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Showtime Virgin: Chapter 2

May 29, 2014

Disclaimer: Gundam Seed, Gundam Seed Destiny, and all related names, places, terms, and Characters belong to Sunrise.  The plot, setting, and any original characters and places belong to me.

 

XX

 

“C’mon out, Showtime Virgin!” the DJ proclaimed, announcing the waiting girl’s cue. It was her time to shine. Her first performance. This was a real milestone for the young lady.

 

“That’s us,” Miriallia spoke. Her voice was raised enough to be heard over the background noise of the club, but intimate enough that Lacus knew to whom the statement was directed. It was as though they had been called in from the waiting room of a clinic to see the doctor.

 

Lacus swallowed a mouthful of air that seemed to slip down her throat like thick mucus. The girl felt her earlier nervousness well up inside her. Pre-show jitters, or something similar. Could she really go through with this?

 

She felt the other girl’s hand touch her own, fingers interlaced. Lacus felt her own eyes widen as they turned their attention to the brunette.

 

“It’ll be fine,” Miriallia assured her. “It’s not so bad, trust me. You can do it… we can do it. It’ll be fine.”

 

Once again, Lacus swallowed. Her salivary glands seemed to be working in excess this night.

 

“It’ll be easy.” Taking a breath, Lacus finally nodded, a look of determination upon her face. “Just follow my lead, okay?” Releasing her breath, Lacus nodded.

 

“I’m ready,” she spoke. She had to do this. There was no other choice. If there were, she would not even be here, in this seedy nightclub in a rundown corner of the city’s entertainment district. She would be far from here, in the safety of her apartment. She would be safe and warm, asleep, in dreams of a much more pleasant nature. Instead, she was here. Dressed in… she couldn’t describe it. Her current costume, Lacus wore more than this to bed at night.

 

The girl shook the objecting thoughts from her head. She couldn’t think about this now. She hadn’t the time. She couldn’t go through all of this in her mind. Not now. Not again. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. When they at last opened, the girl’s features were graced with a smile.

 

A smile. The look of a girl who was about to have the time of her life. A girl about to dance. She enjoyed it, she was good at it. It had always been a natural talent of hers.

 

It was time to get this sordid ordeal over with. Then she could leave. Only then could she take her much needed money and get as far away from these people and this horrible place as she possibly could. “Let’s go,” the pinkette said. Her voice appeared soft. Higher in pitch than it had before, and that guiltless grin.

 

So this was the girl’s pseudonym? This was her mask, her costume. It was an excellent choice. The vulnerability and innocence of a young girl. The happy, carefree optimism of a ditzy airhead. The charisma, charm, and attraction of a confident, beautiful young woman. This pink-haired girl appeared to have it all.

 

Miriallia knew why the pinkette had chosen such a façade. The object of the game was to appear desirable. Lust equated to money, and in this world, money was everything. For this reason, for this purpose, Lacus’ mask was perfect.

 

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” the brunette asked.

 

In return, Lacus’ smile widened. Her eyes closed as if in glee. And hand in hand, they stepped onto the stage. To the sheer delight of their waiting audience.

 

“Watsis?” the DJ asked, his microphone headset causing his voice to boom over all others. “Looks like the timid virgin didn’ want to come out by herself. She’s brought along a friend she has. And what a cute friend she is.” After a slight pause, the DJ began to speak once more. “An’ if I’m not mistaken… Little Miss Amber, is that you? Ohhoho… we haven’t seen her in years, no we haven’t. Not since the club opened, we haven’t. And they’re both dancing together, for the first time. What a treat this is. What a special treat we’ave.”

 

On the stage, the two girls looked to each other. Despite her external appearance, Lacus couldn’t help the apprehension sneaking in, nor could she keep it from spilling out onto her otherwise calm, cheerful visage.

 

A gentle squeeze of her hand was all it took to prevent a crack appearing in the porcelain of her mask. It was then that Lacus realized that she and the brunette were still in contact. They still happened to be holding hands.

 

“Well, in’at cute. Innat sweet? And without further adue… let us see what we came here ta see!”

 

The music started. It was a slow song with a relaxed beat. Lacus was thankful for that, but what should she do? She stood rooted, frozen on the spot. Looking out at the many pairs of eyes looking up at her.

 

How was she to move? What should she do? Those eyes, what did they want? What did they want to see? What did they want her to do?

 

Lacus felt her muscles tense. This was not like the singer of years ago, nor of the dancer before that, nor of the young gymnast before that. This was no good. She had to loosen up.

 

The song had been going for some time. The people were growing impatient. The people.

 

The People? The audience. Her audience. They were here to see her. Yet she….

 

Lacus felt the other girl moving behind her. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the proximity of the girl on her skin. “Just relax,” the brunette spoke into her ear.

 

The brunette placed one leg between those of her stricken dance partner, intertwined.  Traipsing her hands down the length of Lacus’ long, slender body, she smoothly lifted her left leg, holding it out to the side, before slowly wrapping it around the pinkette’s form.

 

With perfect control of her erotic movements, Miriallia slid down the pinkette as though she were a pole in a firehouse.

 

She moved with such poise, as though experienced.

 

Hands trailed down Lacus’ body; fingers grazing over her smooth, white skin; sharp nails scratching the sensitive flesh of her soft abdomen, causing the organs within to backflip and summersault.

 

Lacus subconsciously shuddered as the proficient brunette skillfully moved her hands downward, scratching white lines in her skin, and brought her lips to brush against her inexperienced, pink haired partner’s lower thigh.

 

As Miriallia slowly rose from her squatting position, she traced a line on the other girl’s inner thigh with the tip of her tongue, leaving the tiny patch of affected skin moist and cold against the misty air of the club.

 

Rising herself to full height, Miriallia stood eye to eye, flush against her partner, causing the least experienced of the pair to blush. She tried to speak, but her voice was drowned out by the noisy music.

 

The brunette couldn’t help but smile endearingly at the amateurish act.

 

Making eye contact, Miriallia locked the two of them together, each of them seeing only the other. Each of them focusing on the other’s eyes. For lacus, everything else seemed to fade away. The music had diminished, and the countless people watching her had faded away, gone. All that remained was the brunette.

 

She swayed her body in time to the music, moving her hips, grinding them together with those of Lacus.

 

Catching on to what her companion wanted, Lacus remembered her earlier instruction – to emulate and mimic, to follow the brunette’s lead – and with a sudden surge of clarity and assurance, she finally began to join in. It was like a massive weight had been lifted. The brunette’s eyes, her face, her expression said it all. The others were nothing. Miriallia was all that mattered.

 

Lacus placed her hands softly on the brunette’s shoulders. Emulating the other girl’s movements. She felt Miriallia’s hands moving down the curves of her frame as her own snaked around to the brunette’s back. Slowly, she lowered them down to grasp the girl’s thighs.

 

She pulled the other girl closer and their movements slowed. She felt the girl’s body pressed flush against her own. She felt the girl’s hands caressing her as they moved down her sides. Her own gripped the other girl’s legs.

 

She separated them, divided them.

 

Smirking, Miriallia wrapped her legs tightly around the pinkette’s waist, giving her the lead. She placed her hands on the other’s shoulders, allowing Lacus to position and manipulate her body as she liked.

 

She hadn’t expected Lacus to be so bold. Perhaps she was loosening up. This could make things more interesting. Her mischievous grin widened as she lay back, while Lacus supported her weight, joined by the waist, arms fully extended kept her up from their grip at the pinkette’s neck. Her head hung limply from her shoulders as she looked to the crowd behind her. A vacant smile upon her face, her brilliantly aqua eyes carried a lustful glaze to their wonderful sheen.

 

As she took in the shrouded faces of the crowd, her mind was oblivious to Lacus’ interaction. The pinkette was in charge of their sensual dance, at least for the moment. Time escaped her. And she let it. She allowed it to slip by.

 

Before she knew it, and too soon in her eyes, their roles had reversed. But it mattered not. Miriallia was in the lead once more. The song was winding down, so she had one more chance. One more dance. She grinned as she positioned herself behind the pinkette.

 

My turn.

 

Miriallia stood behind the inexperienced pinkette. She wrapped her arms around the girl’s body, the same way Lacus had done earlier.

 

Lacus stared out ahead of her. It seemed Miriallia had once again taken charge. It was true that being in control had made things easier for her. Focusing on the other girl, she was able to forget where she was. Now, facing all these people, she was brought crashing back to reality, crushed by its gravity.

 

She was caught unprepared when she felt the girl’s hands running up and down her front. Fingers again trailing, nails scratching so seductively against her exposed skin. Sending chills running down her spine.

 

The pinkette looked out at the sea of lustful eyes before her. She couldn’t help it. The more she stared, the more apprehensive she became. It had been easier before. When she had been leading, if it could have been called that. When she had been focused. But now, the more she thought about it, the more it dawned on her.

 

As though sensing her partner’s fear, Miriallia turned the pinkette’s head to face her, and pressed the uncertain girl’s soft, thin, pink lips to her own. As though to remind Lacus that she was still there. As though to distract her. Or as though to regain Lacus’ full attention.

 

Lacus stared at her partner through wide eyes. A feat that was made difficult due to the close proximity instigated by their kiss.

 

Wide periwinkle orbs studied the closed eyes of Miriallia and Lacus once again felt the probing tip of the brunette’s tongue. This time, at the gate of her mouth. It was obvious what the girl wanted, and Lacus was too stunned to put up any form of resistance, which Miriallia took as an equivalent of consent, entering her partner’s mouth.

 

As for Lacus, the pinkette couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. She could feel only the other girl’s tongue against her own. She could hear the crowd cheering above the deafening noise of the percussive, electronic music. For one reason or another, they seemed to like this. They seemed to enjoy it. Lacus Knew the other girl was only giving them what they wanted to see. She obviously knew their tastes well.

 

Miriallia’s eyes slowly flickered open. They seemed to sparkle and glint, as though smiling at her. Lacus could picture it in her head. She knew that Miriallia would be grinning at her right now, were she not otherwise engaged.

 

Standing behind the pinkette, Miriallia trailed her hands along the front of Lacus’ body. Her face pulled away. Her hands drifted up to cup the pink haired girl’s breasts, hidden from sight, protected only by the thin, white fabric of the skimpy dancer’s outfit she wore.

 

The contact made Lacus blush uncomfortably. She wasn’t quite accustomed to this kind of touch, but she did know one thing. She knew that she didn’t like it.

 

She tried to shrug the other girl off. Somehow, this was worse than the kiss. She tried to push her away, tried to step forward, tried to create some kind of distance between the two of them, hoping that Miriallia would take the hint, hoping that she would understand.

 

She didn’t. Grinning, the brunette began running her fingers down her partner’s bare back. Sharp nails dug and scraped across the unprotected skin. The feeling was mesmerizing. Lacus shuddered. The audience, the outsiders were once more beginning to fade out. It was just the two of them again.

 

Despite herself, for the umpteenth time, Lacus allowed herself to shudder. Her body seemed to purr, like a cat stroked in its favorite spot. She enjoyed the feeling. She writhed in it. She liked it, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise. Nomatter how many times she told herself that she didn’t. No matter how many times the deafening alarm bells in her head told her that something was wrong. That this was wrong.

 

And then it happened.

 

Whether or not it was the intent of the brunette’s movements was unimportant. The fact was that it had happened, and couldn’t ever be undone. The straps began to move of their own accord. Slipping. Falling. Unraveling.

 

Soon, the pink haired girl’s entire chest was laid bare, exposed to the lewd clubgoers who looked on, their licentious stares and cacophonous catcalls overwhelming her.

 

Lacus froze. The colour seemed to drain completely from her sight, and the sound faded around her to nonexistence. As though someone had turned down the volume on the television set of her senses, or more realistically as if she had suddenly become deafened.

 

Time seemed to distort and slow. The people continued to stare, grins plastered on their inebriated faces. Pleasure and lust shining in their eyes.

 

The girl remained frozen, rooted to the spot, Her chest now covered by a set of hands not her own.

 

This was too much. What could she do? Lacus couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. She was helpless. Defensless. Vulnerable.

 

Slowly, the girl’s porcelain mask began to crack. She couldn’t do this. It was bad enough before, but now these classless people were gaping at her entirely nude form. This was madness. This was insane. Her eyes began to water.

 

Miriallia leaned in to whisper sharply in the girl’s ear. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

 

Lacus’ eyes closed. Her head shook eratically. “I… I can’t do this!” she cried, breaking free of the other girl’s censoring embrace and desperately fleeing the stage, arms wrapped around her torso in a fruitless attempt to cover herself.

 

“Hey!” an angry voice called out after her. “You can’t leave in the middle of a show!”

 

“I’m on it!” another answered as a young woman pushed past Lacus, rushing to take her place on the stage, to the roaring sound of astounded applause from the crowd. Lacus knew that she wouldn’t be missed.

 

XX

 

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From → Showtime Virgin

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