It's all right, I kept telling myself as I got ready to leave. It'll be okay, just like yesterday, in the virtual room. It's just another degree of being shrunk. It won't be that bad.
I tried to meditate while I took a shower, remembering the online experience as focusing on how it hadn't scared me, but it didn't seem to help. I was still frightened, and upset at myself for not being able to control that fear.
I'd been avoiding talking to Mark, but now I had no choice. As I was leaving, I gave him a call. "Hello, Mark," I said after he answered.
"Kate!" he exclaimed hastily. "I'm sorry about what happened Friday. Please forgive me. It was my fault. I just wasn't thinking."
"Don't worry about it," I told him. "I just panicked. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Did it help you at all?" he asked. "Or did it just make everything worse?"
"I'm not sure yet. I guess I'll find out tonight."
"Tonight?" He was surprised. "I thought you had the weekend off!"
"I did. I just got a call. I need to go in tonight. Someone quit and they need me to work one of the roulette tables."
"Roulette?" He paused for a moment, as if considering the ramifications. "Can you--I mean, are you ready for that?"
"I doubt it," I replied. "We'll find out in a couple of hours, I guess. I just needed you to know so you can turn on the recorders."
"Okay," he answered, sounding very concerned. "Is--is there anything I can do, Kate?"
"No, just wish me luck. I have to go now. I want to get there early for training on the practice table."
"All right, Kate, good luck."
I hung up and headed out. Mark had certainly changed his tune since the first day, I thought. He sounded honestly worried about me. Well, that was all well and good, but there was nothing he could do except worry. This was my problem, not his!
When I got to the casino, I was way early, even for the additional training time Beth had suggested. I went over to the roulette tables to get a better idea of what I was going to be doing. I'd watched girls doing this job before, but now, I needed to pay much closer attention.
Rolling the ball down the slope was only a small part of what the roulette girls did, I discovered. They were, in fact, putting on a show. Sometimes they dropped the silver sphere, but they also rolled it like a bowling ball, threw it over their head, and kicked it over the side--whatever the gamblers wanted. In addition, they played other games, pretending to roll it and then catching it at the last moment, or doing a little dance with it before sending it on their way. In the twenty minutes or so that I watched, the ball was kissed, stroked, sat on, kicked, spun, bounced, nudged with the head, talked to like it was a person, hugged, elbowed, and karate-chopped, plus a few other things I'm sure I forgot to mention.
The little lady also interacted frequently with the gamblers. Apparently, each person at the table took a turn making requests, though a person making a particularly large or risky bet got special treatment. Sometimes they let the girl pick a number for them, or select a color or other betting arrangement. She touched or kissed their chips, and sometimes got even more involved. Once I saw her slide down onto the table itself and place a gambler's chip for them. To my horror, she allowed the man to pick her up and put her back on the platform, and showed no surprise or distress at this, as though it were completely normal.
By the time I had to report for work, I was almost shaking. I'd thought it would be bad enough to have to interact with the gamblers, but to actually have to let myself get picked up on purpose? I REALLY wasn't ready for that!
So, it was with some trepidation that I went back to change into my uniform. I suppose I could have been forgiven if I'd just quit and walked out right there, but I'm not the kind to give up easily. I'm stupid that way. Despite the overwhelming terror I was feeling, I stubbornly refused to give in to it. I WOULD conquer my fear.
Somehow.
As usual I kept my eye shut while I put on the costume, but once I'd squeezed into the bustier, I now had to contend with the boots. I'd never worn over-the-knee boots before, as they weren't my style, so I had no idea what to expect. They were glossy patent leather on the outside, nice and shiny, but they also had a layer of stretchy velour-like stuff on the interior, the same fabric that made up the leotard. This ensured that the boots were not only comfortable, but stayed in place where they were, without flopping around or sliding off.
The toughest thing to deal with was, of course, the stiletto heels. These were about six or seven inches high, forcing me to essentially stand on my tiptoes all the time. The heel itself tapered down to a tiny point, giving me the feeling like I was standing on very thin stilts. I found it was easiest to walk around if I actually put all my weight on my toes, using the heels only to rest on when standing. If I even tried to lean on them while walking, I always felt my ankles start to twist, and had to windmill my arms to keep my balance.
Who designed these damn things, anyway? It had to be a man, I thought. No woman would ever come up with such an exquisite instrument of torture!
Anyway, once I felt reasonably comfortable in the boots, Beth showed up. She always seemed to arrive at exactly the right moment, I reflected. How did she do that, anyway? Did she have her eyes on every camera in the place? Well, it didn't matter, and was probably better for me that way anyhow.
"Ready for some training?" she asked pleasantly.
"I think so," I told her, trying to cover up my nervousness. "I've been doing some mental exercises that Lori suggested. We'll see how well they help tonight."
"Good," she said. "I also saw you watching table R12. I suppose that means I don't have to explain much of your job."
"Well, I get the idea," I replied. "I don't just roll the ball, I put on a show."
She laughed and slapped me on the shoulder, and I had to lean up against the wall to keep my balance. "Exactly!" she exclaimed, obviously happy that I'd figured that out on my own. "Your job is to make roulette fun for the gambler. Each person at the table gets a turn to ask a favor of you. It can be simple or difficult, but you basically want to do anything he asks, and look like you're having fun doing it, no matter how stupid or inane it may seem. Whatever you do, don't EVER look like you're irritated. Got it?"
"Yeah," I replied. "I'll try."
"Don't just try, make sure of it! Paint a smile on your face and don't let it leave no matter what. When you get on the practice table, do it there, too."
"All right," I agreed, putting on my best fake-happy smile. "I have a question, though. I saw one of the gamblers pick up the girl at the table. I thought that wasn't allowed?"
"It's all right if you agree to it," she told me. "Debbie could have just climbed back up on the wheel, but it takes a lot longer, and she's such a vet it didn't bother her. It would have been perfectly fine to walk back on your own. If you want to allow a lift, give a thumbs-up and point at the platform. The croupier will make sure the gambler does nothing except put you back where you belong, and of course, there are always a couple of security men around just in case."
Something else occurred to me. "You said I had to do anything they ask. Just how far does that go?"
"Well, you don't ever have to agree to be touched," she informed me. "You can if you want, but only if you're comfortable with it. And you don't ever want to do anything provocative or sexual. You can pet and stroke the ball, but don't rub it on your breasts, or straddle it and pretend to make love to it. You'll get that request a couple of times a night, 'cause men have dirty minds. Your response should be, 'Please, sir, I'm not that kind of girl!' Or something similar and humorous, that clearly says no without sounding upset or annoyed. Hug the ball, caress it, kiss it all you want, but don't go any further, all right?"
"Okay, I understand," I assured her. She didn't have to worry about that, anyway. I really wasn't that kind of girl!
Beth walked with me to the miniaturizer, chuckling as she saw my difficulties keeping my balance. "Because you're wearing those boots, the operator knows you're looking for a 15," she explained. "It's all automatic from there. Are you ready now?"
"I-I guess so," I said, but of course I wasn't. I walked up to the machine but stopped in the doorway, my hands shaking. I didn't want to go in, but somehow, I forced myself to take those last couple of steps.
As usual, the lights started flashing, and the strange prickly sensation began. It lasted a bit longer this time, but finally stopped, and I stepped out, trembling.
As before, I was now treated to the amazing sight of watching Beth and the rest of the world begin to grow around me. Having done this five times already, it wasn't all that new a sensation, except that this time, I knew it was going to go a lot farther.
This time, trying to keep my balance in the ultra-high heels, I became aware of something I hadn't noticed before. As I shrunk, the ground was slowly expanding underneath me, and as a result, it felt like my legs were moving gradually further apart. I found myself having to shuffle my feet every few moments or so to keep from toppling over. It was like standing on a sheet of rubber that was gradually being stretched wider and wider.
As I stumbled around, Beth got down on her hands and knees in front of me to watch me shrink, apparently very interested in my reaction. After a moment, she stretched out, flattening herself on the ground before me. I was looking down at her head at first, but after a few moments, I shrunk until we were eye to eye, finally stopping at just over ten inches tall. Well, in the heels, more like eleven.
"How does it feel?" she asked in an extremely loud voice, grinning at me.
God, she was big! Her face filled my vision, and I was only about as tall as her head. I gulped back my fear, trying not to think about the fact that, essentially, I was now no bigger than a Barbie doll. "I-I'm not sure," I told her. "You're a lot bigger than before, but it's still the same basic idea--I'm really small."
"Good!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet. "That's exactly the right attitude. You're getting used to this already!"
"Yeah," I agreed weakly. But as I looked up at the immense, towering form of Beth, from a height equal to about halfway up her boot, I realized I was still shaking.