Diva in Disguise Chapter 12

I’m not exactly sure how I’d expected Adrian to react to me, but whatever my surmise, it would have been disappointed. The guy had already arrived when I parked my little convertible outside the bar and when I was greeted by him his manner was professional and business-like.

“Well, Jenny. It’s a big night tonight. The band are here so you had better start getting yourself ready.”

Band?

Looking around, I could see there were some musicians setting up their gear in a corner of the room where the floor was raised. I stopped on my way to get changed and watched them for a space. I could make out it was a four-piece outfit; guitar, bass, piano and drums. Their equipment might have seen better days but when it was all in place and they ran through a soundcheck, I found the music spellbinding. Saturday night had the makings of something special, all right. I became aware that I was moving my feet in time, reminding me how much I used to love to dance. Since I’d last had the opportunity it seemed long, long ago.

On an impulse, I began twisting and turning to the rhythmic waves of sound that washed over me.

I didn’t feel in the least self-conscious until I saw I was getting the attention of some of the band members. Mischievously I wondered whether Adrian might be similarly interested in the display I was making and started to dance more vigorously, arching my back and pushing out my pointy chest in his direction. I can’t explain why but I wanted to get some kind of reaction from the man. When it came it wasn’t one that I was expecting.

“Jenny!” The manager’s tone was peremptory. I went over to him, shimmying playfully, until I caught the expression on his face. I sighed resignedly. Satisfying this particular urge of mine would have to wait.

“It’s time to get changed. Quickly now!"

“Which dress am I to wear tonight?”

“Oh, there’s an outfit laid out for you.” As I headed for the dressing room, he added “It’s something else, believe me. It’ll knock ’em dead!”

Why did I not like the sound of that? In my experience, knocking ’em dead was usually a euphemism for being far too revealing for my comfort and as I guessed, the outfit that awaited me was calculated to take the breath away. In silk brocade, it comprised matching corset, panties and half a skirt. The rear half! My legs would be adorned with fancy stockings which was good, because they would be completely exposed. To complete the ensemble, there was also a pair of coordinating slippers and a feathery headdress.

If I’d ever wanted a place in a line of chorus girls, here was the ideal get up. Of course I hadn’t wished for that, though I have to admit that back in high school, when my cheer-leading buddies and I had been swapping fantasies about the most outrageous outfit we might dare wear, this kind of costume would have come close to our ideal. Just teenage girl talk!

Resignedly I hauled the entire collection off to the powder room where I could change in less cramped surroundings. Alma was already in there, an eye-catching sight with her mature figure decked out in the same regalia.

“Don’t look” she snapped. “It’s all right for a pretty young thing like you. There’s way too much of me for something like this.”

I tried to reassure her despite my own misgivings. “Don’t worry. You’re simply gorgeous.”

“It’s this damned corset. Too tight below and I don’t have enough bust to anywhere near fill the top” she grumbled.

“I see what you mean.”

“What makes it even worse is that you come waltzing in here sporting that pair of pointy things. You sure you didn’t do that a purpose? I can’t compete! ”

I was beginning to regret my frivolous choice of the bullet bra as lingerie. It had had the wrong effect entirely.

“No, no!” I tried to explain. “I was just trying to get Adrian’s attention. You know, to wind him up, for a laugh!”

“Honey. Getting that man’s attention is no achievement, believe me. I think he’s obsessed with anything remotely female!”

To return to the problem in hand “Have you tried using some padding?” I suggested.

“Of course, but I can’t get them to look natural.” She handed me a wad of tissue. “It’s hopeless! You have a go!”

What?

“Oh, I don’t know if…” I dithered.

“For heaven’s sake, girl!” Alma pulled the edge of the garment away so I would be able to use both hands on shaping what was below. “Go on!”

I’ve wanted to forget the next few moments ever since. Somehow, I stopped my hands from trembling as I positioned a wedge of tissue paper below first one and then the other of her breasts. I tried not to notice how much softer they felt than mine, but couldn’t avoid doing so. The experience was charged with far more eroticism than I wanted to experience just then. Though I could be thankful that everything down below was securely taped away, the distracting tingling I was getting made matters much worse.

Alma appeared to be totally unfazed by the experience and when I had done manipulating her bosom, expressed her gratitude with an all-enveloping hug. It was good to be appreciated but I could have coped with the embrace better if she had been wearing a little more. My embarrassment didn’t go unnoticed and attracted some ribald chaffing.

“Why, you’re blushing! Don’t be shy, honey. Your hands are so nice and gentle, I was getting quite horny in there.” Alma gave me a playful push on my shoulder. “You’re a strange kid. That must be the first time I’ve been turned on by a girl.” She went off into one of her fits of silent laughter.

Strange indeed. I didn’t see fit to enlighten my frisky friend, though I felt guilty about the secrecy. Would she have asked me to help her if she had known? Perhaps she would. Aagh! The idea was too uncomfortable to contemplate!

Seeking to divert the direction of her thoughts, I stood back to appraise her. “Now let me look at you. Stunning! But… let me try something with my make-up.”

When I had worked some salon magic on her face, the woman was really delighted. She primped and posed in front of the glass to her heart’s content. While she was thus occupied, I took the opportunity to slip into a stall, strip off my clothing and struggle into my own constricting costume.

“Let me help you with that” called my companion, when I was about halfway.

“Oh yes, please.” I emerged once the most important parts of the outfit were in place. “I’m almost ready but if you could lace this corset for me…”

That seemed a safe enough request, though my breathing was definitely impaired when Alma had done pulling and tightening. My usual regime of nightly corset training had slipped a little over the past few weeks and my bust was threatening to overflow. As we returned to the bar together, I asked my now intimate friend to mix me a cocktail.

“The usual?” she asked, quizzically eyeing me up and down.

“No, a real one, please. Just this once. I’m gonna need it!”

“You don’t say!” came the arch rejoinder. “Honey, I wouldn’t trade places with you for any money. I’m not moving from behind this bar until we close!”

I took my drink to my usual barstool ready for the doors opening, feeling so self-conscious I must have resembled a rabbit caught in the headlights. The band provided a welcome distraction while I was waiting. They were running through a few numbers so I wandered over to listen. Straightaway, I was accosted by the bandleader, Terry.

“Honey, do you sing?”

I hesitated, completely taken aback by the question. “I guess… sometimes.” Actually, I often sang… in the shower!

“Swell! If you were able sing along with me on a few numbers, then it will add a little sparkle. The folks round here know us only too well, so it could make quite a difference. Want to give it a try?”

“Er… Okay, I think.” To say I felt doubtful doesn’t cover it, but backing vocals ought to be easy enough, and I wouldn't be in unfamiliar territory. Sometimes Mom had taken it into her head to pretend that she and I were a duo called the Cartwright sisters. She would make sure we were dressed the same and we’d sing along to the radio together. My little brother used to pull faces and clap his hands to his ears, but I didn’t think we were so bad!

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the reaction of the other musicians. They were exchanging dubious glances.

“Good girl!” Tony waved dismissively. “Forget them. They can’t see beyond their noses. You look terrific so the audience aren’t going to be too picky if you fluff a note or two. As long as you keep going you will be fine. Here’s the playlist and a pencil. Mark the songs you know, and we’ll put them together to give you a ten-minute spot, okay?”

What had I let myself in for now? I told myself that a few Ooh-oohs and Aah-aahs at the appropriate points was all that would be required. How hard could that be? The thought of singing with a real live band was exciting, but my jitters went up a level or two nevertheless. My fears over how my revealing outfit would be received by the clientele had now been totally eclipsed.

As it happened, no anxiety on that score was called for. No-one hit on me, at least not any more than on the previous night. My professed admirer, Andy, didn’t show and neither did my ‘friend’ the cop. The worst I had to endure was some light chaffing of the “Forgot your bloomers, darling?” variety, but otherwise I was treated with kid gloves and felt like a real lady in consequence. Whether my costume was so revealing that the majority of onlookers were content with merely ogling me or whether its overt sexiness was more than they could handle I can’t be sure. Probably most were there just to hear the band.

As time went on, I relaxed and began to enjoy myself with a little light flirting. The drinks were flowing so Adrian was happy too. It was a good evening. The group played the usual standards, the kind of thing my mom had loved to hear. They went down well with the audience where they clearly had a following. To my inexperienced ears they were first rate and being invited to join them was highly flattering if a little daunting. What if the addition of my humble efforts brought the music crashing down?

When the time for my ‘spot’ came, Terry’s introduction gave me a massive build-up. “Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we have a special treat for you. I’d like you to give a warm welcome to a little lady who has come a long way to entertain you. She looks great and sounds even better. It’s her first time singing with us, so give it up for your very own hostess, Jenny!”

The ensuing applause was enthusiastic, although it remained to be seen whether the listeners’ approval would survive my performance. I cleared my throat discreetly and the band launched into the first of our numbers. Taking my cue from Terry’s lead my first faltering notes issued forth. The amplified sound was so different to anything I was used to hearing that I almost stopped in my tracks, but I remembered his admonition and kept going.

There was applause when we reached the end of the song and there were smiles all around among my… yes, my ‘fellow musicians’. It was no big deal, but the sense of achievement I got was euphoric. I couldn’t wait to sing again!

My little interlude with the band ended all too soon, leaving me wanting more. As I made my final curtsy and stepped down from the platform my emotions were running high.

The band continued with the rest of their set. While I stood watching I had one regret. None of my friends or family had been present to witness my ‘debut’ performance, such as it was.

I heaved a sigh.

“What’s the matter, honey? You seem a mite upset.” A familiar voice behind me offered sympathy, which as can often happen had the effect of making me fill up.

I responded without turning to face the speaker. “Oh, it’s nothing, but while I was up there, it would have been nice to have been able to look around and see someone I knew.”

“I guess.”

I blinked back a tear.

“Try looking round now.”

I turned my head and the smiling face before me was that of… Ryan. Smartly dressed in white shirt and black pants, he was a sight for sore eyes.

“I heard you were working here" he explained. "By the way, you sounded great up there.”

“Go on! I was only crooning along.”

“No really. It added a lot.”

“Well, I’m not giving up my day job. Who told you I was here?” I had an inkling but would have liked it to be confirmed.

He didn’t answer but pointed at the band. “Listen. They’re playing our song.”

“Really?” It was a slow number I hadn’t heard before. “What is it?”

Ryan shrugged “Who knows? But let’s dance.”

Next moment I was in his arms as we began gyrating gently to the music. It felt soothing and safe to be held so. It had been a long day.

Soon afterwards the bar closed for the evening. Ryan and I had danced the final number and the customers had mostly gone when he posed the question I’d been half-expecting, and dreading.

“Can I see you again?”