Vinyl Velvet and Voyeurism
Crawford entered the smoky club rather unwillingly. He had had better plans for his birthday than sitting with Schuldig in a strip bar called Lullaby. Nevertheless he sat down at the discreet table that Schuldig had arranged and smiled at the waiter that brought them a jug of freshly made Scarlet Miss Charlotte vodka cocktails and two frosted glasses. “This better be worth it, I could be watching paint dry.” Crawford drawled.
“Believe me, it’s worth it.” Schuldig smirked sitting down so he got a good view of the stage.
The stage was laid out like something from the phantom of the opera with swirls and festoons of heavy black velvet, and everything was painted black except the brass footlights. Judging by the Goth contingent of the patrons Schuldig had managed to get him into Anne Rice’s theatre des vampires. In fact Crawford was the only one not wearing guy-liner.
The black lights focussed on the stage and the patrons started drumming heavy boots and thick platform Mary Janes, a possible girl in ripped fishnets smiled at him with black lips and Crawford moved closer to Schuldig for protection. The girl had more piercing than an acupuncturist’s dummy and dreadlocks.
The audience was hooting and slapping long white hands on the table as a make shift drumroll and in the back ground as a slow bassline started to play. It was a rather simple melody that was soon joined by a rather light percussion. As the curtain pulled back a heavy guitar riff joined the simple rhythm and Crawford realised why there were so many girls in a gay strip joint and why Schuldig had assured him, repeatedly, that it was worth it. Standing on the centre of the stage, delicately holding unto a chrome pole were the Side B assassins Chloe and Aya. And not only that, they were in full drag and prepared to strip. Crawford was finally grateful that Schuldig had dragged him here.
Aya was wearing a floor length French revolution style dress in a tactile black velvet fastened with chrome. His face and hands were powdered white, and there was a black rose drawn on the breasts someone had given him with the tight corset he wore. They weren’t in drag, they were dressed to play girls for the stage. His trademark red hair had been styled in a very strict twenties pageboy, slicked back from his face and his painted red lips. He was even wearing little velvet shoes.
Chloe’s dress was the same style but there the similarity ended. It was slick black vinyl and he had a collar of thorns drawn in about his neck in the facsimile of a tattoo. He wore opera gloves in the shame shiny vinyl. He was not whited out, and he wore a long blonde wig. His dress was just as tactile as Aya’s but for different reasons and he wore high platform boots that buckled up around his ankles and revealed white fabric.
The girls screamed and Crawford considered screaming with them.
“Happy birthday, Crawford,” Schuldig smirked.
As the music got more frenetic they began to move, slowly with the sussuration of velvet and the slap of vinyl they began to move, slowly. They had found the simple rhythm behind the song and were moving to it like courtiers at a ball, Aya had his face turned away as if to the king offstage and then a deep male voice began to sing.
Say your prayers, little one, don’t forget to include everyone.
“What’s the song?” Crawford shouted across the roar of the music.
“Enter Sandman.” Schuldig replied. “They’ll probably scream along with it, crowds normally do.”
Chloe spun Aya on his slippered heels causing him to lose a shoe, with an exaggerated movement Aya moved hand to his face, biting his lip and then kicked the other slipper into the audience. A tall thin figure with badly applied clown makeup caught it.
“Did you set this up?” Crawford hollered. “The last thing he wanted was to spend what was left of his birthday being chased by two irate assassins.”
“No,” Schuldig assured him. “They’re undercover, I just found out.”
On stage Chloe was mouthing kisses along Aya’s simulated breasts and then sticking out his ass in a way that was obviously deliberate, and wiggled it, just slightly driving the girls in the audience even wilder, he undid the ribbon holding fast Aya’s skirt leaving him in his corset and underwear.
Crawford couldn’t find his breath, Abyssinian of Weiss was wearing fishnet stocking with no feet in them. And short pristine white cotton bloomers with a heavy velvet corset, and a black lace ruffle that did little to hide his rather fine ass.
He pantomimed a frown as the song went into its chorus.
Exit Light, enter night, take my hand, we’re off to Nevernever land.
They were dancing to the music, but barely.
Aya took Chloe’s hand and spun him so that he was pressed against the vinyl and then simulated spanking him in time to the simple rhythm of the music. Crawford adjusted himself accordingly. He wasn’t the only one.
Then reaching around he slowly, jerking his crotch against the vinyl he undid the heavy skirt and pulled it away to reveal that Chloe was not so conservatively dressed under the gown as his counterpart. In fact he wore French cut black silk panties and his bustle was heavily boned black silk. Rather than the same fishnets as Aya he wore white knee highs.
It was then that the show got racy.
As the guitar found that first simple rhythm Aya lifted Chloe’s boot and undid the buckles with his mouth, then threw them aside to reveal white ankles and pretty white toes that were cut away from the fabric. Chloe performed an almost perfect arabesque which he then turned into a flip to face Aya.
“Limber,” Crawford muttered to himself, no one else could have heard him over the screaming.
Chloe stalked Aya across the stage like a big cat, before running vinyl covered fingertips over the imagined swell of bosom, whilst the other was clearly inside the bloomers and then he began to rock.
Aya turned around and gave him a stage slap in perfect time with the music with one hand to his mouth in vastly exaggerated shock. Their obviously staged routine was much sexier, Crawford thought, than the two of them cavorting around a pole.
Chloe caught the hand on the second fake slap and pulled Aya into a kiss. Aya did not resist this time, in fact his left leg bent at the knee and Crawford knew that if he had still been wearing shoes he would have had it dangling off his toe.
It was a really rather stirring sight.
By the time the curtain closed on the sight Chloe was mouthing Aya’s neck and Crawford wasn’t all that sure it was for show. “The next act won’t be nearly as fun.” Schuldig said throwing some notes on the table, “but we can stay if you want.”
“And they’re not going to hunt us down for watching them.”
“Of course not,” Schuldig said, “we weren’t here.”
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