Nightclub

Nikki seems tired of riding the subway for tonight; at any rate, once the girls are back out in the building lobby she pulls out her cell phone and calls a cab, then proceeds to play with it while the girls wait.

Tiffany, being significantly less addicted to social media than Nikki, or most of her friends, for that matter, wanders around the lobby, checking the view of the park and the old marble construction. Then she notices the concierge. His eyes seem glued to her as she moves around the lobby, particularly to her butt.

She rushes over to Nikki, trying with no success not to wiggle her ass at him as she retreats; it's simply not possible with her hips and especially in the shoes Nikki gave her, but she keeps it to as bare a minimum as possible while she rushes over to her friend.

Nikki quickly closes out out of the app she's using as Tiffany approaches, "What's up, hon?"

Tiffany leans into her friend's space and whispers, "That creepy old guy behind the concierge desk has had his eyes glued to my ass since we got here! I told you this dress was a bad idea! Can we get out of here, please?!"

Nikki glares at the concierge over Tiffany's shoulder to warn him he's been made, then looks down at her butt. Her tiny skirt has ridden up the bare inch or so necessary to expose the bottom swell of her ass cheeks. Nikki hugs her, pulling her close and pressing into the small of her back, which raises the hemline in back just a bit more, advertising her wares to the world.

"Oh, honey, he's just a harmless ol' coot. Don't worry 'bout it." She pulls back, still looking over Tiffany's shoulder. "But yeah, he's got it BAD. Why don'tcha go offer him a blowjob? Bet he'd give you a month's pay! A year's for a fuck..."

"Nikki! That's disgusting!"

Nikki laughs out loud. "How would YOU know, V-girl? You give it a try, you might find out you like old man splooge! But enh," she waves the old man off and pulls Tiffany toward the entry doors, "You can do better than a month of security guard pay, anyway..."

Out on the sidewalk, Nikki decides to finish uploading the 'New Call-Girl Uniform' folder; it consists of pics she's taken of Tiffany in her new dress, heels and stockings on the subway, and she'd been interrupted by the concierge incident. But first, maybe a quick rear shot of those bottom cheeks...

*Click* Advertising.

In the taxi, Tiffany sits nervously, certain the driver is looking up her skirt by the way he keeps adjusting his rearview mirror. She'd only discovered how her skirt had ridden up when she felt the seat's cold vinyl on her ass; Nikki had been too busy with her Tweetspace feeds to even notice. Now the poor girl, knees clenched tightly together, is still convinced the Bangladeshi driver can, and is actively trying to, see her panties ...Hah! More like see the pair of overlong shoelaces wrapped around her waist and between her legs. For just a moment, for about a picosecond, remembering what Nikki had said about advertising what the plebeians could never have, she's tempted to flash her barely-covered pussy at him, but... no. She doesn't use her sexuality that way.

As the cab pulls away, Nikki sidles up next to her and grabs her butt, "That guy TOTALLY wanted you. You should'a flashed your panties at him, just to see the look on his face." Tiffany, remembering her brief desire to do just that, can't bring herself to disparage the idea this time.

The line to get into this place (it's called 'Rags & Tatters' and it's one of the city's hottest clubs right now) seems a mile long, but Nikki takes Tiffany by the hand and drags her right to the entrance, "Honey, that line is for peasants. Tonight we are royalty, and you are going to act like it. C'mon."

Tiffany is really nervous about this; neither of the girls is old enough to drink legally in the first place, her fake ID doesn't resemble her much, and NOW they're attracting attention to themselves? She's shaking and practically nauseous as they approach the entrance and the bouncers there.

Nikki gives a minuscule nod, something Tiffany likely wouldn't notice even if she was paying attention. The bouncer notes the nod and barely even glances at the girls' fake IDs, but as they're about to pass into the club, he calls out, "Excuse me... Ladies?"

The girls turn around, Tiffany's heart hammering in her chest, just knowing they're going to be turned away, humiliated...

"Random pat-down, ladies," he rumbles, "Let's see... You." He points at Tiffany, "We need to make sure you're not carrying any weapons or other contraband."

Tiffany suddenly feels as if her brain is separated from reality by a layer of bubble wrap, but she managed to say, "You're kidding. In this?" with a gesture indicating her abbreviated, skintight dress.

"Sorry, Miss. Just policy. If you'd just place your hands and feet in the yellow circles over there, please?" He points to a section of wall near the entryway.

Tiffany gulps as she approaches the indicated spot. The yellow circles the bouncer mentioned are about a foot across, but obviously placed for the convenience of somebody taller than she. She can reach all four circles, but only by extending her arms to their full length and spreading her legs uncomfortably wide, an action that, unbeknownst to her, causes her skirt to hike up just high enough that the swell of her ass cheeks appears again, prompting a cheer from nearby observers. The bouncer kicks her legs just a little further apart before he pats down her hips, then drops his hands and squeezes her ass cheeks, again lifting her skirt just enough so a tiny sliver of her ass crack appears... to more cheering. He then goes to one knee and begins 'patting down' her stocking-clad legs.

"Are you kidding me?" Tiffany cries, "I can't hide my legs in these things, much LESS anything between them and my legs!"

"Just being thorough, Miss," he replies, smiling over at Nikki... and at the crowd. He then demonstrates more thoroughness by running one finger under the lace at the top of each stocking, 'accidentally' touching her perineum several times with his thumbs. Then his thumb slides up her ass crack, lying between her cheeks as if he's hotdogging her with his thumb.

"You got any contraband up here?" he asks, his voice suddenly husky, "Anything I need to check for?"

"N-no," she replies through clenched teeth, blushing to her shoulders.

Tiffany stands still, practically paralyzed with confusion. She knows, KNOWS, this bouncer is breaking all the rules of propriety and probably a few against sexual ****. Half of her wants to scream for a cop, but almost as much just wants to get the entire humiliating ordeal over with. And a tiny, tiny piece of her... is enjoying this. The bouncer's strong, calloused hands, slowly and methodically touching her - intimately but publicly - make her feel wanted. Desired. She's felt desired before, but it's never felt like this. God DAMN Nikki and her too-goddamned-revealing 'party dress'!

"Are ... are you done yet?" she asks, maybe a little breathily, but overall she's proud of her self-control.

"Just about," the bouncer rumbles. He removes his thumb from between Tiffany's ass cheeks and stands, placing his hands on her hips again. He pulls her backward a little with his strong arms, forcing her to bend over a bit further to keep her hands in the circles and accentuating her ass just a little bit more for the crowd. Then he ran his hands up and down her sides before reaching around and 'patting down' her belly. His hands roam over her torso, stroking and squeezing, and as Tiffany feels the strength and warmth of those calloused hands, she also feels something else. She's... getting excited. It feels good to... to have this man's hands on her. She can feel her... her nipples...

Then he pulls her a little further back, until his crotch is pressing against her ass. He's erect! His boner presses between her ass cheeks, and he's not letting her go. Instead, his hands rise until they're cupping her naked breasts. Tiffany gasps, and then he pulls her backwards once again so that her hands lift off the circles and she backs into him... into his erection...

He squeezes her already-stiff nipples. "What've we got here?" he chuckles, "You aren't tryin' ta smuggle any contraband in here, are you?"

"Nn..." Tiffany pulls at his hands, but she's not strong enough to challenge him physically and seems to be having trouble forming words. Or coherent thoughts. One does come to mind, though.

"St... stop. Please."

"Hey!" yells Nikki, who's been unobtrusively filming the whole scene with her phone, "She usually gets forty bucks for lettin' a guy do that!"

The guy immediately lets go of her. He spins her around and says, "Well, looks like you're... clean." He takes a pair of twenties from his shirt pocket, folds them twice around a business card, and slides them in the cleavage of Tiffany's dress.

"Thanks for bein' a good sport," he says much more loudly, to applause from the crowd. Then, more quietly, he says, "Name's Parker. You ever need any protective services, call me." Then he gestures rather grandly toward the door, saying, "Welcome to Rags & Tatters... ladies."