Breaking Clichés Ch. 04

"Oh I will, don't worry!" I replied with a knowing smile, taking my identification back from her immaculately manicured hand.

"One last thing," the perfect girl said. "Please leave your phones or any other cameras you may have with us."

We complied, but I could see that the request really surprised Scarlett. Then, from a box on the table I took a couple of minimalist but elegant masks. When I offered one to Scarlett she was surprised again, but took it nonetheless. We both put them on before crossing the entrance. I knew she wanted to ask me a million question, but somehow managed to refrain.

Once inside the restaurant proper, we were assaulted by a barrage of experiences. First of all it smelled delicious. The cooks here were very famous, even if some would rather keep their presence here private. Then was the sight. From our first point of view we couldn't see the entire room, but what little we could really took Scarlett by surprise. As she took in the extraordinarily luxurious setting, she turned to me, grabbed my arm and whispered, "Where the fuck are we?"

"We're at The Bird, my dear." I said, knowing that it wouldn't mean anything to her.

I was wrong. "What, it's here?" she replied quickly, pulling me with her deeper into the restaurant. Clearly she knew what The Bird was.

Stopping her and pulling her back to me before she could turn the last corner out of the large entry hall, I said, "What? You know this place?"

"Well, I know of it. It's a legend in the department. Some of our professors claim to have been here before, but they're very tight lipped about it, even when drunk at parties. Most of the students think that they're lying, and some of us even think... well, thought, that this place didn't even exist... How the fuck did you manage to get us here?"

I was floored by her explanation, and mumbled the answer to her question. "Well, old girlfriend was a..." then I stopped myself. I was not about to tell her that she was a professor in the department next to Scarlett's! "Anyway, she managed to get us a table and invited me mostly to observe."

She barely listened to my answer. Instead, she was pulling me into the restaurant proper, and tried to take it all in. It was absolutely magnificent, from the floor to the ceilings, from wall to wall, from the tables to the cutlery, from the music to the aromas... Everything was just about perfect. After all it ought to be: I knew the evening was going to cost at least 500$, and that's only if we didn't overindulge on the wine.

But despite the amazing decor and ambiance, what truly separated The Bird from other restaurants was the people. Roughly half of the waiters were women and the other half men, but to say that this restaurant was aware of gender equality and such issues was missing the point. The waiters, of either sex, were barely dressed at all. And while they were flawless as waiters, they had clearly been chosen for other criteria as well. The last time I was here, my date told me that these waiters made something close to a thousand dollars a night, mostly in tips. It didn't make all the ethical dilemmas disappear, but it did explain why The Bird never lacked staff.

And this place truly was a hotspot for ethical dilemmas. I remembered that while overt sexual contacts were not allowed with the staff, subtle touches and caresses were more than tolerated. The most experienced waiters became masters at the art of eliciting such touches and then larger tips in the process. How many of the "couples" here were actually couples was a very good question. I was curious to ask Scarlett about it, but right now she was still trying to see and learn about everything. We were led to our table, pretty much in the center of the restaurant.

As I wasn't an important client, we had not been assigned one of the more intimate tables near the walls. Looking around, I could see that many such tables had walls to isolate them, and even translucent curtains that could close. I was pretty sure they also had access to, well, more open-minded waiters and waitresses.

Sitting down in front of Scarlett, who I thought was easily the most beautiful women here, I wondered what my presence here said about me. In three days I would teach a class about ethics and how we could build a more enlightened society! When I laughed, Scarlett looked at me. She was grinning from ear to ear, thrilled to be here. "That is amazing!" she said, a bit breathless. I only smiled. When our waitress came by to explain the menu and shows for the evening, I was at a loss for a moment.

The girl was extraordinary. Very delicate, about 5'3", with mouth watering breasts and a neckline cut so low that both sides didn't even connect. Instead, it showed her skin from her neck all the way down to her waist. I was also pretty sure that it that girl didn't shave her pussy, that we would see the top of her bush... I got all that from a very brief glance. I was at a loss because, despite what most people here must be thinking, Scarlett wasn't an escort or a prostitute, she really was my girlfriend. I simply couldn't stare at the waitress like most patrons would.

In fact, the poor girl seemed genuinely surprised that I didn't, actually, stare at her. It looked like she was used to a slight pause before being able to start her speech, and she stumbled on a few words in her haste to fill the uneasy silence. From beneath her mask, Scarlett winked at me and smiled.

Once the waitress was gone, I said, "Glad you like my choice of restaurant, my dear. But know this; we're here as punishment for the haunted house!"

Scarlett was briefly surprised, but she took it in stride, asking, "Oh, so that's what you had in mind for your revenge... But I'm not sure I understand. I really like being here... All my friends are going to be jealous!"

"I know." I replied. "But I'm planning on making a few of the people here jealous as well."

"Oh..." was her only reply. She then looked around the room again and noticed that some of the patrons were already in some stage of undress, and the evening was yet young. "I see." was all she added, with a small smile on her lips.

"Glad that you do. By the end of the evening, I intend on making all the women he jealous, and all the men envious!" I said, smiling.

Scarlett's hesitant expression surprised me, but not so much as her words did. "You really think so? Some of the women here are absolutely stunning, and could make jaws drop anywhere they please..."

"I know, even if I don't have the leisure to gawk at them myself!" I said, raising my glass to her. "But trust me, they will be jealous..."

Scarlett smiled, but for the first time since I met her, she didn't seem as confident about her body and beauty as usual. I have been lucky enough to be with a few very beautiful women in my life, and it became clear that they didn't know just how beautiful they were, nor how powerful that beauty was. I had thought that Scarlett was fully aware of it, but this little hesitation made me doubt. In any case, I was going to prove that I was right.

Contrary to other restaurants, there was only one specific hour for reservations. And you couldn't be in a hurry, as all the tables would be served pretty much at the same time. They did that to punctuate the evening with a few shows. The first three were really nothing more than elaborate and fancy stripteases. They called them delightful pauses, but even though they were exquisitely designed and executed by stunning women and men, it was still a strip show. The last one was something more special. The only time I was here, the two models actually had sex on stage. It looked more like something from the X-Art studio than some vulgar peep-show, but it was still quite raw. I had to admit that I was looking forward to tonight's exhibition like a adolescent boy.

After our entree, I asked Scarlett to remove her black tank top. Ready for it, she smiled and shook her head slightly. Playfully acting like an offended virgin, she said, "Pervert..." before sighing and looking around. "You want me to do it here?"

"But of course... Women all know how to remove bras under their clothing... How hard can a tank top be?" I replied, grinning.

Despite the fact that I had spent the entire day looking at her naked, I did feel a thrill seeing her undressing in front of these people. When she was done, the top thrown under the table, I was grinning like a fool. The henna had been obvious before, but now, visible under the fine gold cloth of the remaining camisole, it was screamingly obvious. The black lace of her bra against the black and white background of her tattooed skin was remarkable. And, of course, people began to really take notice of her.

"So Scarlett, I think I'm going to start getting my revenge for that haunted house incident..." I paused a bit, and Scarlett looked at me directly, an unreadable expression on her face. "I'd really like a glass of whatever alcohol they serve at the bar. Would you mind getting me some?"

She smiled and shook her head again, but got up and walked to the bar. I grinned, watching her beautiful body from the back and front as she came back. As I expected, I wasn't the only one watching her progress; most men's heads turned to follow her.

Scarlett was grinning as she came back, giving me a glass of whisky. We spent the next few minutes drinking it silently, taking in even more of the wonders of this place. I could see, in her face, the war going on between her intellect and her sexuality. She wanted to see, learn and understand as much as possible about this place, but then again the increasingly obvious sexual atmosphere was also affecting her.

"Take your bra off..." A simple, whispered command as our whisky was running low. Scarlett looked at me again, and I could see that the sexual side was beginning to win. This time she stood up and took her bra off from underneath the flimsy camisole. When she was done, she made a little show of trying to find a place to put it, twisting around to and fro. Most of the men took immediate notice of this wild creature, her amazing breasts and the insane henna patterns all over her body. They could now see the rings of rubies around her nipples, attracting even more stares.

Scarlett grinned as she sat down, looking around at the men. Then, after a while, she looked at me and said, "Why are they all openly gawking at me? Is that a Bird thing?"

"Yep..." I said, confirming her theory. "There's an extremely simple rule here. People can stare at what others decide to show. Even before you were taking sociology classes, you must have been aware that women can show just as much leg, ass, belly or cleavage they care to in our world, but men can't openly look at what's exposed." She nodded. "Here this crazy unwritten rule has been overturned."

"Oh, I see. And what if the woman didn't herself choose to show what she's showing?"

"Hmm, good point. You're saying that you've been coerced into this near topless state?" I said, drinking the last sip of my whisky. When she nodded, thinking she had scored a point, I quickly came back. In a lower voice, leaning forward, I said, "You think that's me dominating you?"

I clearly saw her reaction, her eyes opening wide and her lower jaw dropping slightly. After taking a deep breath, she got up and walked to the bar again, bringing me back another whisky just in time for the entree and the first show. Watching her walking towards me, knowing that she was sexually excited, got me excited as well. The dance of her large tattooed breasts under that barely-there camisole, in full view of everybody here, was wonderful.

As the lights dimmed everywhere, music began. In the middle of the very large room, the lights increased on the stage and a magnificent woman got out on stage and began dancing and stripping. It was a very nice show, but I was already hard, my mind already locked into the woman in front of me. We all applauded when the woman was done, but when Scarlett placed her naked foot between my legs and against my hard cock, I forgot all about the stripper. Scarlett asked, "Oooh... Is that for her?"

Instead of replying, I looked at her straight in her eyes and took a deep breath, grabbing the edge of the table strongly. She could now see what I was feeling, and as I squeezed her leg between mine, she had her answer.

After the soup and another striptease, I looked at Scarlett and asked her to remove her skirt and other shoe. And, to my great surprise, she hesitated. "Scarlett, you're absolutely gorgeous and most of the men here would rather watch you strip than watch the women on stage..."

"Pfff... You're a flatterer, Professor... You're only saying that because I'm your girlfriend, because we fuck and because I wake you up with my breasts every other morning..."

We laughed together, but it was clear that she really was nervous. "Scarlett... While I do enjoy all these things, I assure you that my belief is noble and pure!" She laughed again, used to hearing me say this when poking fun at rationalist arguments. "But I'm serious. Wanna bet?"

"Bet? You're going to do a survey?" Scarlett asked, curious despite the quip.

"Nope. What about this. Remove your skirt and shoe, and go get us a some wine. When you come back, look around the room, and I'll bet you that every man here will be looking at you."

"All of them?" she asked, sure that she would win. "And what will you do if you lose?"

"Anything you want." I said, confidently.

"Hmmm..." she thought about it. "And in the unlikely even that you do win?"

"We'll go to La vie en rose, buy you a new bra and fuck in the booth." La vie en rose was her favorite lingerie shop, with mostly high end items.

"You know we can't do that!" Scarlett laughed. She was right as the booths there were in the middle of the shop, and had curtains instead of doors.

Instead of replying, I leaned back against my chair and looked at her. With my head I indicated the bar and smiled. Shaking her head, she got up, saying, "Anything I want?" I nodded. Scarlett smiled and walked to the bar nearly naked. All she had on was the translucent camisole and her black satin thong. My heart skipped a beat as I watched her walking in the crowded restaurant. From the back, she was very nearly naked.

I was planning on clearing my throat loudly, or dropping a knife on the table to get the attention of the people here, but soon I realized that it was not necessary. Even before she got to the bar, people were noticing and telling each other. When Scarlett turned around and began walking back, she paused for a moment and looked around. She quickly realized that I had been right. She sighed, looked at me and smiled.

It took her maybe ten seconds to walk back to our table, but those ten seconds were amazing. Deciding that I had been right and seeing all the men looking at her, she did a little shrug and embraced the odd circumstances. Standing very straight, pushing her chest forward with her head held high, she walked very proudly. She did her little trick of moving her breasts side to side using very slight body movements, and the effect was stunning.

My only explanation for that impressive move where her breasts moved and jiggled a lot despite very small body movements was their sheer weight. They must weigh several pounds each, still firm and high because of her youth. It didn't take them much to come alive, and Scarlett obviously knew exactly what she needed to do. I was transfixed, and so were everybody else.

She was flushed as she sat down, looking at me with a large grin. She had lost, clearly, but she had also won something in the process. She stared at me for a long while, as I sat mesmerized by her tattooed body, almost naked breasts, the henna on her neck and face and the small black mask. "So," she asked lightly, tasting the excellent wine, "when are we going to La vie en rose?" I grinned then laughed with her.

The main course finally arrived; I'm not one for long, drawn out dinners. I was famished. I was tempted to ask Scarlett to remove her thong, as some of the others guests already had, but I refrained. During the meal, Scarlett explored many ideas and hypothesis about this place and the presence of stripteases, but what fascinated her more were the nearly naked waiters and guests. Some of whom, actually, really were naked by now.

Her hardest question, was "Shouldn't I be profoundly shocked and enraged about this obviously sexist place?" Then again, she had already seen many male waiters and guests in various states of undress, and they seemed to be the recipients of just as many abnormal touches, gentle slaps and pinches as the female waitresses and guests.

Scarlett added, "Still... Even if it isn't necessarily sexist, surely it was morally abhorrent! It's one thing to err on the side of exhibitionism if one wants to... But to be paid for it, and touched? Isn't that something else?" I had no ready-made answer for her. From our point of view, none of the waiters seemed to be here against their will, and most of them positively seemed to enjoy it. On the other hand, if we sat them down, individually, with psychologists and asked them hard questions, it's a given that some of them will think their job was immoral.

In the midst of this intense discussion where neither of us tried to defend a specific position, we were interrupted by our waitress and an unexpected offer. Scarlett and I shared a quick look before nodding at the same time, more curious than ever. It seemed that we have been selected for a special, more private show. Last time I'd been here, I hadn't even known about more private shows. My guess is that Scarlett's little parade had attracted the attention of the managers. We had no idea what the private show was, but the waitress specifically asked us if we were both open minded about sexuality in semi-public settings. We were. Fifteen minutes later, our waitress would come and fetch us.

After she left, Scarlett asked me about my darkest fantasies... "John my love, we have fifteen minutes to talk about something very important... What is you deepest, darkest sexual fantasy?"

"Seriously?"

"Sure, why not? And what better place than here to ask about this?"

"Ok... I assume you're going to tell me yours afterwards?"

"Of course!" she was smiling like a minx. A naughty minx.

"Darkest in the sense of violent, or most secret?" I asked.

"Either."

"Let me think..." In fact, I didn't need to think about it all that long. Just wasn't sure if I really wanted to share that. "Here goes." I said after a deep breath. "I'm not sure it's one l I actually want to live, but... Remember when we watched that porn flick from Blacked? Where that tiny blonde girl was possessed by that huge black guy?"

"Of course! It was excellent!" which did nothing to dampen her devilish smile.

"Well, obviously I'd like to dream about being able to do the same and be that big."

"You're not small John!" Scarlett to my rescue. This time I was the one smiling when her mischievous smile turned into an expression of concern.

"I know, but I'm far from being that big. In any case, that's not my fantasy. The deepest fantasy, which I've never told anyone, is that sometimes, and I mean sometimes... Also, I want to repeat that I'm not sure that I'd want to do it in real life."

"I know, I know! Stop teasing me!" she said, laughing.

"Well, sometimes I think about being manhandled myself by such a huge man and cock."

Scarlett's eyes opened wider: she had been expecting something else. "Oh my dear... That, I would never have guessed." Scarlett was looking at me, and it was clear that her assessment of me had subtly changed. She added, once more in control and with her little smile "Well, I do have strap-on dildos, you know..."