Show Girl--Erotic Short Story Read online

  Lisa Vild

  Show Girl - Erotic Short Story

  Lust

  Show Girl - Erotic Short Story

  Translated by

  Emma Ericson

  Original title

  Showgirl

  Copyright © 2018, 2019 Lisa Vild and LUST

  All rights reserved

  ISBN: 9788726295146

  1. e-book edition, 2019

  Format: EPUB 2.0

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrievial system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor, be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Show Girl

  “Let's raise our glasses—to Ella!” Her dad smiles at her. You can tell by his eyes, his stature and his voice that he is incredibly proud of her. Ella’s friends and family fill the garden is with good luck wishes and hurrahs. Ella sits in the middle of the party and smiles as she prays silently to herself that the world will end immediately.

  “So, Ella, what's the plan now?” her dad continues. “Why don't you come up here and tell everybody about what is next for you?”

  There it is. The death sentence. Ella looks at all the excited and curious faces looking her way—ready to hear about her life plan. The life plan that doesn’t exist. How do you tell your parents, your extended family and your friends that you have finally graduated as a social worker—that you have studied to become one for over three years—and that you hate everything about it. That you will never actually want to work as a social worker?

  “Ehm... thank you all for being here today. And thanks for all the amazing gifts,” she says with a trembling voice.

  Her hands are shaking.

  “I don't have a plan,” she laughs nervously, and an awkward vibe spreads throughout the green garden.

  “Or well... I am moving to Stockholm”.

  This is something new. Stockholm? Her parents’ jaws drop, they are in shock.

  “I have heard from... a friend, that they need a counsellor at a facility for young adults. I have an interview next week.”

  All the guests—except for her parents—let out a sigh of relief. There is a plan. Everything is going to be okay. Ella almost manages to convince herself.

  Ella packs up the last of her belongings and takes a last look at her tiny studio flat. Her home. When she panicked at her graduation party and blurted out that she was moving to Stockholm, she didn't realise what the lie would mean. She would now have to leave her flat and move almost 500 kilometres away, to a new and unfamiliar city.

  After taking some time to adjust to the idea that their daughter was moving to Stockholm, her parents are now incredibly proud of her. They are both convinced that Ella will go to Stockholm and be hugely successful. Ella, on the other hand, is not as convinced. She has no job and no place to stay. Stockholm is an expensive city to live in—utterly different from her hometown where you can get falafel for a handful of change. Ella doesn’t even want to think about what a falafel costs in Stockholm. But she has a backup plan.

  If everything goes south, she can always cam girl. The thought of that makes everything feel a bit better. She sighs and lets her eyes wander over the flat one last time. She remembers the day when she moved in; how free she felt, how she got her first orgasm in this room, and how she spent a summer masturbating in front of an audience. She remembers how she felt when she arrived back home last summer—the haven that these walls provided. And suddenly the flat feels smaller than ever. Ella has grown so much over the previous years, inside the safety of her little home.

  She can't put her finger on it, but somewhere along the way she has started to outgrow this flat. This studio flat is the only thing that is left of the old Ella. When she lets that thought sink in, she realises that she is completely done with this part of her life. As she stands there, with a one-way ticket to Stockholm in her hand, and when she says goodbye to the only thing that is holding her back she feels ready for the first time—curious about what is going to happen next.

  She had given herself a week. A week to go to as many interviews as possible. A week to find a more permanent living situation. Since she arrived in Stockholm, she had been sleeping on a sofa that belonged to an acquaintance that she didn’t know all that well. Not more than a week, she had promised herself after the first night when she woke up with an aching back and after taking part in the most awkward breakfast of her life. It is eight o’clock at night, and Ella walks alone along the streets of Stockholm. Everywhere she sees cheerful groups of friends celebrating the weekend.

  It is still light and hot—the heat is intensified in the city. She feels so lonely, so small, as she walks here all alone on a Friday night. A moment ago, she was looking at a flat, and it seemed as she was about to get it. But when the landlord heard that she hadn’t found a job yet, he didn't let her sign the contract. She had sworn to him that she would find the money—that she could afford the rent. He had looked at her with despise, and even if he didn't say anything, Ella could see precisely what he was thinking. She is a whore.

  No, don't think about that now. Ella shakes her head. It’s Friday night, her first—and last—a weekend in Stockholm. On Monday she will give up and go back home. But now, tonight, she is still free. She finds the closest pub and sits down at the bar.

  “A gin and tonic, please.”

  The bartender nods at her with a smile and serves her the drink in a high ball glass. She is just about to pay when a man gives the bartender his card.

  “Let me...” He says.

  Ella looks into the man's eyes and notices that they are dark. A smile plays on his plump lips and his muscles tense under his shirt when he pulls out the stool next to hers and sits down. They sit like that together for a while, in silence. Ella takes a nervous sip of her drink, fully aware that the man is watching her.

  “Are you not drinking?” she asks him after a while.

  The ice cubes dance around in her glass, and Ella feels a shiver along her spine when he smiles and shows her his teeth.

  “No, I’m good!” he says with a loud voice.

  The shiver moves further down. She feels warm in between her legs and butterflies fill her stomach. She hasn't been with a man in a long time—at least not a man this good looking. She bites her lip and nods. She is convinced that he can feel it too—the electricity. He wants her as much as she wants him. She takes another sip of her drink and swallows the cold liquid quickly. She leaves the half-empty glass on the bar and stands up. With one hand on his shoulder, she bends forward and whispers “I have to visit the ladies’ room” into his ear. Her hair brushes against his unshaven chin.

  She leaves the door to the toilet unlocked and leans towards the tiles on the wall as she counts to herself: One. Did he get the hint? Two. What if someone else opens the door. Three. Maybe I misread him? Perhaps he was trying to be pleasant. Four. I will go home tomorrow instead. Ella is just about to give up and open the door when it opens from the outside. She gasps, but the gasp is quickly interrupted by him — his lips against hers and his hands on her waist. The weight of his body against hers makes her walk backwards.

  She bumps into the sink with her back and his body pressed against hers. His firm chest against her small breasts and his stiff cock against her soft thigh. The sensation makes her sigh straight into his mouth, she feels a tingle in between her legs—the blood rushes to her pussy, and it is warm and boiling. As if Ella was light as a feather, the man lifts her and puts her down on top of the big sink. With one hand on the inside of each of he
r thighs, he spreads her legs and walks closer, kisses her deeper, as his hands move upwards. She is already soaking wet.

  When his fingers reach her panties, and when he feels how wet she is, he moans. He quickly moves her panties to the side. Their eyes meet, and Ella nods carefully. He unbuckles his belt, pulls his zipper down, and lets his trousers and his underwear fall to the floor. The tip of his penis shines in the fluorescent light. Ella crosses her legs behind him and pulls him closer. So close that she can feel the tip of his penis in her opening. It takes all of her self-control, but she pauses and sits like that, with his cock pressed against her vagina without moving, waiting for him to enter her.

  She wants him deep inside of her. She wants to feel his stiffness against her softness. The man’s eyes become dark, and something primitive and wild takes over. She feels his strong hands grab her hard by the waist, and she receives him with her eyes closed. She feels how he penetrates her slowly, and they both exhale when he reaches the deepest part of her. Then she opens her eyes and looks at him—he seems like he is in seventh heaven—and she smiles.

  When they are done, she jumps down from the cold sink and puts her panties back on. She exhales and feels his warm sperm trickle out of her body. The man, she still doesn't know his name—puts his pants on and pulls his zipper up. Now it all feels so crazy. What was she thinking? Someone might have seen them—or heard them. Their eyes meet, and he doesn't look as confident anymore, he smiles nervously, and suddenly she wonders why she had found him so attractive to start with. And then she sees it — the ring.

  “What is this?” She points at the ring on his left ring finger.

  He follows her gaze and looks down at his ring. His smile fades.

  “Oh, that is nothing,” he replies.

  Ella sees how he reaches for his belt and buckles it. And then he leaves her. Alone in the toilet. Why didn't she see the ring earlier?

  Tears are burning in her eyes. She hurries out of the toilet, out of the pub, and wanders along the streets of Stockholm. It is getting darker and the evening is now cooler. What could have been a beautiful, steamy, moment in between two strangers had turned into something dirty and wrong. Ella had promised herself never to be the other woman and tonight she had broken that promise. She didn’t have a job, she didn't have anywhere to live, and now it felt like she didn't have a spine. How could she? How could he? Her feet take her to streets that she has never heard of before.

  She moves away from the city centre and ends up in the outskirts of town, where most places are closed for the night. Ella is starving, and she swears to herself. Where is a McDonald’s when you need one? A bit further down the street, she spots a blinking neon sign with the word Coffee on it. She picks up the pace and reaches it, The Midnight Café. It’s in a basement, and the lights in the frosted glass windows tell her that the café is open. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and walks down the stone stairs, into the café.

  The inside of the café is not at all what she had imagined. In her—starving—mind, she had pictured cakes and pastries, baguettes and coffee. Instead, she is met by a woman with a lot of makeup, sitting behind a computer screen. When Ella walks in the woman looks at her.

  “Do you have a reservation?” the woman asks Ella, and she looks around in the empty basement.

  There are no tables. The woman must have seen the confusion on Ella’s face because suddenly she smiles at her.

  “Ah, I see”, she laughs, “This is no café, sweetheart. But if you want some coffee and some entertainment you can walk along that corridor to the left and through the red drapes. You can’t miss it.”

  Ella doesn’t know what to say. Instead, she tiptoes around the corner, through the corridor and stops in front of the heavy velvet drapes. A sparkling “B” stands out in the middle of the deep-red fabric. She hears the distant sound of music, laughter and loud voices. She reaches her hand out towards the drapes and hesitates for a moment. Ella looks over her shoulder. There is nobody there, she sighs and opens the curtains. The room is dark except for the lit-up stage.

  Hundreds of people sit around round tables and they all clap, cheer and whistle when the half-naked woman on the stage moves her hips to the music. Ella gasps when she remembers the sparkling B on the drapes. Could it be... no. Hadn’t she just walked into a brothel?

  “Hi! Welcome to Blush!”

  The happy and extremely well-dressed man places a hand on her lower back and guides her to an empty table. He pulls out the chair, and she sits down. He gives her a menu, smiles at her and leaves her by her table. She can’t wrap her head around what is happening. Her eyes are fixated on the stage. She hears the voice of Etta Jones from the speakers and three women dressed in fishnet stockings, corsets, feather boas and high heels dance together. They move to the music and Ella can't stop looking at them.

  And holla, ow, ow, ow, I’m a woman, a woman. She sees how they unlace their corsets, how they prepare, and how they open them more and more with every “ow”. They wear nipple pasties on their naked breasts, and Ella feels a smile spreading across her face. The audience roar around her, they are entirely in love with the three women on stage and Ella understands why.

  The stage lights are turned off, and all the women and men who have danced disappear behind the stage to the sound of the cheering and applauding crowd. Ella gives them a standing ovation. She's ecstatic. The venue empties quickly. Ella sits down again and watches people leave the club in couples or groups—she notices that there is as many women as men in the crowd and that all different ages are represented. When the lights are turned on, Ella sees that the waiters that are still there are dressed in suspenders and hats and that their moustaches are well-groomed.

  The waitresses, on the other hand, are wearing long pearl necklaces and short dresses, and their lips are painted red. She looks at the venue and sees the velvet chairs, the dark décor and the black and white pictures on the walls. She reads Blush – Speakeasy & Burlesque in Stockholm on the menu in front of her, and suddenly it all makes sense. She has walked into an underground bar—or at least a bar that pretends to be underground—strongly influenced by the twenties.

  She can’t stop smiling as she stands up and walks towards the exit, and there—just as she is about to walk out the velvet drapes—she sees it. On a poster on the wall, Ella reads that they are looking for new dancers. No previous experience needed—we will teach you. Butterflies dance in Ella’s stomach. She remembers the dancers on stage and tries to imagine herself next to them. Could she do this?

  “Are you interested?” The voice sounds hopeful.

  Ella turns around quickly as if she was just caught doing something naughty.

  “We need a new dancer, and we have been looking since Nicki got pregnant, but we still haven’t found anyone, and now she is starting to show,” the gorgeous woman continued.

  It takes Ella a couple of seconds to realise that she is talking to one of the girls that she saw dancing to Etta Jones earlier.

  “I...”, Ella is interrupted when the woman takes her arm and drags her backstage.

  She is blinded by the sharp light that reflects in all the glitter and fake diamonds. The room is full of racks filled with different outfits. So many colours and materials. So many new faces turned her way.

  “This is... what was your name again?” The woman holding Ella’s arm smiles at her.

  “Ella. My name is Ella”, she says nervously.

  The dancers—both male and female—watches her curiously. Their eyes are examining her body. Some of them smile supportively, others shake their heads and whisper things that Ella can't hear.

  “Ell is our new dance partner! She is replacing Nicki. Isn’t that right, Ella?”

  The woman sounds so confident and so sure that Ella can't do anything else than to nod her head. She smiles nervously, and her stomach is filled with nerves and excitement.

  “You know... we are all like family here”, a blonde woman in the other end of the ro
om says as she walks towards Ella, “we help each other with absolutely everything. We are close.” She looks Ella intensely in the eyes and smiles.

  “Are you prepared to do anything for this job, and your colleagues?”

  To begin with, Ella doesn’t understand what the woman is talking about, but then she sees the blonde woman lick her lips and move her eyes from Ella’s face to her breasts. Ella bites her lip and what she sees makes a delightful tingle spread between her legs. The room is filled with half-naked women and men, high on the sensation of a successful show—happy to have made it through yet another night together. Now they are relaxing, in their way. In one corner, two girls go down on one of the male dancers.

  Two girls are wrapped up in a steamy kiss. The rest of the room is filled with laughter, of the sound of a cork leaving a bottle of champagne and discrete moans. Ella looks at the blonde woman again without speaking. Instead, she takes a step forward until she is standing so close to her that her nose is almost touching the woman’s nose, and she nods. Yes, she is prepared to do absolutely anything. She needs this job.

  Ella doesn't know how it happened, but when she leaves Blush an hour later, on shaky legs, and when she is met by the first soft and gentle sunshine of the day, she does it with a contract in her hand and a stupid smile on her face. She can't believe this is happening, that her impossible situation as unemployed and homeless had magically been sorted out overnight. The blonde woman, Linn, walks next to Ella. She is tall and curvy, not wholly unlike a young Marilyn Monroe. If she had been born in the fifties, she would have been extremely popular.

  Malin, the woman who took Ella backstage, walks on her other side. Malin is as dark as Linn is blonde. She has a charming smile, and she looks like your typical girl-next-door. The contract in her hand tells her that she is replacing Nicki in the trio and that she is supposed to dance with Linn and Malin—the thought of her dancing together with them is surreal.