Freedom and Choices

Fanguella was starting to feel overwhelmed. Such overt sexuality, so much skin, and people just touching her, and eating her up with their eyes. The music was loud, the woman on stage was girating, and Fanguella could feel the warmth of Richard’s body beside her. And still she hadn’t found the right woman to give her a dance. Honestly, half of them terrified her. But as she drank from her third drink, she was really starting to relax more, and was in fact itching to do something outrageous as well. She wanted to take her own clothes off, and swing on the pole. Something inside felt like bursting, or stretching. She wanted to whoop and yell, to break out of the social binding that had secretly been confining her. Now that she knew this binding was there, she felt some responsibility to act on that knowledge. But just how far? She could start yelling obscenities. She could take her clothes off and just stand where she was and urinate. She could approach some random person and lick their cheek. How far could she go? She only just realized that she made choices everyday, the choice to control her impulses, choices to fit in, to blend in, choices to feel good, to be polite, choices to take risks or not to take risks, choices even to live or to die. It was a strange feeling, this overwhelming freedom. It both terrified and tantalized her. It was like she was seeing the world for the first time, and choosing consciously for the first time. Her senses felt so raw, that the mere hint of perfume, or brush of a hand on her arm had her shivering. This place affected her. It changed her, right when she needed changing. She started watching the girls with a more predatory eye. A couple of them stood out, and she waited for them to approach, staring blatantly, willing them to come over.

Meeting the Girls

The first girl to approach them is large, with big fake boobs and long black hair. She leans over them both, her bottom sticking out, and her huge breasts spilling forward out of her short red dress. Smiling broadly she says, “wow, aren’t you a good looking couple! I would love to have a threesome with you both, or else I could dance for either of you separately. So which one is it?” She asked in a smooth rich voice, still smiling. “Confident, aren’t you?” Richard said smiling back, eyes nearly popping out at her breasts, “The only way to be, honey. But I also know that we could have a lot of fun together” she included Fanguella in her last comment. “No thanks” Fanguella said. “Unless he wants to.” The woman quickly sat down next to Richard, and, reaching between his legs she said close to his ear as she gripped him, “I would love to sit right here. Don’t you think that would feel really good, if I straddled you, with my breasts in your face,” and here, she stood up slowly, running her hand up his body, and then pushing his face into her breasts. “Wow, yeah, um, thanks there gorgeous, but I think we’ll be needing a bit more time.” “Fine.” She got up abruptly, and walked away, shooting a wink over her shoulder. Fanguella watched, mesmerized by her large wiggling bottom, and started to laugh. “I could so do this job!” She said remembering helping herself to Douglas’ cock in the restaurant. Richard’s eyes were starting to take on a glazed look. “She obviously doesn’t know that she just grabbed the owners penis. She could get us closed down for that. I don’t care what they want to do in the VIP rooms, but on the floor, they need to keep it clean.” But he looked after her, and gave his head a shake, “Damn”. Nearly immediately another woman sat down. This one had frizzy brown hair tied back, large earrings and a gold bikini over more muscular shoulders and legs. Sitting beside Richard she whispered in his ear, “My name is Pussy. Do you like Pussy? Do you want to touch Pussy?” “Thank you, maybe later” Richard replied. And she quickly got up and went to whisper the same few lines in the next man’s ear. A couple more girls came by and simply said “hey there, do you want a dance?” or “I want to get naked for you, lets go!” Many of the girls approached Fanguella first, although some would also approach Richard. Fanguella noticed that not as many girls approached them as were approaching the groups of men, and she mentioned this to one of the girls. It was explained that some girls assumed that couples were just there to watch, or that perhaps the girl might feel threatened and react in a hostile way. Does that really happen? Fanguella wanted to know. “Well, actually now that you mention it, no, I’ve never had that reaction, but I guess some girls still can’t help having that fear. I don’t. I love dancing for women.” And her eyes slid over Fanguella’s body.

In the Club

Richard is slightly hung over. The night before, he couldn’t sleep and had stayed up drinking too many beers and watching X-Files reruns on old tapes. He’d wanted Fanguella to stay over, but she had insisted on having her own space in a motel. The girl on stage was not really to his liking. Being a tall and broad shouldered man, he preferred a taller more ripe body, although he did enjoy some variety now and then. No, it was the woman’s face that bothered him. It reminded him of this woman that he had known when he was growing up. She was a friend of his mother’s, and she had had no patience for children. She was always saying, “come on Claire, we need to get you away from your kid so that you can have some real fun!” And, “Oh Richard, you are sooo cute, but you really need to” and here she would say something like stop bothering your mother, or learn to get your own snack, or wipe your nose, or some other criticism. She had been petite with a wide flatish face, large eyes and a wide mouth. She had a bland sort of prettiness, although all that Richard saw at the time was an annoying old woman who was friends with his mother. His mother would mostly indulge him, and call him her Petit Prince, but when Marguerite was over, she would talk mostly boring adult talk, and sometimes, she would agree with Marguerite. “Yes Richard, please go get yourself an apple, and then go find a puzzle in your room” she might say. The woman on stage brought back that same feeling of boredom and annoyance, so without giving her another thought, he turned to peruse the rest of the room. Also, he took a healthy drink of beer, trying to ignore the dull ache in his head. Fanguella broke the silence and said, “I want a lap dance, Richard.” His boredom and annoyance instantly disappeared. “Really.” He said, his eyes smiling at her. “I just need to pick the perfect girl for this experience, I want to see how these things are done.” Her fingers tapped the table in rhythm with the music. He shrugged, as she started perusing the room herself.

Calligraphy: Pussy Power?

Fanguella was nervous. They were about to enter the strip club that they had been discussing for the past few days. The flashing sign read Calligraphy Gentleman’s club, along with girls girls girls. They walked in, and Fanguella led the way to a seat where they could see the stage, but that was a little off to the side. She wasn’t going to walk in meek and scared. Also she wanted a good view of everything. And there were definitely lots of views. The red lights in the club made everyone look younger and more smoothed over. There were also black lights that made the girls outfits glow florescent. A rail thin woman walked past in a hurry to get on the stage. No curves to speak of, but her body was tight and smooth, and she had long chestnut hair. She put her drink down at the side of the stage, stood, and lost herself in her dance. She swung around the pole in slow motion, legs out over her head. She hung upside down from a bar, and proceeded to remove her bra, revealing large erect nipples on a mostly flat chest. She swung down and slid easily into the splits, then rolled onto all fours. From here a new song began, and she bounced her bottom up and down with amazing speed and control, ending in a girating roll, her knees slowly sliding apart, her panties slowly rolling down and off one leg. From that position, Fanguella could see the woman’s lips brazenly peaking out, on show like the finest diamonds in a lighted display case. Fanguella’s mouth dropped open. It had never really occurred to her that anyone would want to see that. She knew of course that men seemed to like it for various purposes, that they gave them a lot of pleasure, but it hadn’t occurred to her that the sight alone would be so exalted. And yet it was. The woman on stage proceeded to slide down the pole with her legs wide open and the men in their chairs nearly fell over they were watching so closely. A table up front broke into applause. “Look at that”, she overheard a man say in admiration. Fanguella had to stop herself from looking down her own pants in puzzlement at herself. Really?! She thought to herself in amazement. It got her thinking about penis’. Yes she loved the way they looked, the silky strength, the hardness, looking at it made her want it. Men were very visual so of course they wanted to see it. Perhaps it wasn’t something crude or dirty to do, but actually beautiful and pure, to show such a sensitive delicate part of oneself. She glanced over at Richard, wanting to see his reaction. He was in the process of calling the waitress over, seeming unaffected.

Settling in Montreal

Richard sat on the beige coverlet of the hotel bed where Fanguella was staying, waiting for her to get out of the shower. Today they were going to go visit his club, and he couldn’t help hoping she would like it, and feeling somewhat excited to have someone to plan and work together with. Funny though, he was not the type who would often work with others, being a more solitary kind of man. Well, he chuckled, he enjoyed having her around and in this way she would be with him for a little bit. And who knows, she just might come up with a few things he could use, although her ideas seemed to him a little too outlandish when he thought of them practically. They were fun to explore though in theory, while in his mind he could see Fanguella dressed in nearly nothing prancing around his club, as well as picturing her within the fantasies that they were creating together. This of course made him hungrier for her then he’d felt for anyone in quite some time, and he simply wanted to devour her. He had half a mind to barge into that washroom, and pull the shower curtain aside, stepping in fully clothed and taking her naked glistening form to him, and-
“Are you almost ready?” He demanded in irritation. He was getting tired of these thoughts of her constantly plaguing him. He had a business to turn around, he needed to concentrate. He would fuck her senseless later, but for now, he was eager to get going. He hated to wait for anything.

Sexy New Job for Fanguella

“So Richard. Have you ever thought about having more private fantasy rooms, and perhaps special membership?”
Richard looked up from his breakfast plate, toast in hand. “Sounds interesting, what were you thinking.”
“Well, It’s just that I’ve been to some of these clubs before, and my two biggest complains were that… You know, here is a place that can have so much potential, for fun fantasy and sensuality, yet more often then not, they are dirty, they serve greasy food, and the quality and pride are simply lacking. Why not have a club that is cleaned up, has style, creativity, and options. People go to these clubs for the fantasy, so why not give them the fantasy? Have theme nights, or even theme rooms! I love the body paint theme, but then why stop at the paint? Water, whipping cream! Put some humour into it! Have a woman dress as a man, with padded shoulders and every thing, and as she strips, have it turn out that she is in fact a sexy woman! You know, things that entertain and make people laugh, and opens there minds to the possible! What else is sexier?” Richard laughed at her enthusiasm. “Wish I had you around when I was doing my brain storming! I actually had a lot of different ideas, but I was encouraged by some of my financial backers that simplicity was best. But the way you paint the picture, like making use of different theme rooms or else elite membership…I wonder… Maybe if I had you to help me work out a detailed plan, then it may work. Alone, it just seemed like such a great undertaking to do more then just the paint, that I never even pictured all these possibilities of branching out for my club. How long do you plan on being in Montreal? I just might want to hire you.” He said this last part with a smile, but Fanguella could tell that he was serious. What was she doing? Did she really want in on this venture? SHe looked around the tiny dinner car and noticed that it was now empty.  And she thought, this was the first time that she has been this passionate about an idea in a long time. She enjoys reading cards, but this was something new, something fresh, maybe it was just what she needed. After all, what better escape? Right into a literal world of fantasy, one where anything is possilble. Could she really do this, or would it be running away? She wanted to face her demons once and for all, yet she really didn’t know how to go about it. Was she really just trading one mask for another? Yet at no other time did she feel more real then when she was absorbed in a task. And here, she would be forced into the public eye, maybe that was what she needed to do to face her fears. Not avoid having people see her, but actually do the opposite. Put herself out there. She still wasn’t completely clear as to how, only that this was something she really wanted to do. This might be just the medicine. Food lying forgotten on her plate, Fanguella felt a flash of fear course through her, yet she forced the words out anyway. “Richard. I know that I’ve never done anything like this before. Thank you for giving me this chance. This is something that I would really like to do. Let me work on your club with you. But also, let me work in it.” They looked at each other very seriously for a moment. Richard took a sip of his coffee, then he nodded slowly. “Listen. When it comes down to it, I don’t really know you that well. But new life in the club might be just what it needs. Seeing you walking around half naked may be just what I need as well. Let’s talk. Tell me more about you’re ideas, and how you think they might work. If I like them, I’ll use them.”

Fanguella's Last Train Ride

Fanguella sat at the table across from Richard. She was remembering another trip, long ago that she had taken by train. After spending three years with her aunt in Montreal, her parents arranged for her to return to them. She had been nine. She believes now that her parents had never meant for her to have been gone so long, but that time had just flown into itself, passing one week into another, until they suddenly remembered that they had another little girl. Her parents were neither old nor young, nor especially rich or poor when they had had children. They were not addicted to drug, and they were not violent. They simply had no idea how to take care of their children. They got overwhelmed when Fanguella’s little sister was born when Fanguella was five, and when a brother was born two years later, Fanguella assumed that they simply grew accustomed to the chaos. Realizing that it would not eventually alleviate, they suddenly decided to take Fanguella back from her lengthy visit. Fanguella shook her head to pull herself back to the present, and she looked at Richard.
"That meant nothing to you. I know that. And it is ok." Fanguella had to say it. She wanted no lies, no false affection, especially right now when she was still feeling so vulnerable. Something about the train created a ruckus in her stomach. Bubbles, and a tightening, her mouth gone dry. This can't be happening to me. Not me, not now, but already she could feel her throat tightening over a lump, and her eyes well up. He's going to think it's about him and it is not. I just don't want to be alone, not again, not like the last time. Things are different now. I'm a grown woman. Independent, strong, alone but not lonely, and not desperate. But she was feeling desperate. Auntie Lorraina sending her away, and her mind screaming not again! Why won't anyone keep me! I'll be good I won’t cry, I won't ever cry again. I'll be good, I’ll listen. You won't have to nag me to cut my nails, I'll let you do it, and I won’t even complain. I'll let you read the paper in the morning without even talking. "Fanguella, really, aren't you exaggerating? You should be happy, your going back to be with your parents. You don't want to be with me.” But she had tears in her eyes. Fanguella felt a glimmer of hope. She fell into a fantasy at the time that Aunty Loraina wanted her to live with her, and her parents did too. That they wanted her all along, but her aunty wouldn't let them have her back. She took the train all by herself. She was nine. She had spent three years with her aunty, and she had been happy there. There was a little girl upstairs that she was sometimes friends with. An older girl, who would play with her when there weren't any other kids around to play with. "I just got my period the girl had told her proudly, pushing the little buds of her breasts out, talking loud enough for the boys at the skating rink to hear her. Fanguella had felt a mixture of awe and embarrassment. She felt worse then embarrassed on her train ride back to her parents. She felt mortified. She imagined herself being sent back in dishonor, like she was supposed to fill some unknown purpose, someone else’s void, or perhaps she was not the kind of little girl that people want to have around. Not her aunty, not her parents. And she fought even harder to keep the tears from falling. Instead, she felt sick to her stomach, her whole little body tight with fear and anticipation. The thought of her parents made her ache. She wished she too had something big to tell them, like that she was a woman now, and had her period and they had missed everything, they weren't there. They didn't come to visit when she got her tonsils out. They never came to get her when that first summer had finished.
When Fanguella had gotten home, she was welcomed warmly then simply forgotten. The new baby, whom she had first blamed for her rejection was now three years old, and a new baby had arrived while she had been gone. She felt as though her parents loved her in an absentminded way. A pat on the head while they ran off to work, to a party, to poker night. Frazzled, her mother came to depend on her more and more to care for the younger children. Fanguella came to feel that she had been called back to hold the fragments of their family together, it was her job to keep everything from falling apart. She complied for about a year, while she continued to hope to be noticed, loved and cared for. Her parents continued to fade in and out of the house, leaving her alone to baby-sit, yet still a child scared of the dark herself. Fanguella could feel a hard cornel begin to form inside her. Her body felt hard with it, unforgiving. She began to leave the baby to cry herself to sleep. She left the four year old hungry in the morning, until her father finally got up to feed her, all the while her mother in the background, “well where is Fanguella, can't she hear that her sisters’ hungry” It was then that the panic attacks had started. Won’t feed the kids, won’t change the baby, won’t baby sit. Will they throw her out now that she was of no use? They didn't throw her out, but she did get a lot less notice. Still there were still some times when her mother taught her how to play cards, and her father liked to read the newspaper to her. And life went on. But she could never forget their earlier betrayal. The horror of those train trips, always being sent away from someone. Even now, she wondered what has she left undone, what more was expected of her. Had she done something wrong, telling Richard not to lie to her? She fluctuated between that hard inner kernel that held her head up and kept her tone honest in that selfish uncaring way, but on this train ride now, she could feel that she had not always been that way, she could feel herself as the little girl she had been curling in upon herself, all her tender caring turning in upon herself, with a bitterness that made her honest but cruel. You’re dead little girl, she whispered inside her mind, go away and depend on no one. Not Richard, not Andrea for dying, not mom dad or aunty Loraina. Your hard, she told herself as she forced her chin up to look calmly into Richards eyes, and miraculously, she stopped her tears from falling.
"I prefer not to proscribe any meaning to anything right away, I usually like to digest an experience before providing commentary. Sometimes that means I'm dishonest in what I don't say. Can I apologize for that ahead of time and be done with it?" "Very cute" Fanguella managed to say. The lump in her throat had subsided. "I don't follow those rules though.” She continued. “ I'll come right out and say that at least for now, why not be cuddle companions, at least for this trip?" "Can that include a little sex on the side?" "Well, some cuddles, are closer then others” She smiled. This was good distraction. She could feel her breathing becoming slower; she had managed to distract herself out of her anxious state. She is rarely that lucky. "Do you know, I loved the feel of your lips around my cock." Richard started, whispering across the table, in his now famous phone sex voice. “I love your naked body” Fanguella started, but just then, Pierre who had finally gotten up enough nerve to enter the dinner car, was just passing their table and turned shocked eyes on her.
“Don't make fun, madam! You cannot blame me for my dreams, can you? I am afraid that I am already dreadfully mortified." He lowered his eyes, and Fanguella and Richard looked at each other; Richard trying not to laugh, Fanguella, struggling with a different emotion entirely, "You, mister are a completely disgusting pervert and should be reported! I had no idea that you would be so rude as to sit underneath our berth and listen in to our personal and private matters!" This time it was Pierre who looked shocked, "You mean to say that you were engaged in, you were, doing... In a public train! "He didn't seem to know what to say after that, and was in fact so shocked that his eyes bugged out and his face turned bright red, and all he could do was gape at them for a moment before rushing from where he stood, to the table that was farthest from them. Fanguella and Richard could no longer hold in the laughter. All the stories that came out from that exchange, of things assumed that were really unknown, became too much for them, and they laughed so uproariously that other patrons who were entering the dinner car looked at them strangely. “So much for talking dirty,” Richard said, glancing around the tiny dinner car. Anything they said would have been heard by any other patrons. Fanguella took that moment to bring up something about his club that she had been thinking about.