Just down the street from where he was standing, Jon could see the garish neon sign of a bar. 'Girls! Girls! Girls!' it promised, as it flashed intermittently.
"Well, that's what I'm here for," he said to himself as he gingerly made his way down the sidewalk in his heels. The streets were empty, causing the click of his steps to echo on the buildings he passed. It had an eerie effect, one that made Jon feel exposed, vulnerable. Once again he found himself glad that he had found such a wonderful and practical outfit; if he had ended up walking down the street in his towel, or worse, naked, he'd feel ten times as vulnerable!
The door to the bar had a cold steel exterior, with a cool metal handle. Jon wrapped his hand around it and pulled.
The noise hit him like a wall, making him briefly gasp for breath.
Inside the bar the music was pounding, and almost every inch of the place was full, of men, some of whom he recognized from the plane trip over. He squeezed through the crowd and made his way to the bar. The trip through the mass of bodies took a while, bodies rubbing up against each other, hands touching places that they probably shouldn't have been, but Jon dismissed it as the nature of the beast.
There were no stools available, so Jon stood at the bar and waited for the bartender to notice him. It didn't take long before a topless bodybuilder of a man wearing black pants and a bowtie sidled over to him and asked what his poison would be.
It was that moment that Jon realized he had no way of paying. His wallet had been in his clothes that he'd worn before he showered.
"No worries," the beefy bartender replied, "It's all included in your stay. So what'll it be?"
"Scotch on the rocks," Jon replied, excited about the prospect of free booze, "make it a double!"
Jon people-watched while he downed his first drink. Most of the guys were standing around talking, but kept looking around as if they were expecting something. Jon didn't blame them. Where were the girls? He found the whole thing very strange.
By the time he got to his third drink, the music started to sound really good. For the past few songs Jon had found himself tapping his toes, nodding his head slightly to the beat, but now he wanted to move. He downed the scotch, ordered another and turned away from the bar, letting the music wash over him. He found his hips swaying, his hands exploring his body, shoulders moving to the rhythm. The problem was that there just wasn't enough room! He kept bumping into the patrons around him. Once or twice he found himself accidentally grinding up against a large man in a business suit next to him!
Something had to change. Grabbing his now refilled drink, Jon spotted an empty space across the room. It was a raised area, well lit, with a metal fireman's pole right in the centre of it. Jon wondered why none of the crowd had used that space. Probably thought it was being reserved for something, he figured. Well, whatever it was being saved for, Jon didn't mind using it until it was needed.
He wiggled his way, to the beat of the song, through the crowd again, this time finding himself the culprit in most of the bumping and grabbing. He just couldn't help it, though, the music was just too powerful!
The raised area was about four feet off the ground, a height a little too high for him to climb in his heels. Luckily a nice man standing near him saw his difficulty, stood behind Jon and pushed him up by his ass. Jon smiled at the man and took another swig of his scotch. What a nice guy! he thought.
Finally free of the crowd, Jon moved around the floor dancing to the music. With every change of song he'd try something new, moves he'd never done before but for some reason seemed natural. After a few songs, Jon stared to feel dizzy.
"Probably the scotch," he told himself, worried that he'd have to decide between drinking and dancing. Again, he found himself grateful for the luck he seemed to have stumbled upon. In the middle of the floor was that fireman's pole he'd noticed earlier!
Grabbing hold of the pole his dancing intensified. He used it to grind against, rub against, swing around. It was as if the moves were coming from within, ignited by the music. The crowd of men around him were shouting encouragement at him, whistling, hooting. A warm sense of pride filled his heart. How long had it been that so many people had appreciated anything he did. He was so glad that he'd found such a nice and welcoming place.
The song changed again and Jon found himself sweating. Sure, the schoolgirl outfit he had on was one of the most practical outfits he'd ever worn, but at that moment it was really heating him up. He wondered if the patrons of the bar would mind if he took some of it off. The answer slapped him in the face as soon as the question occurred to him: of course they wouldn't mind! They loved him! If they knew that he was feeling uncomfortable, every man in the bar would go out of their way to fix the situation. Such a loving and welcoming place.
Jon loosed his grip and allowed himself to slide down the bar (he had somehow been holding himself half-way up the pole using only his legs), stood firmly on his high heeled Mary-Janes and slowly untied his shirt. The reaction from the crowd was instantaneous. Shouts of encouragement erupted, hands slammed on Jon's dance floor. Again Jon had never felt so loved. He peeled his shirt from his shoulders, gyrating in time with the song, and swung the garment over his head and tossed it into the crowd.
A struggle occurred where the shirt landed between two men who seemed to want it for themselves. Jon didn't blame them, it was an incredibly handy and practical shirt. Now topless, Jon felt much better, but his lower half still was smoking hot, so he leaned back against the pole and unbuttoned his skirt, letting it drop to the ground. When he kicked it at a man in the crowd, he held it over his head as if it were a trophy. Jon smiled, he was finally able to pass on his good luck to someone else.
As he slipped out of his panties and tossed them to a middle-aged man, Jon began to wonder what he would do now that he had lost his wonderful and practical outfit. His dance seemed to be coming to a climax as he wiggled his way around the pole in nothing but his knee-high socks and Mary-Janes. With the positive experience he'd been having so far in Girl World under his non-existent belt, though, he dismissed his worries as he was sure something would come up.
When the music finally ended and Jon found himself doing the splits on his back before his appreciative audience, legs spread exposing his genitalia to everyone in the bar, he noticed a curtain at the back of his dance-floor. Not wanting to have to push his way through the crowd again, stood up, bowed to the applause and cheers, and wiggled his way though the curtain, still hearing the memory of a beat that had driven him to dance.
