Feeling Filthy: Showtime Virgin: Chapter 1

Fanfiction:  Gundam Seed
Pairings:  Kira>Lacus>Miriallia, Miriallia>Tolle>Dearka, Shani>Stella>Shinn, Luna>Rey, Athrun>Cagalli
Genre:  Friendship>angst>romance>drama>hurt/comfort
Warnings:  sex>violence>language>crime>drug use>m/f>m/m
Summery:  The club’s lights were on her. The music pounded in her chest. One hundred lust-filled stares tore through her tiny costume. Lacus had never wanted to give a performance like this, but she had no choice. Besides, it wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever done.



Cold saliva. Thick as concrete, and still, like the permeation of sweat that adorned the length of her back; salty droplets of perspiration, all that decorated the long patch of pale, lily-white skin.

Numb to the feelings of anxiety and deafened to the pulsating music that obnoxiously pounded about her and reverberated within her very chest, she just wanted to disappear.

It was absurd. The girl’s outfit was backless. She should have been cold. She should have been freezing her bones off in this room, yet she wasn’t. The atmosphere was not particularly warm, and room temperature alone was not enough to cause discomfort, but all the same, the girl had broken out in a sweat. A bitter, cold sweat.

The saliva in her mouth rested upon her tongue. She could taste it. A horrid, coppery taste, as though she had placed a coin in her mouth, or cut her tongue on a piece of sharp aluminium. It was a metallic taste. And she didn’t like it.

Almost as though the rancid fluid were representative of her dread at the situation ahead. As though the aftertaste on her tongue were a bad omen.

She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be here, in a place like this. In a just and perfect world, she wouldn’t be. But she was. The fact of the matter was that the girl did not live in a just and perfect world. She was here. And she didn’t have a choice.

The stone in her stomach was growing. Becoming heavier all the time. Leaking and infecting the pit of her stomach with its toxic, black, emptiness. She could feel it. And she didn’t like it. This was doing the girl no good. The more she thought about it, the more she dreaded it. If she continued like this, she would never be able to go through with it.

It was a dirty deed, a filthy job. She should never have had to go through with it. She shouldn’t have been here in the first place.


Why her?

Of all people, why her?

Why did everything have to happen to her!?

“You’re on next,” a male voice called out to her, bringing her back to reality. “Are you ready?” The girl didn’t answer.

Looking ahead, her stomach felt heavier. The dread was filling her veins like venom. Spreading to her heart. Spreading to her brain. She had to calm down. After all, this wasn’t the worst thing she’d done over the past few years.

It was almost comical. Of all things, she was suffering from stage fright. After the many school talent shows she’d won. Back then, she’d loved the stage. She’d loved to sing, and to dance. It hadn’t been a problem.

But this was completely different.

Just thinking of the minimalist outfit she wore was enough to make the girl feel sick. She didn’t want to look at herself. How was supposed to let anyone else see her this way?

At the very least, she didn’t know anyone here. That was a plus, or so she supposed.

Finally, she turned to face the owner of the voice. Her eyes took in the young man’s appearance. He wore dark coloured clothing, with a lighter coloured shirt beneath his black jacket.

Trailing her eyes upward, the girl turned her attention to the young man’s face. Framed by dark blue hair, his eyes were obscured by a pair of tinted sunglasses. Why he wore those in here, the girl didn’t know. Were they prescription? Tinted lensed glasses? Perhaps he needed them to see. Perhaps not.

Although she couldn’t see his eyes, the girl knew that he was awaiting her answer. He’d asked a question. It was only fair he receive an answer, but…

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you’ve got five minutes.” The girl swallowed the lump in her throat like a raw egg. She really didn’t want to do this. “I hope you can get yourself ready in time,” the young man said. He almost sounded sympathetic, and the girl detected something in his tone. What he’d said, the way he’d said it. As though he could read her like a promotional poster on the wall. He could see the inner turmoil her mind was currently sifting through. The girl didn’t know how, but somehow, he knew. “I’m serious,” he added, bringing the girl back down to earth with a start, “this isn’t the kind of crowd you want to disappoint.”

The girl absentmindedly nodded. She felt as though she were in a dream, as though her mind were a million miles away and her body had continued living without her. This situation, it was so hazy. The air was thick, like smoke, and for reasons other than the fog emanating from the stage.

From her position behind the main stage’s back wall, the girl could see the current on-going show. The cause of the crowd’s lustful entertainment. The upper fix to stimulate their eyes. She was able to watch the young entertainer as she moved her body to the music, pivoting and twirling her frame suggestively around and between the many poles sticking out of the stage’s elevated floor.

A girl. Dressed in what appeared to be a school uniform. An unbuttoned white blouse, showing the pale, tight skin of her chest, displaying her lack of a bra, revealing to the crowd the soft, teen flesh of her unrestrained breasts, a green tie hanging free around her neck; green, plaid skirt, cut above the knee; white, knee-high socks and black, formal, leather shoes. A mane of long, red hair flowed down around her shoulders, framing her head, illustrious scarlet bangs likewise framing her blue eyes.

Open shirt showing off her immaculate, teenage skin. Every time her legs kicked upward, her lusting audience was treated to a glimpse of the white panties beneath her short school skirt.

Looking past the performer, the girl backstage turned her attention instead to the crowd who cheered the dancer on. The audience was full of men. Some of them young. Most of them old. All lusting for the schoolgirl on the stage before them. They were so easy to read. Their desires were obviously less than appropriate, considering the age of the one on the stage.

The age difference some of them had with her consisted of enough to craft an adult several years senior to the very girl in question. It was despicable. They were despicable. This place was despicable. She… even as she processed these thoughts, these judgements came back to her. The backstage girl herself was no better than any of the others here. She was, after all, here. She was, after all, backstage, and that was the proof.

Trying to ignore the insufferable truth that punched her in the face, the girl turned her attention back to the dancer. The red haired schoolgirl.

This girl was a local favourite. So charismatic and confident. Behaving so sultry and seductively in her movements. She was playful, a tease. It was no wonder she was so popular with the regulars. She hadn’t even been here very long, or so people had said.

She’d arrived several months ago with her school uniform, hand in hand with her boyfriend.

How many times had she been given the stage in that period? The backstage girl had to wonder. She seemed so content with her performance, bending down low, swaying her hips to the music, flashing her body to the drooling masses like some kind of sexual diva.

The girl backstage doubted she could ever be comfortable enough with herself to move the way the redhead did.

Just how experienced in this kind of exhibitionism was the schoolgirl?

“Hey,” a voice called out, speaking over the loud cacophony of the electronic music to which the schoolgirl danced. It distracted the waiting girl from watching the show, leaving her to wonder whether she’d be able to emulate the movements of the schoolgirl as she turned to the source of that feminine voice.

“Um, hi…” the girl replied, taking in the sight of she who had disrupted her concentration.

“You waiting for your turn?”



“Ex… excuse me?” the other girl smiled.

“I suppose that’s a yes. Are you nervous?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve never done anything like this before,” the girl explained.

“Me either. Why don’t we go on together?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you said you were nervous. If we both go on together, it won’t be so hard, right? We’ll have each other.”

“Maybe, but… I don’t know you. I don’t even know your name.” The other girl laughed.

“I’m Miriallia.”

“Lacus,” the girl replied.

“So what do you say?” That was a good question.

The girl standing before Lacus appeared to be of a similar age. Another so young, yet in the same place. They even wore identical garments, almost. They were backless and sleeveless. Made of a cool, smooth material that shimmered, like silk. Small string-like ribbon tied at the neck trailed past the shoulders. The material then came to meet at the front, barely covering the girl’s chests, before the ribbon-like side straps plunged downward, exposing the mid-rift, but covering that which lay below, yet showing off the entirety of the girl’s legs, all the way down from the top of the thigh.

In all honesty, the girls may as well have been wearing bikinis. The skimpy outfits certainly showed more skin than some of the swimsuits Lacus had laid eyes on in the past.

The outfits were almost identical, differing only in colouring. Whilst Miriallia’s costume was of an amber hue, the one worn by Lacus happened to be completely white.

“Well?” Miriallia asked. Her offer seemed genuine. What reason did she have to lie? And what reason did Lacus have to refuse? After all, this might just have been the only way to get herself out there in front of all those older men, dressed the way she was.

“Okay, we can go out together. But, what do you have planned?” Miriallia’s aqua eyes glistened.

“Just follow my lead,” she said, somewhat secretively. “Oh, and… try to loosen up.”

“What do you mean?” By way of response, Miriallia gestured toward the red haired schoolgirl on the stage. “Just look at Fllay. She doesn’t let anything embarrass her or hold her back, and over the past month, she’s become the most popular girl ever to grace the main stage. Whatever happens out there, just go with it, okay?”

Lacus didn’t answer. She was staring with awe at the freedom with which the red haired girl was able to move and parade about.

“The outfit is revealing, but that’s not going to do the job for us. Okay? We have to put on a show for those guys down there.”

“So we have to… do what she’s doing?” Lacus asked. Fllay was using every asset she possessed to please the crowd. The exposed flesh, as well as that which was concealed. She used the skirt to tease her audience. She was playing with them. She utilized everything she had. Strength, endurance, flexibility. Her arms, her legs, even her neck, head and hair.

Lacus’ hair was much longer than the other girls around here, and much rarer a colour, the pink hair making her seem more exotic. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage, but how?

“Just follow my lead. We’re a team out there. Mimic me and do what I do. What I do, you do. Where I touch you, you touch me. Do you think you can do that?” Suddenly, Lacus felt more nervous than she had a moment ago. But she nodded her head.

“Are you prepared?” a male voice asked, catching Lacus’ attention once more. It was the bluenet from before.

“We’re going on together,” Miriallia explained.

“Milly? When did you get here?” the blue haired young man asked.

“Does it matter? I want to go up with Lacus. Is there a problem?”

“No… in fact, that’s probably for the best,” the bluenet agreed. Are the two of you ready?”

“Lacus?” Miriallia asked. The pinkette sent her a worried glance, before swallowing and finally nodding her head. “Okay Athrun, we’re ready anytime you are,” Miriallia told the bluenet.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Athrun asked Lacus in a sympathetic tone. He could tell how nervous the pink haired girl was.

“Uh… yeah,” Lacus replied with newfound resolve. She was determined to see this through. She had no choice. This was something that had to be done. It was like Miriallia had said. All she had to do was loosen up and follow the other girl’s lead.

“Okay then. You’re up next. Wait for the DJ to announce you, and then get out there. Remember, you’ve only been scheduled with a ten minute set, but you can’t leave the stage until the music ends. The DJ controls everything.”

“Ten minutes?” Miriallia asked, “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“It’s a short timeslot, but it can drag out if you’re not prepared. You’ll be called out in any minute. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Thanks, Athrun,” Miriallia replied.

“Don’t worry about it. The first time is always hard. So, you two just take care out there.” The girls nodded and the bluenette turned to leave. Soon, he was out of their sight, off to perform whatever duties he had been assigned.

The girls turned their attention back toward the stage. By the sound of the music, Fllay’s segment was winding down to an end.

The red haired schoolgirl ended her routine down on the ground, lying on her stomach, legs in the air behind her, arms draped over the side of the stage.

As the music ceased, the sound of the crowd grew louder, and the two girls were alerted to just how many people were here.

“Are you ready?” Miriallia asked.

Lacus struggled to gain control over her latest wave of anxiety. It was okay, she could do this. Everything would be fine. It would all be okay. She’d done worse. She’d been through harder experiences than this before. This was nothing in comparison. This was simple. This would be easy. She could do this. She was fine.

“Alright alright!” The DJ exclaimed, preparing the crowd for their next morsel of entertainment. “Can I hear it for Schoolgirl Shelly?” The red haired girl gave the crowd a wave and a wide grin as she leaned forward and accepted large amounts of low denomination cash notes. Tips, incentive for her to walk the club after her stage time and possibly offer the patrons private dances, as well as a few other things, should they come to an understanding.

“Um, her name is Shelly?” Lacus asked.

“That’s her dancer name. We never use our real names here.”
“So who comes up with the stage names?”

“The DJ, usually.”


“Beat that,” the red haired girl teased as she walked past the two waiting dancers, but they could do nothing to retort while they listened to the DJ’s announcement.

“Now,” the DJ declared, “next up, We’ve got a treat we’ve got. A new girl for you all. Be gentle, it’s her first time. She’s an innocent virgin here. Giving it all up, just for you lucky fellas, for you.” Pausing, the DJ scratched the black moustache on his dark-skinned face. This gave him an idea. His lip pulled upward. That was it! Great! “Give it up for the Showtime Virgin!”

Behind the stage, Lacus remained rooted to the spot, her eyes widened. The Showtime Virgin? Was that to be her stage name? Surely not. It couldn’t be. That couldn’t be –“

“I think that’s you,” Miriallia spoke, confirming Lacus’ fears.

“What’s this, she’s not here yet?” the DJ asked. “In’at cute? The girl must be shy. Come on out, Showtime Virgin!”

“We’re up,” Miriallia spoke. “You ready?” Swallowing hard, Lacus attempted twice to reply, before finally regaining her voice. Nodding, she agreed. Hand in hand, the two girls made their way toward the stage.


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