Chapter Two

Lisa arrived at the night club an hour before the first show. Gunther, who was conversing with the bartender, took her in the backstage, towards the dressing rooms.
You could not say that the place appeared to be hospitable, not even a nod to her. The curious glances of the other dancers, as soon as Lisa took off his coat, turned into shifty eyes that betrayed disbelief. Lisa had never been in a situation like that, but she knew pretty well those female looks who had felt on her back so often: they expressed a false pity that poorly concealed amazement for a so remarkable view.
"Look mister, today I was saying it seriously, 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 tour 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 white man’s shirt taken from the locker of a bouncer.
"It should be even easier like this: you can also keep the boots on . Of course, the newcomer takes the stage first. Good luck. "
After he said that, Gunther came out, went back to the ballroom and sat on the stool, at the bottom of the bar, where he used to be every night. Jay, the bartender, had been working with him from the very first moment: came by and silently handed the first whiskey of the day. The club, at ten o'clock on a monday evening, was almost empty, perhaps a dozen people.
"Jay, I do not 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. After several years she remembered all those moments so well that they were still giving her a shiver of pleasure.
She went timidly on the catwalk, announced by a voice at the microphone, 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 white man’s shirt, so pulled in the front that it seemed about to snatch: she could force the buttons to jump just breathing deeply.
She began to walk slowly towards the end of the catwalk while the towering breasts were gently swaying at the rhythm of her steps: turned on her heels, went back and gave her shoulders to the audience.
She undid the four buttons that barely contained her huge breasts and slid his shirt over her shoulders, down her back to her hips and below the buttocks. Even so, as seen from behind, its forms protruded conspicuously from the slender figure. Then she turned slowly.
The first buzz turned into absolute silence, 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 large tits were leaning forward, almost oblivious to the force of gravity; on the pale skin stood two large areolas of a delicate pink, slightly raised, and in the centre, striving upwards, two nipples that responded to the attention dramatically hardening.
She also looked at her breasts and then, smiling mischievously, to the customers of the room one by one, slowly turning his gaze from right to left, and in that very moment she understood.
She understood that all that was absolutely exciting; it seemed to her that all those men would have banged their heads at the wall just to see her stretch out her hands over her breasts and pull the nipples gently. She did not, and didn’t it for all the other nights she was performing in Gunther’s night club. Not on the catwalk, at least.
After a few days the place was full to its capacity, as it never was, and despite that Lisa for six months did exactly the same things of that very first night.
During the days, more difference audiences took turns in the room: businessmen, sailors who had sailed half the world or workers 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.
In Hamburg hundreds of strippers were dancing, writhing, clinging to lap dance poles or did explicitly sex on stage, but none seemed to have his gift.
She understood then that what had always seemed a conviction to her, was in fact a rare privilege.