Searching for Pandora
By Melinda Barron
Copyright 2010 Blushing Books and Melinda Barron
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 by Blushing Books and Melinda Barron
All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Melinda Barron
Searching for Pandora
IBSN: 978-1-935152-85-9
Cover Design: Korey Mae Johnson
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Chapter One
“Strip.” The deep southern voice knocked me for a loop. So did the man sitting behind the desk. I had expected someone older, someone scary and intimidating. Instead I was looking at a muscular 30-something man with a baby face and dimples, curly blond hair and large blue eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I replied, “what did you say. I’m India Davis. I’m here for the job interview.”
The man smiled at me, his dimples deepening. “I’m Drew Watkins, and you are here for the job interview darling, but it’s an interview for a stripper, remember? I want to see how comfortable you are without your clothes on, so I’ll repeat myself. Strip.”
I sat my purse down on the chair opposite the desk. The office of Shadowlands was clean and cozy. The desk was large and uncluttered. Unusual, I thought, for an office. And the man sitting behind the desk was not the man Pandora had described as her boss. She had said her boss was a “large old man with bad teeth and an even worse attitude.” I wondered if this was his son.
“I’m waiting, or have you changed your mind? If you have, there’s the door.” He pointed behind me and I reached up to begin unbuttoning my blouse. Remember why you’re here, I thought to myself. Remember Pandora. No one else has.
I let my blouse drop and reached to unzip my skirt. The man watching me said not a word. He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together behind his head. I looked at his chest. He was absolutely gorgeous. I’d never taken my clothes off in front of a total stranger before, and the way he was looking at me with his appraising eyes wasn’t making it any easier.
And then I thought about what would happen if he did give me the job as a dancer, an exotic dancer, who took her clothes off nightly and danced in front of men—and women—that she’d never met before. I shivered as my skirt slid to the floor. Remember Pandora. Remember Pandora.
I started to kick off my heels and he stopped me. “Leave them. Just remove your bra and panties and we’ll be good.”
I unclasped my bra and let it drop. He gave an appreciative nod at me; I don’t know if it was my breasts, which are large and full, or my pierced nipples. The little gold rings that ran through them were very visible.
“Why my panties? I thought this was topless only.”
He chuckled, his deep voice filling the room. “Oh, no darling, we have a new permit that allows us to go total, so I’ll need to see you pretty little pussy, too.”
Remember Pandora, I whispered as I pulled my panties down and stepped out of them.
Now he raised his eyebrows at my closely shaved pussy and his smiled deepened. “Your clitty’s pierced too? Come over here and let me see.”
I knew that he could see the tip of my clit ring from where he was sitting, but I didn’t want to upset him by refusing. I needed this job. I needed to follow in Pandora’s footsteps… To find out what happened to her.
I stepped toward the desk. He patted the wood surface to show me where to sit and then pushed his chair back. I sat in front of him and looked him in the face. He raised his eyebrows and then looked down. “Spread your legs for me; show me your clitty.”
I did as he said, and shivered again as his finger lightly traced the bar of my clit hood piercing, and then gently pressed against my clit, which rested in the middle of the gold ring that was attached to the end of the bar. “Very, very nice darling,” he said, his voice even deeper than it was before. He pulled lightly on the ring and I gasped. “You do this for a man? Your Master, maybe? He know you’re applying for a job as a stripper?”
“I don’t have a Master. I’m not a submissive,” I whispered. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m alone.”
We continued to lock eyes as I sat on his desk, my legs spread, his hands still gently tugging on my clit ring. “Not a submissive. Right. Look at me.”
I lowered my brown eyes, full of uncertainty, to his blue ones, which were full of mischief. “Why do you want to be a stripper? It says here you have a college degree in English Literature. Why aren’t you teaching? Don’t make enough money? Bored? Tantalized by the idea of stripping for strangers? Want to shake your clit ring at men all night long?”
He dropped his hands and I crossed my legs, continuing to sit on his desk. I knew I had a good body, large firm breasts and a curvy shape, not too fat but not too thin. My butt was rounded and attracted a lot of attention from the men I knew. I hoped to entice him into hiring me. I sat up straighter, uncrossed my legs and spread them slightly, thrusting out my breasts. I wanted this job. I needed it.
“I need the money. Teaching was not really for me. I want to write, and this will give me enough money to live on while I do that.”
I hoped it sounded convincing. The truth was I wanted to find Pandora, my best friend since the third grade, who’d been a dancer here at Shadowlands and had disappeared six months ago. The cops were doing nothing, saying there was no evidence she had disappeared by foul play. Every time I talked to them I could see it in their eyes: “She’s only a stripper, who cares?”
Drew was staring at me, his eyes centering on my eyes. The mischief in his eyes had disappeared to be filled with suspicion. He turned his head and looked questioningly at me, waiting for me to continue.
“I have a good body.” I cupped my breasts, pulling gently on the rings. “My breasts are firm, and real. And my pussy...” My voice trailed off. I hadn’t expected to show him my pussy and I was nervous sitting here naked. I pulled gently on my pussy ring and a wave of desire, started by his earlier fingering, spread throughout my body.
When I didn’t say anything else he smiled and told me to go and stand in the middle of the room. Middle Eastern music flowed from the speakers, full of drums and flutes, singers chanting in the background. “Dance for me. Show me what you’ve got.”
He sat on the couch, his long legs stretched in front of him. I’d danced with Pandora many times while she practiced new routines. I began to move, tossing my dark black hair as I swiveled my hips and breasts, shaking my rear for him, trying not to trip in the heels. I moved closer to him and could see him running his hands over the growing bulge in his jeans. I was having an effect; hopefully I was closer to the job.
Remembering Pandora’s description of lap dances, I straddled Drew and braced myself against the back of the chair, shaking my breasts in his face, wiggling my hips. I looked down as I moved. There was now a full-blown hard-on waiting to burst out of Drew’s jeans. And I knew the job was mine. I sat down gently and his hands went around to circle my waist, sliding down to my thighs and then up again to cup my breasts.
“You’re hired,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Here’s what we’ll do: the first week you’ll serve drinks and watch the other girls dance, although I think you have the idea down pretty good. All the dancers here have a theme: western, ballet, oriental, that type of thing. I think the theme for you is harem girl, with your long dark hair and big dark eyes.”
He moved his hands up my back, the light touch sending a sensation down my spine. I thrust my breasts against his chest in response and he smiled.
“I’ll get you an outfit to take home with you. Practice with it during the day. Next Monday you’ll audition again. If I think you have the idea of harem dancing, complete with veils and belly dancing down, you’ll start performing the next day.”
He stood up, helping me to stand as he did. He picked up the phone and told someone on the other end to bring a harem girl costume to his office. It appeared moments later as I was zipping back into my skirt, delivered by a large-busted redhead in leather chaps with two stars pasted over her nipples.
“Darlene, this is India, our new harem girl. Show her where the dressing room is so she can start work tomorrow.” We turned to leave and Drew cleared his throat. “Oh, India, I don’t like tan lines. There is a booth in the back. Make use of it. And all my girls have clean-shaven pussies. Take care of that tonight.”
**********
After an hour of serving drinks half naked in 4-inch heels, I began to rethink my idea of following in Pandora’s footsteps. Half-naked was really pushing it. Ninety percent naked was a better term. I was wearing a “harem bra” with no cups. The bra was made of beautiful gold material that ran under my breasts. Drew had threaded a slim gold chain between my nipple rings after he’d explained the rules, “No touching by the customers, and no hooking. The only time they can touch is when they put a dollar in your string.”
And string was the right term. It was a thin gold belt that hung low over my hips. Two thin strips of gossamer material covered my legs to my ankles. The material was very see-through and I’d had numerous comments from the customers about my clit ring, which was very visible when I stood in front of a table.
“Makes you come hard, does it?” One man had asked, wanting to know if I’d let him touch it. I’d just smiled and backed away. Darlene, the woman who’d showed me the locker room the night before, had come to my rescue once, calling a regular customer a pervert when he asked if I’d step outside with him.
“You’re gonna have to grow a thick skin, baby,” she whispered in my ear. “Body like yours half-naked will attract lots of offers like that. Learn to be tough, girl, or you’re gonna run into problems.”
Darlene danced under the name of Belle Starr. Her leather chaps had a missing crotch and the stars over her nipples barely covered her rings. I noticed there was no chain between her rings.
When she showed me the dressing room last night, I’d noticed that her locker was right next to Pandora’s, who’d danced under the name of Desiree. I’d wanted to ask her about Pandora but thought it was a bit too soon. Better to watch and see if I could learn anything, and then ask questions.
There were eight dancers all together; nine if you included me. The bar didn’t open until 6 p.m. and closed at 2 a.m. The dancers worked five days on and two off. On two of those nights, they would wait tables. I didn’t know all the dancers’ real names, just their stage names. By the second night, I learned that Destiny, Mia, Scarlet, and Saffron were all new, arriving in the last two months. They wouldn’t have known Pandora. But Belle, Annie Oakley, Countess, and Laurel had been there for about a year. All would have known Pandora. I also learned that Ben Thomas, the previous owner, had died in a car accident two weeks after Pandora disappeared. And Drew Watkins, who had worked as Ben’s bouncer for years, had bought the club and taken over.
I knew that Drew was watching me, eyeing me from the wings as I served drinks. His eyes lit up when he caught my attention and smiled at me, nodding his head in approval. Bruce, the bartender, was buff and beautiful, with dark hair and fierce dark eyes. Bruce always eyed me with suspicion. Two others worked as bouncers, Eric and Thor, both blond headed and built like Mack trucks. For their size, Eric and Thor were very sweet. All three men had worked at the club since Drew had taken over, so I knew they wouldn’t know anything about Pandora.
On my second night, after closing, I went to the backroom to put up my tray and found Saffron on her knees in front of Thor, with Eric’s cock in her hand. I watched for a moment, fascinated as she moved from one cock to the other, taking each one deeply into her mouth. I hoped blow jobs were not expected from all the dancers. Then I wondered if Pandora had done this for the bouncers who’d worked while she was here, and where I could find them.
On Thursday, my third night to work, I took my break at 9 p.m., heading to the locker room to rest my feet. I kicked off my shoes and rubbed my sore feet. I had become used to being naked and had learned to slap hands and tease and flirt with the men, earning me some pretty good tips. I had even learned not to shudder when they placed the money in my miniscule belt, trying as hard as they could to touch something they shouldn’t.
Eric had saved me Tuesday night when a drunken businessman had tried to grab my ass. The man had ended up on his ass, spewing cuss words at the hefty bouncer. Then he’d rapidly changed his tune and apologized for his rude behavior, handing me $50 as a gift. I’d split the money with Eric, who’d took it happily.
I looked at the door to Pandora’s locker as I reminisced about my first few nights on the job. Pandora, a natural flirt, had loved it—loved the attention it brought her, and loved the people she worked with. And I could see why. Everyone was wonderful, with the exception of Countess, who had eyed me with open hostility. Saffron told me it was because Countess was trying to get into Drew’s pants and she was sure, from the way he was watching me, that I would get there first.
I looked at the door and then looked at Pandora’s locker. It had not been emptied. It still had her name on it. There were no locks on any of the lockers and I moved toward it, opening it quickly so I could see what was inside. I knew the cops had her purse, and had impounded her car, which had been found in the Shadowlands’ parking lot.
There were several pairs of high-heeled shoes in the locker, along with two ballet costumes, made so that they could be easily stripped away. The top shelf had make-up and a hairbrush, still containing strands of Pandora’s long blond hair. There were two bottles of lotion and a bottle of shampoo with conditioner. I took up the jacket and patted the pockets. Gum, a few peppermints and a book of matches. Pandora would not give up smoking, despite nagging from everyone she knew.
The matches were from Starkeys, another exotic dancing bar that was across town. I wondered what she was doing going to Starkeys. Maybe she was planning on changing jobs. She’d never mentioned it to me. Pandora and I were lifelong friends and told each other everything. Both of us had grown up in Austin, me going on to attend the University of Texas while Pandora took up dancing.
Four years after our graduation from high school, she’d bought a house in the country, complete with a pool, hot tub and horses. I graduated and began teaching English at a local community college and was still renting an apartment. Now we’d been out of high school for 12 years, Pandora was missing and I’d moved into her house, working hard to keep up the payments and trying to find out what had happened to my best friend.
Pandora was an only child. Her father had left the family when she was seven, and she’d spent many, many nights at my house with my family. Her mother had moved in another man two years later and my parents had offered to take Pandora in full time—an offer her mother had willingly taken. Pandora hadn’t heard from either of her parents in 15 years. My parents, on the other hand, were wonderful. I was also an only child and they had moved years ago to Arizona, where they enjoyed the sunshine and open spaces. They would die if they knew I was working at a strip club. They hadn’t condemned Pandora, but had not approved either. I knew that I would be a different story.
Not that I was sweet and innocent. It was because of Pandora that I had my piercings. After she’d had hers done she told me how much it increased her enjoyment of sex. Jake, the man I was dating at the time, bugged me to get my nipples done. Pandora went with me and the nipple piercing turned into a nipple and clit hood piercing thanks to a good saleswoman at the piercing parlor.
Jake had been thrilled, until he learned that he couldn’t play with them for three to four months while they healed. Then he’d been royally pissed at me and walked out. He’d tried to come back four months later and I’d told him to go to hell. That was a year and a half ago. Drew had been the first man to touch my clit piercing. I shivered as I remembered his fingers running along the bar that ran under my skin. I couldn’t believe I’d let him touch me so intimately. I barely knew him. The problem was I knew I wanted him to touch me that way again.