Tapping the keyboard with a flourish, I finished up the last sentence. It was the first successful bit of writing that I'd done all week: three whole pages! I breathed a sigh of relief at finishing. Or was that a yawn? I'd lost track of time, but I knew it was late.
I saved my work, stretched, and closed the program to let my old computer- an old battered desktop, refurbished from some highschool or something, doodles and all- rest. Checking the time and seeing it was later than I thought, I considered my options. At this hour, only the night clubs and 24-hour service places were open. I'd promised myself that if I finished the third page I'd get myself a treat, and I didn't want to ruin my new self-incentivizing scheme! Resolved in my plan, I then began to put on my coat and shoes and figure out where I'd put my keys.
Hunting for the darn things didn't take long. The apartment might have been cramped and crowded with bookcases and shelving for my various collections, but with only three small rooms it was impossible for any search to be lengthy.
Keys in hand, I went to the door, beginning my exit routine. Checked the peephole. Through the door, locked the door, checked the lock. Checked again. My little routines helped with my anxiety, though I had to be careful not to overdo it. Down the hallway, down the stairs, count the stains on the carpets, out the emergency exit, and finally I was out of the apartment building and in the open air.
I resisted the urge to go back and check my lock again.
It didn't take me too long to get to the local Six Nines, a gas station and convenience store. There were four of them in the city... no, three, since the one in the South end got bought out... but this one was the best. Mostly because it lucked out and got an old retiree to work at it, a nice guy I dubbed in my head as Ol' Reliable, because he worked way too hard for what he was being paid. Consequently, they sometimes had fresh –well, more like less stale– pastries on hand.
Entering the door (jingle!), I exchanged some pleasantries with Ol' Reliable, feeling a vague pang of embarrassed shame. I really should probably have known his actual name, but I'd known him too long for it to be acceptable to ask and he never wore a nametag. Pitiful, an author who can't remember names! No wonder I was struggling. I was worthless, useless-
Shaking my head to disrupt my thought, I refocused on the pastries. Logically, it didn't do any good to beat myself up, I reminded myself... after all, Life would do that for me.
I paid for the pastry, and was about to head out when the door opened(jingle!) to reveal a face I thought I'd never see again. Eric, an old friend from university, I'd not seen or heard from him in over a year! He was distractedly looking at his phone, so it was up to me to say some pithy and humorous greeting worthy of such a fortuitous meeting.
Meaning to say something like 'I didn't expect to see you show up here!' or 'hey how's it hangin'?', I instead said, "Hey I, uh...ex ha- did- show it- shangin'?" and I blinked in confusion at my own gibberish. Real smooth.
Eric looked up from his phone, and instantly broke into a wide grin. He had bags under his eyes, but his voice was full of energy.
"Hey big T, what is UP!?" He punctuated his sentence with his hands, ending with a fist bump, "Never gotta chance to chill after finals! What HAPPENED dude, you just PEACED OUT, I didn't see you at the grad party!"
I don't know why he called me Big T... I mean, of course he must know multiple people named Trevor, but surely I wasn't the "big" one. I liked it though, and I guessed that was enough for Eric to keep it going. He was a nice guy, just more into partying than studying. In his first year (my second), we'd had a Physics class in common. He was lost, I wasn't... and apparently the way I explained things was more in tune with his thinking patterns than the textbook's extremely dry phrasing.
It went both ways, though. He understood people better, and his sometimes blunt reasoning and teasing helped put a few of my anxieties in context. He was also the only reason why I attended ANY parties during my University years. He was a bit scatter-brained and high-strung, but charismatic and fun.
"Well, I-"
"Nah man It's COOL," he interrupted, putting his phone on the counter and getting Ol' Reliable's attention, " I just –sorry one sec – yeah one pack of Newport Menthol's bro... yeah that one- I just wanted to thank you man, it was CLUTCH! I almost didn't graduate... and BRO I almost DIED at the party after! It was – yeah Credit, thanks bro- Come on, let's go to the club, I'll tell you on the way!"
He was already halfway out the door. It was hard to get a word in edgewise with him, but a declaration like that was often my opportunity.
"Your phone?" I picked it up from the counter with a wry smile.
He gave me a thin smile as I brought his phone to him. I supposed that this was why he hadn't heard from me, nor I from him... he was always losing his phone. Last time I'd tried to text him, I got a response from some bartender in Nevada. It was oddly fitting that my text had been asking about what classes he'd registered for, and if I could help.
Intending to explain about my writer's block, I began to say, "I should get back to my place, though, been up late-"
"Late PARTYING I bet yeah!" He crowed, "Ok ok, you do look like dogshit -I mean that in the nicest way!- but dude, we HAVE to go to this one club! Hey, I got a new number, you got your phone?"
Once I pulled out my cellphone, he just pushed his closer to mine. Despite neither of us tapping or swiping, to my surprise they both immediately rang once and then beeped twice.
"YEAA DOG we good now... you're on the cloud! I'll catch you later, I'm headin' to the club- or no wait what day is it? I might be in shit already, pro tip don't piss off your girl!- gotta go do somethin' or I'll be in DEEP shit!" He chuckled weakly before continuing in a conspiratorial tone, "OH did you hear about Pitch? Man, they just- nah gotta go, I'll tell you later, PEACE!"
I blinked. I had expected to see his old car parked nearby, but instead he'd just hopped onto some shining, angular motorcycle... a Kawasaki?... and blazed off (without a helmet, I noted), with me once again failing to get a word in edgewise. I wondered what had happened to his old on-its-last-legs Toyota Corolla, but I was MORE curious about what had happened to our friend 'Pitch'.
Jocelyn Tipper, aka 'Pitch' was a nice woman, into sports, an avid reader, beer connoisseur... a good middle-point of academia and party-going. After Uni she'd gotten into activism, and though our lives went in different directions we still chatted occasionally. Mostly sending memes, sometimes complaining about life bullshit... mostly the memes though.
Also, what was this about being on the cloud? Frowning a bit as I explored my phone, eventually I found it… some app called 'Share It Telecom Service'. It had just shared all my contacts with Eric... and all his contacts with me, it seemed.
Unsurprisingly, he had many more contacts than I did… hundreds more. Many had colorful and inventive names. No clue which of them was actually his OWN phone number. I smirked in amusement... classic Eric. I'd find it eventually.
I sighed, but I couldn't keep a smile off my face. Eric was at times very obnoxious, but I couldn't help but like and admire him. Such unflappable confidence and charisma! Invaluable to a business major. Or any major, really.
A long yawn overtook my smile. Soon enough, it would switch from being Very Late, to being Very Early. As I walked back to my apartment, enjoying my well-earned and barely-stale treat, it suddenly struck me, how unlikely it all was. Meeting a lost friend at a Six Nines, at this hour? Even our initial meeting, assigned as roommates, arriving at our room at the same time, seeing the paper note with our initials and last names at the same moment. What were the odds?
As an intellectual exercise I tried to calculate the probability, but I arrived at the building's front door before I arrived anywhere near the answer. Then I just went through my little entry routine.
Unlock building door, close the entrance behind me. Into the stairwell, up the stairs, count the stains on the carpet. Down the hall, check both ways, third door on the left, unlock door, close and lock behind me, turn on the light, check the lock.
I decided that I WOULD go party with him at whatever club-of-the-week he was interested in. Who knew when he next planned to go, mind you... his plans were usually spur-of-the-moment. Though it was at times inconvenient, I missed the spontaneity and yearned for the opportunity.
Though I didn't have the vivacity or nerve to live by it myself, it was Eric's philosophy that it was better to go to work a bit hungover than to miss out on living life to the fullest for even one day! Consequently, he'd gone to class hungover quite a lot and changed jobs frequently.
Fortunately, I didn't have work tomorrow, so my late night would have few consequences, and I'd be free to do whatever I wanted. Perhaps I'd do some more writing... or editing, whichever seemed easier. Perhaps Eric would be free all day tomorrow, and we'd party like the old days!
As I finished off my nightly routines and began to doze off, I sleepily resolved that, whichever way things went, I would make the most of my day off.
It turned out that actually, I did not have the day off.
I was one day ahead of where I thought I was... as I discovered when I awoke from bizarre dreams just after noon to my boss nearly firing me over the phone! He declared that my absence was my second strike... which begged the question of what the first strike was. I suspected that some of my coworkers may have blamed me for some of their own misdeeds, but I had no proof: only speculation. In any event, one more strike and I was fired.
Hoping to at least score one success, I then went to my writing. Now, where had I left off? I'd introduced The Detective... wait, I'd named him Rod Stiffer? And the beautiful woman who was hiring him was named Camila Toe? I blushed at the blatantly sexual puns... what was I thinking?
The more I read, the worse it looked. My characters were the most stereotypical Detective and Dame you could imagine. There were corny jokes and puns around every corner, crammed into even environmental descriptions. Critics would lambast me!
Two whole paragraphs were dedicated just to describe the woman's breasts and ass! Honestly, those paragraphs were the best written, with a few clever turns of phrase. However, the idea of anyone reading anything even vaguely sexual written by ME, filled me with dread and anxiety. Even thinking about the judgment that would surely be directed against me was just too much to bear.
Sinking into my chair, I wanted to cry. Everything I'd written was unusable, no amount of editing could save it! I'd never be a famous author with drivel like this. Hell, between the clichéd writing and the mortifying fear of judgement, I wouldn't even make it on the smut circuit. It was worthless, just like me.
I jumped at the sudden ringing. It was my phone... it had been ages since I'd heard anything except the custom ring-tone I'd assigned to my boss. I considered ignoring it. After all, it was probably just the IRS telling me that I owed them or some other awful thing... but then I realized that if that were the case, ignoring it would make it WORSE.
My phone rang again, as I took a second to compose myself.
Mustering my self-control, I calmly answered on the third ring, "Hello, Trevor speaking?"
"HEYY Big T!" Eric's voice was good to hear, even if it was distorted from being on Speaker-phone, and also from... wind? "Sorry I had to go so quick yesterday! I woulda called you sooner, but I had a... meeting..."
It wasn't much like him to trail off like that, but I quickly realized what was happening.
"Are you on the phone while driving? On a MOTORCYCLE?"
He laughed, "Yeah bro! But everyone's driving like a DICK today, what the fuck? Hold up a sec, just gotta get past this truck and then I'll be good. Got this SWEET set of earbuds that hook up to my ph--- and let m- -alk no probs! An- -t -.." his voiced trailed into electronic noise.
Shaking my head, I recalled that he'd never put on a helmet yesterday. Now knowing that he liked chatting on the phone while motorcycling, I suspected that he went helmetless to improve his earbuds' connection. I hoped that his current terrible reception was instead because of a helmet… but I knew better than to bet on it.
After a moment, the electronic noise was replaced by the sound of a motorcycle revving, and the cheers of a party boy going FAST.
"You're nuts, Eric..." I smiled, "but it is great to hear from you. My day's been absolute garbage! I've got work tomorrow, but fuck it! Let's go to the club tonight!"
I had to repeat myself to be heard over the traffic noise, but if any annoyance crept into my voice, Eric didn't hear it.
"YEAH brother you gotta live LIFE or you haven't LIVED at ALL! Show up at the club at like ten, ok?"
"Which club?"
"Hey T, this place is THE SHIT! It's Frenni's Night Club! It'll BLOW your mind, man! Be there at like TEN o'clock... or, wait... I might have something to do, I might be a bit late... so like maybe ten fifteen? I won't be too long, though! Don't go too hard on the Jaeger's before I get there! Oh and did I tell you about Pitch? Yeah, she's a guy now. Anyways there's a speedtrap ahead so I gotta hang up. PEACE!"
I blinked. That was a lot of information to process. I now wished I'd prepared a pen before answering... I typed it below my attempt at writing instead. With the meeting info written down, I then had to process about Pitch. So, she... -I mentally corrected myself, HE- had transitioned? When had that happened? I hadn't heard their voice in forever, since neither of us were much into calling, so it could have happened yesterday or a year ago. Perhaps I had missed a message?
I checked my last message to Pitch. It was from a week ago, I'd been complaining about still not having a date. "If you were a guy, you'd know what it's like out here." Oh. OH NO.
My good mood instantly vanished. Well, that explained why Pitch hadn't talked to me, I had seemingly dismissed their transition. I'd ruined my friendship with Pitch, and hadn't even known it. All because I was just too socially inept to keep up with her… -I corrected myself again, HIS- life. I just couldn't do ANYTHING right.
I dejectedly muttered to myself, "Eric never fucked up HIS friendships like this..." because it was true. Sure he stepped on toes, a LOT... but he always seemed to fix the problems and become friends again. He always seemed to smooth things over. He wasn't very eloquent, but he knew the right sentiments to express, even if he sometimes used the wrong words.
The train of thought sparked an idea, and I sat bolt upright. That was it! Eric knew how to fix friendships! HE would know how I could smooth things over with Pitch!
I stood up with excitement. He knew PEOPLE! He could help with my writing, at least with the dialogue! The ideas he'd toss to me for my essays were not always viable, but they were ALWAYS interesting... maybe he'd be my muse! After all, I'd never had problems writing back when we were roomies, and it was now clear that the subtle high of sleep deprivation was NOT the key.
Hell, he could hardly make my writing worse. If nothing else, I'd have a fun time. I had nothing to lose, but everything to gain!
I checked my work schedule for the next day. I could tolerate a McRonald's shift with a hangover if it wasn't an early shift. The stars seemed to align: it was not a morning shift, it was mid-day... and I double-checked the date and time to make sure I got it right.
Despite my low self-esteem, despite my horrible day thus far, I felt like things were turning around.
Chapter 2
I arrived at Frenni's Night Club over an hour early, since the bus schedules were ridiculous and I didn't want to be late. I'd assumed that it would be some small and obscure niche venue, so I was surprised when I came up to a three-story edifice with a huge neon sign.
The stairway up to the front door was wider than the length of the city bus I'd used to get there, and a small crowd of people were standing around on them. In the middle of the stairway there were two short palm trees coming out of a planter lined with pink LED strips that lit up the leaves. There were more pink LED strips up the sides of the pillars supporting the awning for the front door. On the awning there was a small neon sign saying 'Frenni's Night Club'.
Not that anyone would pay attention to that little sign. At the left edge of the stairway there was a huge neon sign that rose even higher than the roof of the building, depicting the outline of a naked woman raising and lowering one leg seductively, with neon lettering beneath her identifying the club.
There were no windows to the building on the first floor, only on the second and third. The windows above the awning were all lit up in yellow or pink, but with curtains concealing the inside. The rest of the building was dark, save for one room on the third floor.
There were bouncers outside each of the two sets of double-doors leading into the building... though it looked like people only entered one of the sets of doors, judging from the velvet ropes and how people placed themselves.
Self-consciously adjusting my shirt, I was suddenly glad that I'd decided to dress up a bit for my first real night-club outing, instead of wearing what I used to in my University days, going to bars. Even so, I felt underdressed compared to what everybody else was wearing. One guy was even wearing a suit!
I was also a little worried about the neon sign of the woman. Was this a strip club? Not only was I not skilled with women, not only did I have some anxieties about sex, but also the last time I'd been in a strip club had been very unpleasant. Nothing bad had happened, exactly... just, all the performers had seemed sad, or dead inside, and were outright miserable while performing.
Thinking of Pitch for a moment, I realized that it didn't matter what kind of club it was... it was my shot at fixing things. All I had to do was get in, meet with Eric, and everything would be ok.
So I got in line, and waited.
And waited.
And worried. A lot of people were getting turned away. Eric, of course, would be able to talk his way in no matter what... but I had no such skills. However, the boredom of waiting took the edge off of my anxiety.
My anxiety crept up a notch when the time passed ten o'clock. No sign of Eric, and I was almost at the front of the line.
Ten minutes later, I was third in line, behind a guy in a golf shirt and a woman in a yellow dress. I overheard Golf Shirt slur something out about money. He got rejected by the bouncer. This bouncer wasn't too tall, just five foot ten... but he had muscles that brooked no argument.
Golf Shirt argued.
The bouncer, whom I dubbed Mr. No Argument, repeated himself.
Golf Shirt argued LOUDER.
Yellow Dress began arguing also. Apparently she was his date. She asked if he knew who her father was? Mr. No Argument did not. Yellow Dress was incensed, but Mr. No Argument was unbothered.
Several people left from the other doors, and then the second bouncer came by. The second bouncer was six foot three, built like a star quarterback. Mr. 6'3" asked Golf Shirt and Yellow Dress to leave, and at last they did.
Stifling a chuckle at the show, I stepped up. At first, the two bouncers were just focused on the couple leaving, but then Mr. 6'3" seemed to notice me, and tapped Mr. No Argument on the shoulder. He nodded, and waved me in wordlessly.
I entered, feeling like a million bucks. It felt like I'd been granted access to some secret sanctum, or like I'd won a lottery. At first I was so thrilled that I scarcely paid attention to my surroundings, I just walked the twisting path towards the music that I could hear thumping from within the building. I did dimly notice that there was an elevator, but no stairs up or down.
And then I entered the club proper. There was a throng of people in the club, flashing lights, a stage, loud music... I found it too overwhelming at first to pay attention to. This wasn't technically my first time in a club, but my last time had been a long while ago and only for a few minutes.
I could already tell that I was going to get overstimulated, and quickly developed a plan to keep myself from being overwhelmed.
First, I'd find the bar, have exactly one drink, and focus JUST on the drink. Then I'd take in the club slowly, as I finished the drink. The alcohol, or perhaps just the act of drinking, would calm me and make it all more manageable.
The bar was actually pretty close to the entrance, just maybe twenty feet in. I took in the details slowly. The bar went straight, kinked to the left maybe three feet, went straight again, flush to a wall that led to a long hallway.
Linoleum lined the floor in black and white squares like a chessboard. There was some doorway to my right, with some people beyond it, but the majority of the noise and people were to my left. I tried harder to ignore everything but the path to the bar.
Just as I neared the bar, a patron left their bar stool. What luck! I sat myself down, mentally checked off the first box of my 'club-going' plan. Now for step two.
I perused the drinks list. I already knew what I wanted to start... just a rum and coke. But a drinks list is boring, and easily parsed, and so it would give me a moment to acclimate to the environs, as well as give me an excuse for not talking to anyone.
"What will you have?" A female voice asked.
"I will ha-" I froze, midsentence. The woman before me was quite the striking image, in many ways.
She was wearing a tank top, but because of her enormous breasts, the orange straps going over her shoulders needed to be an inch wide for it to stay up. The tank top was black, with the words "Night Club" across the front… perhaps to give drunk patrons an excuse for why they were gazing into the incredible cleavage. If you told me her breasts were double D's, I'd call you a liar. I was a bit fuzzy on how bra cup sizes worked, but I was pretty sure this was one of the cases where they went higher on the alphabet. These were... maybe, H? I? J??
She was also wearing bright orange short shorts that were TIGHT, and concealed little of her prodigious posterior. Right now, one of her slender hands was perched on her hip, on the edge of her wide black belt, accentuating her hourglass figure. Long, black, fingerless gloves stretched up her slender but toned arms, going up past her elbows.
A bright red bow was tied around her neck, which matched two red sparkling stars in her hair, as well as the red eyeshadow above her bright violet eyes. Her hair was a bob that partially concealed one eye, and was immaculate, not a hair out of place. She had a friendly smile that revealed cute buck teeth.
I imagined that she only had buck teeth because she was also a six-foot-five, deep purple, anthropomorphic rabbit woman. All her skin and hair was purple, her cleavage a noticeably lighter purple, even her tall bunny ears were purple.
The smiling rabbit woman stood in front of me for several seconds. I was speechless. Some nearby patron ordered something, and she moved away from me, revealing she was also wearing thigh-high black stockings. Gymnast stockings, I guessed, as the heel and toes were exposed.
I wasn't sure what to do, now. What the hell? Was it a costume? If so, the purple skin had to be body-paint; it didn't fold like fabric. The purple hair though... not a hair out of place, you'd need a ton of hairspray to get it to stay like that. And the ears, they moved... and didn't appear to have any apparatus to hold them on her head.
I watched her for several minutes as she minded the other patrons. Clearly, she'd been doing the job a long while, the smile never left her face and she said everything the same way each time. Like a robot... only, no real robot would be able to parse human speech so effortlessly, and move so smoothly. Or have such enormous yet still realistic breasts.
And then up came a lady with a slinky red dress, with a burning desire for a specific drink.
"BONFIE!" The woman shouted over the crowd noise in the club, louder than she needed to," BON-FEE! I wanna CHATEAU LA... LATOUR."
"What will you have?" Bonfie replied with a smile.
"CHATEAU LATOUR!"
Bonfie paused, and blinked repeatedly for several seconds. Her smile disappeared, and then she said, in a flat monotone, "File not found. Error 273. Sending error report."
Bonfie's purple eyes flickered dark for a moment, and only then did I realize that they had been actually glowing dimly the whole time. Then her eyes lit up, and her smile returned.
"What will you have?" Bonfie asked.
"WINE." Red Dress shouted angrily. The smile didn't budge from Bonfie's face.
Bonfie WAS a robot! Somehow! Eric hadn't overstated it, my mind was indeed blown. This was incredible! Impossible!
As my mind reeled, Bonfie came up to me again, and asked what I would have.
"Rum and coke..." I replied, barely above a whisper. Despite the noise of the club, she somehow heard me. I surmised that was why she had rabbit ears.
She brought me my drink, but didn't place it in front of me.
"I noticed that you are not a Premium Member of Frenni's Night Club!" She cheerily began, "Premium Members have a number of benefits, including access to the VIP area, preferential entry to the club, discounts for Special Shows, and a tab at the bar! Would you like to join the Frenni's Night Club Premium Program, and become a Premium Member today?"
"What's the VIP area?" I muttered, still in shock, as I fumbled for my wallet.
"The VIP area is just through this doorway," Bonfie motioned to the doorway I'd passed on the way to the bar, "-where there will be a sexy show performance almost every half-hour! Today's performer is: ... Fexa! There is also an entrance to the Special Show room within the VIP area!"
The way she said 'almost' was jarringly different, spoken quickly as if to jam it in between the other words.
"Um... no, I would not like to become a Premium Member today. I would just like to pay for my drink please."
Bonfie blinked slowly, and then wordlessly brought up a small tablet from behind the bar. It had a symbol of a credit card chip on it, but it took some fumbling for it to accept my card.
She slipped away to deal with other customers, as I began sipping my drink. I was dimly aware of the crowd cheering at something happening on stage... pretty sure some woman was singing... but I had to focus on one thing at a time. The VIP area... what was that about?
After a few minutes of waiting for a chance, I was able to relocate to a bar stool at the end of the bar, closest to the VIP area. There was a hanging star curtain across the doorway, but it had seen better days and was overdue for replacement. Even new, it wouldn't do much to obscure the room, I could see almost everything.
There was a small circular stage surrounded by a set of curtains on the left side of the room, a large vending machine for condoms at the far wall of the room, and several very comfortable looking seats along the right wall, some of which were occupied. I didn't see a door, but I couldn't see the left wall from my angle.
And then as if she had been listening to my thoughts, light spilled out of an opening door on the left side, and out stepped what HAD to be Fexa.
She wasn't quite as tall as Bonfie, but was still at least an inch over six feet tall... but Fexa was a fiery red, anthropomorphic fox. The red lightened to a reddish pink on her breasts, belly and ass. And what an ass! I couldn't help but think; that ass and those thighs could crush bowling balls!
Not that she was a one-feature woman. Fexa still had large breasts... but they were "only" double or triple D's. Maybe quadruple. In any event, Bonfie had the advantage on boobs, but Fexa destroyed the competition with her incredible rear end. The only potential detriment was the large and silky fox tail that sprouted from the top of her rear and arched high, trailing behind her.
Fexa walked out of the VIP room, and towards the entrance. Her design was very different than Bonfie's, even beyond the obvious assets. Her left eye was yellow and feline, and her right eye was covered in a black eyepatch decorated with a skull. Something about the eyepatch seemed familiar, but I couldn't place what it was.
She had two sharp teeth that hung down on the right side of her mouth, like fangs... one was gold. Fexa wore no makeup.
Fox ears stuck up out of her hair, adding another few inches to her height. Her red, styled hair stuck out in wide perky spikes from the sides of her head like a succulent plant, thick and luxurious. The hair looked healthy and natural, yet held in place with only the slightest wobble.
She had a short, sleeveless orange jacket with a flared and spiked collar. It was clearly designed to not even attempt to close. Her breasts were held tight with black wraps, giving her both cleavage and underboob to look at. There was a white skull-like pattern on the font of the wrap and on the back of the jacket.
She had the same belt as Bonfie, including a rectangular silvery buckle, but Fexa's short orange shorts were deliberately cut into long vertical triangles with blackened tips... the shapes allowing more of the legs and rear to be revealed.
White wraps wound around her legs from mid-thigh to ankle, with more white wraps around her right arm from her elbow to... a pirate hook for a hand? A black fingerless fishnet glove went up to her shoulder on the left arm, with some more of the black fishnet on her right upper arm.
However, just like Bonfie, Fexa had a simple smile plastered on her face, and her eyes... -well, eye- was wide open and friendly. Fexa walked out into the hallway between the club proper and the outside doors –an area I'd ignored in my entry elation, noting only a couple turns- pulled aside a red curtain against the right-side wall, and entered a blacked-out door, closing it behind her. The curtain fell back, covering the door.
I went to take another sip of my drink, only to discover that the glass was already empty. I was surprised to have finished it without realizing... but that paled to the surprise of two, incredibly realistic robots –or would they be animatronics?- within the nightclub.
Bonfie passed by my gaze, carrying a half-barrel keg of beer like it was nothing. I knew from my Uni days with Eric that those things weighed over a hundred and fifty pounds when full. Heavy for a guy like me... apparently no problem for a robot, though. She walked around the bar, and then passed behind me to down the hallway at the end of the bar.
A woman's voice interrupted the music for a moment, blaring from all the speakers.
"I will be back in a few moments for another show! Until then, there will be BEER 50% off while supplies last, down the west hallway in the arcade room!"
A cheer went up from the crowd, and many of them began making their way after Bonfie.
I tore my gaze from Bonfie for a moment to look over at the stage just as the curtains closed, catching just a glimpse of what appeared to be a naked woman with an oversized microphone. I shook my head. Couldn't have been naked, I was pretty sure that was illegal in this state... some sort of public decency law passed recently by the overly-religious Governor DeSanchruz. It was too short a glimpse to be certain of anything.
"Not going for the beer?"
I was startled by the voice. There was a bartender... a human one, that I hadn't noticed earlier. Orange vest, black shirt and pants, clean-shaven, short brown hair. It was a strange relief to me. Not that he was human, but that he was a guy, and hopefully wouldn't judge me too harshly for ogling Bonfie and Fexa so much.
"No, I'm just... just waiting for my friend. I, uh... don't want to get too far ahead, you know?" I replied, with only some mild stammering.
He smirked and nodded, before pulling some bottles off the shelves. I noticed he seemed to be putting them into a blue bin... empty bottles to be recycled.
"Hey, can I have that one there?" I asked, pointing to a bottle that had an interesting swirl design.
"Oh, this one's empty, but I'll get another for you."
I shook my head, "Nono, not a drink... just like, the empty bottle. I like to collect things that look cool, for writing inspiration."
He shrugged, and put the bottle in front of me. "So you're an author, eh? Anything I've heard of? Or are you one of those hipsters who just sits in coffee shops saying they'll write a book someday?" He laughed.
I winced. "Well, I mean, publishing is a pretty competitive space, so I, uh... haven't really..."
He cleared his throat, and avoided my gaze. After the announcement, the music had only returned at a quarter of its volume, and much of the crowd had gone down the hallway. The relative quiet accentuated the faux pas. For a moment, we were just stuck in our awkward situation. I could tell he was looking for a way out of it. So was I, but he found one first.
"Hey good show Frenni!" he shouted across the room, "As usual!"
I turned around to look, and I vaguely sensed that the bartender took the opportunity to escape to the far end of the bar.
There, across the room, walking towards a second hallway that was parallel to the one Bonfie brought the beer down, was Frenni.
Frenni was a brown anthropomorphic bear woman, with cute bear ears that stood out from her hair. She stood at least as tall as Bonfie, six foot five-ish... ignoring Bonfie's ears and Frenni's black top hat, of course. Her hair was a rich and layered brown, with substantial bangs just above the dark blue eyeshadow on the lids of her bright blue eyes, a large ponytail that angled to her left side, and a couple thick locks of hair that framed her smiling face.
Frenni's hourglass figure was more pronounced than the others, with a thinner waist coupled with breasts that rivalled Bonfie's. Something about her build seemed more athletic, though she wasn't overtly muscular. Just like Fexa, her skin lightened on her chest and bottom.
Her shirt was something between a short-sleeve blouse and a halter top, white except for orange strips at the bottom, more orange strips at the ends of the sleeves, and a long orange collar feature that extended far into the buttoned area of the shirt. In theory, it could button up to the neck... but in practice her bust was nearly bursting the shirt open with only the bottom two buttons done up. If she breathed in deeply, even those last two buttons would surely be shot across the room.
Black fingerless velvety gloves with orange fringes at the ends, reached up just past her elbows, matched by similar thigh-high stockings. Her gloved right hand still held a thick, dull grey microphone.
There were no shorts for Frenni, though... only a black and orange thong that her butt nearly swallowed. A small orange bow decorated the top of the thong in front, somehow making the skimpy piece of clothing even more tantalizing.
I wasn't sure why I noticed such a trivial detail, but she walked the same way that Fexa and Bonfie did. Which made sense, programming realistic movement was probably difficult, so I reasoned it would make sense to recycle as much as you can. I supposed that was also why she had the same expression on her face as the others.
"Hey, guy..." the bartender interrupted my thoughts, and I turned back to him. He pointed at a bottle with an odd geometric design. "Do you want this one, too?"
I considered the bottle for a moment. The neck of it was kind of triangular, and it reminded me of Pink Floyd. Perhaps it would act as a prism? I nodded, and he put it down in front of me. It sloshed, just a little. I understood the message.
Three people who had been sitting at the bar together got up and walked a bit unsteadily away from the bar. Lightweights... or they'd been drinking before getting here. Though I supposed that my Uni days were a couple years behind me... I might be a lightweight myself, now.
I moved to check the time on my phone. My phone was dead. I sighed… I knew I forgot something. There was no way to check with Eric, now. Where WAS he? I reflected that there wasn't too much left in the bottle, certainly not enough to share. The bartender was at the far end of the bar, so I grabbed the bottle to pour into my glass.
As I poured, I became aware of someone standing just behind and to my left. Someone wearing an orange and black suit.
"You charge this guy for the drink?" the suited man angrily spat out. I turned to look. He had a badge that read 'Manager', and was shaved bald. His forehead seemed to have a dent in the middle, and his face was scrunched into a scowl. I mentally dubbed him Manager Dent.
The bartender looked up like a deer in headlights, but recovered quickly. "Uh, I was just about to, but these other guys had priority, they're Premium!"
Manager Dent scowled but seemed to accept it. He scowled at me, and at the two bottles in front of me.
"This guy's cut off after this." Manager dent said to the bartender. To me, he added, "You got a problem with that?"
I didn't like confrontation. This guy had a knack for intimidation, and my anxiety was rising quickly.
"No, that- that's fine..." I noticed the bartender seemed to want to say something. At McRonald's I had a manager just like Dent, guys like that didn't take well to the notion that they might be wrong, and I didn't want the bartender to get in trouble. So to save the bartender some grief I repeated, "That's fine, it's okay."
Neither bartender nor Manager Dent said anything further to me, and I wordlessly pressed my credit card to the tablet when it was presented. Odd that nobody else seemed to need the tablet... I concluded that everyone else was a Premium Member, taking advantage of that 'bar tab' feature.
For the next few minutes, I sipped at my drink, and just examined the bar. All the equipment here was brand new... or excellently maintained. There was a cocktail shaker so shiny, I could actually see the room behind me. People started filing back from the hall to the arcade, big mugs of beer in hand. Bonfie came in amongst them, receiving more than a few slaps on the rear. She didn't seem to acknowledge any of them, still holding that friendly smile.
The music ramped up, and I looked over at the main stage. The main stage curtains, a rich red with faint silvery stars on them, opened up, and Frenni took to the stage, singing a pop song whose title I couldn't remember.
Of all of Frenni's assets, her singing talent was probably her least impressive. She wasn't terrible, but I'd heard better from random students in my Uni days. Her dancing was much better... mind, with curves like hers it was hard to be objective.
She held a high note, winked at the crowd and used her right hand to open up her shirt as she sang into the mike in her left.
That bothered me. Once I saw it, I couldn't un-see it. I'd only glimpsed her for a moment earlier, but she was now holding the microphone in the wrong hand.
What was WRONG with me? Gorgeous breasts were being unveiled in front of me, and all I could focus on was a stupid microphone?! I wrote one crummy page of a shitty Detective story, so now I'm Sherlock Holmes, unravelling some mystery with tiny details? I berated myself for being stupid.
Turning back to the bar, I slowly finished the rest of my drink. It didn't take long. Frenni continued singing. I glanced into the VIP area. There was someone sitting in one of the chairs, with a woman kneeling in front of him. Her head was bobbing up and down. It took me a moment to figure out what she was doing.
I decided to look back at Frenni for a bit, but my mind was still on the VIP room. I discreetly glanced back a minute later, to see the guy handing the woman some cash. I wasn't certain that stripping was legal in the state, but I KNEW that prostitution wasn't. I mean, there was still a lot of it happening out there, but... if the club wasn't careful, it could get shut down.
Again, what was WRONG with me? Sex all around me, and I was thinking of legalities.
Then again, might as well think of legalities... it was unlikely that I could afford any of the sex for sale here. And I couldn't get any more drinks. All I could do was ogle the well-endowed animatronics.
I looked over at Bonfie's bountiful bosom. It made a compelling argument for me staying a little longer.
So I stayed. Frenni stripped down to nothing, but still sang and danced for a while. I still wished she were a better singer, but I still counted myself entertained. I was a little embarrassed... not at the nudity, exactly, but I got anxiety over the idea of other people noticing my erection. Nobody was paying attention to me though, not with Frenni on stage... so I was able to enjoy the view a little. The microphone still bothered me.
At last, her show ended, she grabbed her discarded clothes and went backstage. A few moments later she emerged with clothes on, and descended the stage from stairs on the far side from me. She passed a darkened passageway and a wide doorway to the bathrooms, before again going down the hallway parallel to the hall to the Arcade. I wondered what was down that hall.
Not two minutes later, Frenni returned from the hall, and there was another animatronic with her.
This one was a six and a half foot tall bright canary-yellow woman... and it took me a second to realise that she had some feather features on the back of her arms and the small of her back.
Her yellow hair surrounded her head like the petals of a flower, with one huge tuft of hair held in a bright pink hair tie... it reminded me of an exercise video from the 80's or 90's for some reason. Her hair was further accentuated by four pink hair clips, as well as what appeared to be a pizza-shaped hair clip high on the hair above her right eye.
Her eyes were a bright violet, much like Bonfie. And she held the same friendly smile.
She wore orange thigh-high stockings with black stripes just below their tops, which well complimented her black tank top with "Night Club" written across the front. The tank top was only barely containing her enormous breasts, which were even larger than Bonfie's, straining credulity and defying gravity.
No shorts for this one, nor long gloves... only some thin black bracelets and a wide black thong... wider than Frenni's, but still devoured by an absolutely astounding ass that rivalled Fexa's. Whether you preferred tits or ass, she had the assets to satisfy.
The two animatronics went up stage, and Frenni gave the announcement, "Welcome to the stage, CHIKU! Before we begin the performance, have YOU signed up for Premium Membership? It has a variety of benefits, including..."
She went on the whole sales pitch, utterly ignoring the calls to just get the show going. The crowd was getting pretty rowdy, actually... when the sales pitch ended and the two began dancing, the whole club erupted into cheers and hoots. After a moment, it became clear why... this show dispensed of any pretence, Frenni and Chiku began pleasuring each other, moaning lustily.
The moans didn't sound prerecorded, so it was actually really-
Fexa walked past my view, right in front of me, going right-to-left into the VIP area.
For some reason, my blood went cold. I froze, kept my eyes on the stage... but I didn't see the act on it. Something was very wrong. My anxiety spiked, and my heart pounded. My instincts wanted me to run, and I wasn't sure why. I forced myself to watch the sex on stage, until they had finished, hoping I would calm from this inexplicable panic.