Stag Show: The Erotic Classic
Click on image to enlarge.
Category: Erotica/Classic Erotica
Description: Behind-the-scenes erotic novel set in the declining days of stag shows, vaudeville houses, burlesques and the women who stripped for the men who came there to watch. For women who aspired to be actresses and performers, stripping was a one-way ticket to nowhere. To survive they had to expose their bodies and bestow their favors on the seediest of men. And they worked for the only men who would own a strip joint, the mob. Every day these desperate women lived in fear of mob violence or arrest by the long arm of the the law, while they snatched what love they could in the arms of men who used them only to satisfy their darkest perversions. Reading this searing novel is a bird's eye view into the dressing room and into the bedrooms of these lost, love-hungry women and their men. A fascinating, steamy novel..
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: March 2009
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [217 KB]
Reading time: 123-173 min.
"Gosh, Nelga, you're so rough with a guy who doesn't like to fight," Max said. "You shouldn't hit a peace-loving man."
Max stayed on the floor, wiping at the trickle of blood on his chin until Nelga jerked him to his feet and punched him down again.
"You little fathead!" Nelga yelled again. "When I say magenta I don't mean a bright straw gelatin!"
"Okay, Nelga. I goofed," Max said. "I'll try to remember."
Nelga said, "Now get up, Max. When you finish your chores get back on the spotlight for the finale. I want you to see the girls are dressed and out when the film goes on. We don't want them around when the circus starts--they might chicken out on the next stag."
"Leave the room first," Max begged. "I don't want to be knocked down again."
"I won't belt you anymore," Nelga said. "Now come do my five-o'clock shadow like a good boy. I left my glasses in the car."
Max got up and reached into her makeup case. He took an injector razor from it and chipped away at the stubble until it was a low straight neat line.
"I hate untidiness," Nelga said. "Go check the other girls for me till I get my glasses. The finale's a complete ... so make them appetizing. I think Millie's a little straggly by now."
"Maybe," Max said. "She hasn't done a complete in a week."
Max got up and reached for a barber's hairbrush.
Nelga said, "Brush it all off. I don't want to get an itch right in the middle of my number. Hand me the vaseline like a good boy."
Max got some Liquid Skin and filled in Nelga's hysterectomy scar. "It'll dry quick," he said. "Then you can pat some pancake on it. It won't show with the magenta..."
Max got his barber's shears and went to Millie in the other dressing room. "Not again, Max!" she said when she saw him. "I'm neat. I hate to pull my G-string, I got a rash. That Nelga forget her glasses again?"
"Okay, Mill, but you know Nelga and her appetizing fetish," Max warned her. "Nelg just doesn't like to be seen with her specks on."
"Shit!" said Millie as she gingerly peeled out the imprisoned elastic cord that held the lower point of the sequined triangular patch in front of her. She released the other elastic cord from around her waist and said, "Have at it, barber! And don't nick me this time when you do the goatee..." * * * *
Max Barber spun the color wheel when Erma banged out a fanfare on the old upright piano and watched Nelga, wearing a beaded ankle length cape, walk regally into the kaleidoscope of his spotlight's revolving rainbow.
Nelga turned a shoulder toward the men and rested her chin upon it as she coolly appraised them with a provocative look.
"Boys!" she finally said to the stag audience. "Like the man said, you ain't seen nothin' yet. So far you've seen our boobies and bare be-hinds ... now in our finale you're gonna see what makes preachers leave home. Here's Ding Doy, all the way from Korea!"
Nelga raised an arm to the wings and Ding Doy's shapely leg appeared, stretched out from behind the curtain. A hip followed, then Ding Doy made her entrance and executed a parade walk across stage.
Nelga raised her arm again. "And here comes Afrie Kah, right out of darkest Africa!"
The dark brown girl paraded until she stood beside Ding Doy. "Conchita Lopez from Mexico City" paraded, then posed.
Apache Annie followed, then Canada Cathy, Frenchy Frills and Nippon Neze. The seven girls posed prettily in their diversified wardrobes, forming a traditional chorus-line-finale.
Max spun the color wheel again as he heard, "Take 'em off!" from several hoarse throats, cadenced with measured hand claps and foot stamps.
When Madam Hollywood Hills slunk on the men went wild with vociferous anticipation and the first girl moved in front of the others to begin her last dance of the show.
As Ding Doy stepped from the line Erma went into the last four bars of Chinatown, then arpeggioed into the chorus as Ding Doy pranced, high-stepping like a show pony to the up-tune rhythm.
After a fast sixteen bars, Erma segued the piano mood and Ding Doy went to the other end of the stage to pose as Apache Annie gyrated to the tom-tom beat Erma plunked out on the bass keys.
Max Barber turned the color wheel to Apache's straw gelatin. He thought about the spotlight he was operating ... Best investment I ever made ... It's kept me in show biz ... Only thirty-five bucks at the Otto K. Olesen Company.
Max automatically followed Millie's routine with the special lavender beam of his light as his thoughts drifted to Nelga. She was a rough bitch, he thought, but her "husband" Neal was a rougher sonofabitch.
Neal and Nelga shacked together. Neal was an ex-dealer, thrown out of Las Vegas for dealing seconds. He was clever-smooth at switching dice in his strong agile fingers as well.
Nelga had been a name act, turned stripper when vaudeville took its nose-dive. Now Nelga was showing the wrinkles and folds of her buxom torso that had motivated her into booking stags and smokers.
Nelga had a contact in one Wingy Welch, a one-armed unscrupulous hunchback who had collected pornographic films since the day he first climaxed all over a girl in a panty ad in The Woman's Home Journal. Wingy was thirteen when he saw his first sperm on that page.
Now aged thirty-five Wingy had one of Southern California's largest libraries of downright erotic sixteen-millimeter motion-picture films.
Max glanced through the spotlight halo to where Wingy stood in the wings, spittle hanging on lip corners as he watched Ding Doy edge offstage. Max Barber turned the color wheel to blue for Canada Cath's number.
"Doy!" he said, grabbing her elbow in a powerful hand. "I'll make it two C's..."
"Wingy," Doy said. "Please let go of me or I'll tell Nelga."
Wingy let go and said, "Don't tell Nelga, Doy. I'm warning you."
Nelga looked offstage and cast a fleeting glare at them.
Max Barber caught the action and thought, That lecherous bastard Wingy! He thought of Doy, Eurasian, dainty and beautiful. If my little Doy doesn't break away from Nelga, she'll soon be a stripper, too, instead of just doing that innocent China Doll routine in the brocaded baby-doll Chinese kimono ... and that rice-paper Oriental parasol ... a fan would be a better prop for Doy. I'll get her one.
Max barely caught the four-bar cue that signaled in Afrie Kah's color. He turned to the pink gelatin as Afrie broke into her sixteen-bar Watusi.
As Apache Annie edged offstage Max opined that she, too, would someday have to take 'em off if she didn't get out of Nelga's clutches. Apache Annie always did her routine clothed in a hip-length imitation deerskin jacket with fringe and Indian bead designs. She wore a fringed beaded mini-skirt that revealed about eight or nine inches of leg above her knees ... the same and only exposure Ding Doy ever presented an audience.
Max thought, I guess Nelga'll work on that prim dancing school graduate, too, until Annie begs for any kind of work to meet rent and sustenance. Max had seen it happen before ... a starry-eyed kid on the glamour fringes of show biz ... dreams shot to pieces by the blunt fact she lacked talent to continue in the "legit" theater. That was when the show-biz addict got out of show-biz or...
Well, Max thought, the odds are that Annie will strip down to pasty, patch and bridge, someday. Eventually in order to stay in "the biz" she'll have to do completes too, then maybe Nelga will turn her out as a circus girl like the ones waiting outside the Angelus Country Club now. Then "graduate" Apache Annie to the door-prize routine with the naked one-armed hunchback bobbing and hopping about the fornicating prize winner like a lewd nude court jester from the days of bacchanalian Rome and degenerate Greece...
Max had seen several transient circus trios come and go at the stag shows he had spotlighted. Nelga named all of them the same--"Agnes, Mabel and Becky"-and all were basically the same in general ... whores or ex-strippers gone rogue, or too old. Those outside now, awaiting their turns onstage, were "Agnes, Mabel and Becky," huddled together under a blanket in the station wagon parked on the lot next to the Angelus Country Club...
Becky said, "I wish to Christ Wingy'd get the pictures started so we can get out of this cold and get dressed for the circus."
"Undressed, you mean!" Agnes said as she leaned over and closed her lips over one of Mabel's nipples through the sheer cloth of her blouse.
"Jesus Christ, Agnes!" Mabel said, "Don't you get enough of that doing the circus? We'll be in it soon..." She looked at her watch.
"Can't never be enough," Agnes said as she lipped the cloth pucker surrounding the other nipple.
Neal knocked on the station wagon window. "It's me," he said.
Mabel pulled up the lock button and opened the door. "We're freezing!" she cried. "Sunny California, hell!"
Neal said, "Get ready, girls. Nelga's just gone into her number. Then the complete flash, and you can go in and get ready while Wingy's setting up the projector and screen..." * * * *
Max Barber spun the color wheel to the magenta gelatin and Nelga let the long beaded cape slip slowly from her shoulders. She held it a brief moment, then let it fall away to expose her perfectly proportioned forty-inch bust. There were gasps of approval as she cupped her hands under them.
Of such perfection were the twin mounds in their youthful texture and firm juts, that one scarcely noticed the imperfections on the rest of her middle-aged torso. Stretch-marks showed on her legs and Nelga's heavily pancaked varicose veins danced beneath her skin with puckers and wrinkles on most parts of her body.
Nelga looked down on her nearly too-perfect breasts. She beamed unashamedly and Max knew she was thinking, With these, no one can tear eyes away to notice my defects elsewhere.
Slowly she slid her foot up her other leg and when the knee was well up, kicked a languid arc into a frontal toe point.
Max watched her breasts, remembering the proposed breast job the Pasadena surgeon had pitched to Nelga-slit an incision under each breast where it joined the chest proper and insert perfectly molded plastic mounds ... pull the skin tight and close the long incisions with sutures. Knowing the bare breast facts Max was able to circumvent the designed ocular distraction and see the pathetic performance of the "work horse" stripped.
As Nelga bumped and ground circling squats and leaps, he noted clearly the mounds of belly, thigh and rump as they bounced and flopped about like Jello in a hurricane ... they were why Nelga knocked him on his ass twice when he gave her a straw light instead of the magenta which could obscure all bodily defects as effectively as a shroud and shed ten years from Nelga's form at the turn of a gelatin spotlight color wheel.
As Nelga did a turn at the end of her number she delivered a high kick, holding her leg up with one hand and her G-string patch in the other. She scissored her clean-shaven labia with the little Hitler moustache above it, and bowed her head demurely as she pivoted for all to see ... the slash of vaseline was intended to impart a moist "appetizing" appeal.
Max went to a lighter gelatin, anticipating the flash cue as Nelga stepped gracefully into the wings. When she was out of the stag members' collective view, she called from offstage, "All right girls, flash!"
The bare-breasted seven pulled the flaps of their patches aside to expose pubic hair quickly and as quickly re-covered their "Venus deltas." The men kicked at the floor and rattled chair legs. They whistled, hollered and applauded until Max thought his eardrums would cave in.
"Flash!" Nelga called again, and they did it again. Now you see it, now you don't ... Max thought, amused. The house was in roaring frenzy.
"Tease!" Nelga said and the girls uncovered, covered, uncovered, covered in a dozen tantalizing split-second exposures. Max turned to the next lightest gelatin.
"Milk 'em!" Nelga ordered and the girls exposed slowly, then re-covered, offered longer exposure, then re-covered a dozen times again as Max rotated the color wheel through all the gelatin hues.
The wolves howled and panted, pleaded and roared. When Nelga judged the "peak" had been reached she took a deep breath. Max waited, his hand ready on the color wheel.
"Complete!" she said and the girls stood spread-legged-nude, whirling their G-strings above their heads.
"Kick!" They did ... high.
"Hold!" They did ... high.
"Go to white!" Max removed the color wheel as he shoved the spotlight lever forward to flood position ... The starkly revealing blinding white light exposed and clearly defined the nude girls.
Max watched the changing, rotating row of breasts, then of rumps, then of glistening labia with their slashes of moist-appetizing-appeal-vaseline...
The audience din was maddening as the girls left the stage ... there were a dozen low bows, back and front, before Nelga let them go to the dressing rooms.
Max Barber was beside Ding Doy backstage. She was still wearing her Chinese baby-doll kimono.
He said, "Doy, is that what you want ... could you do that...?"
"No," she said, "not that...!"
Nelga came back onstage covered with her long beaded cape. "Boys," she said, holding out her hands for attention and quiet.
When the crowd settled, Nelga casually let a corner of the cape "accidentally" slip away to expose one breast.
Max looked and said, "See what it's like, Doy? Listen and think..."
"Boys," Nelga said again, "that commotion there is Wingy setting up the projector. You're gonna see some pictures of that famous screen star doing certain stag things when she was a starlet-nobody ... You're gonna see that famous baby-face stripper doing things you only dream about. Then we're gonna have a circus ... three girls alone ... doing what you know damn well you want to see three girls do..."
The men laughed uneasily.
Max nudged Doy and said, "Here it comes. Listen!"
Nelga continued, "Then there's gonna be the door prize you were promised when you bought your tickets ... you win even if you don't ... Every one of you gets to watch the winner doing his stuff ... with me ... I'M the door prize...!"
The stag mob roared lusty approval.
Max said, "Do you really have the stomach to break in in that kind of atmosphere, Doy?"
"Boys!" Nelga called again, claiming their attention with her other bare breast. "Wingy'll need about an hour to set up the pictures ... there's a crap table set up in the back of the room for your amusement, to pass the time while Wingy's setting up.
"There's no one at the table except your own fellow workers, so don't be afraid of professional gamblers filtering in and cleaning your pokes ... every badge is inspected by your own committeemen at the entrance ... the beer keg's in the far corner ... see you soon-soon-soon...!"
Max jerked Ding Doy towards the dressing room. "Think it over, Doy," he said. "I know I agreed ... I'll keep my promise if you insist on breaking in."