The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“That Micki is such a slut.”

“Denise, I told you not to use that kind of language in this office,” I reminded her. “I swear your mouth has gone straight into the toilet since you got that new boyfriend.”

“Sorry, boss,” she giggled and sat back down behind her desk and began whispering into the phone. Her red hair was hanging down all in her face, like she’d just washed it. Totally unprofessional, but I didn’t feel like pushing it this late in the afternoon, especially now that the last client had come and gone. But, seriously, she had changed remarkably over the past few weeks. I hired her because the last two receptionists I had got married on me, so this time I went specifically for the mousy type, hoping I could keep one for more than a couple of months.

So much for that idea. This, what was his name again? Oh, yeah, this Matt guy started calling her at least three times every day and they talked for hours. Next thing I know she’s wearing high heels and low-cut blouses and short skirts. And that language. But she was still a decent worker and with help as hard as it is to get today, I figured I could live with it if her work ethic didn’t change much.

She looked up from the phone. “Hey, boss, Matt wants to know if you want to go out for drinks after work?”

I rolled my eyes as I filed away the last of the depositions from the Simpson case. “You know I don’t drink.” Even if I didn’t come from a strict Baptist family, I still wouldn’t. I like to keep my control, thank you.

She giggled and started whispering into the phone again. I reached down and scratched at a loose thread in the seams of my pants. Two month old, five-hundred dollar suit pants and already I had a thread. Had half a mind to take it back.

“Matt says he bets Micki would go out with us,” she looked up from the phone.

I turned to walk back into my office. “Well, you said it yourself,” I waved my hand in the air before I reached for my door. “Hold all my calls for the rest of the day.”

“You bet, boss,” she laughed and turned back to the phone.

Sure enough, when I came out an hour later, Matt was standing there talking to Denise. Well, okay, they weren’t exactly talking, they were making out like two horny school kids. She had her fingers running through his black hair and he had her blouse hanging open and her bra unsnapped. Again, totally unprofessional, but I really, really didn’t want to back through the hassle of the hiring process again. So I quietly turned to walk back into my office...

“Yep,” I heard him say just before I shut the door, “that Micki sure is a slut.”

...and I stopped. I wasn’t aware Micki was there. But, sure enough, there she was. In my office, no less. Wearing a tight pink knit sweater and a short denim skirt that stopped halfway between her knees and her waist. Heck, you could almost see the tops of her pink stockings. Her black hair was all tousled, like she didn’t even care that it looked like she’d just gotten out of bed. And that make-up. And those heels! Ugh, I just don’t even want to think about it. Luckily, I didn’t have to, because of the knock on the door.

“Hey, Micki, c’mon, we’ll be late.”

“Okay,” she said, as she took one last look in my mirror to make sure she was as slutty as possible, I imagine. I try not to think too much about what she imagines at times like these. My brain would probably explode.

As they walked across the parking lot to get into Matt’s Lexus SUV, Denise started unbuttoning her blouse again. Micki giggled and practically tore the shirt off her back. I could have fainted, standing there looking at the naked back of my receptionist. It was really very unsettling.

“Your outfit’s in the back,” Matt laughed as he unlocked the vehicle. “I think you’ll really like it.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Denise grinned as she dug around in the trunk, obviously oblivious to the fact that she was in a public parking lot in nothing but a bra and skirt. I would have died. Micki was standing behind her, her hands reaching around Denise’s chest, fumbling with the front clasps of the bra. “Ohh, I get to be a Dallas Cowboy’s Cheerleader tonight!” Denise practically screamed to the world as she picked the costume out of a box in the back, just about the same time Micki pulled the bra off. The whole scene was quite embarrassing. Luckily, most of our office leaves early on Fridays, so there wasn’t anyone she knows anywhere around.

Denise has never told me exactly what Matt does for a living, but with his rugged good looks and obvious money, I’m sure she’s not his only girlfriend. I’ve tried to warn her that she’s in for a hard fall, but she won’t listen. Neither will Micki. They’re both gaga over this guy and I kind of feel sorry for them. As they piled in the back seat of his SUV with the costume, I was reminded again at exactly how rich this guy evidently is. I make six digits myself and I couldn’t afford the payments on five luxury cars. He must be loaded.

Still don’t see what he sees in either of them, though. He could obviously have better.

“So,” Denise asked as she fitted the cheerleader’s top over her ample bosom, “where we going?” Micki leaned over in the seat and started pulling off Denise’s skirt.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, as he pulled out of the parking lot. Micki looked up over the seat and saw his eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. She smiled at him as she threw Denise’s skirt over the seat into the empty front passenger seat. He laughed when the thong landed on the top of his dashboard. “Cool,” he laughed, “no underwear. I LIKE!”

“Not nearly as much as I do,” he heard Micki say as she grabbed around the small tuft of red hair, giggling loudly as Denise gave a small gasp of pleasure.

“You are SUCH a fucking slut,” Denise said as she leaned over and locked her lips with Micki’s, slowly sliding her tongue into the mouth of the other woman. I wanted to throw up as Micki slid a finger...oh, I don’t even want to go there. Matt’s eyes were glued to the mirror as the SUV slowed to a crawl on the freeway.

“Okay, girls, no fair,” Matt said, finally, “I’m gonna get into an accident here.” Denise pulled away and laughed. Thankfully, Micki did likewise, though she did put her wet finger into her mouth and looked right into Matt’s reflected eyes as she sucked on it quite noisily, probably for my benefit. The whore.

Anyway, to make a long story, thankfully short, Denise finished putting on her cheerleader outfit, needing only a little help from Micki to get those long white boots on. Then she pulled her red hair up into a tail and tapped Matt on the shoulder for his approval. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what people find so appealing about a cheerleader, I mean, I never attended football games in either high school or college, having much better things to do with my time. Rah, rah, so what? A bunch of guys running around knocking each other silly, while half-dressed woman parade around on the sidelines trying to get men to ogle them. Lasts maybe, what, five years, then it’s off to some guy’s house to have his babies for the rest of your life. No thank you. Not for me.

Give me a career, money and power. Then the rest will fall into place. That’s my motto.

“Hey, Micki, how do I look?” Denise asked as she grabbed two pompoms from the back and struck a pose on the seat. Micki leaned over and stuck her face squarely between her breasts.

“Looks good from where I sit,” Micki said, slowly sliding her tongue up Denise’s chest towards her neck. Denise brought the pompoms around the other woman and Micki shuddered slightly as she felt them rubbing all over her back through the fabric of the sweater. Again, the two women pressed their lips together tightly, and Micki reached a hand around Denise’s neck to play with her red hair as it rose tightly from the back of her neck. Slowly, Denise moved the pompoms down Micki’s back towards the hem of her skirt, then lovingly across her bottom... Whores.

Stupid filthy whores.

“Damn, girls, I can’t trust you two for a minute!” Matt grinned as he pulled the vehicle to a stop.

Denise laughed loudly as she pushed Micki away. “It’s all HER fault,” she giggled. “She’s just such a fucking slut!”

Micki simply smiled and pulled lipstick out of her purse and popped up the mirror affixed to the back of the driver’s seat.

Denise looked around. “Hey, this is one we haven’t been to before!” She stared at the huge neon sign that read “Foxy Lady” in big red flashing letters.

“Yeah,” Matt said as he opened his door, “a friend of mine just took over as manager. They’re having a ‘Sexy Professionals Contest’ tonight and I though you’d have a great chance to win the two-thousand dollar first prize.”

“Really!” Denise jumped up and hit her head on the ceiling. “Ow, I mean, sweet!”

“Yeah, I invited a lot of people I know because they judge by applause,” Matt smiled as he opened Micki’s door for her. “The larger the cheering section, the better your chances.”

“Cool.” Denise bounced around to the driver’s side. “I wish I would have known, though, ‘cause I could have called a bunch of my friends too.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. My receptionist had sunk all the way to the point where she was going to enter a stripping contest for money AND wanted her friends to know it? Unbelievable. If word of this got back to any of my clients, it would certainly look bad. Especially on the verge of the largest case of my career. Still, looking for another competent receptionist was a daunting task. But it’s still something I decided I probably needed to talk to her about in the morning.

Even though it was dark outside when they walked through the door, Micki’s eyes still took a while to adjust to the darkness inside. And that music! Loud and raunchy. That awful stuff, what was it the kids call it? Grunge? And Rap. Good thing the words were so hard to understand. The moment they entered, Denise started grinding her hips and jumping up and down. Pathetic.

Matt shook hands with a well-dressed man at the counter where you walk in and they talked for a while before he led them up some stairs to an elevated VIP part of the nightclub that was separated from the rest of the club by a glass partition. The table they got was just next to the glass, letting them look over almost every inch of the lower main section of the club.

I’ve never been in a strip club in my life and hopefully never will be. Ugly things. Hurtful things. They degrade women, seducing them in with good money and Lord knows what else and anyone with no education and a good set of...well, you know, can succeed. Some of them probably make as much money as I do. Shameful. Women should be proud to work hard for their success, not have some rich men pay them to show off what God gave them. Simply immoral. If I had my way, I’d shut each and every one of them down. Come to think of it, that’s not a bad idea. I decided then and there to contact a few city council members I know.

“Hey,” Denise pointed to a man sitting at the bar in the rear of the VIP section, “isn’t that Mr. Hart?” Micki and Matt turned their necks to look.

“Who?” Matt asked as he waved for a waitress.

“Mr. Hart,” Denise repeated. “He’s the guy who’s suing Mr. Simpson.”

This was bad. Really bad. Not only was my receptionist in a strip club with the man who was suing our client, but...

“And that’s his lawyer sitting right next to him,” Denise slid down in her seat. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

Matt waved his hand nonchalantly. “Nonsense, this is a popular place and a lot of business types come here to relax and have a few drinks after work.” He smiled as the waitress stopped at the table. “They’re probably just going to stay a half hour or so and be long gone before the contest starts.” He leaned over and patted her on the rear. “Besides, no one is going to recognize you in that costume.”

Denise smiled and ordered a shot of Petron. “Yeah, yeah, I hardly recognize my own self,” she giggled. Matt ordered a Fat Tire and Micki ordered a double shot of Tuaca. Lush.

The drinks came and all three toasted, knocked their glasses together and threw them back. For someone who must drink like a fish, Micki almost choked on her vanilla shot. Never could understand the appeal of alcohol. My father never let a drop anywhere near the house and all the people I know who drink are absolutely unbearable to be around when they do it. One of our senior partners, for instance...

“Hey, Micki, isn’t that Donald from the office down the hall?” Denise asked as she peered through the smoke at a man sitting at a table below.

Micki leaned back in her chair and grinned, finally feeling the fire in her belly. “I dunno, it could be,” she chuckled. “Hard to tell with all that tittie flesh bouncing around on his lap.” Dear God, her mouth is worse than Denise’s.

“Yeah, I think that IS Donald,” Denise smiled and glanced around the room again. “I hear he goes to strip clubs almost every night.”

That would explain why he’s always sporting a hangover when he finally hauls himself into the office in the morning. I’ve tried several times to him kicked off the firm, at least two innocent men are probably in prison because of his drunken antics in court. But the good old boy network is alive and well at Jones & Keller, so he’s still around. Yeah, he hates me, so what? The feeling is mutual.

Micki pointed to the lone stage in the VIP area. “I wonder when someone’s gonna get up there?” she wondered aloud. Matt chuckled and leaned over and whispered something in Denise’s ear. She laughed.

“Buy me another drink,” she winked at him, “and I’ll think about it.” As soon as she said it, he jumped to his feet and drained his beer bottle dry. Not waiting for a waitress, he trotted quickly over to the bar. Denise slid back and forth in her seat, waving the pompoms this way and that in time with the music. Lord, she was making a fool of herself. Across the table from her, Micki was tapping her feet to some bizarre psuedo-rap song by some woman screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs.

A minute later, Matt returned with another Petron shot for Denise and some kind of boat drink that he placed in front of Micki. “The bartender said someone’s going to be called to that stage next set.” Then he produced a handful of dollar bills. “And I’m ready,” he smiled and sat back down. “How about you,” he grinned at Denise, who downed her shot.

She slid the glass back on the table, pulled her chair back and jumped into his lap. “Whenever you are,” she laughed and planted one his lips, her white cheerleader shorts riding up high on her thighs. As Micki watched the two of them exchange spit, she slowly reached her hand under the table and rested it on Matt’s leg. It was utterly disgusting.

“Is that seat taken?” Micki heard a feminine voice whisper in her ear. She turned and cocked her head up to see a small blonde woman in a long, see-through pink gown standing next to her, a purple thong plainly visible through the thin fabric. As her eyes moved upwards, her fingers followed, obscenely caressing an arm as they ran up the gown past the small pink bumps poking out of the front of the dress, finally up to the young woman’s shoulder, where they rested for a second before giving a small but firm squeeze.

“Not at the moment,” Micki chirped, and scooted around a bit so the woman could pass to sit in the seat that Denise had just vacated. “Are you here for the contest?”

“No, silly,” the blonde giggled and threw back her long hair as she plopped down in the chair. “I work here.” She extended a hand. “My name’s Vicky.”

“Sweet!” chirped Micki again, as she grabbed the woman’s hand. “Vicky, meet Micki,” she giggled. “I just LOVE your nails.”

“Really?!” Vicky sat up straight and shot out her other hand to show off her long lime green fingernails. “I did ‘em myself!”

“Neat,” said Micki. The whole conversation made me want to gag. “Every time I try to wear mine that long, SOMEONE always cuts ‘em short again.” She frowned.

“Who’re your friends?” Vicky nodded towards Denise and Matt, who were whispering quietly to each other, interrupted by the occasional nuzzle or nip of one ear or the other. “She looks GREAT in that outfit!”

“That’s Matt and Denise,” grinned Micki. “Denise is the drunk one with the boobs.” She laughed.

Micki felt the plastic heel of a shoe rub against her leg under the table. “She’s not the only one,” Vicky smiled.

“Drunk?” asked Micki as she reached a hand below the table and touched an unfamiliar ankle. “Or with boobs,” she mouthed, silently, her brown eyes staring directly across the table and locking with those of the dancer.

“Well...” teased Vicky as she moved her foot slowly up Micki’s thigh, “one’s just a little bit easier to tell than the other.” She scooted her chair around the table to get closer.

Micki ran her tongue across her lower lip, then reached out and grabbed one of Vicky’s hands and slowly moved it up and under her sweater until it rested on her right breast, and smiled when she felt the other woman’s fingers move beneath the cup of her bra.

“God, Matt, she is SUCH a slut,” Denise laughed from across the table as they watched the disgusting scene.

Vicky pulled her hand back out from beneath Micki’s sweater and laughed. She was just about to move even closer, when the DJ announced the next set. Suddenly, she stood up. “Oh, geez, I’m on!”

Cocking her head one way, then the other, her hair waved through the air behind her. “I’m not through with you, honey,” she laughed at Micki and gave her a quick peck on the forehead before she hurried down the stairs to the main stage, a dozen eyes following her as she skipped from one stair to another in six-inch heels.

“Damn!” Denise said, her voice full of awe. “How the hell do they do that?”

Matt pointed to the stage in the center of the VIP area and pulled out his wad of bills. “Well, you could ask her,” he chuckled as all the eyes at the table turned to a copper-haired woman ascending the stage. Micki’s eyes widened as she took in the sight. The woman was tall, though it was hard to tell exactly how tall because of her clear hard plastic platform shoes with the seven-inch heels. But what drew most of the stares was the outfit she was wearing. Or, rather, not wearing. It was a black fishnet gown that fell to her knees, but which really covered nothing. Her small breasts heaved as she flexed on the stage, and her little nipples poked out prominently through the holes in the mesh.

“Oooooh,” Denise squealed and grabbed a bunch of bills out of Matt’s hand. “Showtime!” She jumped out of her chair and grabbed Micki by the hand and practically yanked her up on her feet. The two women stumbled towards the stage, still a bit woozy from the shots, as Matt walking just behind, his hands on Denise’s waist. Just before they got to the stage, Matt suddenly bumped her from the rear and pushed her from behind towards the stage, grinding his pelvis into her butt. I wanted to die as all the eyes in the smallish section of the club suddenly focused on the trio as they set up next to the stage.

The dancer was turned away from them on the stage, bent over, thrusting her backside towards Denise, Matt and Micki. She hadn’t seen them yet, apparently, but as she lowered her head and slid down into a split, her eyes flashed open at them as she peered between her legs. The gown, such as it was, rose and parted across her thighs as her legs lowered to meet the coolness of the stage, leaving nothing but that small strip of red butt floss between her privates and the rest of the world.

Yeah, definitely something I need to put a stop to.

It was just so...demeaning, watching Denise and Matt giggling and poking at each other and pointing to her writhing about up there in front of God and everyone. No amount of money can be worth that. Denise pulled out a dollar bill and waved it in the girl’s general direction, laughing and giggling and suddenly I wanted to throw up again. Disgusting.

The dancer fell to her belly on the stage and then rose halfway, crawling towards them on her knees, running one hand through her hair and cupping the other underneath a breast as she moved. When she reached the edge of the stage, she pulled back her hair and leaned over Denise’s shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Thanks, that’s my first dollar of the night, darling,” she cooed. “It’s just really, really slow tonight.”

“Well,” Denise turned her head to the side, “let’s see if we can change that.” Then she laughed and planted a wet kiss on the woman’s cheek. “What’s your name?”

“Nicole,” she answered and pulled back a little. “My, aren’t you the tart tonight?” she grinned.

“Denise looked up. “I LOVE your hair,” she said, and lifted a hand to the dancer’s forehead.

Nicole laughed and grabbed my receptionist’s hand and pulled it towards her head. “I’ll let you play with mine if you let me play with yours,” she giggled, then suddenly she reached around and grabbed Denise’s other arm and pulled her up towards the stage.

“I dunno...” Denise smiled, but even as she did, she began crawling up the steps, letting the other woman lead her on. Behind her, Matt gently grabbed her by the waist and helped her along. Once she was sitting on the stage, Nicole and Matt spun her around together so she was laying face up on the stage, her feet hanging off the side. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Denise giggled, but abruptly stopped as the dancer lowered her breasts over the other woman’s head. Beside the stage, Micki was running her hands up and down the long cheerleader boots, holding her legs firmly against the edge of the platform so she couldn’t move. Yeah, that Micki’s really something.

I fought the urge to retch as the two women started to make out in front of dozens of strangers. Gone was that little shy girl who, just a month ago, would blush when she got a run in her hose. Now, here she was, laying on her back in the middle of a stage in a strip club, with another near-naked dancer on top of her, rubbing herself pervertedly across her entire body. And Micki, that little tramp, was holding her down.

A moment later, a crowd started gathering around the stage. Laughing and smiling like a maniac, the dancer slid her thin form up over Denise again, and began to pull the cheerleader top up, exposing her...well, I don’t even want to think about it...to the whole world. The drunken girl was red-faced, but laughing along with everyone else. I thought she was reaching her hands up to cover herself, but she actually started tweaking her...things in front of God and everyone! Matt leaned over her and slid a dollar bill up between her boobies. Even Micki got into the act, running her nasty tongue up and down one of her legs.

Finally, thankfully, the song changed and the dancer got up on her knees and grabbed all the dollar bills that the patrons were throwing on the stage and Denise came to her senses and put her top back on. By now, the stage was surrounded by men of all ages, shapes and sizes, all waving dollar bills around in the air and generally making drunken fools out of themselves.

“Thanks,” the dancer giggled to Denise as she looked around at all the men and money, “you jump-started my night.”

And then the hussy KISSED her right on the lips! And it wasn’t one of those little pecks either, this one was just plain old-fashioned sloppy nasty and left pink lipstick all over her face. Denise almost stumbled again getting off the stage, the drunk. Micki wasn’t all that together herself and the two of them needed Matt between them to make sure they got back to their table. The waitress was waiting at the table with four more shots, bought by all the men in the VIP area who enjoyed the show. I felt sick.

After that, things started to get a little fuzzy. I’m usually really aware of everything that goes on around me—as a topnotch lawyer, being perceptive is an essential part of the job. But, for some reason, the next hour or so went by really quickly and I don’t recall much of it. I do remember that Vicky came back and sat on Micki’s lap for a while and the two of them had a couple more shots.

Sometime during that time, Denise pointed out another old plaintiff I’d sued—a particularly nasty man whom we took to the cleaners during a divorce settlement a year or so back. He was sitting at the bar next to that damned Mr. Hart and his lawyer, who still hadn’t left. After that infernal show on the stage, I figured they hadn’t recognized Denise, because if they had, they probably would have come over and said something. Good for us, I guess, that they hadn’t.

Anyway, I do remember Micki and Denise getting up to go to the ladies’ room, fixing their makeup and talking about all the “hot” guys in the club. Totally disgusting. I certainly thought for a moment that Micki was going to throw up because of all the liqueur, but somehow she managed not to. When they got back to the table, Matt was there with the manager from earlier and they were holding a bunch of paperwork in their hands.

“Girls, this is Adam,” Matt introduced him. “He’s in charge of the contest tonight.”

Denise got all giddy again and reached out and grabbed his hand. “Sweet!” she smiled. “Great to meet ya!”

Matt had us all sit down. “Adam’s got some good news and some bad news.” He almost had to yell above all the music.

Denise frowned. “Hey, they’re not canceling it, are they?”

“I hope not,” Matt grinned. “They just don’t...have enough contestants.”

Denise and Micki looked around the club. “Oh, c’mon, lots of girls here!” Denise slurred and pouted.

“Yeah there are,” Matt shuffled the paperwork in his hands, “but under the rules, employees can’t enter.”

“Well, how many do you NEED?” Denise frowned and pulled at the edges of her costume top.

Adam smiled. “We’d like to have at least five, that way we can give out all our prizes and no one will feel left out.”

“How many do you have?”

“Well...” Adam looked at the paperwork. “We only have four, and it’s only fifteen minutes until we start.”

Denise pouted and thought for a few seconds. “Hey, I know,” she turned to Micki, “Micki’ll do it!”

“Me?!” Micki jumped up a little in her chair. “Hey, I dunno...”

“Oh, c’mon, girlfriend,” Denise slid her chair around the table next to Micki. “Don’t let me down here. I really want to win this!”

“Yeah, but...”

“Oh, PLEASE?” Denise looked at her with tears starting to well up. “I’ll never ask for anything ever again. I swear!”

“Wha....? What do I have to do?”

Matt slid his chair over so she was stuck between him and Denise. “Oh, it’s easy. Adam’ll put you on last and you just have to watch and do what all the other girls did.”

“I dunno...”

“Oh, c’mon, Micki, PLEASE?!” Denise grabbed her by the arm and squeezed.

“Oooookay.”

‘YAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!” Denise jumped up out of her chair, grabbed her pompoms off the table and started doing a happy cheer over the loud music. “Two! Four! Six! Eight! Who do I appreciate?!”

Then she leaned down and wrapped her arms around Micki and squeezed. Hard. I felt like throwing up again.

“Thanks, Micki,” Adam said and scooted two sets of paperwork across the table to the girls. “Just fill these out and give them back to Matt here.”

Micki looked down at the paperwork, but all the words were blurry. “What’s it say?”

“Oh,” Matt chimed in, “just that you absolve the club of any injuries. You know, lawyer stuff.”

“Cool, we know all about lawyer stuff.” Denise put her eyes three inches from the paper. “I can’t read it.”

“Uh, yeah,” Matt grinned. “Too much booze’ll do that to you.”

“Heh, yeah,” Denise giggled and pushed the paperwork back over to Matt. “Why don’t you do it?”

“Sure,” he smiled. “You two ought to go back to the dressing rooms to get ready anyway. Just sign at the bottom,” he said, pushing a pen into her hand.

Denise scribbled something at the bottom of the form and slid the pen across the table to Micki. “Okay, all done.”

Micki took the pen in hand and peered down at the paperwork, trying desperately to make any kind of sense out of it.

“Hurry up, silly!” Denise chided and started waving her pompoms around. “It’s just a bunch of lawyer stuff.”

“Yeah, okay, just a bunch of lawyer stuff,” Micki giggled and scrawled her name on the bottom line. Denise grabbed both sets of papers and threw them across the table to Matt. Then she grabbed Micki by the arm and started pulling her towards the stairway down from the VIP area. Somehow they both made it down the stairs, dead drunk and in high heels, without breaking their necks.

What happened next is still quite unclear. I remember Vicky coming and taking them into the stripper’s dressing room to get ready. What a hell hole that was, let me tell you. There were half-dressed and completely undressed women everywhere. I remember one drunk or stoned woman lying on a couch and someone had thrown a sheet around her nude form to keep her warm. There was a long room with a huge lighted mirror along one wall with a bunch of chairs lined up along it. Vicky plopped Denise and Micki down and proceeded to explain to them about what was going to happen. One of the strippers walked by and said something about Micki needing a better costume if she had any chance of winning. Vicky smiled and walked into a nearby room and came out a few minutes later with a power suit, not unlike the one I like to wear in court.

“So,” Denise giggled and pointed to the room Vicky came out of, “is that the costume shop?”

Vicky started playing with Micki’s hair, fixing it and wrapping it up in a bun. “No, silly, that’s the manager’s office and the Blue Room.”

“Blue Room?” Micki slurred as she tried her best to focus on the blurry images in the mirror in front of her.

“Yeah,” Vicky answered as she reached around to unbutton Micki’s sweater. “It’s where the bosses take all the really special clients for extras.”

“Ooooh, that sounds so...” Denise put her hand to her mouth.

Illegal is what it was. I know the city ordinances as well as anyone. And now I had an admission. I couldn’t wait until the morning, to make some phone calls. Whatever this place was called—I couldn’t quite remember—they’d be getting a visit from the police fairly soon.

“Oh, let’s not think about that right now,” Vicky laughed as she folded up Micki’s sweater and laid it on a nearby chair. “You’ve got a contest to win!”

“YEAH!” Denise jumped out of her chair and waved her pompoms around, only to trip over a leg of the chair and fall flat on her butt on the carpet. Micki laughed, along with the rest of the girls. It was awful. Simply awful. I know good help is hard to find, but I really felt like I should fire her over this. There’s only so much embarrassment a respectable law firm can endure.

Five minutes later, Vicky had Micki all dressed up in her costume for the disgusting contest—A dark gray power suit with a gray skirt down to her knees. Her dark hair was up in a bun and someone found some black-rimmed glasses with no lenses that they pushed down onto the end of her nose. The only way you wouldn’t know she was a real lawyer was by those awful six-inch heels that she wore. Dreadful things, really. I can’t remember right now exactly what she had on underneath, but I bet it was something equally sleazy.

All I could think about was how I wished it would hurry up and get over with already so I could get the place shut down.

“Geez,” Denise looked up at Micki and stared at her curiously. “You look like...well...you look almost...”

“SHOWTIME!” Vicky interrupted and grabbed Micki by an arm, lifting her out of her chair.

Standing by the door as they exited was the copper-hairded dancer from earlier. In her hand she held two more shots of something. “One more for courage,” she smiled as she handed them to Micki and Denise.

As they threw back the drinks, the lights in the club all went down and the DJ’s voice echoed above that nasty stuff that passed for music in this place.

“Welcome to the 4th Annual Foxy Lady’s Sexy Professional Contest!’ Tonight we have five gorgeous contestants vying for the title of the city’s sexiest professional woman! As they all walk onto the stage together, give it up!”

And the crowd went crazy as Vicky led Micki and Denise down a path through the tables. The three other women were dressed as a police officer in dress uniform, a surgeon in scrubs, and an Air Force officer in dress uniform. The only one who looked out of place was Denise because of the costume and the fact that she was obviously younger than the other four, all of whom wore their uniforms like they belonged in them. What would make three middle-aged successful women show up in a strip club on such a night is beyond me. Obviously they had no shame.

“But before we get too far, let me introduce the master of ceremonies for tonight, a legend in his own mind, the only man I know who couldn’t get laid even if every other man in the world was gay, the one, the only, Adam Jimmy!”

As the five contestants finally stumbled to the stage, they were met by Adam, who helped them one by one up the stairs. He had one of those portable microphones in his hand and was obviously very adept at using it. He and the DJ had some sort of goofy rivalry going on as they couldn’t help but step on each other throughout the rest of the night.

“Thanks for the introduction, Maxwell House, and I guess if every other man in the world was gay, you’d have no trouble finding one, eh?” The crowd laughed. “Anyway, that’s not why we’re here, we’re here for two things, breasts and beverages!” The crowd went wild. “That’s right, welcome to Foxy Lady, the home of the best breasts and beer in the whole fucking world!” He reached up and adjusted the bow tie on his tux.

“So,” he continued, his voice growing ever louder, “let’s hear the official Foxy Lady cheer!” Someone handed him a beer bottle and he took a swig, then brought the microphone back to his mouth. “Why are we here?!”

“Titties and beer!” The crowd responded.

“Oh, c’mon, you all sound like a bunch of pussies. You can do better than that!” He yelled once more and raised up the bottle. “Why are we here?!”

“TITTIES AND BEER!”

He turned around on the stage and waved his arms to the other half of the crowd. “Why are we here?!”

“TITTIES AND BEER!”

“And don’t you forget it.” Satisfied, Adam laughed into the microphone.

It was a nightmare. Dozens of men, some in business suits and ties, acting like drunken fratboys. Disgusting.

The five ladies huddled together on stage behind him as he continued. “Of all the contest nights, I look forward to this one the most, because each of these five fine women have probably never even been in a strip club before, much less on stage. So keep that in mind when you’re tipping, fellas, ‘cause these phillies ain’t never done this kind of thing before!” The crowd hooted and hollered.

“Still, I hope you’ll find yourselves properly entertained. What we’re gonna do now is have them all go back down and come up one by one and do their thing. Remember, the winner is the one who gets the most applause as judged by our panel of secret judges hidden in different places across the club, so even if you’re waaaay back in the corner there, be sure to cheer really loudly for the girl of your choice!”

As the women stumbled back offstage, Adam handed each one a number to let them know in what order they’d be humiliating themselves. After they assembled again at the dressing room door, Micki stared at her number for a moment or two before she realized she was going on fourth.

“Hey,” Denise grabbed Micki’s hand and shoved her number in front of her face, “I’m going on last, so I get to know what I’m up against.” Then she looked around, a bit confused. “Hey, where’s Matt?”

Micki pointed towards the middle of the room. “I think I saw him over by the stage,” she answered, and leaned against the wall to keep herself from falling down. “I think I need another drink.”

“Yeah, me too,” Denise straightened out her top and pouted. “I don’t unnerstand why he’s over there.”

Just then, Vicky showed up with two more shots. “Now, I’m rooting for you two,” she grinned as she handed them the drinks, “so you watch the stage and see what everyone else does. Oh, and play to the crowd, ‘cause you win by applause.”

‘Uh, yeah,” Denise grabbed the shot and threw it back. Then she stood on her tippee toes to see if she could find Matt. Sure enough, he was standing right next to the stage, waiting for the show to begin. At least now she knew where his priorities were.

The next couple of minutes were all a blur. Or maybe it was fifteen minutes. Or twenty. I don’t know. The doctor woman went first and Adam made a bunch of bad jokes and started reading some kind of scripted question and answer thing that each woman had filled out ahead of time. I remember that was strange, because I don’t remember Micki answering any questions.

Anyway, the crowd started going crazy and the poor woman started taking off the green scrubs piece by piece, starting with the paper mask. More whooping and yelling and it got louder with every part of the costume that hit the floor. Then the men around the stage started throwing dollar bills at her and Matt was right up there doing it too. Denise poked Micki in the ribs when she saw this and she really didn’t look too happy. Then the woman bent down and started rubbing her...boobs...right in Matt’s face and Micki had to hold onto Denise to keep her from sliding to the floor.

More whooping and hooting. Men are pretty much worthless when they start drinking. None of them cared that this poor woman was losing her dignity in front of a room full of perverts, all they cared about was watching her humiliate herself. Reminded me of feeding time at the zoo. By the time she was standing there in nothing more than a white bra, green thong and those obscenely high heels, Adam started egging her on to lose the top.

“Okay, everyone, who wants to see her get rid of that top?!” He yelled to the crowd at the top of his lungs. The crowd gave a loud roar in response. “Remember,” he said, looking sideways at the poor woman, “the winner is the girl who gets the most applause...”

Both Micki and Denise got on up on their toes to see what she would do. The woman looked down towards Matt for a moment, then smiled and reached for the bra clasp, held the cups with both hands, then finally whipped it off. Sure enough, the crowd went crazy. Denise reached for her own top and bit her lower lip. “I guess that answers THAT question,” she sighed.

As Denise slid forlornly into an open seat nearby, Micki watched with glassy eyes as the thirty-something woman on stage bounced around collecting those dollar bills like they were hundreds or something. All the while egged on by Adam and his Mister Microphone of Abject Humiliation.

“That’s it, guys, let’s hear it for our newest Doctor of Depravity, the Surgeon of Sugery Suggestion! And remember to come and meet all out contestants in the Blue Room after the show. No losers at Foxy Lady, only less-wealthy winners!”

I remember thinking that last sounded kind of ominous, really, but the whole show moved so quickly that I couldn’t dwell on it long. Less than a minute later, the poor woman in the police officer’s outfit was onstage and a whole new set of oglers took their places around the stage. I swear, one of them had a small badge pinned onto his shirt. Less than two minutes later, her hat, coat, blouse and skirt were gone and she somehow even managed to do the splits, sliding her butt down between her two finely toned legs, each encased in sheer black nylons held up by white garters (complete with miniature phony police badges). “Wow,” Denise managed to sigh as her eyes went back up to the stage. I couldn’t tell if the remark was aimed at the athletic prowess of the middle-aged woman or at Matt, who was right there with the rest of the hairless apes throwing money onto the stage at her.

A minute later, the navy blue bra came off and the catcalls got so loud that you couldn’t even here Adam’s jabs at both the woman and the crowd. It got even louder still when the topless “officer” walked on her knees across the stage to plant a huge kiss on the lips of some man who held a bill or two of what must have been a rather large denomination out in front of him. Then she picked up one of her rather large boobs and...well, actually it’s too disgusting to recall.

That’s when I noticed the flashes from somewhere near the DJ booth. I peered in that direction and noticed a photographer with a really expensive camera. “I didn’t know they allowed pictures in here,” Micki whispered as she patted Denise on a shoulder to get her attention. Dejected, and obviously still a bit incensed over the actions of her “boyfriend,” the little receptionist had turned back to walk towards the bar. Luckily for her, one of the waitresses caught her before she could fall over.

“Oh, I think you’ve had enough,” the taller brunette smiled as she guided Denise back over to where Micki was standing. “Does this cheerleader belong to you?” she laughed?

“Not at the moment,” Micki winked, “but it’s an even bet before the night’s over she will.” The words came out a bit slurry. The drunk.

“Well, then,” the waitress smiled as she sat Denise back down and looked at Micki, “no more for you either.”

“That’s okay,” Micki smiled back. “All this excitement makes the booze just go right through me!”

“Oh, I bet. Hey, aren’t you up next?”

Suddenly, Micki turned towards the stage. Somehow, time had passed so quickly that the woman in the incredibly realistic-looking Air Force uniform was in the process of taking it off one piece at a time. As I looked most closely, I noticed she seemed even older than the other two contestants. Forty, maybe even more. When she got her skirt off, you could see the telltale cellulose lines that even the low lights of the club couldn’t hide. Still, there were ten, maybe fifteen men yelling their throats hoarse, throwing money at her and otherwise acting like a bunch of fratboys. One of them climbed halfway on the stage before Adam pushed him back with a laugh...

“Oh, come on, guy, be patient, plenty of time for that later! Just go see one of my assistants and ask about the Blue Room!”

Again with that Blue Room. Somewhere in the back of my head, it seemed like a voice was yelling at me, but it wasn’t nearly loud enough to drown out the noise in that place. Suddenly, Denise jumped out of her chair and pointed towards the stage. Micki turned to see the crowd was parting and the “Air Force Officer” was stumbling towards us, naked except for a small navy blue thong that was bulging with paper money. The whorish make-up that someone applied to her couldn’t cover her obvious age. Forty was too generous, by about ten years. What could possibly be going through the mind of someone like that?

As she passed, the smell of bourbon was heavy, but damned if she wasn’t giggling like a schoolgirl coming back from a first date... Denise reached out and gave her a high-five. “Hell, girlfriend, I hope I look that good when I’m your age,” she laughed, probably not even realizing the backhanded compliment.

“Hey,” the older woman answered, taking out two bills from the thong, holding one in each hand and rubbing them obscenely over her sagging boobs, “gotta use it while you still got it.” Then she promptly fell into an open seat and five well-dressed men quickly surrounding her. I wanted to throw up. Seriously.

Micki started to walk towards them, when Matt suddenly appeared through the crowd and whispered something in her ear. when she saw him, Denise tried to lift herself out of her chair, but a waitress suddenly moved between her and the rest of the crowd, blocking her path. I remember hearing the little receptionist yell something at the two of them, but it got lost in the low buzz of the crowd which was eagerly anticipating the next contestant.

“And now, our next lovely lady of lewdness, Contestant #4...MICKI!”

Adam smiled broadly at Micki as she and Matt approached the stage. I remember Matt leaning back into her ear, whispering words of encouragement, knowing him, probably instructions as to how to be as tarty as possible, as if watching the first three women humiliate themselves wasn’t preparation enough.

Then, suddenly, Adam was there with his microphone and a long yellow piece of paper. Grabbing Micki by the hand, he helped her up on stage to thunderous applause. “It says here,” he started, “that Micki lists her occupation as ‘Attorney at Love.’”

Micki lifted her hands up over her head to take out the ribbon holding up her curls as the host continued his embarrassing list of questions that I can’t remember ever being asked.

“She doesn’t have a vibrator, but her pet name for her dildo is The Silver Bullet!” Micki’s hair fell about her shoulders as she threw the ribbon out into the crowd. Matt smiled and laughed as he fished a dollar out of his vest pocket. Standing next to him was Mr. Hart, of all people.

“The strangest place she’s had sex was...over the big black desk in her office!” As the crowd around the stage cheered wildly, Micki stumbled backwards a bit at that one, but regained her balance enough to bend over and put her face next to Matt’s as she snatched the dollar bill from his hand. He whispered something else in her ear...

“If she were a porn star, she says her screen name would be...’Poke-a-hot-ass!’”

The crowd around the stage erupted with a mixture of cheers and laughter. Micki straightened back up and fiddled the best she could with the buttons of her blouse, keeping her jacket on during the whole thing. To her left, Mr. Hart shot a glance at Matt before breaking into laughter of his own. The bald creep. He was definitely getting off on all this.

“Her life’s ambition is to...screw each and every client! Well, okay, screw them out of all the money she can!”

Micki reached down to the zipper on the skirt and slowly lowered it before reaching for the button...

“And, if I do say so myself,” Adam mugged into the microphone as he slapped Micki on the rear, “I can’t WAIT to get in line to get screwed!” As if on cue, Micki bent down and stuck her butt in his face as she slowly wiggled out of the skirt, revealing a black nylon and garter set. Again, the crowd erupted.

To Micki’s right, that scumbag Donald had a dollar bill of his own out and planted between his teeth, sticking out like a long green toxic tongue. Micki licked her lips and blew him a kiss as she dropped to her knees and reached between her boobs to unhook her bra. Quite disturbing.

“When asked what her favorite position was, Micki answered...” Adam started, then stopped, his face turning red.

She slowly slid across the stage on her knees towards Donald and his dollar, moving her bra across her back underneath the open blouse and jacket... “Oh, this is too funny,” Adam teased the crowd as they watched Micki whip out the black bra and drape it over Donald’s head, her lips wrapping themselves around the almighty George Washington sticking out of his mouth...

“When asked what her favorite position was, Micki answered...a HOLE in front of me and a POLE in back of me!”

Immediately, the crowd burst out with laughs and catcalls. Dollar bills rained on the stage. Micki reached a hand around the right bottom hem of her blouse and lifted both it and the jacket over Donald’s head, giving him an up close and personal view of her naked breasts. Just as he reached out to touch one, she pulled back and shook her finger at him, smiling broadly.

“And, finally, we asked Micki what her goal in life was.” By this time, the slut was obviously caught up in the whole thing. I know she’s probably done some really degrading things in her life, but I can’t imagine anything could top this. As Adam finished his little fake question and answer shtick, she was circling the stage like a pro, lifting up her blouse and jacket every so often to flash one breast or another, moving those fake glasses up and down her nose, teasing the men as she bent down to grab their money.

“Micki said her goal in life was to...get this...fuck all the cute and fuzzy animals and save all the lawyers!”

Micki pressed herself up to him and nibbled on one ear.

“Oh, my bad!” Adam snaked his left arm around her underneath the jacket and pulled her closer. “All this womanflesh is making me blind. Of course, she wants to SAVE all the cute and fuzzy animals and FUCK all the LAWYERS!”

Again, the crowd went wild. The manager planted a kiss on her forehead, but the slut would have none of it. Damned tart grabbed him by the neck, pulled him close and stuck her tongue right down his throat. Disgusting.

“Hell, I KNEW I should have switched to law school!” he whispered into the microphone after he finally managed to get their lips separated. As the crowd broke up over the quip, he shot a glance down towards Matt, who was doubled over with laughter. Using his handkerchief to wipe the swath of lipstick off his cheek and chin, the tuxedoed man escorted Micki around the stage to pick up the rest of the offerings. He even helped her stuff them into her thong, the worm.

Stumbling off the stage to more fits of laughter and another round of applause, somehow Micki managed to make it back to the area near the bar where the rest of the contestants sat waiting for Denise’s turn. As she passed the older woman on the way to the stage, Denise gave Micki a nasty glance. “You weren’t supposed to be that good,” she hissed and bumped her with one of her frosty shoulders as she walked by, before giving yet another icy eyeshot to Matt as he walked up to her to guide her to the stage. “Bastard,” she snapped, and walked by him, denying his hand as she hurried up the steps to yet another round of applause.

Plopping down into an open chair, Micki giggled uncontrollably as she dug the money out of what was left of her “uniform” and proceeded to count it like the little money-hungry whore she was. She even turned all the faces the same way while doing it, putting the Lincolns first, then the Hamiltons, then the Jackson and the Grant and wrapped them all up with the ton of Washingtons...in the middle of the tedious process, a strange man rushed by and stuck something green into her jacket pocket before vanishing into the crowd. Fishing out the twenty, she carefully inserted it into the wad of cash where it belonged. “Not a bad haul,” she giggled to herself, instead of doing something productive, like maybe buttoning her blouse back up.

Just then, the crowd erupted and Micki turned to look towards the stage. Denise was finishing up her routine. She already lost the shorts, top and was inserting her fingers and thumb into her thong, moving it down around her butt and giving the crowd quite a show. Adam and the DJ were making the usual lewd comments, but as Micki strained to hear them, Vicky bounced up to her. “You were fucking great!” she squealed. “You’re gonna win for sure!”

“But...” Micki started, then was interrupted by yet another, louder round of hoots and war whoops. Both of the women turned back to the stage and Micki’s hand went up to her mouth. Denise had taken her thong completely off and was waving it madly through the air, giving at least a hundred perverted patrons full view of her red pubic hair and womanly folds...

That was it, I thought, she’s getting her walking papers first thing in the morning. If anyone else in the office found out I hired someone who would take it all off in such a place, there would be hell to pay, and damned if I was going to be one the receiving end.

“Damn,” Vicky gasped. “What a fucking twat! Matt’s a lucky guy!”

“You know Matt?” Micki put her eyes back in their sockets long enough to ask. Denise was prancing in circles now, stopping every one around to bend down in front of some stranger’s face.

“Oh, yeah, him and Adam go way back. He’s a part owner, I think. The place started making tons of money when he came in. The whole Blue Room was his idea.”

Oh, I thought. This just gets better and better. Now I can nail both of the scum at the same time. All I needed was a little more evidence...

“I think you’d love the Blue Room,” Vicky continued as she reached out a hand to straighten out a wrinkle in Micki’s jacket, which still hung open about her shoulders. “You can make lots and lots of money in there.”

“Hey, I’m all about making money!” Micki laughed and ran her fingers through the wad of cash.

Vicky looked around quickly. “I could show you right now, while they’re judging.”

Micki bit her lower lip. “I don’t really care about winning. I just entered so there’d be enough contestants so Denise could win.” With that, both women turned their attention back to the stage, where Denise was finishing up her “routine” by sliding around the stage on her hands and knees, picking up money and shaking her well-endowed bosom this way and that. Her thong was nowhere to be seen.

Micki grabbed Vicky’s hand and started to slide out of her seat. “Yeah, let’s go. I don’t think Denise likes me much right now and I don’t really want to stick around to see what happens with the judging.”

Glancing around to make sure the crowd was focused on the naked red-haired girl bouncing around on the stage, Vicky quickly led the older woman to the dressing room. “We gotta go the back way, ‘cause Bob guards the main door,” she whispered, and Micki giggled in response. Geezus, they sounded like two sorority girls on hazing night, I thought, as they snuck through the empty dressing room, past the shower area and up a small flight of stairs before coming to a glass door with the word “PRIVATE” etched in large ornate lettering. Reaching out, Vicky turned the large door handle and the door swung inward.

On first impression, The Blue Room looked like a warped version of some of the more strange sitting rooms I’d seen in the larger country clubs I’d visited in my official capacity. There were the usual plush couches, a fully stocked bar with at least a dozen stools, a large plasma television on the wall. There must have been a closed-circuit camera system installed, because the television was focused on the main stage of the club and was currently displaying what must have been a recording of the beginning of tonight’s contest. The place obviously got its name from the neon blue lighting which left it looking like something out of a bad ‘70s exploitation film.

“Wanna see something really cool?!” Vicky whispered, and she grabbed Micki’s arm without waiting for a response. “C’mon!”

Slipping past the bar, the two woman entered another room. Less well-lit, Micki had to strain until her eyes adjusted. “Damn,” she said, finally. “Just like ‘Pulp Fiction!’”

The place looked like an S&M dream come to life. Whips, chains, stocks, hell, there was even an iron maiden leaning up against the far wall. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t actually have any spikes inside,” Vicky laughed, then went sober. “At least, I don’t think it does.”

Micki’s eyes wandered to the walk-in closet nearby and Vicky ran to open it. “I think there’s just about every kind of kinky outfit any stripper would want to wear in here,” she cooed as she walked from one end to the other, running her hands along the rows of hanging garments. Micki’s eyes instinctively dropped to the jacket she was almost wearing...

“Yep,” Vicky smiled as she made her way back to the main room, “this is where you make all the big money!”

“Sounds...” Micki’s voice was low, “positively perverted.”

Vicky looked at her peculiarly, then ran to the bar. “I think you need a drink!”

“I...” Micki slowly started buttoning up her open blouse. About time, too. I figured I had all the evidence I needed to nail those sons of bitches and was looking forward to reading it on the front page...

“Yep,” came a familiar voice behind her. “She definitely needs a drink.”

And everything went blank.