Louisiana Blues poured out from the bandstand as Kellie stepped into the spotlight, high heels clacking on the polished oaken floorboards. She moved with a supple feline grace, every movement timed to perfection. The real world had fallen away, replaced by a wonderland of music, light and shadow. The audience roared its appreciation.

With her hair professionally styled and her face freshly made up, Kellie was strikingly beautiful. Elegantly gowned in a fetching black ensemble, she started her number with a classic bump and grind. Slipping off her long scarlet opera gloves one teasing finger at a time, she stretched out the tension to the breaking point. Next would come her ear rings, bangles and necklaces ... and then the entertainment would REALLY begin.

Kellie's pulse began to race as she peeled the dress down to her waist, placing her lacy French torsolette on full display, then turned to face the audience, a mischievous smile touching her lips. A wave of pleasure swept through her tummy; she felt small, naked, vulnerable. There was an art to La Dishabille Classique, a protocol she had to follow. She couldn't simply throw everything off at once, she had to reveal her hidden delights layer by tempting layer, gradually exposing her intimates to the world.

The applause began to swell as Kellie turned slowly away from the footlights in preparation for the Grand Reveal. Necks craned and eyes gawked as Kellie prepared for her denoument. This was the moment they'd all been waiting for:

The UNVEILING of the PANTIES!

Kellie's hands trembled slightly as she shimmied the dress over her thighs, dropping it lightly to the floor. Her sheer satin knickers came immediately into view; low-cut full briefs with floral insets along the hips. They shimmered like liquid gold in the glaring footlights, the sleek gossamer material rippling as she shifted her weight. A subtle pink color was creeping through her cheeks. She was undressed, disrobed, stripped entirely to her underwear.

Of course, the show was FAR from over.

Kellie sauntered from left to right, gyrating her hips to reveal her pert, round bottom-cheeks. Running her hands up and down her tightly-corseted waist, she plucked at the garters one by one, releasing each with a satisfyingly loud snap! Prohibition jazz played in the back of her mind, rapping out a beat on the checkerboard tiles beneath her heels.

The mob was howling for more, rattling the windows in their frames. Some of the younger men were practically climbing over one another for a better view. Others were screaming for her to remove the basque and sling it across the room.

Sweeping her gaze the across the bar, Kellie returned to the spotlight. She reached back and loosened her corset one hook at a time, allowing the shoulder-straps to glide off her shoulders. There was always an instant of speechless, shivering tension as she approached the climax.

The room exploded with applause as Kellie halted in mid-display, balancing precariously on her tippy-toes. Shifting her weight to the left, she straightened both arms over her head, saluting the crowd with two upraised palms. It was a classic "cheesecake" pose, worthy of a Vargas or an Elvgren, and the horde lapped it up.

And with that, it was time -

for the next act.

The show seemed to go on for hours, each act melting seamlessly into the next. Kellie played each role to perfection, becoming an entire troupe of wide-eyed ingénues. Morphing from one persona to another, she was more than the sum of her parts, shedding her inhibitions well into the twilight hours. She took her final bow as the sun cleared the balustrades, curtain falling on the rapturous applause of her imaginary audience.

Slowly, the magic dissipated. The props faded, the stage lights dimmed, the costumes disappeared. And Kellie found herself standing half-undressed in a patch of hazy June shadows, surrounded by a smattering of frilly garments. The show was over, the stage was swept and the band had left the building. But her heart was still pounding with the thrill of performance. How long had it lasted? An hour? Two? She'd been at least six different girls, eagerly discarding their modesty before a ravening throng. And each routine seemed to have lasted forever -

until she suddenly found herself back in the rumpus room.

The Speakeasy was gone, replaced by a more pedestrian reality. It was 6:00 pm, her parents would be home soon. Glancing out the picture windows, she gathered up her costume and stowed it in the linen closet, making sure to hide the lingerie beneath an unused stack of sheets and pillow slips. With any luck, her Mom wouldn't reach that far down (although Kellie suspected she already knew and simply chose to look the other way).

Fifteen minutes later, Kellie was lying upstairs on her bed, silently reflecting on how easily she slipped from one persona to the next. Her love of performance wasn't just a hobby. It was the core of her being, a deep well of inspiration she could draw from whenever she needed it.

Each new show expanded her horizons, tested her limits. Yes, she was risking discovery (and the awkward questions that would inevitably follow), but that came with the territory. At the end of the day, it was a fair enough trade.

Kellie smiled to herself, feeling the excitement of the days ahead. There were entire worlds for her to explore, new characters to embody and new stories to tell. And she was ready for all of them. No matter what the future may bring, Kellie knew that The Stage would always be waiting for her...

In one form or another.