Young Writers Society

The Goldong Lion was exactly as Poppy had expected it to be. Whilst Mitchell was a savvy businessman and entrepreneur, he lacked the kind of finesse to create something subtle. Apart from the large, golden lettering on the front of the building, the club didn't look conspicuous at all. She had been trying hard to remember that she was supposed to be in disguise - pretending to be Arabella that was. However, assuming an alternate identity had been more problematic than Poppy had accounted for. She supposed it was due to her unweaning hatred for Arabella.

Poppy arrived precisely at eight o' clock as Mitchell had instructed and found him chatting him two young, voluptuous girls by the bar. One blonde, the other with a face so plastered in make up, Poppy couldn't see her eyes.

The club itself was hazy and smelt of smoke. Poppy had repeatedly told Mitchell that it was illegal to permit people smoking on the premises, but he took no notice of her. (Poppy wagered that was due to the fact that he, himself was smoking at the time.)

"It's my house darling, my rules," Mitchell had told her.

After that, Poppy hadn't bothered to argue. Instead, she had been lead by one of Mitchell's 'associates' to a dressing room. Poppy was partially distracted by the fact that the woman was wearing a thong and nothing else.

"So, how are things going with the new fiance?" the girl asked.

"Fine" Poppy replied, trying not to stare. She couldn't deny that the girl was attractive, with her large, bare bosoms and tight buttocks. Her hazel hair was tied on top of her head in a loose note and she was wearing light makeup.

"What about that psycho girlfriend of his? You know, the one that won't leave him alone," the girl added.

Struggling with the prospect of lying about her own life, Poppy tried to think of an answer that would sound plausible.

"She's out of the way for now. Actually, I invited Will here this evening," she added. At which point, a grin spread across her face. She could imagine Will's reaction, or at least, she hoped he would be affronted.

"Well that's a big step, how do you think he'll take it?" the girl looked dumbfounded at her.

"I'm not sure. I'll think he love it though, why wouldn't he?" and Poppy tried to imitate Arabella's girlish laughter. She obviously passed the test from the girl's observations because she didn't comment on it.

"So what's tonight's costume?" the girl enquired, standing akimbo and looking expectantly at the bag Poppy was carrying. Fumbling for the thong Mitchell had given her earlier, she retrieved it and handed it to the girl; who let out a low whistle.

"What is it?" Poppy asked, slightly worried.

"This is a hot piece. So, you know about Mitchell changing the format of the evening don't you?" the girl threw the thong back at Poppy, as she shook her head. Panic swept through her, as the realisation dawned that she hadn't thought this plan through thoroughly enough. Did she trust Mitchell?

"Well, normally, we bring the guys in for a bit of hanky panky, but he wants it done the other way around tonight. So we're stripping first, then we loiter around the bar, and then when a client approaches, we bring them up to one of the rooms. Right?" the girl spoke so fast, Poppy barely had time to register what she was saying.

"Right," she nodded; and gave a small laugh, more out of panic than anything else. She couldn't do this.

"Ok, well I'll leave you to get changed. We're on in half an hour," the girl explained, with a glance at the clock. Poppy looked too, and saw it was now half past eight.

"I'll see you later Bella," the girl added, and kissed Poppy on both cheeks before departing. Unsure of whether or not to respond, the decision was taken out of Poppy's hands before she could decide, with the girl's departure.

No sooner had the girl left, a knock sounded on the dressing room door.

"Come in!" Poppy called.

To her relief, Mitchell appeared on the other side of the door, a cigar between his teeth and a dark look in his eyes.

"Alright Poppet, why aren't you changed yet?" he added, with a stern look at her.

Poppy felt the transition from friend to employee occur in that instant. Why was he looking at her like that? It was almost as if she was Arabella.

"Well, I was about to-" she stuttered.

"I interrupted, sorry about that, well..." Mitchell paused to close the door. "Don't let me interrupt you, do carry on," he gestured to the thong in Poppy's hands. Surely he didn't mean get changed whilst he was watching?

Poppy felt a lump form in her throat. The only person who had ever seen her naked was Will; and at the time, that felt perfectly comfortably. On the stage, she was only ever partially on display and the audience were there to appreciate her art, not her body. This principle was entirely different - and unnerving.

"What's wrong Poppet?" Mitchell asked, he seemed to be reading her mind just like Will had. Maybe her face was giving her away.

"I'm just a little nervous," Poppy replied, placing the thong on the desk and slipping the straps of her dress over her shoulders. Mitchell's eyes on her constantly (and even his presence) made her feel incredibly uncomfortable.

"Look," he strode over to her, stubbed his cigar out on the side board ash tray and grabbed hold of her shoulders. Turning her around to face the dressing table mirror he perched his chin in the nook between her neck and shoulder.

"You can do this. You're going to be brilliant in fact!" he grinned.

"How do you know?" Poppy sighed.

"Because this is my plan, and I never fail. Now..." he stopped talking and pulled on Poppy's dress until it fell to her ankles. In full sight of the mirror, she watched him examine her chest region before unfastening the hooks on the back of her bra and removing it altogether to reveal her naked breasts.

For a second, she thought he let out a low whistle, much like the one the girl had earlier.

"Impressive," he nodded. Poppy felt as though she should thank him for the compliment and then wondered whether it had been a compliment at all. Mitchell discarded the bra on the floor before placing his hands, one either side of Poppy's waist. Tugging gently at the waistband of her underwear he smiled at her in the mirror.

"You are a very sexy woman Poppy Hartley. And William Edmon would be a fool not to have you back after tonight."

Something hit Poppy inside as he said the words. She wasn't sure how to describe it. "But... you really need to get that thing on," Mitchell gestured to the thong on the dressing table.

"Put on a bit more lippy and meet me outside in ten minutes, I'm going to introduce you to some of the clients," Mitchell instructed.

As if the previous events had never occurred, Mitchell disappeared through the doorway, slamming it closed behind him. He had left Poppy stood, semi-naked, wondering what was happening to her all over again.

*

Poppy had never been on a stage like that before. The lights were so bright (and red) that she couldn't see the audience, just a black pit in front of her that she was vaguely aware of. Prancing around uncomfortably in the little red thong, trying to follow the moves of the other girls she attempted to be enticing to the invisible crowd.

Overpowered by the deafening noise of the speakers blaring tacky jazz music at her and the rest of the girls she could hardly concentrate; and the heat from the lights were so hot that she was grateful for just the thong, as she felt as though any other clothing would have melted away from her skin.

At the end of the first routine, she ran backstage to soothe the aching in her legs - she had discovered muscles she had never even known she'd had.

"Good night huh Bella?!" the girl from before called to her over the noise. Poppy could only just about hear her; and there was no time to reply as she had to return to the stage.

Poppy had no idea how much time she spent on stage, only that her body seemed to be working against her. Sweat. Breathe. Sweat. Move. She had tried searching for Will in the crowd, but her efforts were futile. The crowd was still invisible. Just as she was about to give up, mercy was granted in the form of the routine ending and Mitchell entering the stage to make an announcement.

Unexpectedly, the lights in the whole club light up, albeit dimly, the hall in front of the stage then became visible. Peeking cautiously from behind the curtains Poppy surveyed the crowd. She saw only a handful of women and the rest of the crowd was made up of men. This didn't surprise her.

"Ladies and germs thank you for joining us this evening. I hope you enjoyed the show. It's been a very special evening tonight, as some of our regulars may tell you, there has been a little change to the line up. And we have the privilege of being joined by a very special guest," Mitchell was in his element, Poppy was anxious, waiting for him to mention Arabella's name.

He paused to look back at Poppy, who smiled weakly at him. Just get this over with, she thought to herself, her confidence evaporating rapidly.

"As we all know, pleasure comes in many forms, and one lady here has decided to give her man a treat this evening. Congratulations Mr Edmon!" Mitchell called across the crowd. A spotlight appeared over the audience, and from the stage, Will became clearly visible. At first glance, Poppy was delighted he was there. The plan had worked. But...

"And put your hands together for our star performer this evening... Miss Poppy Hartley!" Mitchell sang.

The crowd roared and thundered their applause throughout the club. Mitchell looked back at Poppy, and when she refused to move, ran back stage to pull her in front of the crowd. He had just enough time to catch her, and whispered in her ear:

"Now be a smart girl and don't hold it against me eh Poppet? It's nothing personal, it's just business."

Mortified by the look on Will's face as she stepped forward, her despair only increased when he saw who was stood next to him. Arabella.