GINNIE TRANSFORMED

At the Club

Tonight started no different than every weekend at Glisse. Glitter was everywhere and on everyone.

The thumping music coming from the stage was momentarily loud as the door opened to the ladies’ dressing room, and Velvet Kitty entered. Thankfully, the heavy wood door swung shut quickly and muted the noise from the crowd and music. The club crowded to capacity, the patrons rowdy. The dancers and waitstaff were eagerly separating people from their money.

The tall vixen sashayed past the other dancers with her perfectly sculpted nose in the air. Mists from hairspray and facial products clung to the air in the mildly warm room as dancers prepared for their sets. Velvet’s eyes lighted on her only actual competition at the club. Velvet decided she was enemy number one for no reason except for her beauty and high morals—a decision she would soon regret.

“Stop pulling my hair, you bitch!” Ginnie screamed as her head snapped back, and she reached back and pushed Velvet Kitty away from her. It was the end of her shift, and although she had made serious bank from being in the Looking Glass tonight, she was tired and not in the mood for anyone’s shit. It looks like she will have to make an example out of Velvet for the last time.

Velvet Kitty had just finished her set and was feeling full of herself. Her unwarranted jealousy of GingerSnap decided to show up as she passed GingerSnap’s station. Velvet would see if all that luscious, thick, natural-looking ginger-colored hair was really hers. With malicious intent, she grabbed a handful and gave it a vicious yank. Damn, it was real.

Ginger was so sick of these trifling hoes. Someone was always up in her personal space, trying to fight her or steal her stuff. Why was she still going through this? Glisser was supposed to be a super high-end joint. The way some of these silly bitches acted, it might as well have been a barn on the side of the road. She had enough money to relocate, to bounce from this fray of money, sex, and sin.

Notoriously known by everyone who worked at the club, Velvet laughed loudly and waited for a beat before pushing Ginger’s head into the mirror and sashaying off to her dressing table, 100′s, 50′s, and 20′s stuffed to the brink, in her glow-in-the-dark G-string. A hand full of wadded bills occupied her skimpy top. All the lights were green on her digital garter for the clients who paid by credit.

Ginger, pushed to her last limit, turned, and rocketed a can of hairspray at the back of Velvet’s head. The noise the crack made was loud as it made contact. The dancers in the dressing room, the bouncers, the makeup artists, everyone within earshot stopped in their tracks—everyone except Ginger, who quickly closed the distance and jumped on top of Velvet. GingerSnap had indeed snapped. Her fists pummeled the bully dancer’s face into a bloody pulp. No one rushed to break them up or help Velvet.

The truth was, everyone at the club hated Velvet Kitty. She had managed to make most people despise her, so everyone barely tolerated her. Most of the other dancers avoided her as much as possible. This ass-kicking she was getting was indeed epic, bound to make her lose a few days of work. The only downside was that Velvet had just come from a Looking Glass infamously called Into the Looking Glass and probably barely felt any of it right now. She would tomorrow, though, for sure.

Velvet was a stunning Hispanic and Egyptian transgender female who pulled in serious money for the club, but she was not pleasant. She thrived on drama and pettiness. She was one of the few who started as a male. As she got breasts and hung on to her male genitalia, she quickly became a superstar at the club. Mr. Marius immediately put her mid-transformation in a looking glass where she made a killing. Her next stop was in the Into the Looking Glass room experience.

Rumor had it; she was unhappy and felt her gender was female, 100%. She sunk into a deep depression, putting off her final transition because Shine, the face of the place and co-manager, convinced her she was a more valuable asset to the club mid-transformation.

One evening after her shift, one of the bodyguards found her unconscious in the employee lounge. Velvet had taken almost an entire bottle of pills. After being rushed to the hospital and a short stint in therapy, Velvet returned to the club. She wasn’t the same. The light had gone out of her eyes, and her performances started lacking the passion that enthralled the club’s wealthier members. Eventually, Mr. Marius stepped in, paid for more therapy, and allowed her to complete her transition. Her loyal clients took to her like a shiny new toy, while others shunned her, feeling like she took away their favorite plaything. Her money nor her never-ending drama ever suffered. Velvet was made for entertainment and could have a crowd eating out of her hand at the sexy flick of her hips.

She should have focused on her current state of fabulousness, not being a stuck-up, troublemaking bitch. Just because she regularly screwed Shine and had a secured spot in the Looking Glass room rotations, she thought she was queen shit. She did not seem to realize she was literally and figuratively being fucked over. She childishly thought she was manipulating him. Had he cared for her, maybe yes, but he barely gave a fuck where his dick landed. She had so much more potential, but you can’t make a person be any more than they desire for themselves.

However, you can fuck up their shit when they cross into your lane and come at you, thus, their current situation.