The Bar

As Jon made his way down the empty street, the neon sign of the bar just down the block caught his eye. The sign read “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and flashed intermittently, beckoning him closer. "That's what I'm here for," he thought to himself as he gingerly made his way down the sidewalk, high heels clicking against the pavement. The emptiness of the streets created an eerie effect, making Jon feel exposed and ****. However, he was grateful that he had found such a practical and wonderful outfit that would prevent him from walking down the street in just a towel, or worse, naked.

The door to the bar had a cold steel exterior, with a cool metal handle. As he wrapped his hand around it and pulled, a wave of noise hit him like a wall, making him briefly gasp for breath. Inside, the music pounded, and almost every inch of the place was filled with men, some of whom Jon recognized from the plane trip over. He squeezed through the crowd and made his way to the bar. It was a slow trip through the mass of bodies, with hands touching places that they probably shouldn't have been, but Jon dismissed it as the nature of the beast.

There were no stools available, so Jon stood at the bar and waited for the bartender to notice him. It didn't take long before a topless bodybuilder of a man wearing black pants and a bowtie sidled over to him and asked what his poison would be. It was at that moment that Jon realized he had no way of paying. His wallet had been in his clothes that he'd worn before he showered.

"No worries," the beefy bartender replied, "It's all included in your stay. So what'll it be?"

"Scotch on the rocks," Jon replied, excited about the prospect of free booze, "make it a double!"

As Jon people-watched while downing his first drink, he found the whole scene very strange. Most of the guys were standing around talking but kept looking around as if they were expecting something. By the time he got to his third drink, the music started to sound really good. Jon found himself tapping his toes and nodding his head slightly to the beat, but now he wanted to move. He downed the scotch, ordered another, and turned away from the bar, letting the music wash over him. He found his hips swaying, his hands exploring his body, shoulders moving to the rhythm. The problem was that there just wasn't enough room! He kept bumping into the patrons around him. Once or twice he found himself accidentally grinding up against a large man in a business suit next to him!

Something had to change. Across the room, Jon spotted an empty space, a raised area that was well-lit and had a metal fireman's pole right in the center of it. Jon wondered why none of the crowd had used that space. Probably thought it was being reserved for something, he figured. But whatever it was being saved for, Jon didn't mind using it until it was needed.

He wiggled his way through the crowd, dancing to the beat of the song, and found himself the culprit in most of the bumping and grabbing. The raised area was about four feet off the ground, a height a little too high for him to climb in his heels. Luckily, a nice man standing near him saw his difficulty, stood behind Jon, and pushed him up by his ass. Jon smiled at the man and took another swig of his scotch. What a nice guy, he thought.

He moved with a fluid grace, his body swaying to the beat in perfect harmony with the music. With each new song, he attempted moves he had never before dared, yet somehow they came naturally to him. He felt free, uninhibited, alive.

As the night wore on, Jon began to feel the effects of the scotch he had consumed earlier. He knew he would have to make a choice between drinking and dancing, but then he spotted it: the fireman's pole in the center of the floor. Grabbing hold of it, he felt a sudden surge of energy. He used the pole to grind against, rub against, swing around. His movements were primal, animalistic, and the crowd around him responded with wild enthusiasm.

For the first time in a long time, Jon felt appreciated. The men cheered and shouted encouragement, their adulation filling him with a sense of pride. He was grateful for the warm and welcoming environment of the bar, where he could be himself without fear of judgment.

As the music changed once again, Jon began to sweat. His schoolgirl outfit, practical as it was, was too hot for the frenzied dance moves he was performing. He wondered if the patrons of the bar would mind if he removed some of it. The answer was obvious: they loved him, and they would do anything to make him feel comfortable.

With a sense of liberation, Jon shed his shirt, gyrating in time with the music. The crowd erupted in applause, and he threw his shirt into their midst. A struggle broke out over the garment, but Jon didn't mind. He was happy to share his good fortune with others.

Now topless, Jon felt even more free. He shed his skirt, kicking it at a man in the crowd. He was left with nothing but his thong, knee-high socks and Mary-Janes, yet he felt more alive than ever before. He danced with abandon, his every movement eliciting cheers and applause.

As the music finally ended, Jon found himself lying on his back, legs spread wide, exposing himself to the entire bar. But instead of feeling embarrassed or ashamed, he felt exhilarated. He had found a place where he could be himself, without fear or judgment.

As he made his way through the curtain at the back of the dance floor, Jon felt a sense of contentment wash over him. He knew that he had found a home, a place where he could be himself, and he was grateful for it. The beat of the music still echoed in his ears, and he knew that he would be back, again and again, to revel in the freedom and acceptance of Girl World.