We Always Do It For Real.13 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 01: WE ALWAYS DO IT FOR REAL BY MEGUMI KATO AND BOB WILLIAMS PART 13 CHAPTER X Megumi Celebrates "Come on, we must celebrate!" I said to Ken as I hung up the phone. "I want to go and do something outrageous! Something I've never done before!" He looked at me for a moment. "All right," he said slowly. "Let's broaden your experience tonight. It's time you met your future customers." "What do you mean?" "If you like, I'll take you to where you will see the sex trade in operation, and meet the sort of men who really use it. Not afraid, are you?" "Don't be silly," I said. "It sounds fun." "One day they'll be talking about you at work. 'Hey!' someone will say, 'I've rented this really great fuck video. New girl in it, Megumi something. God, I'd like to have her! The things she does with her mouth and her cunt ... You should see it.' That sort of thing." "You're making me wet just talking like that." "OK, then. You'd better dress up for it. Where we're going, men like their girls to look really tarty." For a moment I hesitated. Then I thought, he'll see that I'm not in any danger. And anyway, I wanted to do it. "They sound like the sort of men I like," I said. So we set off for the subway. I was wearing a transparent red blouse with long, full sleeves over a black bra, and a shiny black miniskirt tailored to fit snugly round my bottom and short enough to show little glimpses of the pretty red side-tie panties in the same shiny material underneath. I added a belt, buckled tightly to show off my slim waist, and red shoes with high heels in shiny silver. I looked at myself in the mirror. "Really tarty," Ken had said. Yes, I was that all right - and very smart, too. It felt nice. Men would surely want me like this: I wanted them to want me. It was a warm May evening and I didn't bother with a coat. Already the attention I was attracting from other passengers was giving me a nice shivery feeling. We got off at Asakusa Station and walked through the cheap entertainment area around the big Buddhist temple. We stopped for drinks and snacks at a couple of bars. I was stimulated by the admiring way people looked at me, though at first I was a bit frightened and clung close to Ken. But soon I realised no one meant me any harm: all those factory workers, warehousemen and dockers were just out for a cheap, pleasant evening. They wanted the evening to include sex, but if they were frank about fancying me they recognised that Ken had got me first. "God, that girl of yours makes my balls itch!" one man called cheerfully to him across a bar. "Where'd you find her?" "Need any help stuffing her, mate?" asked another. "Bet she's costing you." His girl pretended to be annoyed. I soon began to enjoy their open admiration, and to thank them with shy smiles and by making sure they had the chance to sneak a good look up my tight miniskirt when, tossing my hair back provocatively, I crossed and re-crossed my legs. I enjoyed teasing them nicely like that, and could tell they enjoyed being teased. It would have been very different, I knew, if I had gone there alone. That was a frightening thought, and an exciting and stimulating one too. I stored it away for later. "New to this, are you, dear?" one of the girls suddenly asked me. "Er ... Just out with my boyfriend," I replied. "How old are you? Still at school?" "Seventeen," I admitted. "And a half." "Well, you be careful now. Make sure he looks after you and gets you home safe." "Thank you." "You're welcome. I can see you're going to be one of us one day. The way you keep showing them your pretty little pussy - sweet seventeen and can't wait to be fucked! You think it's the best thing there is, don't you?" My blushes showed how much I did. "Well, enjoy it while it lasts. But take it easy. You don't have to come to places like this. You can pull a better type of man than this lot, with your sweet face and cute body." I smiled at her shyly. I was beginning to feel a little uneasy, even while enjoying all the stimulation I was getting from the sexual tension in the air. I suggested to Ken that we should move on. There were whistles and cries of "Come back soon, sweetheart!" and "Leave him behind next time!" A little way down the narrow street was an old-fashioned building which at first I thought must be a public bath-house such as you still find in poorer districts in Japan, social centres as well as providers of a useful service. But as we came closer I saw that it was a sort of theatre offering a strip show. I looked with interest at the screaming posters and photos advertising tonight's attractions. "Would you like to see inside?" asked Ken. "Don't be silly, a girl can't go in there!" "They do. Couples do. Learn a lot," said Ken, suddenly hoarse. While I still hesitated he went up to the window and bought two tickets. We were committed now. Two middle-aged women greeted us with raucous shouts of "Welcome!" It was a shoes-off establishment, but when the women saw my smart stilettos and Ken's expensive trainers they gave us plastic bags to carry them in: clearly the shoe-racks were not always safe in a place like this. The show had already started. There was a small stage, and what we call a _hanamichi_ or "flower-path": a sort of cat-walk extending from the front of the stage a long way into the audience. The place was about half-full, the audience sitting on the worn _tatami_ mats as close to the edges of the stage and cat-walk as they could get. In the middle of the brightly illuminated cat-walk a girl was kneeling, still in her bra and panties. Ken pushed through the audience into places quite near her. Perhaps the other men would have objected to this intrusion if he had been alone, but when they saw he had me with him they willingly gave way, and we had a good view as the girl slipped her hand into her panties and began to caress her pussy in time to the loud music. With her free hand she undid the hook of her bra and let it fall, leaning her head and shoulders backwards so that her breasts jutted out firmly. I could sense the arousal all around me: it hung in the air like incense in a temple. The girl was probably fairly ordinary in her everyday clothes, but her nakedness before this audience made her special: an object of awe and worship. She stood up and slowly pulled apart the bows of her side-tie panties, holding them lightly in front of her so as to conceal her pubic hair and pussy. She walked slowly and provocatively back to the main stage, her fingers probing her cunt through the thin cloth of her dangling panties. When she reached the stage, she picked up a hand-towel which had been left there for her and held it against her crotch while letting the panties fall to the floor. She walked slowly across the front of the stage, the audience seeming to know what would happen next. She suddenly chose her spot, squatted down, and raised the towel to allow those nearest to the stage the chance to examine her cunt at close quarters. Those within range scrambled forward and heads disappeared under the towel. "Who said you could suck me?" she cried and pushed one of the heads back, its owner delighted at having his reputation made among his mates. The girl stood up and repeated the performance on the other side of the stage. I was beginning to realise something about my chosen profession. This girl was, as I said, not especially beautiful, but she had an important gift: she knew how to show herself off. Most men, and many girls too, would do anything to be allowed to see her naked, and watch her enjoying their excitement. More beautiful women would seem boring beside her. Her relationship with her audience was almost tangible: her provocative nudity aroused them, and their lust aroused her. Feminists who think we girls are being exploited miss the point. A good stripper, a good fuck-film actress, has complete control over her audience. As they watch spellbound, and imagine themselves enjoying her body, they are as much part of the show as she is, and if anyone is being exploited it is they. I was very naive about the sex business then, but in that sleazy strip joint I began to understand how a nude girl, the only girl in a room full of sexually aroused men, has them completely in her power if only she knows how to use it. Did I have that power and could I use it? I was about to find out. The girl stood up again, dropped the towel and posed nude as the lights dimmed and the rudimentary curtain was drawn across. The house lights came up: there was to be a brief interval. I looked around and saw that, despite Ken's assurances, we were the only couple in the room: there were no other girls. I looked at him and could tell from his breathless excitement that he saw it too. My heart was beating fast. I had no clear idea what was about to happen, but I felt a thrilling experience lay ahead of me. Exactly how thrilling I would soon discover. The lights went down again. There was a drum-roll. A weedy MC in a shiny tuxedo stepped into a pink spotlight and announced that Tonight (like every night no doubt) Was Amateur Night! Any young ladies present who wanted to test their abilities before one of the most discriminating audiences in Tokyo should now please step forward! There was a breathless hush. Most of the men there must have realised I was the only girl in the audience. While I continued to make no move, some of those nearest me began a slow handclap, smiling at me with encouragement. I was terrified and thrilled at the same time. Was I going to make a tearful dash for the exit, looking so silly that no man would want me enough even to try and stop me? I couldn't do that. Or was I Megumi Kato, the as yet undiscovered Queen of the Japanese fuck-film industry, soon to be every worthwhile man's preferred masturbation fantasy? Well, of course I was. Could I use the power I had just begun to understand over this roomful of erections? Or would they usurp the power, rush the stage and rape me? All I could do was try it and see. (And anyway, a treacherous corner of my mind reminded me, multiple rape was one of my own bedtime fantasies and might be fun.) I realised Ken was whispering to me. "Go on, darling!" he said. "Do it! I want you to! And you know how much you're longing to!" He was right. I was desperate to do what the girl had done - that, and more, much more. I scrambled to my feet. Those near me cheered. Willing hands helped me up onto the cat-walk, making the most of the chance to fondle my bottom and thighs. I found I very much enjoyed being stroked like that in public, and smiled down at them coquettishly. I was still clutching the plastic bag with my shoes: I put them on, and gave the empty bag to one of my helpers, bending down to kiss the top of his head as I did so. Loud music with an insistent beat began, and the lighting man poured everything he had onto me. I walked up and down the cat-walk a few times, as sexily as I knew how. On one turn I began to unbutton my blouse. It took a while: the secret of a transparent blouse is that it should hide nothing but also cover everything; and mine had a full row of buttons down the front between my breasts, and several on each sleeve. I took my time, finally pulling the tails out of my skirt and letting the blouse fall to the ground when my walk had taken me up to the main stage - I could only hope some stage-hand would whisk it away so that I could get it back later. Next came my bra. I massaged my breasts through the cloth till I thought the audience could stand it no longer, then knelt at the edge of the cat-walk, facing inwards, and invited an invisible member of the audience to undo the hook for me. As soon as I felt it give way, I let out a little scream, stood up while pretending to reprimand him, and let the bra fall down my arms and off. I didn't expect ever to see it again, and by then I didn't care. I stroked my nipples for a few moments, bringing them to full erection now they were free from the pressure of the bra. Now the skirt. I undid the belt. There was still a hook at the side and a zip part of the way down. Again, I took my time, and made them wait. Gradually, as I stood on the main stage responding to the music's beat, I eased my tight, shiny, black miniskirt over my bottom and thighs, and finally let it fall to the ground. There was a groan as I stood there, posing prettily for them in nothing but my little shiny red panties and my matching high-heeled shoes. Well, obviously I was going to give them the full show. They were all desperate to see me nude, of course; and I was just as desperate to be nude for them. I now understood that. I recognised my own sexual needs and desires at last. There was nothing in the world I longed for more at that moment than to give them the thrill they wanted and share it with them. By delaying the moment when I would remove my panties I was teasing myself, not just teasing them - and I couldn't bear to wait any longer. I walked slowly back down the cat-walk, acted resistance, pretended to be surprised that anyone should think there was more to come, and with a shy smile gave way. At the far end I knelt down facing back towards the stage so that everyone could see me, thighs out in front, feet behind me, shoulders and head back to display my firm young breasts, one hand playing with my pussy through the scrap of shiny red cloth, the other with my long hair. At last I reached out both hands, took the nearest hand on either side of the narrow platform, and gave each the end of one bow of my dainty little panties to hold. Coyly I said to my helpers, "Please, not yet!" Then without warning I scrambled to my feet, the movement causing the panties to fall apart. While they were still held across the stage by the two men I had chosen, I deftly retrieved them, holding them high above my head in one hand as I proudly displayed myself in a march of triumph up and down the cat-walk, the other hand on my hip like a fashion model. For the first time in my life I was totally nude in front of a real audience. I had been dreaming of that for months, of course; but I had never imagined that when I finally managed it, it would feel so wonderful! I wanted it to last for ever, this total communion between my beautiful feminine nakedness and the thrilling masculine lust boiling up all around me. My whole body was tingling with excitement, and all the men watching me seemed to be holding their breath. My only desire was to be nude like this for ever, with not a scrap of anything to cover myself with, sharing this wonderful sexual empathy with my audience. On a sudden impulse I balled the unwanted panties together and tossed them into the audience without bothering to look where they landed. I was free at last! Free to be nude, totally nude - for them, for myself. A roar went up. [Next in Part 14: Chapter X continued, and Chapter XI: Part-Time Work] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams