Chapter 22 – Girl talk

By the time we had finished work and closed up, the time was well into the small hours. I lingered over my final tasks to make sure that Connie and I would be the last to finish. Accordingly, when we got back to the dressing room to change out of our exotic costumes the others had already left.

“Would you mind unlacing this corset?” she asked me. She had already removed her heels and discarded the little piece of lacy material which had served her as a skirt. “I can probably manage it by myself but it’s difficult.”
I was happy to comply. Instinctively I liked the girl. Perhaps her request signified the beginnings of a certain trust developing between us, although with that came a responsibility. I had no wish to take advantage of her nature. If I were to learn something from her it would have to be without subterfuge.

Once she had peeled off her stockings, I began on her corset’s rear laces, working them loose until there was no more tension left in them.

“You’re free” I told her, then by way of opening what might be a fruitful conversation asked as casually as I could, “So! How long have you worked here?”

Connie was too busy unclipping the corset’s busk to answer immediately. Eventually, as she slid herself out of the garment she replied,

“Eighteen months come July.”

The girl stood before me wearing just a pair of metallic gold panties, but without a trace of embarrassment. I looked away in order to pay no heed to her semi-naked condition, not wanting to play the role of voyeur with an unsuspecting victim. In this instance my delicacy was misinterpreted.
“I know! They are tiny, aren’t they?” she complained and pushed out her chest right before my eyes, as if to compensate for the smallness of the boobs to which she had been referring.

“I’m not so sure” I reassured the girl. “From my standpoint they’re a very pretty shape and that counts as much as size these days. You know, being slim is much more fashionable than being curvy. Think of Jean Shrimpton. Big bosoms went out years ago.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my bust” she grinned. “You must be a very kind person! I’d give anything for a figure like yours. Even with that constricting thing,” she indicated her discarded corset, “I still don’t have any curves worth mentioning, whereas you…” I had just unfastened and taken my own waist-cincher off, “look like an hour-glass with or without one.”

Connie remained eyeing my body with undisguised admiration until the realisation hit me that she was expecting me to continue to undress also. There was no way I was prepared to take off my bra in front of her, so that even more of the swollen mounds on my chest would be revealed.

“Well, this person desperately needs to use the ladies’ room” I hastened to declare. Seizing up my underclothes I fled in that direction. When I returned, the most intimate part of my change of clothes had been successfully completed, and so, to my relief, had my companion’s. All that remained was for me to slip my little black dress back on, and we would both be decent once more.

Connie had already remarked on the delicate nature of the underwear that Gloria had lent to me. “Oh! Those are to die for” she had gushed in appreciation. “So pretty!”

She now began to enthuse over my borrowed frock. “Your clothes must cost you a fortune!” she exclaimed.

In reality I could take little credit for that, so I merely replied that I loved elegant things, a statement that was entirely true, and complimented her on her choice of attire, before stepping over to the mirror for a final check on my appearance. My new friend joined me, and we exchanged glances of satisfaction.

“We’ll do” we laughed together.

Now that we were ready to leave Connie offered to go call a cab. “We’re going to the same place so we can share the fare” she smiled. “They always charge so much after midnight.”

“No need” I returned. “My car is just outside.”

“Even better!”

I had been hoping that as we drove, Connie might fill me in a little about the club and its owners, but the shortness of the journey and the lateness of the hour seemed likely to hinder the sharing of any significant revelation. When we got to our hotel, the need for sleep would be paramount so I resigned myself to waiting for a better opportunity. To my surprise, however, it appeared that Connie wanted to satisfy her curiosity too.

“I’m not ready for bye-byes, just yet, are you?” she whispered as we reached the top floor. “I always feel wide-awake after working at the club. But forgive me. I expect you’re exhausted, it being your first day an’ all. I’ll let you get to bed.”

“No, I feel exactly the same” I protested untruthfully. “Your room or mine?”

“Oh yours, definitely” she giggled. “Mine’s a car wreck. I can be quite an untidy person.”

“Now” she cautioned before we went inside. “We will need to keep our voices low if we don’t want complaints. You take the chair. I’ll sit on the bed.”

“I’m desperate to take my shoes off?” I sighed once we were settled. “My feet!”

“I was just going to say the same” she laughed. “Phew!”

To break the silence that ensued I dove straight in and asked her “You seem such a nice kid. How did you come to be working in that kind of place?”

“I could ask the same about you.”

“Well, I’m older and I’ve kicked around quite a lot, whereas you could be fresh out of high school.”

“Don’t let my innocent face fool you. I’m not as young as I look, and, I may have dark and dangerous secrets!”

“Seriously?”

My companion laughed at my question and shook her head. “The reason is that I lost my mom two years ago and suddenly I was in need of money to live on. The horse-riding place doesn’t pay enough so I took the job at the casino to make up the difference. With all the tips I get I can even put a bit by so that one day I’ll have the money to start my own place.”

Something made me ask “How about your father. Does he figure in any of this?”

Connie thought for a while before answering. “He’s no longer around. After he and Mom split I used to see him now and then, but… he had his own problems.” She bowed her head and was silent.

The girl was clearly reluctant to enlarge on that, so I steered away from probing directly what was an evidently sensitive topic.

“My father left when my younger brother and I were quite small” I volunteered. “Mom had to bring us both up single-handed, but she was a pretty tough lady. Had to be, I guess. I could have been quite a handful.”

“Was?”

“She passed about seven years ago. She used to be pretty hard on me but I still miss her dreadfully, any time I think of her. Your loss is much more recent. I guess it hurts pretty bad?”

“Pretty bad. Mom is still my role model. Most of the time I try to act as if she were here watching. That keeps me out of some scrapes, I guess.”

“What was her name?”

“Catherine. Catherine Nolan. I took her name when she and Dad split so my initials are the same as hers.” Connie was blinking back tears.

“That’s thoughtful” I smiled sympathetically. “What was your dad’s name.”

“Dad? Oh, Simpson. Arthur Simpson.”

She bowed her head again and silence reigned.

I was taken so much by surprise that I could hardly hide that emotion. My confidante was too overcome with her own feelings to notice, however, and I recovered first.

The need to tread softly was clearly paramount. After a pause, “I think ‘Connie Nolan’ sounds nicer” I remarked vaguely. “Good choice.”