It Feels A Lot Like A Date

For a woman used to being invisible, Sue Storm felt very exposed as she stepped into the club. The Vanishing Point was one of those arty, exclusive little clubs that catered to the rich and, Sue saw immediately, the lightly perverted.

While the entrance doors and walls were perfectly opaque, like obsidian mirrors, the club itself was made as much as possible of transparent materials. Every wall was clear glass, the tables were glass-topped and held together by crystal-clear plastic, as were the chairs. Waiters and waitresses wore transparent plastic sleeves, without underwear, and clear heels or sandals. Most of the guests, like Susan, had chosen to wear real clothing that hinted rather than exposed, but it was surreal to be able to stare through a clear wall into the kitchen or see the bartender's pussy peek out from behind the bottles stocked in the bar. Weirder, the ceilings and floors were mirrored.

"Please check your cameras or smartphones," a pretty young woman with freckled shoulders told Sue as the blonde got her bearings. There was row of transparent lockers, Sue surrendered her phone and got a number stamped on her inner wrist. She watched as the freckled woman put the phone away and locked it.

The waitress' red hair was in a short pixie cut, but what caught Sue's eyes were the tiny rings that pierced her small pink nipples. Sue nodded, cheeks lightly flushed. She wasn't sure where to look or where not to look. The ceiling and floors were mirrored, so there was a dizzying sense of space, even if the whole club was probably much smaller than it seemed. Space in Manhattan was at a premium.

Now free of her phone, Sue looked around—and saw a hand wave at her. The Invisible Woman caught a hint of blonde hair and navigated the transparent furniture to what turned out to be a private booth—or at least, as private as she could get.

Mae Mifton's dress was a long and elegant black, three-quarters sleeve affair. A jagged transparent window ran from her neck down to her crotch, and over one leg down to the floor. It showed Sue Storm a vast amount of cleavage, a tight, toned midriff, and a gorgeous expanse of leg. Yet it was Mae's smile that caught her as she rose to welcome Sue with a hug that she hadn't felt since they had parted at graduation, all those years ago.

"Suzy! Look at you, babe! What a fantastic dress!" with an infectious smile as she ran her eyes along the black latex tube that hugged the Invisible Woman's curves. Sue felt as if she might pop out of said dress at any moment, if she breathed too hard.

"I could say the same to you," Sue said, and her smile was honest and reciprocal as she ran her eyes up and down her friend's body before she sat.

"I hope you don't mind all this. It's really an art club. There's a gaggle of graduate students doing dissertations on transparency and human behavior or something. A fair bit of grant money, but no experience running a business. So I own this bit of New York real estate, they get their club for their social experiment or whatever it is..."

"I thought it was just for perverts," Sue replied, as the red pixie-cut brought them a bottle of champagne and a bowl of strawberries.

"Oh, those are here," Mae said with a wink. "The toilets are made of transparent aluminum. Pipes are clear plastic and glass. For privacy, the walls, floors, and ceiling are one-way mirror. You can only see yourself, but the people around can see you. I charge extra for the tables set below the bathrooms."

"You're kidding," Sue said, eyes wide, as Mae popped the cork.

"Not at all, darling. Most of the clients just hold it, go at home. A few...well, they get off on it. The exhibitionism thing." Mae said, as she poured.

Mae raised her glass, and Sue followed suit.

"What shall we toast to?" the adult film star said.

"Picking up where we left off," Sue suggested.

Mae's smile widened. Their glasses clinked. And they sipped the fizzy, yeasty wine, that tickled Sue's throat as it slid its way down.

They talked. Really talked. Sue's marriage, Mae's marriage and divorce. Sue's kids, her miscarriage; Mae's miscarriage. The years seemed to melt away, and Sue felt her guard drop, little by little, as it became clear that Mae felt the same. She really listened, Mae. Not just to what Sue said, but to what she didn't say. She asked all the right questions. Shared stories from her life. Then it was Sue's turn to ask questions...and finally, to bring the subject back around to the original purpose of their visit.

It was near the end of the bottle of champagne, and the evening crowd had started in. The noise was getting louder, and Sue had to lean in close over the table, and Mae leaned in as well.

"Do you remember those glamour shots we did?" Sue asked.

"How could I forget?" Mae grinned. "It was a night like this. We were drunk—and maybe a little high—"

Sue smiled, then frowned. "They're on the internet, Mae. Someone posted them."

"Hell," Mae said. "Has your husband found out?"

"Not yet. But I'd like to send out takedown notices—get them off the net before the kids find them. You know?"

"I don't—" Mae started, and Sue felt a wince of pain. "But yeah, I get it. Well, you're in luck. I have the rights. I bought them out years ago. Part of my effort to control my own image. I can issue the takedown notice, just send me a link to where you found them. Better to keep your name out of it, anyway."

"You mean it?" Sue said, as her eyebrows rose to the ceiling. That was far more than she'd hoped for.

"Of course, babe!" Mae said. "Anything for you."

Then pixie-cut brought another bottle of champagne.

When Sue Storm arrived back at the Baxter Building, by cab, she staggered a little in her heels. She also seemed to have trouble keeping her tube to cover all of her bits and pieces; it either rode up too high and she felt a draft, or her nipples peeked out. Fortunately, by then the kids were long in bed. Reed would be in his lab; neither Johnny or Ben would be waiting up. So neither of them saw her struggle to keep herself covered as she lurched from the elevator and through the living quarters to the master bedroom.

The box with her clothes and costume were on the bed. Sue dropped her inky dinky purse next to it, and sat down on the edge of the bed to take her shoes off and rub her feet. It had been a long time since she had worn heels. Yet she had to admit, she had fun tonight. Mae had been wonderful. They had talked until it seemed llike there was nothing left to talk about, and then the song started, an old party tune from their generation, and for the first time in years Sue had slid onto the mirrored dance floor with a partner. Utterly uncaring who saw her.

They had left around midnight. Mae had helped her into the cab. They'd promised to do this again sometime. Then...

The Invisible Woman touched her lips with her fingertips. She could still feel the tingle where Mae had pressed her lips against hers, quick and hot, just a touch of a foreign tongue as it pushed past her lips. Then it was gone. The door closed.

"It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss..." Sue sang to herself, in her empty bed, as she stood up to pull herself out of the black latex tube dress.