Chapter Two

Lisa arrived at the nightclub an hour before the first show. Gunther, who was conversing with the bartender, took her backstage, to the dressing rooms. One would not describe the atmosphere as hospitable; no one even gave her a nod. The sidelong glances of the other dancers, as soon as Lisa took off her coat, turned into outright stares of disbelief. Lisa had never been in a situation exactly like this, but she knew very well that female hostility that she had heard behind her back all her life - expressions of false pity; jealousy, poorly concealed as amazement at the spectacle of how amazingly, unbelievably enormous she was.


"Look mister, today, what I said – I was serious, I do not know what to do ... I've never been in front of an audience!" - whispered Lisa.
"There are things more difficult to do in this world; you just go out there on the catwalk, take a turn, and undress yourself … let’s say, for a total of at least five minutes."
He gave her a pair of black leather boots and a man’s white shirt borrowed from the locker of a bouncer.
"It should be even easier like this; you can also keep the boots on. Of course, new girl takes the stage first. Good luck."
After he said that, Gunther came out, went back to the floor, and sat on the stool at the end of the bar, where he sat every night. Jay, the bartender, who had worked with him since Gunther first opened the bar, came by and silently handed him the first whiskey of the day. The club, at ten o'clock on a Monday evening, was almost empty, with perhaps a dozen people in the audience.
"Jay, I don’t think you have ever seen something like this; I get the feeling that tonight will be a special evening," he said.

It was definitely special for Lisa. Several years later, she still remembered each moment of that night so well, and it still gave her a shiver of pleasure.
She went out on the catwalk timidly, announced by a voice at the microphone, the sound coming from nowhere. The background noise in the room slowly became a buzz. She was dressed in a pair of black lace panties, boots, and a man’s white shirt, pulled so tightly across her front that it seemed about to rip; she was afraid she’dforce the buttons to pop out of their buttonholes just by breathing too deeply.
She began to walk slowly towards the end of the catwalk, while her towering breasts swayed to the rhythm of her steps. When she reached the end of the catwalk, she turned on her heels, went back to the center, and turned her shoulders to face away from the audience.
She undid the four buttons that barely contained her huge breasts, and slid the shirt over her shoulders, down her back to her hips and below her buttocks. Even with her back to the audience, the swelling, round flanks of her gross breasts bulged conspicuously out from her slender figure, so vast and bulky that they were clearly visible from behind. Then Lisa turned … slowly.
The first buzz turned into absolute silence, even the clink of glasses stopped.

She felt all eyes upon herself, or rather on that part of herself that was in sight, absolutely stunning in its fullness and abundance. The two unbelievably large tits swelled forward, almost oblivious to the drag of gravity; on her pale skin were planted twin large areolae of a delicate pink, slightly raised; and in the exact center of each perfect round areola, tilted upwards and a little to the side by the way her huge breasts fattened at the lowest slope, two nipples were now responding dramatically to the attention by hardening very noticeably.

She, also, looked at her breasts and then, smiling mischievously, she looked at the customers in the room one by one, arrogantly turning her gaze from right to left; and at that moment she understood.

She understood that displaying herself like this was incredibly exciting: for the first time in her life she felt to have power on people. In that moment it was obvious to her that all these men would bang their heads into a wall just to see her run her hands over her breasts and gently pull on those plump nipples. She didn’t do it, not that night, and not for all the other nights she was performing in Gunther’s nightclub. Not on the catwalk, at least.

After a few days the place was filled to capacity, as it never had been before, and despite the fact that Lisa for six months did exactly the same strut and silent display as on her very first night.

Every night, difference audiences took turns in the room: businessmen, sailors who had sailed half the world, workmen who had spent months on the oil rigs in the North Sea - but the reaction was always the same: a silent amazement in the wait for a kind of revelation that always came on time. Everyone of them was waiting in skeptical hope to see the girl with that amazing body: that massive breasts swaying heavily at her slow motion and wobbling like jelly at every footfall .

In Hamburg hundreds of strippers were dancing, writhing, clinging to dance poles or performing explicit sex on stage, but none had Lisa’s magic.

She understood then that what had always seemed a conviction to her, was in fact a rare privilege.