THE TOKEN Read Free

Kiki.
     
    *
     
    Kiki swivels in front of her makeup table and smirks at me. My trench coat drips water onto the floor.
    “Gawd!” Her full lips pout as she swipes another layer of sparkly crap on her lips. “You look like a drowned rat.”
    Her face softens. “See your mom?”
    I nod. Kiki knows it always sucker punches me to visit. It kills me not to. I face the evil I can bear.
    “Well, let's get you in the slut suit, baby.” Kiki moves through the hanging costumes until she gets to my size, and she frowns slightly. “I don't know how I'm going to stuff that gazelle body in the average getup.” She taps her nail against her glossy lip and scowls when some of her handiwork comes off.
    “Damn,” she swears softly, making the hangers move with an angry swish of her hand.
    “No.” A blue outfit sails to the end of the size eight rack.
    “No.” A glossy green spandex number with a painful looking strip of butt floss floats past.
    Her eyes narrow to slits as a beige '20s flapper-style dress with cut outs at the nipples appears. “Fuck no!”
    I laugh, and Kiki glares at me. “It's not funny, bunny. You need to look spanktastic this first time out of the gate.”
    She's so serious I giggle again. “I'm not a damn horse!” I hold my sides as laughter peels out of me, and I feel closer to normal. I'm so grateful for the levity she brings that I don't know what to say. Even if I'm about to strip down to nothing in a roomful of strangers, Kiki makes it better.
    She finally grins as her eyes light on something red.
    I mouth no, and she says, “Hell yes!” She tears it off the rod.
    I don't think it's a real outfit. Actually, it’s more air than cloth.
    “I can't wear that!” I stutter, backing away as if it's the plague instead of a skimpy costume.
    Kiki's brows come together in an adorable frown. “Ah... we had this discussion dollface. You won't be wearing this for long.” Those perfect brows rise and I blow out a frustrated huff.
    Right. No clothes. Well, this is a “classy” club, so only titties. No frontal nudity down there . They can't touch, and I have to wear stockings for some reason. City ordinance. So basically my butt and boobs will be bare to the world, but somehow that's okay because a small triangle of cloth will cover my front and some super-sheer stockings will encase my legs. Yeah.
    Kiki pats the stool in front of a huge mirror, lit all around its square perimeter with Hollywood bulbs. Big ones. They glare at my pinched and pale face. Her mocha arm comes around my front and she begins to scoop and fix my hair. It is neither blonde or brown, but a rich honey color. It's never been dyed or bleached. I just didn't want any more attention when I was at home.
    My idea of girly-ness is wearing a pair of high heels, tight jeans, and a top with sleeve cut-outs. I watch, mesmerized, as Kiki hikes my thick hair into a loose topknot, anchoring it with about a hundred bobby pins. She pulls a few tendrils loose to cascade halfway down my back. No matter what anyone says, long hair is easier than short. However, Kiki convinced me to take off five inches before I met with the manager a few days ago.
    So far, meeting Ty has been the creepiest part. I remember exactly how he'd looked at me. It was eyeball rape.
     
    “Hi, Faren,” Ty said, shaking my hand.
    His large dark hand engulfed my smaller one. I’m surprised. I have long fingers that match my height. My hand never feels swallowed by a man's.
    “Hi,” I said.
    His eyebrows rose, and he spread his arms as he stepped back. “Kiki told me you know what to expect.”
    I did. I felt like crying, but I took off my clothes. The heat of my embarrassment crawled across my skin.
    My skirt pooled at my feet. My high heels and thigh highs don’t impede its crumpled slither down my legs.
    Next, I unbutton the scarlet blouse Kiki had picked out, revealing an inky bra and panty set. The bra is demi-cupped and holds my full Cs high and tight, my pink nipples