Story – The Floor Show – Part 1
“The Floor Show”
by FurCreamer
I.
Heaven’s alter alter-ego, Hellena, poised precisely on the liquid black, seven inch heels of the silver buckled knee books that hugged her calves. Topped by about four inches of glistening black fox trim, the stretched shiny black leather and gleaming buckles below the cuffs combined to form a perfectly balanced example of glam-punk.
The rest of Hellena’s outfit matched, from woven fishnets and the black fox belted leather skirt, up to the well-stuffed leather corset whose buckles matched her boots. Holding it all down was a shiny black and white striped fox chubby coat with a giant collar that framed the big, teased out purple hair atop her head.
Hellena was the punk rock equivalent of Heaven’s glam rock persona, and emerged whenever the mood struck. In reality her tastes were much the same, the colors were generally just a bit more prone to black. Heaven’s closet full of white fox was mirrored nicely by Hellena’s racks of black fox garments.
Silver chains dangled in loops from the black fox belt cinching Hellena’s wire-thin waist and bounced against the crossed threads of the fine fishnet stockings that sheathed her smooth, pale thigh. The pallid complexion and heavy black mascara and lipstick added a goth aesthetic to Hellena’s look. Finally, the power of hairspray kept the long purple locks high aloft, and reminded Hellena she should probably avoid open flames.
The brief glow at the tip of Svetlana’s cigarette seemed a safe enough gamble. Hellena flashed off a “devil” hand-sign towards her counterpart, who simply responded with an amused nod. Heaven or Hellena, she always looked spectacular. Svetlana’s lips parted for the silky tendrils of her French exhale to make their final exit, sliding over her perfectly appointed features to loop over the four inch brim of the cherry red fox hat atop her equally, blindingly red hair.
Svetlana’s foxes mirrored the two-tone combination of Hellena’s black and white fox, though hers were a brightly dyed red mixed with black. The collar and sleeves of her enormous, ankle-length fox coat were a rich, shiny black, set off by the brilliantly dyed red of the body and cuffs. The large, wide brimmed hat was red on the edges and black on top. Below the coat the threaded leather thigh boots and intricately laced corset dress were only partially visible between the edges of the coat’s collar where it hung open.
The outfit could best be summed up as “czarina from hell.”
“Come now, we’re wasting time.”
Hellena smirked, “Chill, we’re cool.”
Svetlana tapped her foot and half long black ivory cigarette holder. “I prefer to be rather hot,” she replied, a stiff Russian accent to her otherwise dulcet tones.
The electronic tone signaled the arrival of the elevator.
“Station.”
Hellena patted Svetlana’s fox draped ass with her black fingernails and slinked into the waiting elevator. Svetlana strode in purposefully behind her. Hellena was already browsing the elevator panel, eyes drawn into thin lines of concentration as Svetlana’s eyes scanned the opulent interior of the elevator. Gold fixtures surrounded finely polished teak paneling that eschewed the usual mirrored walls. Though a signal of fine design work, Svetlana was hoping to get a few moments to admire herself on the ride up.
“This is the right building, I should hope…”
“It’s cool, found it,” Hellena reported as her black nails popped off a small panel over the main floor display. It was not exactly hidden, but merely something one would have to be looking for to find. Under the panel was small keypad. Hellena dialed in a series of numbers and the elevator’s door snapped shut. With a lurch, it began rising. “Most excellent,” Hellena exclaimed triumphantly. With a hard slap she snapped the panel back into place.
“Hmmmm, indeed,” Svetlana agreed, watching the numbers on the gold inlaid display light and extinguish one by one as the elevator climbed.
The last light, “R” flicked on, then off, as the elevator kept moving briefly, passing the floor it claimed to be the “Roof.” A “ding” accompanied the doors rolling open into a brilliantly decorated hallway.
“Woah,” Hellena said, peaking her big purple hair out and looking around. “She was right.”
Svetlana, now more sure of the situation, rigidified her posture and went about the elegant motions required to replace the extra long cigarette on the end of the ivory holder. While this performance took place, Hellena looked around the hallway, seeing others milling about. Svetlana, fresh unlit cigarette fastened to the holder, walked out of the elevator and took in the scene before her.
In the hallway others milled about. Most were dressed similarly to Svetlana and Hellena, if not quite so opulently. Well appointed t-girls in furs milled about the hallway, chatting and trading notes on their hair, makeup and coats. Svetlana started down the hall, Hellena in tow, artfully navigating the hall while absorbing the glances of the other gurls. These ranged from envy to spite, depending on how nice their own furs were. She arrived at the double doors at the end of the hall and glanced up.
The sign over the doors indicated beyond was “The Wet Fox Club.”
The fancy gold script in which the name was printed was merely part of the show. Shiny red nails pressed to the door, Svetlana pushed them open and was greeted with a rush of noise. The combined sound of hundreds of raised voices, moving feet, and reverberating bass was much like any club in any major metropolis.
The similarities ended there, though.
“No door dude,” Hellena said with the kind of low shout necessary to be heard in the din.
“No need, darling,” Svetlana replied. “The elevator code means anyone who’s here was invited.”
“Awesome”
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