A statuesque blonde greeted them as soon as they entered.
"Why hello, Richard," she said warmly.
"Hello, Donna. How's everything with you?"
Shelly was quite impressed that Richard was so well known, and by how smoothly he behaved.
"Just wonderful! I want you to know that we all love the new dresses. Don't you think it adds just the right, ah, touch?" Donna said, ending with a sly wink.
Shelly's gaze swept over the interior of the club, and she was pleased by the intriguing look of the place. All of the furnishings looked turn of the century. The only hint that they had not gone back in time were the flickering electric bulbs in the gas style lamps, and the soft classical music coming from well hidden speakers. That and the fact that the men were wearing contemporary clothes.
There were a half dozen women there, some seated at tables and some milling about, and all of them were dressed like Donna in old fashioned dresses. It did not escape Shelly that all of the dresses were made of satin. No two were exactly alike in style, although they all had a tightly fitted, low cut bodice and a long, flowing skirt. It almost made the women look like a wedding party, except that the styles were clearly old and a little bit risque. Shelly finally decided that more than anything they looked like women who worked in saloons in the old west, at least from the few westerns she had seen on TV.
Donna had escorted them to a small table in a quiet corner. The chairs were heavy and upholstered with green leather. All around them she saw dark, shiny wood and dark blue velvet trimmed in gold.
Donna had not said anything about Shelly, but her expectant manner suggested that she was curious. Richard did not miss this fact and slid effortlessly into a belated introduction.
"Donna, I'd like you to meet Shelly Kamaka, who is well on her way to being Hawaii's finest female awana dancer. Donna is the manager here, and a good friend of mine. You used to dance, too, didn't you?"
Both women blushed and stammered a bit. Always so smooth, Richard swept in.
"Shelly just opened with her brother over at the Shore Break Room. Held the audience spellbound, I might add. I have no doubt that she'll find it difficult to remain single much longer, what with all the men who fell in love with her tonight."
"Well then, she must be a much better dancer than I ever was," Donna said. "I never made it out of the chorus line, so to speak. Let me guess. That must be the dress you wore in the show."
Shelly cringed a little, fearing ridicule at wearing a dancer's costume to such a fancy place.
"You look so lovely in it! I can see why Richard thinks you broke a lot of hearts."
"Thank you," Shelly managed to say, trying to sound old and not too nervous. "Richard's sister picked it for me. I really like wearing it."
Shelly gulped at the last thing she said. All she meant to say was 'I really like it,' but somehow it came out different, and she was afraid she had said too much.
"Probably for the same reason I love wearing this dress," Donna crooned, plucking at the sides of her skirt to spread the glistening fabric like a peacock spreading its tail. "Not only does it look gorgeous, it feels gorgeous!"
Richard chuckled, then coughed as though clearing his throat.
"Shelly, why don't you sit here," he said, his voice again under control.
Shelly sank gratefully into the chair he motioned towards. Richard seated himself across from her, then turned to Donna.
"A bottle of champagne and two glasses, please."
Donna smiled and left. There was something about her smile that Shelly found curious, something flirtatious and the same time know-it-all.
"I think Nathan did a marvelous job tonight," Richard said.
"Uh, Richard?"
"Yes, Shelly?"
"Why did Donna say that, about the dresses?"
"You mean that business about how nice they feel?"
Shelly felt her face get hot. Yes, she had been thinking about that, too, but the idea of talking about it seemed preposterous. Richard, after all, was a guy. But now that he had brought it up she did not feel quite so uncomfortable talking about it.
"Well, yeah, but the way she said it, when we first came in, sounded as if you had something to do with it."
"I did," Richard said, looking bemused. "I picked them out, I bought them, and I explained to the women how I wanted them to be worn."
Richard smiled and waited, but when Shelly just sat there staring at him looking puzzled he continued.
"I own this place."
Shelly laughed, for no other reason than to release the tension that had built up inside her. As had happened so often in the last two days, the result caught her by surprise. The sudden motion after she had been sitting still for several minutes brought cold satin into contact with untouched nerves all over her body. Nowhere was it more noticeable than the area around her knees. The laughter triggered by her thoughts was suddenly an uncontrollable reaction to the cold, sensuous, and quite ticklish sensation of her dress teasing her skin. Once started she found it hard to stop, like an attack of the sillies, only by now she no longer panicked at the loss of control.
She was still giggling when one of the other women brought their champagne. Her presence put a damper on Shelly's frisky emotions. She stopped giggling, but her body was still awash in tingling sensations.
Richard and the woman chatted pleasantly while the woman ceremoniously twisted off the wire and popped the cork. Shelly picked up her napkin from the table and dabbed away the tears that had moistened her eyes, using the opportunity to steal a glance down to see what has going on with her knees.
The answer was simple. The two seams that ran down the front of her dress ran along the tops of her thighs, just slightly to the outside. Now that she was seated, the place where the train attached to the back of the dress had hiked up her thighs. From her hips to where the train attached her thighs were wrapped in a snug tube of satin, but from mid-thigh onward the fit was quite loose. When she held her knees together the selvage of the two front seams ran along the outside of her knees. All she had to do was spread her knees a few inches and the selvage swept over her knees, at the same time brushing against the tops of her thighs. Tentatively she experimented with this and was rewarded by a fresh burst of delicious tickling, only this time she kept herself under control. A second later her body reacted on its own, causing her back to stiffen and her shoulders to twist. The movements were imperceptibly small, but the sensations were delightful. A cold pang of ticklish pleasure shot from the small of her back where her ass met the chair, all the way up to her neck. A split second later the sensations spread to her breasts and down her belly.
She tried it again, and much the same thing occurred. It reminded her of spectators at a sports arena making a wave. The ticklish spasm she started by opening and closing her knees shot up her back, then down her front, ending up where it started.
At the center of these orbits of ticklish pleasure was her lust. Emotionally it was as though each orbit worked the bellows of a blacksmith's forge, fanning the coals of her desire until they glowed white hot. Physically the pleasure also ran around her cunt, teasing her in not offering any contact with her throbbing clit. The forth time she tried it she squeezed her thighs together harder than before and a burst of pleasure shot from her clit, so strong that she almost yelped. She longed to have a way to rub it, but she realized in dismay that the trick that her friends had talked about was out of the question. Her dress was too long and tight to allow her to sneak a heel into her crotch, and besides, in this place it would be impossible to not be noticed.
They were alone again. Richard held up his glass and Shelly countered. It made her feel very mature, as she had never drunk champagne before. It also felt to her that the act solidified something between them, a tacit understanding of some kind.
"To pleasure," Richard said, and sipped from his glass.
Shelly wanted to say something but was tongue-tied. She smiled, unconsciously shifting in her chair. Only after she did it did she realize the consequences. Again a flood of ticklish delight swept over her, reinforced this time by a sharp sensation of cold where her body came into contact with parts of the leather upholstery not warmed by her body. Her glass trembled as she brought it to her lips, but she managed to take a sip and set it down without dropping it, smiling as sweetly as she could in the process. The champagne tasted strange, yet rather good.
Richard looked very pleased with himself and settled back in his chair.
"You see, Shelly, I have devoted my life to allowing people to enjoy themselves. That's why I produce acts like your brother. That's why I own this club. And that's why I bought the dresses you see here.
"You know, Shelly, I am certain that you will become a star in your own right. With your beauty and dance skills you could become the lead dancer at any club in town."
Shelly took another sip of champagne, more like a gulp than a sip. Whether it was the champagne or Richard's words she could not say, but a pleasant warmth was spreading through her.
"In fact," he went on, "I want to make you an offer. If the hotel does not pick up your brother, or for any other reason you are available, I would like to start using you in the main show, the one you opened for tonight. Perhaps you could do both. What do you say?"
"Well, I ought to finish school first," Shelly blurted out. An instant later she kicked herself. His offer might bring with it the chance to wear a satin holoku six nights a week, for four or maybe even six hours a night. When she tried to imagine herself doing that she could not, any more than a runner could hope to run fourty miles every day.
"Oh? I didn't realize you were going to college," Richard said. "Well, yes, an education is valuable, and certainly you should pursue that."
Shelly blinked when he mentioned college, biting off her start at correcting him when she remembered that Nathan had told him she was nineteen. Then she realized that he had no idea she was so young. Emboldened by her acceptance as an adult, she decided to push him a little on what he had said about pleasure.
A thought appeared at the extreme edge of her consciousness, a realization that a man as old as Richard, one admittedly keen on pleasure, might understand her desire to be tortured with a dildo. He might even own one and enjoy using it on her. It was only a flicker of a thought, one that she avoided turning her full attention towards, but she knew it was there and it made her hot with desire.
"I like your choice," Shelly said. "I mean, the dresses. They look really pretty."
"Thank you," he said warmly. "I wanted to avoid the blatantly sexy look some of the other clubs settle for. You know, real short skirts, plunging necklines, shiny spandex and fishnet stockings. You know the look."
Shelly wasn't sure she did, but smiled and nodded in agreement.
"This is very feminine," Richard said, "yet actually very sexy if you are in tune with your sense of touch and not just sight."
"Touch?" Shelly said, liking what she was hearing but uncertain how to guide the conversation or where exactly to guide it toward.
"Certainly. Fabrics like satin feel very special to wear. For men who just want to see a lot of bare skin, dresses like these are a nuisance. But, if you know a little something about women it is possible to enjoy looking at them in an entirely different way. As you pointed out, they look pretty. A woman in spandex is more likely to feel exposed and on display in a place like this, whereas these women are more likely to feel very feminine and to be more relaxed, more able to enjoy themselves. Women's erogenous zones are not as focused as men's, so a little pleasure felt all over their body can become quite arousing. Whether or not this happens here, I enjoy imagining that from time to time these women enjoy the secret thrill of getting completely turned on by the feel of satin against her skin."
Shelly was drinking in every word Richard spoke as though he were a prophet. While he spoke she had tossed down several mouthfuls of champagne as well. He filled her glass, then his own.
"I know what you mean," she blurted.
"Oh?" Richard said, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. His warm smile shifted slightly, for a second becoming a mischievous grin before settling into objective curiosity.
"When your sister told me to wear this holoku she told me not to wear any underwear, because it would show and look bad."
"And you're not wearing any now?" he asked expectantly.
"Not one bit. And you know what? It drives me crazy! Sometimes I can hardly keep from laughing."
"Laughing?" he said.
"Yeah. Does satin always feel so ticklish?"
Richard looked flustered. He took a big gulp of champagne and squirmed in his chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs.
"Let me tell you a little story," he said finally.
"About ten years ago I was at my sister's hula studio, singing of all things. I don't consider myself a singer but they need another part, and I was it. Anyway, a bunch of young girls, about eight or nine years old, were practicing for a competition, and that was the first time they had worn their costumes. Pretty holokus, just like yours only not as fitted. More like a mu'u mu'u, actually. Well, one little girl kept fidgeting and acting silly. Mostly she would not stop giggling. Finally my sister stopped them and started to scold her, and the little girl protested that it was her dress that was tickling her. Later I asked my sister what that was all about, and she told me that some girls react that way. She said that for most it is just a small thing and they soon get over it, but for a few wearing satin is like being subjected to tickle torture."
Shelly's head was spinning. The story enchanted her like the slow movements of a snake charmer's flute.
"My sister's comment really, well, it was a shock," Richard went on. "You see, ever since I can remember I have had fantasies of that exact thing."
Shelly found it odd that he implied thinking such thoughts as a boy.
"How old were you when you first got this idea, and what made you think of it?" Shelly asked.
Richard swallowed hard before answering.
"First, I want you to know that I have never admitted this to anyone. I can't really pin it down. It was a long time ago, and it has been with me for what feels like my entire life. I do recall the first time I saw a girl dressed in satin and connected it to tickling. It was almost the same situation I just described, a rehearsal at my sister's studio. I must have been ten or eleven, because I remember being in the sixth grade at the time. These two girls, both I'd say about seven or eight years old, were standing around waiting for their turn to dance. I was sitting just behind them, already turned on just looking at them. They kept giggling. I thought they were just being silly until one reached out and tickled the other girl on her side. She lurched away, then went after her partner, only she grabbed her and held on while she tickled her. Then something strange happened. They both stopped trying to get away. They just stood there stroking each other's ribs. Neither girl laughed much, but the look on their faces made it obvious to me that it was hard to endure. I was overcome with emotion, so dizzy I couldn't think straight. It really turned me on.
"Before that, I never thought about tickling, only that wearing a satin holoku felt very special, really good. I have no special recollection of anything in particular, only that whenever I saw a girl my age in a holoku my heart kind's got all fluttery. I do remember feeling jealous, though."
"Jealous?" said Shelly. "You mean you wished boys could wear clothes made of satin?"
"Not exactly," Richard said with a chuckle. "At times I wished that I had been born a girl, so I too could wear a satin holoku. I used to watch the girls and imagine myself in their place.
"Sometimes it was different. I'd look at a girl in satin and imagine her dress was tickling her out of her mind. Those kinds of thoughts always turned me on. Ever since then I have been searching for a woman like that, a woman who can hardly stand to wear satin because of how much it tickles."
"Well, you found one."
Richard stared at her in disbelief. It made her feel like a goddess.
"Well, tell me," he stammered, "what's it like?"
"It's like being tortured, almost but not quite. Part of it is that it never really stops. When I sit or stand still it almost stops, but even the slightest movement sets it off."
Again he stared at her, dumbfounded.
"So, do you enjoy it?" he asked.
"You know, I find this hard to explain, but I do. I really do. Today at school it was all I could think about. As soon as I could I rushed down here and changed, just so I could walk around and feel, well, tickled. There are times that I feel like I can't stand it any longer, that if I don't take it off I'll go mad. Only, I force myself to leave it on, and to keep moving. Something about that, as though I was being tortured, really turns me on."
"Fantastic!" Richard exclaimed.
The look on Richard's face had changed quite a bit since they had arrived. The calm, worldly master of things had become a little boy in a candy store. Shelly decided it was time to hint at what she really wanted, but was still not ready to ask for it bluntly.
"Sometimes I wish I could scream. Someplace where nobody could hear me. It feels so good, but I still want more. Sometimes I think about movies I've seen, where a girl is tied up, helpless, and screaming."
Richard sat there, obviously dumbfounded. Shelly could feel her heart pounding.
"I know a place, actually," she said.
"Do you want to go there now?" Richard croaked.
"Well, the trouble is, I'm not sure how to get there. And besides, it's locked, and I don't have a key. Auntie Marge does."
"My sister?"
"Yes. It's where we got this dress. A big storeroom, back in the hotel."
"I know that place, and I can get us in. You really want to try it?"
Shelly froze, unsure about how to answer. She had mentioned the storeroom thinking that Richard might know about it, but had no idea he could get in. Finally she decided that if she did not tell him the rest of her fantasy and just went there to play around a little it might be fun.
"Sure. Yeah. Let's try it!"