Page 3 of Shameful Addictions

This video was meant to be all about how sex empowered the women who worked with it, but there wasn’t anything empowering she could see in this place. Club Lollipop had turned sex, which she thought should be serious and valuable, into a cheap toy. These girls, in their dresses and cute outfits, were nothing more than dolls for men to play with.

“Here’s your water!” the bunny-girl announced, startling Charlotte. She almost fell off her chair. A glass of clear liquid was set in front of her, wet moisture gleaming on the outside of the frosty glass. “I put it on your tab. I’m sure you’ll be wanting more.”

“I wanted lemon?”

The bunny-girl opened her eyes very wide. “We don’t use real lemon. The peels are so-o-odirty.Isquirteda little something special in there for you, though.”

“What?”

“Just kidding! It’s only lemon juice!” The girl giggled and hopped off.

Charlotte picked up the glass and took a sip. The flavorless liquid struck her tongue, encapsulated her senses. It wasn’t water. It was vodka. Straight vodka, with a touch of lemon. Choking, sinuses burning, Charlotte shoved the glass away, leaving a smear of condensation on the table. Tears stung her eyes from the powerful alcohol, from humiliation and guilt. Drinking was another serious subject on which she’d made videos. Charlotte had a few glasses of wine a year, mostly during holidays. To be handed a glass of vodka so casually by a hardly of age waitress was unfathomable, unthinkable. She’d never have imagined such a moment could ever exist.

I need to get out of here.

The music started up again, signaling that another stage routine was about to begin. Lights pulsed and danced, spinning in and out of each other, dizzying.

I need to stay,she told herself, arguing with her own sensibilities. She could have been laid off when the new owner bought the company. They had been very generous in keeping her on, rather than replacing her.

She owed them, that anonymous figure. Shouldn’t she at least attempt to do a good job here?

The glass of vodka was much more appealing, suddenly. Charlotte picked it up and took another sip, letting the warmth scorch all the way through her. Already, her mind was buzzing, loosening from the effects of the alcohol.

Feeling a little braver, Charlotte stood up and took her drink over to the stage to get a better look at things.

Chapter two

Petals in bloom

Withanotherdanceroutinebehind her and half the glass of vodka in her system, Charlotte was ready to enter the second phase of her investigation. She’d observed and had seen far more than she’d ever planned to. Now it was time for her to get some answers to her burning questions, and damn, did she have a ton of them.

Charlotte stood up from her spot by the now-empty stage and cast an eye around the club. The pulsating lights didn’t fool her for an instant. She saw the waitress from before right away, gyrating her hips in a male customer’s face. His face was a rictus of pleasure as he writhed beneath her, gripping the sides of his chair. Every inch of his posture spoke of an intense desire to grab the girl and screw her.

I think I’m buzzed. Maybe a little more. Maybe I’m drunk.

Charlotte stared at the rabbit-tailed waitress until she finally hopped away from the man, who hurried off to the bathroom with one hand shoved into his pocket. And she kept staring until the waitress finally noticed her and scurried on over.

“Are you enjoying your drink?” the waitress asked, bobbing her head so her ears flopped and bounced. Her bosom, small, perky, mimicked the movement in a more restrained manner.

“Best water I’ve ever had.” Charlotte took a sip from her glass. She’d long since stopped tasting the vodka and only felt it as a burn down her throat, under her chest, in her core. The only taste was that of lemon juice, like a pungent jab to the mouth.

The bunny-girl giggled. “Great. Can I get you anything else? A show, maybe?” She turned and bent over, sticking out her ass. Her cheeks were so firm that when she flexed them, they parted, showing a bit of the body of the buttplug underneath the cottony pouffe attached to the end.

A wave of acidic disgust roiled in Charlotte’s stomach and made it almost all the way up to her mouth before she managed to fight it back down. She suddenly didn’t feel as drunk. What she had just seen was going to haunt her for days, having burned itself into the retinas of her eyes.

Charlotte closed her eyes, saw the afterimage of the girl’s rear on the backs of her eyelids. The pulsing lights of the club still made their way beneath the thin stretches of skin, blinking on and off, on and off.

“Hey, you don’t look so good, miss. Maybe you need some actual water?”

Charlotte forced a smile to her lips and opened her eyes. “Actually, I’m fine. Thank you. A bit dizzy is all. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure!” The girl brightened in an instant.

“How old are you?”

The change in mood occurred again just as fast as before. The waitress pursed her lips together. “I’m 18. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Charlotte mentally scolded herself for being so uncouth. She wasn’t going to get any information that way. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I wanted to know more about the kind of girl who would work at a place like this. That sounds bad, too. I’m sorry. I’m usually better at this.”

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