I returned to my apartment after my long run from the Sunshine Pub and its vamp hunter patrons, a run that, thanks to the increased strength I’d got from Andrea’s bite, got me home amazingly quickly.

Sitting on my bed, I thought about my situation as a vamp, or vamp wanna-be, actually, and the threat that all those vamp hunters posed to the vamp community I was now a part of.  I was upset not only because of the danger of being destroyed by them one day after receiving my third bite, but because Andrea had changed me in a way that made me actually like myself more…and the vamp hunters were trying to take all that away.

Self-esteem was a new thing for me.  You see, I didn’t have a very happy childhood.  Though I had a fair number of friends at school, life at home in southern Ontario had become a hell ever since my mother died.  My widowed father became a morose drinker, taking out his unhappiness on me at every opportunity.  He’d call me an idiot whenever I got bad grades at school, which was usual, because I was a rebellious teenager and didn’t care about learning; so we fought a lot.

By the time I graduated from high school, he griped at me, in slurring words and bad beer breath, for not thinking about my future, that is, not trying to get better grades and get into university.  Actually, I thought about my future a lot, but not in that way: I just wanted to get out of his house and live on my own.  I was a pretty girl with a good body, so becoming a stripper looked like my best option at the time.  So that’s what I did.  I never saw Daddy again, and I have no regrets.

Of course, getting naked in front of a bunch of drunken, leering, cat-calling pigs results in its own kind of verbal abuse (and often far worse than what I put up with from that heckler my first night stripping in the POUMTANG Club).  That was when my love affair with drinking and drugs began.  Whiskey, tequila shots, you name it, I drank it.  Smoking marijuana and hash were a common pastime during high school, so as a stripper I also checked out the harder stuff: ecstasy, ketamine, cocaine…you name it, I at least tried it, if not made it a regular habit.  When I was about 24, my health had declined to the point that I realized I had to come clean.  I went to rehab, and after a painful month or so, I got better.

About a month or so before going to Caledonia, I was getting frustrated with my aging and not-so-hot-looking body.  The ad for the stripping job in Manitoba promised work “far better than any ever imagined,” so I, having nothing to lose, gave it a try and went up there.

Now that I realize what was meant by “far better than any [job] ever imagined,” I feel eternal gratitude to Andrea.  She literally saved my life; for I really had no idea what I could do as an aging, flabby, uneducated stripper.  I didn’t have the money for silicone implants or anything like that.  I didn’t even have the escape of drugs to give me solace; but the high of being a vamp, with increased beauty, strength, and even intelligence, is better than any drug, and the improvements she gave me are better than any education or plastic surgery could ever give me.

But beyond that, I was increasingly realizing that Andrea had introduced me to a much larger world.  My mind had been expanded.  I felt a psychic connection with all life around me, all thanks to the Collective Blood that I’d been more acquainted with from Andrea’s bite.  I was able to gain access to forms of knowledge that at first had seemed the domain of university scholars; I couldn’t believe the vocabulary increase I suddenly had acquired, for in conversations with people I was spontaneously–and correctly–using words I hadn’t known even existed before the bite!

That psychic connection had also increased my sense of empathy for everyone, vamp or non-vamp.  I wanted to help my vamp comrades, and also wanted to give liberating bites (for that’s how I saw them now) to all non-vamps, so they could gain the same advantages I’d just gotten.  I could feel people’s pain, frustrations, and disappointments, all from the vibrations I felt around me, everywhere in Caledonia and in the POUMTANG Club.  I was glad to search for whoever the vamp traitor was, not only to help Andrea and the other vamp strippers, but also to improve my chances of being able to help all those struggling people I had around me on the street.

And vamp hunters were ruining everything for all of us!  Bigoted bastards!  If only they knew that vampires are actually a force for good.

Back in the POUM Club that night, I went over to Andrea just before I was to go onstage.

“So, those old-timers in the Sunshine Pub scared you off, didn’t they?” she asked me.

“Yeah, they did,” I said.  “You can feel it, eh?”

“Yes, I can,” she said.  “You’re vibrating those feelings from all over your being.”

“How does that work?” I asked.  “How am I able to feel others’ vibes?”

“When I sucked your blood, I got connected with your psychic energy, and you are beginning to get connected with everyone’s” she said.  “We vamps are a network of connected blood; the Blood Collective adds to our awareness, to our knowledge, and to our intelligence.  Hence, I can feel the fear you felt when you ran out of the pub.”

“So if you already know, then why ask me?”

“I don’t know everything that happened, only basic vibes.  Now, as for the details: did they tell you who helped them find Billie? Which vamp?”

“They didn’t give a name,” I said.  “They just said she was a pretty young woman, also pale and with a pointy overbite.  Definitely a vamp approached them at night, though they didn’t believe she was one, and they didn’t say her name.”

“Very well,” Andrea said.  “Go to the CUNT Club tomorrow night and find out what you can there.  It’s another vamp strip joint, directly north of us here, north of the town, in the forest up there on the other side.  We’ll tell you more about it later.”

How do all these strip joints here get away with such raunchy names?  And in this Catholic community? I wondered.  “OK, tell me about the strip joint in about twenty minutes,” I said.  “I have to go on now.”

“Will you be OK up there?”

“Oh, yeah.  I have much more confidence now, thanks to you.  I really wanna express my appreciation for all you’ve done f0r me.  You’ve helped me in ways that I’ll never be able to finish repaying you for.  Thanks again, Andrea.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said, grinning and showing off her fangs in a way that didn’t at all look scary or freakish to me.  I grinned back, wishing I had fangs as apparent as hers, and impatiently waiting for those second and third bites.

I went onstage.  My first song was ‘Love Bites,’ by Judas Priest (I was going with a quasi-vampire theme that night.)  I was wearing only a pink thong and bra this time; now that my confidence in my body had improved, I wanted to flaunt what I had.

As I was moving about the stage, I looked out at the audience, who were much more attentive than last time.  They seemed a little hypnotized, too, but not as powerfully as they had been with Fanny.  I assumed I’d get even more rapt attention after my second and third bites, which I now waited for with even greater eagerness.  Still, I was satisfied with the fact that the men were now interested in what they saw.

Towards the back, I saw that asshole who was being rude to me the night before.  I still wished that scream I’d heard, after he made me cry, had been his…of him being sucked dry, as my three escorts presumably had been.  Anyway, he was behaving himself this time.  In fact, he seemed to like what he saw onstage.

I removed my bra towards the end of the Judas Priest song.  My breasts were now, as you know, larger and firmer, a pair of beauties I proudly showed off.  He was still interested.

My second song began: ‘You Suck,’ by Consolidated, with a naughty rap about cunnilingus by The Yeasty Girlz.  As I danced around mouthing the words with a wicked smile and looking him straight in the eyes and mouthing “Baby, you suck!”, an idea came to me: if having sex with the men was desirable for blood and mind-control purposes, then once I got my third bite and became a full vamp, I could seduce him, then get my revenge and suck the bastard dry.

If only I could have been a vamp right then and there.  I was so, so impatient for those second and third bites: how long would I have to wait for them?  I was starving for revenge against that guy!

I removed my thong.  He was still watching me, his mouth thirsty for a taste–I could sense his desire.  Now nude except for my high heels, I picked up the thong, made a slingshot out of it with my fingers, and flicked it at his face.  It slapped him right on the nose, and he was happy to get it.  The lecher was sniffing all along where it had been rubbing against my anal cleft.  What a perv!

The song ended, and I took off my shoes.  My third song was ‘Vampire,’ by Gorilla Zoe.  I still had his full attention.  He was standing a few feet away from the stage.  I slowly walked towards him, allowing his eyes to pour all over my nakedness.

Now not only confident with my body, but with defiant pride, I got down on the floor, my eyes locked on his, and spread my legs.  His jaw dropped at what was now showing.  His former rudeness had been transformed into awe.  His tongue was hanging out a foot.

I rolled over and started crawling back from him, my ass pointed at his face.  My legs were still wide apart, so everything was showing.  I could see his still rapt reaction in the mirror on the back wall.  I smirked.

The song ended.  I grabbed my shoes, bra, and purse, and got off the stage.  He followed me.

“‘Scuse me,” he said, presenting my thong.  “I think you forgot this.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said, still not able to smile at him, despite my plan to seduce him.  I put the thong on.

“Can I have a lap dance?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said as I put my bra back on.  “Ten bucks a song.”  I put on my high heels.

“Yeah, I know.  Lap dances sure are cheap here.  That’s why I like it here.”

“OK, there’s a private room in the corner over there that’s available.  Let’s go.”

We went in the room, and he closed the door.  He sat on a sofa against the far wall.  I sat on a chair facing him.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Hal,” he said.  “What’s yours?”

“Erica.”

“Almost sounds like a boy’s name.”

“I don’t think so.”  I glared at him, then thought about all that blood I wanted to suck out of him.

“You don’t?”

“No.  You aren’t going to be rude to me again, are you?”

“Again?” he asked.  “When was I rude to you before?”

“Last night,” I said, still angry, though controlling it.  “When I was onstage.  Don’t you remember?”

“No, I don’t.  Then again, I was really drunk, and I get a little out of hand then.  They kicked me out last night, actually.  Look, if I made you mad, I’m sorry.”

“You made me cry.  I ran off the stage.”  I was almost about to cry right then.

“Oh, look, I’m sorry about that.  I can be a real dick sometimes.  Booze’ll do that to you.  But I think you’re really beautiful.”

“Really?”  I felt his sincerity.

“Yeah, really.  An’ I don’t mean that in a dirty way.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling.  Maybe when I become a full vamp, I won’t kill you after all, I thought.  Unless you piss me off again, that is.

A new song began, ‘Heavy Metal Love,’ by Helix, a longer, live version.  I got up and sat on his lap, facing him.  He was already hard as a rock.

I started grinding on him.  The pointy bulge in his jeans was rubbing against my groin, the sensation going through my thong and stimulating my clit.  I’d never felt that way about a client in a strip joint before, especially for a man who’d been rude to me.

Was my heightened horniness another side effect of the bite Andrea gave me?

Hal was actually a reasonably good-looking man: short blonde hair in a baseball cap, clean shaven, and thin, but with a little muscle tone in his arms and chest.

He also had sweet, baby blue eyes.

Without warning, I took off his cap and put it on my head.

He was bald.

He twitched in embarrassment at this revelation.  Now he was frowning like a little boy who’d had his toys taken away.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I said, trying not to gloat at having piqued the physical insecurities of a man who’d done the same to me the night before.  “I know of ways to make you even better looking than you already are.”

“Oh?” he said, smiling that his baldness didn’t seem unattractive to me.  “How?”

“I wasn’t all that hot last night, when you saw me onstage,” I said, removing my bra.  “These were floppy then, as you had observed; now they’re firm.” I then put his face between my tits, and squeezed them against his cheeks.

“How’d you make them look better?” he asked.  He was touching them, gently pinching the nipples.

“It’s a secret.  But if you’re good, and you show devotion to me, I’ll divulge the secret, and you won’t need to wear that cap anymore.”  I removed my thong, burned around, bent over and gave him a look.

“I’d like…to…believe you,” he panted, staring at my…front and back doors, if you will…with equally disbelieving eyes.

Looking back at him upside-down from between my spread-out legs, I said, “You don’t have to believe me; just stay loyal to me, be a gentleman, and I’ll reward you.”  Then I reached up from between my legs with my finger and tickled his chin.

(If you liked what you just read, please sign up for my free newsletter.  A link to it is at the side of this page.)

In the bedroom was a king size bed.  We went over and I got on it.  The dim light in the room was tolerable for the other women.

I was so distracted by my eagerness to have their mysterious method improve my looks, that it was only when I saw the other three strippers, well, stripping, that I remembered I still didn’t have any clothes on myself.

“Um, ladies, I’m straight,” I said.

“Why does that matter?” Andrea said, now in her navy blue lace bra and thong.

“What’s wrong with experimenting?” said the first stripper, also now in her underwear, a pink bra and panties.

“Well, we don’t even know each other,” I said.

“My name is Christina Ball,” the second stripper said, shaking my hand and letting her white panties drop to her feet.  She was now fully nude, and she got beside me on the bed.

“And I’m Meg Hamilton,” said the first.  “You already know Andrea.”  All three women were nude and on the bed with me now.

“OK, I know your names, and I’m Erica, if you didn’t already know,” I said, my voice a little shaky now with shyness.  “But that’s all we know about each other.”

“Erica, we’re knowing each other more and more these very seconds,” Andrea said, kissing me on the cheek and fondling my right breast.  I now felt six hands and three pairs of lips gently roaming all over my skin.

Christina, a short, curvy blonde with long curly hair–a sexy little pixie–was sucking on my other breast, her lips gently pulling on my erect nipple.  Meg, also a short, curvy long-haired blonde, was between my legs, having kissed her way from my belly down there and making my whole body vibrate with pleasure.  Indeed, my original misgivings about lesbian sex were quickly dissolving into delight.  These women had the hands of masseurs and the tongues and lips of masters.

I just lay on my back, closed my eyes, and received it all, more and more eagerly all the time.  I softly moaned my thanks to those great kissers, lickers, and suckers.

Andrea’s tongue was slithering in my right ear, then it slid down across my cheek to my mouth.  She plunged her tongue deep inside my mouth and tangled it with my tongue, massaging it and the roof of my mouth.  No man had ever French-kissed me so expertly!

She wouldn’t let me move my tongue around much; she kept it away from her teeth, so it usually only stayed in my mouth.  I wondered why she didn’t seem to want my tongue to dance around inside her mouth the way hers did in mine.  Not that this mattered at all: I was getting really hot!

Meg’s face was now buried in my hairy, wet nether regions.  She was exploring me inside and out.  My moans were now sighs and squeals.

Christina’s hands gently roamed and caressed my skin, her left going from my neck, which she was kissing, along my chest and down to my pubic region, then back up.  Her right hand slid up and down my left arm.

While I was loving this lay better than those of the very best male lovers of my past, I still didn’t see what lesbian lovemaking had to do with giving me a better-looking body.  I couldn’t complain, though.

As Meg continued to slide in and out of me, I cried, “Ooh!”

Though embarrassed at how dirty and smelly I was down there, I couldn’t deny how good her sensitive tongue felt.  I could feel myself approaching orgasm.  I was squirming and writhing, but with intense excitement.

If lesbian sex was typically this good, I was switching to gay, immediately.

Christina was sucking on my right breast now while pinching the nipple of my left.  Andrea was kissing my neck, lightly nibbling on it.  Was I about to get a hickey?

Her nibbling was always in small, careful bites; but on one or two occasions, I was sure I’d felt a tooth as sharp as a cat’s.  I didn’t think too much of it, though, for I was just sizzling with lust.

My sighs and squeals were growing into screams.  I was about to climax.

Meg was working hard, her tongue and lips going faster and faster.  I was buzzing down there!

Finally, I let it out like a dam exploding.  It was the best explosion of pleasure I’d ever had, but with a big shock.  That hickey I would get from Andrea bit sharply and deeply into my neck!  My pleasure was matched with an equally sharp pain.

“Aaaah!” I screamed.  I felt my blood being pulled out of me.

I lay there in a daze, as if I were stoned.  I felt my will strangely half given to Andrea.  I didn’t know why, but apart from the bite, I felt better, stronger, more powerful…and despite my stupor, even more intelligent.

“What did you…do to me?” I asked with lazy panting.  “Why did you bite me?”  I looked over at Andrea.

Then I saw her bloody, bared fangs.

Then those of Christina and Meg.

“Holy shit!” I gasped.  “Those men…my three escorts here…were right: there are vampires here…Either that,…or I’m as high…as a kite.”

“We told you our plan was radical,” Christina said.  “But go look at yourself in the mirror.”

“Yeah,” Meg said.  “See what we did for you.”

I got off the bed, still feeling woozy after that bite, and went over to the mirror, on the dresser on the other side of the room.  I gazed on my nakedness with amazement.

“Oh…my…God,” I said, my eyes and mouth wide open.

No more flab.  Not even a bit.

My skin was smooth, creamy, and fairer.  No blemishes.  I looked several years younger, even.

My tits, which used to be floppy, were now firm…and bigger!

My curves were curvier.

My hairy bush?  Not so hairy now: it appeared neatly trimmed, as if by magic.

I turned around to look at my ass, which was no longer dimply, but round and beautiful.  Then I spread my legs and bent over to see how everything looked down there.  What used to be hairy and raunchy-looking was now neat, trim, and totally pleasing aesthetically, like a porn star.

My body wasn’t quite as perfect as those of the three blonde beauties who’d just had…and transformed me, but the improvement on my looks was something I could only be awed about.

I grinned with delight, tears forming in my eyes.

Then, having straightened up and turned around again to face the mirror, I took a closer look at my teeth.  There was no blood on my neck; after Andrea’s sucking of my blood, the wounds healed remarkably quickly–indeed, the bite marks were a barely noticeable pair of tiny dots.  I didn’t have the vampire fangs of Meg, Christina, or Andrea (or, presumably, all of the other strippers in the POUM Club), but my corresponding teeth were noticeably sharper; apparently, I was turning into a vampiress slowly.

“Why don’t I have full vampiress teeth, like yours?” I asked.

“Because you need two more bites to become a full vampiress,” Andrea said.  “When you’ve had your third bite, your body will be as perfect as ours are.”

“You’ll also have all our powers,” Meg said.

“And our intelligence,” Christina said.  “And psychic connection with everything, which gives you access to all worldly knowledge.”

“Is that why you strippers talk like, well, university grads?” I asked.  “And what are these powers you brag of?”

“Superhuman strength,” Andrea said.

“Shape-shifting,” said Meg.  “Quick healing.”

“And mind control,” said Christina.  “That’s great for making the boys do what we need them to do.”

“OK, and what about us being the spawn of Satan?” I asked with a tremble.  “Aren’t we all doomed to Hell?”

“Bullshit,” Christina said.

“Vampirism has nothing to do with Christian ideas,” Meg said.  “That’s why neither crucifixes nor garlic can destroy us.”

“Holy water’s useless against us, too,” Andrea said.

“Vampirism is pre-Christian and pagan,” Meg said.  “There are ideas in Greek myth that are closer to what we’re all about.”

“Old chthonic religion,” Christina said.

I was hearing this highfalutin vocabulary for the first time ever, yet strangely…inexplicably (See?  Even I use those big words now!)…I could understand, intuitively, what the girls were talking about.  That must have been what Christina meant by having a ‘psychic connection’ giving ‘access to all worldly knowledge’.  I really was getting smarter as well as sexier!

“After your third bite, you won’t need food anymore,” Andrea said.  “But you will need blood to drink.”

“You won’t need money, either,” Meg said.  “We strip and hook for men’s blood.”

“Don’t you need money for rent, water, and electricity?” I asked.  “And I don’t hook, by the way.”

“You will,” Meg said, “and you’ll like it.  For to get the men to do our bidding after we bite them, getting them hot enough to come maximizes our chances of winning their wills to our cause.”

“Our psychic powers provide our water and electricity,” Andrea explained.  “As for paying the rent, we scare the landlords away, use mind control to keep them at bay, or suck them dry.  Mind control also gets our liquor supplier to give us free booze.  We’re all secure that way, don’t worry.  But speaking of security, we need you to do something for us.”

Andrea approached me, looking me straight in the eyes in a way that felt hypnotic.  She caressed my cheek and stroked my hair.  As I mentioned before, I felt my will to be half at her command, while my remaining will, though my own, was charmed enough by her to want to do her bidding.

“What do you want me to do?” I sighed, still feeling as if I were high.

“Our world here is in danger,” she said.  “Someone is trying to destroy us.”

“Who?” I asked.  “I thought the usual Christian things don’t hurt you.”

“No, but sunlight does,” Christina said.

“Man-made light makes us uncomfortable, but exposure to daylight will burn us to ash, within seconds,” Meg said with a frown of fear.

“We all sleep in our apartments in town during the day,” Andrea said, still stroking my hair and gazing mesmerizingly in my eyes.  “And there’s no way the mortals could ever find us; but they have, and the only explanation is that enemy vamps have been helping them.”

“Who are the enemy vamps?” I asked.

“That’s what we need you to find out for us,” Meg said.

“You’re only once-bitten,” Christina added.  “So you can still endure the daylight, though it will bother your eyes a little.”

“Wear sunglasses when you go outside,” Meg said.  “There are other vamp strip joints here in Caledonia,” Andrea said, caressing my cheek, her eyes locked on mine.  “The CNT Club, short for CUNT Club, and the PRICK SUCK Club, or PSUC Club.”

“The Christian community here has wanted all three of us out because we’re strippers, but our use of mind control has kept them from knowing where any of us live,” Christina said.

“The only way the mortals could possibly know of us is if other vamps informed them,” Meg said.

“Vamps who hate us, for some reason,” Christina said.

“Why do they hate us?” I asked.

“Competition for blood, we assume,” Meg said.  “Who knows?”

“I suspect the reason is more subtle than that,” Andrea said.  “And that’s what we need you to find out.  Tomorrow afternoon, go into town and ask who knows of the finding of Billie Bryson’s apartment.”

“Who’s Billie Bryson?” I asked.

“She was the stripper you’re replacing,” Christina said.  “The mortals found her place a week ago, broke in during the day, opened her bedroom windows to the bright afternoon sunlight, and burned her to a crisp, her screaming in pain as she died.”  A tear ran down her cheek.

“The CUNT Club vamps claim one of their girls was similarly destroyed around the same time, and the PSUC Club vamps claim they lost two in the same way,” Meg said.

“We think one of them, or maybe both of them, are lying,” Christina said.

“Go into town tomorrow,” Andrea said, kissing me on the lips.  “Ask the people there who led them to Billie’s apartment.  When they describe the vamp, who of course approached them at night, we’ll know who he or she was.”

“A mere description will be enough to know who?” I asked.

“Yes, it should be,” Andrea said.  “Our psychic abilities will connect with the mortals’ words, and then we’ll be able to sniff out the traitor amongst us.”

“How do you know the traitor isn’t a vamp here?” I asked.

“We’d know,” Meg said.  “The proximity of our own vamps would make detecting their treacherous thoughts easy.  The closer you physically are, the easier it is to read your mind.”

“Go and find the traitor,” Andrea said after giving me another peck on the mouth.  “Help us stop our enemies, then after two more lovemaking rituals, and two more bites, you’ll be a full vamp.  We’ll give you eternal life.”

“Eternal life?” I gasped.

“Yes,” Christina said.  “Just drink blood, avoid the sun, and make love with the men you suck so they’ll be our loyal and willing protectors.”

“Their bodies improve with each bite, too,” Meg said.  “As does their intelligence and sensitivity, so a man who started out as an asshole can quickly become a nice guy.”

“Sex with the men will never hurt; in fact, it’s always pleasurable for you as a vamp, no matter which man you’re with,” Andrea added.  “For we vamps are impervious to pain…only pain inflicted by other vamps, or the sun, can hurt us.”

(If you liked this, please sign up for my free newsletter.  A link to it is at the side of this page.)

The two nude men took me to a curvy, buxom blonde in a sparkling gold and silver evening dress and high heels.  Her face was painted up in bright red lipstick, pink blush, dark eye shadow, and thick mascara.  Approaching me, she smiled pleasantly, but with her mouth closed.  She seemed to have an overbite.  She shook my hand.

“Erica George,” she said.  “Welcome to POUMTANG.  My name is Andrea Nini; I’m the head stripper here.”

“Isn’t this place called The Candy Club?” I asked.

“It used to be, but now that it’s under my management, it’s called POUMTANG, or POUM, for short.”

“You’re the boss, and a stripper?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.  “A leader doesn’t just sit back and let the others work; she must inspire her women.”

“Any men?”

“Only our guards, like Gino and Jorge here.  You can go now, boys.”

The men bowed slightly to her and went back outside.

“Why are they naked?” I asked.  “Do they strip here, too?”

“Sometimes they’re involved in live sex shows,” Andrea said.

“But they were naked outside, too.”

“Well…that’s just their way.  Nudism is sort of a philosophy here.  All will be explained to you in time.  I’m sure they gave you good protection coming through that treacherous forest,” she said.

“Protection?” I asked with my eyes practically bugging out of my head.  “Three men from town were escorting me, and they all got attacked.  I hope they’re OK.”

“I hope they aren’t, for the sake of all of us va-, uh, strippers,” Andrea said.  “Your escorts were the real danger.  Everyone in town, that is, the Christians, hate our club and want to destroy us–our business.  Gino and Jorge got rid of them and got you here safely.”

“I don’t understand. My three escorts were assaulted by muggers hiding in the–”

“Don’t worry.  As I said before, all will be explained to you in time.  Let’s get you into the change room in the back.  We have lots of sexy things you can wear onstage.”

Andrea led me through the bar, where I continued seeing the most flawlessly sexy women, each in a different stage of undress, either giving men table dances or lap dances, or dancing onstage.

I was always able to accept not being the hottest girl in a strip joint, but that night my insecure, envious eyes were scouring the entire bar for at least one chunky dancer, or older dancer, or floppy-titted one.  And all I could see were sex goddesses, and many of them, with no imperfect exceptions.

Oh, no, I thought.  I’m the least sexy girl here.  I hope I’m not judged too harshly when I’m nude.

Andrea took me into the changing room, and turned on the light.  There I saw a short, fully naked brunette dancer looking through the stockings and garters.  The turning on of the light irritated her eyes; I wondered why she was looking through the clothes in the pitch black dark, and how she was able to do so without even the slightest amount of light to guide her.

Anyway, she, too, was an example of divine physicality, with a deliciously smooth body: creamy, perfect skin.  No flab.  Not a single blemish.  Interestingly, the light seemed to annoy Andrea as much as it did the naked stripper; and the only conceivable fault I could find in either woman, with their nice, round tits and asses, was that their skin was rather pale.  This naked girl also seemed to have an overbite.

“Erica, meet Fantine Tremblay, or ‘Fanny’, as she likes to be called,” Andrea said.  “Fanny, Erica George.”

“Nice to meet you, Erica,” Fanny said in a Quebec accent.  We shook hands.  “Welcome to POUM.”

“Thanks,” I said.  “I just hope the men here like me as much as they like all you POUMTANG girls.  I’ve never seen such anatomical perfection.”

“They’ll like you, too,” Andrea reassured me.  “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well, my body has a flaw or two,” I said.

“I don’t see any flaws,” Fanny said as she put on a purple lace thong.

“You will see when I’m nude,” I insisted.  “The men here must be used to seeing perfect babes, which I’m not.”

“If you’re that insecure about your body, don’t worry,” Andrea said.  “We have ways of making your body a perfect sculpture.”

“Plastic surgery?” I asked.

“Oh, better than that,” Fanny said, having put on a bra and high heels to match her thong.

“Well, if your method’s that good, please don’t keep it from me,” I said.  “I’m gonna be nervous going on that stage, knowing the standard the men are used to seeing here.”

“It’s best not to use our methods so soon,” Andrea said.  “We’ll see how the men react to you as you are, and if there’s a problem, we’ll help you then.”

“I have to go on now,” Fanny said, still wincing and grimacing.  “I’ve gotta get out of here; the light’s driving me crazy.”

“Me, too,” Andrea said, also cringing in discomfort.  “I’m sure you’ll be fine onstage.  You’ll be on after Fanny.  Good luck.”  She quickly left the room.

“Nice meeting you, Erica,” Fanny said, shaking my hand again.  “When you go on, break a leg.”  She also quickly went out of the room.  When I saw her disappear back into the dark, I heard her moan with relief.

“Breaking a leg will be the least of my worries, with girls like you for my competition,” I said.  Why does the light bother them?  It doesn’t bother me, I thought.

I started fishing through the dresses and other outfits.  I found some black panties and a matching bra, as well as black stockings, just like those worn by the girl in that outside painting by the front door.  I hoped my looking like her would improve my sex appeal.

I also found a black evening gown.  I was lucky to have black high heels in my gym bag.  After putting on all the clothes, I freshened up my makeup: dark eyeshadow, blush, thick black mascara and eyeliner, and dark red lipstick.

I looked myself over in the mirror, carefully appraising my whole body.  Dressed that way, I seemed sexy.  But what about when I was to get nude?

I went out by the stage, where Fanny was doing her floor show, dancing to “Toxic,” by Britney Spears.  After having a recording of the songs I was to dance to given to the DJ, I looked at all the men watching Fanny: rapt, they never took their eyes off her.  They didn’t cheer or make rude cat-calls; they just watched her with a near religious adoration.  Their eyes sparkled with fascination at her topless loveliness, and their mouths hung open in awe.

I’d never seen such a reaction to a stripper, even to the most beautiful of them.  Fanny seemed to have a kind of sorcery to hold their undivided attention that way.  I couldn’t understand what I was seeing, and her charms made me all the more worried that I, going on right after her, would fail to have even half her power over the audience.

Her second song began: “Fuck the Pain Away,” by Peaches.  She pulled off the purple thong and got her high heeled feet out of the leg holes.  The men were still mesmerized, their eyes following her every step from one side of the stage to the other.  I still didn’t have any idea of how I could compete with her.

Her last song, “Rock On,” by David Essex, began.  She removed her high heels and began crawling around.  When she spread her legs and showed off her…front and back doors, if you will…again, the men just stared silently, in awe.  No crude remarks, no piggish behaviour.  I felt myself as stunned by their–it could only be described with this word–respect of her, as they were of her divine curves.

Her song was over, and she got off the stage.  Now it was my turn.

“Let’s give a big hand for Fanny,” the DJ announced.  “And now let’s welcome a brand new dancer to POUM, a very sexy lady, here’s…Erica.”

All the men cheered for me, whistling and cat-calling, everything that wasn’t done for Fanny.  I got on stage, trying not to let my nervousness show.

The DJ–who I noticed was one of the nude men who’d shown me in, and who seemed to be nude still–played my first song, “I Need You Tonight,” by INXS.  I roamed about the stage, shaking my ass to the beat and making extensive use of the pole.  Gone was the rapt look in the men’s eyes.

I saw them talking to their friends and clearly showing little interest in me.  The hypnosis Fanny had had them all under was gone.  I fought harder to hide my nervousness.

Coming to the middle of the song, I unzipped the dress and let it drop to my feet.  The men’s reaction remained cool.

“Flab!” one of them shouted suddenly.

I didn’t know which was scarier, being in that forest with whoever had attacked my three escorts, or stripping for this crowd.

My first song ended.  The second began: also by INXS, it was “Devil Inside.”  I tried moving around more energetically, kicking my legs up in the air and twirling, but none of it seemed to make an impression on this tough crowd.  A minute or so into the song, I did what would be the hardest thing for me to do: remove the bra and reveal my somewhat saggy tits.

I’d always been insecure about them, but displaying this imperfection to these obviously choosy men was going to test my nerves like never before.  Again, all I got was a lukewarm reaction, them more interested in chatting with each other than in looking at me.

“Flappy floppers!” shouted that man again; at least I thought it was the same heckler as before.  He was wearing a baseball cap, jeans, a green T-shirt, and he was sucking back a beer.

My lower lip was quivering, and a tear ran down my cheek; but I had to finish my set.  The second song ended.

My last song, INXS’s “Never Tear Us Apart,” began playing.

“I hate INXS!” shouted that heckler.  “What happened to the sexy music?  And the sexy dancers?”

I really wanted the heel of my shoe to meet that guy’s balls, but I bit my lip and continued with my floorshow, wishing the time would fly by so I could get off the stage.

A minute or so into the song, I reluctantly removed the thong.

“Damn, shave that thing!” the heckler shouted.

I got on the floor on my back, and spread my legs with a maximum of trepidation.

“Fuck!” he shouted again.  “I can smell that all the way over here!  Disgusting!”

I couldn’t take it any more: I got up and ran off the stage, leaving my clothes there, and went back into the change room.  I burst out into tears.  I just sat on a chair and cried and cried.

After a minute or so of incessant bawling, I heard a scream, one a lot like those I’d heard in the forest, when those men were attacked.

Soon after that, Andrea came into the room with two other strippers, ones as perfect-looking as her and Fanny.  They all squinted in discomfort at the light.

“Don’t worry about that asshole,” Andrea said, hugging me.  “We got rid of him.”

“That wasn’t him screaming out there, was he?” I asked.  “I’d like that.”

“No, but he’s been kicked out,” said one of the strippers.  “Justice has been done.”

“Yeah, but I’ll never compete with you girls,” I said in sobs.  “I shouldn’t work here.”

“Bullshit,” Andrea said.  “We can improve your looks.  But you have to trust us.”

“Why couldn’t you have just done it before?” I asked.

“Because it’s a radical solution to your insecurities,” the second stripper said.  “Only now, with you wanting to be perfected so badly, will you be open-minded enough to receive our methods.”

“Yes,” Andrea said.

“Well, give it to me,” I begged.  “Don’t keep it from me.”

“OK,” Andrea said.  “Let’s all go into the bedroom upstairs.”

‘Yeah,” the second stripper said.  “Let’s hurry.  That light is bugging me.”

We went up there right away.

The black of night surrounded us on all sides.  Though the crescent moon was out and the stars speckled the sky, their light was blocked by the foliage of the trees, which made a seamless ceiling over us.  Only the flashlights in my three male escorts’ hands did anything to break the darkness.

“Keep wavin’ the flashlights around, fellas,” the first of the three men said.  “Remember, they hate the light.”

“They?” I asked.  “Who are ‘they’?”

“We told ya before, in the diner this afternoon,” the second man said.  “The vampires.”

“Oh, not that ridiculous story again,” I said.

“I’m tellin’ ya, it’s true,” the first said.

“Why couldn’t you make yourself available earlier, so we could take you out here while the sun was still out?” the third said in a trembling voice.

“Sorry,” I said.  “I had to get settled in my new apartment.”

“No matter,” the second said.  “We have an opportunity to kill some vampires tonight.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I said.

“Don’t blaspheme,” the third said.

“Don’t worry, Carl,” the first man said to the third.  “We have our crucifixes, our garlic necklaces…”

“And our faith in God,” the second said.

I rolled my eyes.

Suddenly, Carl screamed.

“What is it, Carl?” the first man said.

“Jim!  I heard something fly by me,” Carl said to the first man.  “I felt the wind hit my face from the flyin’ thing.”

“A bat?” Jim asked, cocking his gun.

“I think so,” Carl stammered.  “A vampire.”

I snorted.  “Come on, guys, there are no such things as vampires.  And if there were, what good would a gun do?”

“We scratched crosses on the bullets,” the second man said.

I rolled my eyes again.  “Whatever; just get me to The Candy Club, OK?”

“We will, ma’am,” Jim said.  “Not that we approve of…”

“Aaaah!” Carl screamed.  “Unh!”

“What is it, Carl?” Jim asked.  “Randy, where is he?”

“I’m tryin’ to find ‘im,” Randy said, waving his flashlight around to find Carl.

“I’m bit,” Carl groaned in a raspy voice, though I still didn’t believe a bat, or anyone or anything else, bit him.

“Where the hell is he?” Randy said, his voice now as wobbly as Carl’s was.  “I can’t find Carl.”

“Shit,” Jim said.  “Garlic necklaces are obviously no use.”

“Oh!” Randy yelled.  “They…got…me…”

“Randy!” Jim shouted, waving his flashlight around frantically to find Randy in the dark, but never finding him.

Though I scoffed at their vampire story, I was getting scared.  In the dark, in that forest we were walking through to find The Candy Club, the strip club I was going to start dancing in that night, it was easy to believe muggers or rapists could have been hiding in the bushes.

“Oh, shit,” Jim said, his voice even more unsteady that Carl’s and Randy’s put together.  “They killed Randy, too.  It’s just you an’ me now, ma’am.”

“Oh, fuck,” I said.  “Somebody’s out here.  I just felt something touch my arm as he ran by.”

“Don’t worry, Miss, I’ll protect you,” Jim said.

“No offense, but I don’t find that very reassuring,” I said.  My heart was pounding fast.

We were walking slowly and as quietly as we could, listening for any sound not made by our feet squishing the grass.  Jim was still waving his flashlight around, hoping to see someone.

Silence for another ten seconds.

“What’s that?” he shouted, firing his gun.

“What?” I snapped.

“I saw a bat fly by.”

“Bats aren’t the danger, Jim,” I insisted.  “Thugs are.”

“Bats are vamp–Agh!” he screamed.

“Jim!” I screamed.  I groped around to find his flashlight, hearing his voice wither away.

I couldn’t find his flashlight, or any of the others.  I just stood there in the middle of my pitch black surroundings, without even the dimmest spark of light.  If my eyes had been closed, it’d have been no worse.

I didn’t dare move, or make the slightest sound.  I tried to keep my shaky breaths as soft as I could.

Silence.

No surrounding sounds for at least ten seconds.

Those seconds felt like hours.

A slight whisking sound, from left to right in front of me.

I panted louder then.

Silence.

Though I knew that if I’d kept walking straight ahead, I’d have gotten to the other side of the forest in a matter of minutes; but the reality that someone was there, someone who’d apparently killed my escorts, had me too petrified to budge.

Another whooshing sound, this time behind me.

I sighed a near sob; tears were forming in my eyes.

More silence.

I finally took a step forward.

A hand touched my left shoulder.

I screamed, kicking and punching forward.  Then, when I realized the hand was behind me, I turned around with my right fist swinging to hit whoever was behind me.

But just when my fist was about to make contact with the face I imagined I was aiming at in the darkness, I felt myself suddenly calmed, weakened, and limp.  I didn’t fall down, nor did I feel drugged in any way.  I was just no longer hostile or scared, for some mysterious reason.

“Come with us, Erica,” a male voice said.

How did he know my name?

“You’re safe with us, now,” another male voice, from the side opposite that of the first voice, said.  “Don’t be scared.”

I wasn’t scared at all now.  Why not?

I walked with these two mysterious men on either side of me through the rest of the forest.  We came out of it, and now not only had the light of the moon and stars to reorient me, there was also the brightly-lit Candy Club, whose front door was about twenty feet in front of us.

I looked to my right and left to see the two men who were with me.  They were young, with handsome, muscular Mediterranean looks.  They were both also completely naked…and impressively equipped, I must say.  Though titillated, I immediately looked ahead and away from them in embarrassment; they, however, didn’t seem to find their nudity the slightest bit of a problem.  I was too shocked to ask why they were naked, so I just pretended nothing was…unusual…about the situation.

We approached the strip joint.  By the front door was a large painting of a seated young woman in a black bra, panties, and stockings; the black-haired beauty’s back was to us as she was looking in a mirror, putting on lipstick.  Over the painting was a sign in large capital letters: POUMTANG.

“Um, learn to spell,” I said as we walked inside.  Why doesn’t it say Candy Club? I wondered.

Loud techno music was booming in the darkness.  Flashing, colourful lights revealed seminude women dancing, all of them enviable in their beauty.  I so wished I’d see at least a few women with physical imperfections as apparent as mine when naked.  To my chagrin, I never saw any.