.I woke up on Saturday still buzzing from the day before. My morning class, mostly adults working on Master's Degrees, passed in a blur. I got home just after noon and decided to sleep while I could. The schedule posted online for Moondancers said they opened at eight PM and stayed open until four AM. Since I had no idea when Sue hit the stage, I figured it was best to be ready to stay up until four.
I got back up at five and faced another dilemma. In case you couldn’t tell, I don’t get out much. Fred took me dancing a bit, something I still did when I had a chance. At the end of each semester I would treat myself to an expensive dinner. That was about it for my social life. I had no idea what to wear to a strip club. I had my ‘interview suit’ that I wore to graduation every year. I had five sets of slacks and oxfords. I had half a closet of ratty old sweats and tee shirts. Finally, buried in the back of the closet, I had one dressy outfit Fred bought me.
I didn’t want to load the night with that emotional baggage, but eventually I decided to chance it anyway. Nice charcoal slacks, a cobalt shirt, and Italian loafers made me look like I knew how to dress. I cleaned up, trimmed my beard, and then swore as I realized I now had bits of curly brown beard hair all over my cobalt shirt. Brushing didn’t do anything, but when I took it off and shook it, most of the hair hit the floor.
By six, I was ready to go. I hopped in my car and headed for the club.
When I got there, I knew right away I was overdressed. Beaters and motorcycles filled half the lot. The other half held low end Mercedes, Acura, and Lexus touring cars. I’d seen plenty of them before, driven by kids who didn’t have to worry about tuition, because mommy and daddy covered every dime of it. I wound up parking in a half-sized spot in the middle of the pricey cars. I hoped if someone wanted to steal or vandalize a car, they’d pick one of the nice ones, not my little electric. How little I knew about human nature. I didn’t even consider the nature of Shifters at the time.
On my way to the door, I noticed a banner hanging below the lit sign, for a celebrity guest dancer named Asoofit. When I read the name I stopped and laughed out loud, earning myself a couple stares. My Hebrew isn't bad, and I have a few Israeli friends. Whoever the dancer was, they had obviously tried for an exotic version of 'Baby Girl', or maybe ‘Little Girl Lost’, but she'd hit on something a little closer to "Baby Jane Doe". Shaking my head at the ignorance of some people, I joined the line into the club.
Before I could go in, I got a quick pat down by the bouncer. He looked like a mountain decided to go for a walk. Once he decided I didn’t have any hidden weapons, I got to pay twenty bucks to get through the door. I decided to keep my jacket on me. It was a light windbreaker, and I didn't want to drop another twenty on the coat check.
Inside, the only lights lit the bar and the stage. Both glinted with hints of glass and stainless steel, including two shining poles roughly twenty feet apart on the stage. A portion of the stage extended into the middle of the room, with one of the poles right at the end, making it the centerpiece of the room. Dull black paint coated everything other than the bar and the poles. The crowd held just about the mix I expected. Half of the seats, including most of those near the bar, were crowded with leather clad, tattooed gang members. The seats near the central pole held college age kids in name brand slouch clothes.
I blessed the dim lighting, since it meant I didn’t stand out quite so much. That feeling of security disappeared when I noticed at least half of the leather clad bikers tracking me as I moved along the edge of the room. I realized too late that the patrons at a Shifter bar would be, at least in part, Shifters themselves. I spotted an empty chair on the far side of the room from the bar, one row back from the stage. I tried to be nonchalant as I made my way to it.
I sank into the cheap, soft chair with a sigh of relief and settled in to watch the show. The waitress was an older woman; the hair on her head dyed an unnatural red. She wore nothing but a garter despite desperately needing a halter. She asked me if I wanted anything to drink. She made a face when I ordered a soda, but smiled when I handed her a ten and told her to keep the change.
The emcee announced the first dancer on stage as "Candy". A blonde flounced onto the stage accompanied by a bass-heavy remix of "I Want Candy". She had dressed up in a schoolgirl outfit, white button-down blouse, and a plaid skirt shorter than any Catholic school in history would allow. I looked on, appalled, as she flirted with a group of college kids who already had their drink on. When she’d milked them for all the money they would part with, Candy left her blouse and skirt behind and turned to me.
The moment I met her gaze, my mood changed entirely. Before I’d been appalled, maybe a little turned on. Now terror snuck in to tease at my hindbrain. She had a slim figure, rendered immature by the Hello Kitty panties and training bra she wore. Her girlish face had just a trace of baby fat still clinging to the cheeks. Her eyes were the dead, flat eyes of a shark. I couldn’t believe the college kids didn’t see it. Then again, it was possible none of them had seen a Shifter feeding before. I’d seen it at the Agency, and it wasn’t pretty.
Trying to keep my cool, I smiled at her. She took that as encouragement and came off the stage to do a turn around my chair. I tried to focus on the curve of her hips, the soft bounce of her breasts, but I couldn’t get the image of her eyes out of my head. I tried to remember why I was there. When she leaned across me, I whispered a single word, “Sue?”
If I hadn’t been watching for it, I would have missed the way her whole body tensed. When she looked up, surprise had banished the predatory glare. She leaned over me, rubbing her chest against mine, and when her mouth was against my ear she breathed the word “Ten” so low I wasn’t sure if I’d heard or imagined it. The smell of her lingered around me, musk and fur and sweat, a heady cocktail of sex.
Without warning, she leapt backwards into a reverse somersault. She arrowed straight for one of the poles. Her thighs scissored around it a moment before impact, and a deep metal thrum sounded over the music filling the room. In that second I realized why the bar had such a draw. Athleticism that took most humans hours of work a day to maintain came as easily as breathing to Shifters. Shifters who practiced an athletic art like dancing could do things no human in history could even contemplate. Candy climbed the pole using nothing but her thighs, spinning herself around it as easily as a human might turn themselves in a swivel chair.
Candy's training bra came off. I hadn't seen her touch it, but it fell to the ground right in front of me, the clasps bent backward. She'd shifted partway without anyone realizing. I was impressed in spite of myself, but terror sent another tendril snaking through my gut. Shifters burned a lot of calories normally. Shifting burned even more. Hungry Shifters were dangerous Shifters. I watched as she eyed up the young men in the bar. They howled when she ran her tongue over her lips. I was tempted to intervene, but a moment later she spun around to face me. Her upside-down grin froze me in my chair, but the moment her face was turned away from the crowd, she winked at me.
On her next rotation, she flipped herself away from the pole, landing crouched on fingers and toes, her shins parallel with the stage. She stalked past the bikers and back to the college kids. The song came to an end with Candy lying on her side in front of them. They crowded around, and after a few moments’ negotiation she wrapped herself around one of them, who carried her toward a door labeled 'VIP Rooms'.
As the ‘lucky’ guy carried Candy off, the next dancer, a raven-haired cheerleader named “Pixie”, vaulted onto the stage, her skirt flaring to show off bright pink panties. This time the music was a remix of “I know what boys want”. Pixie played to it, teasing more than Candy had, but other than that and a bit more attention paid to the bikers, it was more of the same. She even repeated Candy’s step off the stage into my lap, although in Pixie’s case she’d lost her bra to the bikers before she did.
Pixie was better endowed than Candy. When she grabbed the back of my head and pressed me between her breasts, my world narrowed to soft, firm flesh and the smell of her body. She smelled of sweat and cinnamon and ever so faintly of blood and the sea. My pulse pounded loud in my ears; lust mingled with fear to make me dizzy. I felt her chest rumble with a purr, and that sound as much as anything else drew a shocked laugh from me. For months I’d been wondering how to figure out if my cat was a Shifter. All I’d have to do is bring her here after hours; the others would scent her out.
Pixie caught my laugh, of course. Even if she hadn’t been a Shifter, she couldn’t have missed it with me pressed between her breasts. She pulled my head back, and a frisson of terror raced through me once more as I realized how easily she could overpower me. She grinned down, and even in the darkened room I could see where her teeth were just a little too pointed to be human. She leaned down, heavy breasts brushing against my chest as she put her lips to my ear.
“Like what you see?”
“Very much.” No point in denying it; Shifters couldn’t actually smell a lie, but they could spot the subtle cues better than humans could. More tellingly, she rubbed her thigh against my erection, which was about to burst through my slacks.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Want to buy me some dinner in the VIP lounge?”
I smiled, realizing now how the girls kept from losing control. The terror eased off a little, but only just a little. I would have to deny those hungry eyes, and that terrified me in and of itself.
“Thanks, but I’m waiting for someone?”
She rubbed against me, purring hard enough to vibrate my whole body. “I’ll wait. You can bring him along.”
“I’m waiting for a dancer.” I wouldn’t be waiting long if she kept that up, as the heat of her seeped through my jeans. Between the heat, the vibration, and the rich sultry smell of her sweat she dragged me toward a conclusion I wasn’t ready for at the moment.
She pulled back and frowned when I spoke, a pretty little pout. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, framing and highlighting them before she spoke. “I’m not a dancer?”
I smiled at her, hoping like hell she didn’t take offense. “I’m waiting for Sue.”
Her eyes went wide for an instant before the sultry temptress mask slipped back over her face. “Good luck with that. I’m here until midnight if it doesn’t work out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
With that she prowled back to the stage, took a quick turn on the poles, and wound up with one of the bikers. His hand toyed with her neon pink panties as he carried her back to the VIP room.
The night passed like that; each girl took a five-minute turn on stage, made a play to take me to the back room, and then escorted one of the other men to the VIP room. Half an hour after Candy went back, I saw the guy she went in with stagger out the door. His shirt untucked, his hair a mess, and the hat I was certain he had when he left conspicuously missing, but he seemed to be in good health and spirits for all that.
Shortly after Candy’s mark rejoined his buddies, the waitress came by again. My drink remained half full, but I asked her for a beer. I’m a lightweight, but I can handle one beer in a night without making too much of an ass of myself. Well, no more than I normally would, anyhow. She brought me back an overpriced import, and I dropped a twenty on her tray. I’m not made of money or anything, but even at fifty bucks this was still cheaper than dinner for two.
The waitress leaned in close behind me. I realized that there was another reason the girls got so close; it was the only way for the merely human to hear them over the music. Her breath on my ear was less arousing, but no less intimate.
“I’m Addie. Are you into waitresses or something?”
I smirked, knowing she wouldn’t see it, but figuring she’d hear it in my voice. “What if I am?”
She pressed against my back, her breasts as warm as any of the dancers. It figured the staff would mostly be Shifters too. “We’re not supposed to dance on nights we’re handling drinks, but I’m sure you and I could work something out.”
I turned my head, just enough she could see my apologetic smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I really am waiting for Sue.”
My gut tightened when I caught the flash of teeth, but her expression was one of good humor, not hunger. “That’s Okay, sweetie. I didn’t really believe it when Candy told me, but…” She shrugged, the motion dragging her breasts across my back. I could feel her nipples through the thin cloth of my shirt, and just a touch of something akin to hunger flickered in her eyes.
“Does Sue go by a stage name?”
Her voice was still sweet, but there was a smoky quality to it now. “Yeah. Something foreign. Indian? I dunno, it’s all Greek to me. Look, are you free later?”
“I’m flattered, but I’m planning on talking with Sue afterward.”
“Don’t be. You smell delicious. Anyway, a lot of guys plan on talking with Sue after.” Addie shivered, and the light of hunger died down in her eyes. It wasn’t gone, but it was banked back a bit.
“I’m still flattered, Addie. Could you signal me when Sue comes on?”
She grinned at me, and I realized that most of her apparent age was makeup. She was still older than the girls on stage, but nowhere near as old as I’d first thought. “You’ve never seen her before?”
When I shook my head, a chuckle made her shiver against my back again. “You’re precious. I think you’ll know her when you see her. Anyhow, if things don’t work out, are you still going to be up at four?”
“I dunno, why?”
She grinned at me, enjoying my naiveté. “I’ll be getting off around then.”
I smiled back at her. “Well, if my plans don’t work out, I certainly don’t want to miss that, do I?” Every now and then, when it doesn’t matter, I can deliver the right line at the right time, it seems.
She whispered, "I'm expecting you to help me out with it," and walked away with a laugh and a swing of her hips. I turned back to the stage, nursing my soda. It and the beer had to last me another hour or so. Candy came back on stage, this time dressed as a schoolboy’s fantasy teacher. The only changes from her prior schoolgirl costume were the addition of a ruler, a tie, and a pair of glasses. I smiled up at her, shaking my head. I couldn’t have told you whether I was amused at how cheap everything was or how well it worked anyway.
She played to the bikers this time, at least until a bachelor party showed up in the middle of her set. The bikers already had her blouse off, but the man of the hour got to take off her skirt. Under the blouse this time she wore a plain white bra, under the skirt was a matching pair of panties. Without the childish underwear, she looked far closer to my own age. I reached to discreetly adjust myself and she leapt across half the stage to land in front of me, ruler in hand, one eyebrow raised.
She slapped my hand with the ruler, making it clear she realized what effect she had on me. She flashed me a knowing grin filled with heat. She flexed and her bra slid down her arms, falling from the ruler to lie on my lap. I couldn’t hear her words when she spoke, but the words were simple enough I caught the meaning anyhow.
“You sure?”
I whispered my reply, knowing she would catch it anyhow. “Talk to me at eleven if I’m still here.”
Her face slipped back into a pout, but she tossed her head in apparent unconcern, slapped at my hand once more with the ruler, and leapt back to the center stage pole. She did her thing on the pole again, and this time she walked to the VIP suite with her panty straps loaded with tips from the bachelor party. She towed the groom along, but he didn’t fight very hard.
For my part, I fought hard against two conflicting emotions. On one hand, I wasn’t in any way immune to the girls on stage. The fact that each of them paid special attention to me made it even harder to ignore my reactions. I only remained capable of coherent thought because of the thread of flat, screaming terror that had a grip on the base of my spine.
Hungry Shifters thought I smelled good. I was sitting in a room with God alone knew how many hungry, horny Shifters, and they thought I smelled good. If whatever Al intended with Sue didn’t work out, my only hope of survival was if one of the girls wanted sex before dinner, and I was so good she decided against an after-coital snack.
Also, my witty banter had committed me to two of them if Sue didn't work out.
I was a dead man.
***
The Imperiatrix de'Shak looked down on her laboratory. Rank upon rank of work stations now filled it. Half of them were made of steel bars, the welds holding them together ugly but strong. The other half had no seating at all, just rubber chocks barely large enough to hold a Researcher's wheels in place.
A smile curved her lips as she savored the thought of the treat she'd promised herself. With a word and a gesture, she summoned her prime Researcher to the platform. While the sad little tank rolled up the long, curving ramp to the balcony, de'Shak contented herself with the imagined sound of an electronic scream cut short by the sound of shattering glass and splashing gray matter.
"You desired my presence, Mistress?"
De'Shak almost kicked the Researcher from the platform in that instant, but the anticipation was proving to be a more potent drug than she'd imagined. She struggled to think of some reason to prolong the delicious agony of waiting. A reason percolated to the surface of her mind, and she congratulated herself for her wisdom in waiting.
"Are the additional interfaces ready for use?"
The Researcher drew closer, encouraged by the obvious pleasure in de'Shak's voice. "The physical construction is complete. Have you found any problems with your own interface?"
The Imperiatrix smiled, thinking of how she'd toyed with the little freak in the world she'd visited. Next time she would visit the girl in the person of the male who had exploited her, just to see how she reacted. Her leg twitched with suppressed desire, and she almost missed the Researcher's next words.
"Mistress, might I inquire as to the function of the Guard designated M267?"
Curiosity stayed de'Shak's hand. Researchers did not associate with Guards; a Guard was worth far more than a Researcher, and both groups knew it. Given the violent nature of the Guards and the fragility of the Researchers, it never ended well for them. The thought of a Researcher asking after a Guard intrigued her.
"Why do you ask, Researcher prime?"
"He was my first conversion, Mistress. I wished to be sure he has performed adequately."
De'Shak smiled, and the Researcher scooted closer, almost touching her shin. "More than adequately, Researcher. You must tell the other Researchers how you achieved such results, that they might form me an army of monsters like the one you produced."
"I do not believe I can, mistress." The tank settled onto its wheels, oblivious to how his words infuriated its mistress. The thin whine of Researcher communication ramped up a notch, likely the others gossiping over the method of their putative leader's demise.
"You would deny me, Researcher?"
"Oh, no, mistress. I am your willing slave in all things. Already I send to my brothers the knowledge of how I modified Magnus to create M267." De'Shak's leg trembled with the need to launch the Researcher from the ledge. It sent surges of pain and pleasure through her whole body. Soon they would becoome too strong for her to repress them.
The anomaly tugged at De'Shak's attention. Her foot twitched, but curiosity held it back. "Magnus?"
"The name of the resistance leader I modified to create M267. He was a brilliant tactician, and a fearsome warrior. Without that base, repeating the creation of M267 would be impossible."
Sudden understanding lanced through her as she idly stroked the Researcher's tank. "You are from the most recent harvest. You knew this... Magnus."
"I did. He was my husband."
It took the Imperiatrix a moment to recall the archaic term, and she lost another to the shock of synchronicity. "You have done well, my Researcher. Are all the tasks I have set before you complete?"
The Researcher sidled toward De'Shaks shin, overcome with pleasure his tank was programmed to deliver when he received praise from an Imperiatrix. His voice was distracted, likely from the endorphins that were even now coursing through him. "Yes, my mistress."
"Excellent! I have one more task for you."
"Anything, my mistress."
"Scream."
De'Shak discovered that pleasure delayed was indescribably more intense than pleasure taken at the moment of desire.