Habit To Heels Chapter 14

Come See The Show/ Three Drops of Urine

The white neon sign hangs over Bonita's Spice Sweet Spice doorway, illuminating the cracked sidewalk. It's Wednesday night, amateur night. Once inside, Tara inhales the familiar combination of cigarette smoke, musky perfume, and lumber dust. She can feel the bass as it rattles the floorboards. Even though it's the same, tonight feels different. This time, she is in more control, maybe she is here on her own terms. Tonight could be her night.

She is greeted by the same girl as last time. The stocky blonde with too much blue eye shadow. Tonight she is wearing a schoolgirl outfit with a white half-buttoned blouse, and a short checker skirt. Knee-high grey, sock hop style stockings, with white and black Hush Puppies on her feet.

The girl recognizes Tara and says, "Hey, are you back for another try at the prize money?" pushing a clipboard toward Tara. Then she lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke toward Tara.

Tara smiles, even through the smoke as she tries to adjust her eyes to the dark shadows inside the club. She signs the familiar clipboard. As the nun looks around the place, she notices a new addition to the circus-like atmosphere. In front of the stage hangs a disco ball turning slowly overhead, scattering silver-lighted freckles all over the place.

Tara does the usual circuit. She signs in on the clipboard and gives her three song choices to the DJ. She winks at him as she jots down her songs.

Tara spies Deb and gives her a quick wave. Deb is standing next to the usual suspects, Dollya and Cara. Deb has her small portable purple metallic makeup kit. Deb says something to Cara which is inaudible to Tara and smiles. Deb points toward the dressing room signaling Tara to meet her there.

Deb leans over the makeup mirror backstage, lining Tara's eyes in black kohl. Deb says, "Dollya tells me that when you danced a few weeks back you almost beat Cara. Well, you won't have to worry about her tonight she works full-time now as a regular dancer. She can not compete in Amateur night." Deb applies a very bright Red color to Tara's pouty full lips.

Tara looks up, "Phew that's a relief."

"Keep your chin up when you walk out there," Deb says, tilting Tara's face toward the light. "Let 'em see that jawline, a damn sculpture. And remember when your dancing shake that grade-A ass and those perky tits. Point your toes when on the pole."

Tara nods, lips pursed, nerves brewing beneath the surface. Her plum satin bra hugs her perky breasts, the matching panties high on her hips. The fabric glistens under the harsh dressing room light.

"You sure about this?" Deb asks, voice dropping to a whisper.

"No," Tara answers. "But I'm doing it anyway." She gives out a breath-like laugh.

Behind them, a familiar sway of hips in platform heels, Dollya walks past them without saying a word. She stops just behind Deb.

Dollya is working as a dancer, dressed in a silver halter and red fringe skirt, her lipstick and makeup are perfect. "Hey," Dollya says, her voice a little raspy from cigarettes, "Later. I need to talk to you, Deb."

Deb raises an eyebrow, "About what?"

Dollya's eyes glance to Tara, then back, "Later."

Tara finds Dollya more aloof than she was before.

Far down the row of mirrors, Tara spies a very young and petite short-haired blonde. She is nude, leaning into the mirror for a closer look while applying her makeup. Anorexically thin, she has an almost thirteen-year-old boy-type body. No curves, no tits.

Tara taps Deb, and points her out, "She looks a bit young don't ya think."

Deb continues her makeup work and looks at the thin blonde. Deb replies, "I guess. Not many curves."

Toward the far wall, Tara sees the familiar, Bambi. She's built like a brick house, with deep rich mahogany skin. The black beauty is wearing gold lamé tonight.

Deb leans in, "That's your real competition."

"I figured. She was in the last dance-off," Tara murmurs.

Just then Sid enters stands in front and goes through the rules again. Yada Yada Yada, DeJa vu.

Tara and Deb work more on makeup, ignoring Sid.  

Tara quickly glances at the order of amateur dancers listed on Sid's clipboard. Tara finds out she is set to dance last. Bambi dances right before her.

Since she is last, there is some time, and Tara and Deb walk over to the bar to watch. Tara hides her skimpy underwear by covering herself with a long cotton non-descript blue robe. She is still unsteady in the six-inch heels. Even though Tara is almost totally covered up from her neck to her ankles, guys come up to her and offer to buy her drinks. Others walk right up to her and boldly ask for a lap dance.

Deb quickly shoots them down, "She is here as an amateur they can't do drinks or dances."

Tara giggles, and flips her hair, "Thanks." 

Cara smiles and waves a polite, but curt, "Hello Tara, good to see you back. After I won a couple of times, I was offered a full-time gig as a dancer."

Tara replies also nice but cold, "How nice for you."

Brown Sugar is the first song of Bambi's set. She emerges from behind the curtain. She is intent on winning, thus with no hesitations, she quickly strips off every bit of her gold lamé outfit right from the start. The crowd whistles and cheers. She promptly kicks off her platform shoes.

Totally nude, Bambi shows off her feminine, but muscular form. She is well toned her arms are muscular and her abdominal muscles are chiseled. She does not quite have a six-pack, but she is close. With her black nappy well-trimmed pubic triangular bush in full view, she exhibits the best and longest legs Tara, and Deb, for that matter, has ever seen.

Tara leans over to Deb and says, "I did not know you could dance barefoot."

Deb says, "The heels make legs look longer, see how they accentuate her calf muscles. With those legs, she doesn't need heels."

Bambi quickly does the splits, as she climbs to the top of the center pole.   Her legs spread wide, revealing her labia. A hint of pink is visible through her black pussy lips. She finishes her set, going to each corner of the stage spreading her legs and holding them way up in the air. Getting on all fours to crawl around onstage, Bambi sticks her backside way up in the air. By the end of her three songs, the stage is littered with crumpled-up dollar bills. Bambi takes her time retrieving the money as she crawls around every inch of the stage in her birthday suit.

Tara leans over to Deb and Says, "She got a ton of tips. I'm going backstage, I'm up next."

Deb quickly hugs her, "Remember, toes pointed." She smiles and gives a quick wink and a wave.

Big Lincoln's voice is heard through the scratchy loudspeaker. The DJ says, "OK next, let's give a Bonita's welcome to Misty for her three-song set. And don't forget to tip your waitstaff and bar staff!"

Tara begins her familiar backstage routine, gazing out at the crowd through the vertical gap in the curtain. Nude, except for her bra and flimsy panties, and the usual unbalanced and painful 'Strappy' six-inch heels.

The first song's intro is unmistakable, Emerson Lake & Palmer's Karn Evil 9. Tara steps out, commanding the entire city of Grand Rapids. Accompanied by a storm of synthesizers, grinding keys, and near-apocalyptic fanfare. Immediately, the natural beauty is rewarded by applause. Many whistles can be heard in the background. She does not smile. She does not need to.

Deb watches from the side, she is fidgeting with a small cardboard Bonita's drink coaster. She was worried about Tara's moves, but all her hard work and practice had paid off.

The beat drops, telegraphing Tara's moves, with deliberate machine-like precision. The song accompanies her with sirens and horns. Her dance is seductive and electric. As the music crests, Tara freezes, breathless, and defiant, and strikes a Wonder Woman pose, legs apart and hands on her hips.  

Then as the song hits random base and percussion sounds, Tara bows her head, lets her hair cover her face, and moves erratically like a rag doll, or loose marionette puppet.  

The sirens wail and Greg Lake screams, "See The Show!" At that moment, with an instantaneous move, Tara reaches behind unhooks her bra, and flips it off to the side. With no hesitation, and the same fluid motion, Tara's purple panties fall to the ground. The stage goes black as the song abruptly ends. Tara did not plan the theatrical darkness. Maybe the DJ and the lighting guy figured the effect out and pulled it off together. Anyway, it worked.

Tara waits for the next song, totally nude in the darkness. Her shiolouettle is barely visible to the crowd. The new disco ball randomly flashes little reflective lights on her body, adding to the effect. All eyes try to make out her naked form, as she stands center stage, breathing heavily.

The next song is a complete change of pace. The Slow and ultra-modern vibes of The Isley Brothers' Voyage to Atlantis. The lights come up slowly, mixing with the smoke on stage. Long-wailing guitar riffs accompany Tara as she emerges from the shadows, exposed and illuminated. Her skin glistens with sweat adding radiance. She moves slowly at first, her body swaying rising and falling in sync with the rhythm. Her fingers curl around the pole. Slowly she kicks into a long spin, at center stage.

Deb, standing beside the bar watching, is delighted to see Tara dance. She almost gives out an audible laugh, since Tara is actually pointing her toes. Deb notices both Cara and Dollya working the crowd soliciting lap dances. Not many guys pay attention, however, as all eyes are on Tara. Soon most of the regular dancers stop whatever they are doing, and watch the stage show. A rare occurrence.

Tara moves slowly to the long hypnotic eery ballad, no frenzy, no spectacle. The nude nun chooses intimacy, a ceremony, and possibly even a ritual.  

Guitar riffs echo her story, as she climbs the pole.   At the top, she is spreading her legs as she descends.   Like watching rain slide down glass, smooth, slow, and inevitable. An artistic nude, the music, and the dream of Atlantis, a place lost, a place remembered. As the final note fades, she lies prone at the far end of the stage for the final effect.

The last song begins quickly, a different mood entirely is created by Kool and the Gang's Celebration. For the most part, during the final song, Tara wanders around the stage. A long line of guys come up to give Tara her dollar tips. Some guys simply crumpled them up and threw the money toward the stage. At the end of the set, the nude dancer picks up her money which is scattered everywhere.

Big Lincoln's voice is heard from the speaker, "OK that was Misty guys and ain't she something, give it up for her. And don't forget to tip your waitstaff and bar staff!"

Tara quickly picks up the skimpy outfit. She puts on the bra and panties and leaves the stage. She meets up with Deb backstage.

Deb triumphantly states, "Wow Tara, now that's a stage show!"

Tara confesses, "Did you like it. I was up practically every night this past week practicing."

As soon as they arrive at the dressing room, the DJ announces the three girls for the final dance-off. Big Lincoln again crackles through the speaker, "Will Karen, Misty, and Bambi come backstage? And don't forget to tip your waitstaff and bar staff!"

Just as before, Fred accompanies Bambi, Tara, and a new short girl with large tits and a wide ass backstage.

The DJ says, "All right give it up for our three finalists. And don't forget to tip your waitstaff and bar staff!"

Like last time, Fred, walks out onstage with the three finalists. Also like last time, Gary Glitter's Rock and Roll begins.

The short-figure girl begins the dance off, by stripping and dancing all around the stage. Karen is merely tonight's opening act for the face-off between Bambi and Tara.

As soon as Fred holds his hand behind Karen's back for applause, Misty (Tara) and Bambi decide to take matters into their own hands.  

From the far end of the stage, Tara steps into the light, her eyes flick over the stage like a battlefield.  

All the way at the other end, Bambi walks out like she owns the whole damn place. Just as she did before she quickly dispenses her gold lamé costume. Bambi stops at the center, licks her lower lip, and looks Tara up and down. She grabs the pole and spins, with her heels way above her head. She drops into a split, then pulls herself up. Flipping upside down, unaffected by gravity. She claps her thighs once, like thunder. Dollar bills fly about her.

Tara figures, 'Since Bambi Stripped right from the get-go, so will I.' So Misty Tara quickly loses her undies. Nude, She slowly steps with the beat. The nun mounts the pole and climbs fast with her legs flexed. Then she drops, freefall-style, catching at the last second, ending in a perfect upside-down hold.

Deb watching from the bar mutters to herself, "Where the hell did that move come from?"

Tara opens one leg toward the ceiling and holds it there. Slowly lowering, with her hands in the air she flips into a straddle split, then rolls onto her knees end of the stage, dead center. A guy drops his drink. Two guys in the front row use their hands to whistle with high-pitched deafening decibels.

Bambi, yells from behind, "Come on girl," she calls to Tara. "You got any more moves? Watch me." She crawls toward the edge, rolls onto her back, lifts her hips, and twerks upside down.

Tara laughs, "Impressive my ebony Friend." Tara runs, even though her heels are digging into her skin, and jumps into a pole spin at full speed. Tara slides down the pole backward, one hand behind her head, and lands in a full split, back arched, chest high.

Even Bambi claps at that move.

They meet in the middle and begin to dance together. They move in sync, hips driving, tits shimmying.  

Tara leans in, face to face with Bambi.

Bambi grins, "I felt that."

Tara, breathless, smirks, "So did they."

The music stops.

The room is silent for half a second. Then it explodes.

Fred turns around and glances toward Big Lincoln in the DJ booth and shrugs.

The DJ puts out his cigarette, to postpone his decision. Finally, he announces, "You made it hard, ladies. But there can only be one..." He hesitates again, "Tonight the queen of Bonita's stage is Misty! And don't forget to tip your waitstaff and bar staff!"

Tara throws her arms up, breath ragged, eyes wide. The room is on fire.

Bambi walks over, still smiling, unbothered. She pulls Tara close and whispers, "You earned it. But I want a rematch."

Tara turns to her, "Next week. Same stage." 

They both begin to laugh.

As the music picks up again, Tara steps down from the stage and slips back toward the dressing room.

Dollya waits for Deb near the hallway, "Got a minute?" Dollya's voice is sharp and troubled.

Deb eyes her, "Depends, what for."

"It's about her." Dolly nods toward the shadow where Tara just vanished.

Deb folds her arms. "What about her?"

Dollya hesitates. The words want to come, but something stops them. Maybe it's guilt. Maybe it's fear. "Not tonight," she finally says. "Just.. not yet."

Sid finds Tara backstage and hands her $250.00 cash. He says you are really something. Come be a regular dancer. Start next Friday night. See Paula, the girl in the schoolgirl outfit. She will give you the paper to sign. $60.00 an hour and 30% of your tips. Paula will tell you the do's and don'ts about lap dances. He turns and walks away before Tara can even comprehend much less reply.

As she walks out she takes $40.00 of her winnings and hands Deb her make-up fee and says, "You made me look amazing tonight thanks."

The following morning Grand Rapids Michigan, is cold and windy. The sun fights to come out as  Sister Carolyn walks with her head down, and her coat wrapped tight around her. She wears her habit, but it's not the full veil, just the scarf. She blends into the early morning downtown crowd. The river is heard in the background.  

Carolyn turns into the Greyhound bus station, slips past the worn wooden benches, and heads for the women's restroom. The place smells like ammonia and old tile.  

Sister Carolyn slips into the third stall, latches the door, and lowers herself onto the toilet seat. She removes from her coat pocket the small white box she bought yesterday for $10.00 at a pharmacy. The Early Pregnancy Test, or EPT for short. It's bulky and awkward: a test tube, dropper, stand, mirror, color chart. The nun peels open the box, and works quickly, carefully. Three drops of urine, she measures, counts aloud under her breath. "One... two... three."

On a frigid early morning jog, he kissed her, without warning, still sweaty, both hearts racing. She kissed him back. Then again. A married man. They jog together three times a week. Neither of them ever said much. It just happened. It was raw and exciting.

She sets the dropper into the test tube, adds the activator, and starts the agonizing ten-minute wait.

Her hands shake. Her legs bounce. She closes her eyes and counts her breaths.

After what seems like an eternity, Carolyn stares at the small mirror sitting beneath the test tube at a forty-five-degree angle. The liquid inside is starting to cloud. Her hands shake as she reads the instructions. Positive: blue ring. Negative: no color change.

Then it happens. Blue. One soft, unmistakable blue ring. She stares.

Her heart doesn't race, it slows. The panic she expected doesn't come. Carolyn exhales and carefully packs the pieces back into the box. She wraps it in a brown paper lunch bag and slides it back into her coat pocket. She flushes the toilet to keep up appearances and steps out. She smooths her habit, lifts her chin, and walks into the morning light.