the black streams of mascara that were running from her eyes. A part of her still loved John, regardless of what he had done to her. Part of her wanted him and the rest of his babies. “Tell me when he’s gone.”
