“Thank you, Martin.” The olive-skinned woman with long, dark hair which kept blowing into her face spoke into a hand-held microphone. “As you can see behind me, a great many people have shown up to offer support and encouragement to the girls who have been flown in today to be served up on the menu of this controversial new restaurant.”

The camera pulled back to show a little more of the scene. Temporary fencing had been set up, similar to that used when a Royal parade is due to pass, and pressed up against it were hundreds of well-wishers with all ages and genders represented but the overwhelming majority of them were young girls, many of whom were functionally naked, wearing nothing but a variation on Sidney’s trade-mark hat and boots, their private parts rather comically censored by blurring. Some of the others, either feeling less daring or perhaps under pressure from their parents, wore bikinis with their Sidney outfits while others wore either the hat and boots or just the hat over their normal clothes.

“Where are you?” Jennifer asked, scanning the crowd curiously. “I’m guess you were one of the naked ones, right?”

“I certainly was!” Liz chuckled. “We were just a bit further along. You’ll see us in a minute.”

The camera panned over the Many were holding hand-made signs with messages such as “WELCOME MEAT-GIRLS”, “BE DELICIOUS!” and “LOOKING TASTY!”as well as some declaring love for Sidney or borrowing some of her campaign slogans such as “GIRL MEAT = BEST MEAT!” At the end of the cordoned-off walkway was a coach with the Sidney’s logo and an air-brushed painting of Sidney Roebuck from the waist up, her bare chest also blurred for the TV despite the fact that her full-frontal nudes had, at the time, been prominently displayed on billboards, station platforms and bus shelters around the city, not to mention the ads in magazines and online.

“Were they really so fussy about nudity back then?” Jennifer asked, shaking her head in amusement. “Didn’t Sidney do all her interview naked? How did they cope with that?”

Those were generally shown later in the evening,” Liz explained, “or with a disclaimer both at the start of the programme and before her segment, warning viewers not to watch if they were likely to be offended. But remember, this was the news that everyone had tuned into to see what was going on in the world so I guess they were being more careful. I do remember some early interviews ‘though,” Liz chuckled, “where Sidney had to wear a bikini or even a top and some shorts, pink denim if I remember correctly, but somehow that looked far more indecent than simple nudity!” Jennifer giggled. It was true. Somehow, people trying to show off their bodies while hiding key parts of them at the same time often looked sexier than people who just had nothing on at all!

The footage now showed a smaller group of protestors, kept separated from the others and representing a distinctly older demographic, other than the few children who had been dragged along and at least had the decency to look embarrassed by the whole thing, especially the two girls, both around twelve or thirteen years old, who had been put front and centre, their forceful-looking mothers behind them, dressed in baggy jeans and loose-fitting hoodies, half-heartedly holding placards in front of their chests, one reading “I AM NOT FOOD” and the other proclaiming “PEOPLE ARE NOT PIGS!”. Behind them, the various adults held up signs with religious messages such as calls to repent or declaring “THOU SHALT NOT KILL” while others bore more general vegetarian slogans such as “MEAT IS MURDER!”

First the reporter approached this group and the camera pointed at the girl holding the sign declaring that she was not food who looked as if she was willing the tarmac of the airport car-park to open up and swallow her.

“You’re here today to protest the opening of the new Sidney’s restaurant, is that right?” The reporter angled her microphone towards the girl.

“Yes.” She replied a little awkwardly then, after a not-so-discrete poke between the shoulders by her mum, she repeated an obviously rehearsed sound-bite. “I don’t think it’s right that girls like me should be pressured into giving up their lives for someone else’s dinner.”

“But what if that’s what they want?” The reporter asked. “After all, Sidney herself spent years campaigning for the right to be food! All the girls arriving from America today have repeatedly confirmed that they want to be here and that they are looking forward to being cooked and eaten. What would you say to that?”

“Then it’s fine, I guess?” the girl shrugged. “If that’s what they want?” The reporter was about to address the camera when, clearly incensed, the woman in dark glasses with a haircut that sent managers everywhere running for cover, leaned over her daughter and grabbed hold of the microphone, yanking it towards her own face. Holding firmly onto it but realising this would probably make for some interesting television, the reporter gave the cameraman a small nod and focussed on the woman.

“To suggest that anyone,” the woman began her rant, “especially young girls at such an impressionable age, could actually want to be killed and eaten is perverted nonsense! Whatever kind of brain-washing was done to Sidney and all the poor girls they’ve already murdered in her name over there, we do not want it here!”

“Well you do appear to be in the minority!” The reporter tried unsuccessfully to conceal a smirk, pulling her microphone back to her own face and leaving the woman spluttering in impotent rage, likely far more upset about having her fifteen minutes of fame cut short than by the actual cause she had turned out to support. “Now,” the reporter and cameraman moved quickly away from the protestors, “let’s speak to some of those who have come here today to welcome the meat-girls!” They came to a stop in front of a trio of girls, all blonde and with their hair curled to resemble Sidney. All three were, of course, naked except for their hats and boots but were hidden between waist and knees by a banner they held between them, draped in front of the railing. Painted on a pink bed-sheet folded lengthways, it read “WE ♥ SIDNEY’S!”

“Hello, ladies!” the reporter grinned and the three girls waved excitedly at the camera.

“Is that you in the middle?” Jennifer asked, feeling oddly star-struck to see someone she knew in this piece of historical footage.

“Got it in one!” Liz chuckled. “I’ve put all our photos from that day on the drive for you too. The ones that I still had, of course. It was quite a long time ago after all!” Jennifer smiled gratefully. “Oh and don’t worry!” Liz added with a cheeky twinkle in her eye. “No blurring on those ones! You get to enjoy us in all our youthful glory!” Jennifer giggled and turned her attention back to the television where the reporter had just asked the sisters how they felt about Sidney’s opening in the UK.

“It’s so cool!” young Liz gushed. “We can’t wait to go there! We’ve been following Sidney’s campaign since the start,” Jennifer did a quick mental calculation and found this distinctly unlikely but forgave the figure of speech, possibly misspoken in the enthusiasm and excitement of the moment, “and it’s so awesome that they’re opening the restaurant here too! We just had to come out and welcome the first girls who are going to cook here! Lucky brats!” The way she delivered that last word made it sound like she had tripped over her own teeth a little and she recovered with a giggle as the reporter turned back to the camera.

“I was about to say bitches!” Liz confided with a laugh. “I remember that moment distinctly! I caught myself just in time!” The reporter handed back to the studio and the clip ended. “You can take this home with you, of course,” Liz smiled, “there’s far more here than we can get through in one afternoon! I’ll go fetch us some sandwiches and then we can watch some of the dances but are there any other news clips that catch your eye first? I tried to keep most of them back in the day.”

“What’s that one?” Jennifer asked curiously, pointing to a thumbnail dated a few months before the footage they had just been watching, nearer to the beginning of the year. It showed Orin Roebuck, Sidney’s dad, sat in some sort of studio opposite a woman in a smart suit. It looked like the setup for an interview.

“Oh yes!” Liz nodded a little quietly. “That was an interview he did on British TV when construction started on the first Sidney’s here, talking about what he had needed to do to get permission and how the plans were coming along. Only, in the news around that time, there were stories about this one man who seemed to know a lot of rich and powerful people and would invite them to party on his island. Now, I’m not saying that he wasn’t a bad man and that nothing bad ever went on on that island of his but, as always seems to be the way, the conspiracy theorists got hold of the story and soon all the tired old nonsense that seems to get recycled every twenty years or so was being regurgitated as if this time it really was fact and the people who had been called crazy for believing it before had been right all along! Of course, as one of the world’s wealthiest men whose daughter had been openly butchered and eaten, people started to ask questions about Mr Roebuck and whether Sidney’s campaign had really been her own idea or the result of some kind of pressure from the island man and his friends. I’m afraid I’d just been channel-hopping when I caught this,” Liz explained apologetically, “so I didn’t catch the beginning of the question and was fumbling to start recording it for my collection which is why it cuts in kinda awkwardly but I think you’ll get the gist.” Jennifer leaned forward, intrigued, as Liz set the clip going then left the three girls alone to watch it while she went to the kitchen.

“...for many years,” Mr Roebuck was saying as the recording began, “of course I did! It was kinda hard not to since we knew a lot of the same people and yeah, I went to the island a few times, so did my sons. Nice place, pretty beaches, lots of sunshine, what’s not to like? Did I ever see anything bad going on there? No, of course I didn’t else I’d have said something. But it’s not like I was there all the time and the one thing all these nut-jobs online seem to be missing is that Jeff knew a lot of people. He had a lot of friends. And secrets only stay secret if not too many people know them! So sure, maybe all kinds of sketchy crap was going on on that island but not all the time and certainly not when I was there!”

“But what do you say,” the interviewer pressed, “to those who draw a parallel between your daughter’s campaign and what is alleged by some to have taken place on the island? Surely you understand why some are asking whether Sidney may have been used as some kind of pawn by powerful elites to normalise behaviour they enjoyed which the general public, until very recently, considered abhorrent?”

To the surprise of the watching girls, far from looking awkward or defensive, Orin Roebuck chuckled a little and leaned back in his chair with the confident air of a man who knows he has already won the debate.

“Okay,.” he gave a little chuckle. “To those people, I want to make two points and, once I do, I’m sure they’ll realise how silly their questions are, okay?” The interviewer nodded wordlessly but gestured for him to go ahead. “Firstly,” he explained, “we’re back to the nature of secrets. Why do you think it is that the Rich and Powerful,” he adopted a rather sarcastic voice and made air-quotes are these last two words, “do things in secret that they would not be able to do openly? It’s because they can! Their money and status protects them from consequences, or so the logic goes anyway.” He paused for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. “It’s the secrecy that makes it fun! The idea that they can do something that nobody else can because they’re just that special.” He scoffed and shook his head in amusement. “So let’s just suppose for a moment that Jeff did have an exclusive little dining club on his island where kids were served up, why on God’s beautiful green Earth would those people want everyone to start doing it? If every city in first America then eventually the whole world has a friendly, welcoming, reasonably-priced restaurant where an average Joe and his family can treat themselves to a meal of delicious Girl-meat, there’d be nothing special about their little club any more and that’s the last thing they’d want!” He sat quietly for a few beats, allowing his point to sink in.

“The second point is more personal.” he continued. “I’ve honestly lost track of how much I spent on Sidney’s campaign. Not just the publicity but the legal challenges, academic research grants… I had a whole team dedicated to it for four years with a budget of whatever they needed. Quite aside from that, I endured the question, the incredulity, the accusations… I got, and sometimes still do get called all sorts of things because of my support for my little girls. I spent millions on helping her realise her dream and on the chain of restaurants in her name that, when everything is taken into consideration, won’t start turning a profit for me for at least ten years, probably closer to fifteen, and why knows if I even have that many years left! Now let me ask you this.” He leaned forward in his seat and directed his words straight into the camera rather than towards the interviewer. “If my little girl had come to me and told me she wanted nothing more in the world than to get eaten, and I knew of a discrete and wealthy organisation that liked serving up little girls to its members, heck if I were a member of such a group myself, do you not think it would have been far easier for me to introduce her to them and just announce to the world that she died in a tragic skiing accident or fell of the yacht and drowned? Why would I spend at least the equivalent of what would have been her inheritance on getting her the legal right to be eaten if I had a friend who could have cooked her privately then asked the world to respect my family’s privacy at this difficult time?” He sat back in his chair and held out his hand expansively, palms upwards. “Would that make any kind of sense at all?”

“Thank you for the detailed response, Mr Roebuck.” The interviewer nodded thoughtfully. “I am sure you have given those with questions a lot to think about. So,” she smiled, “when can we expect England’s first Sidney’s to open its doors?” The interview continued for another three minutes or so but did not really cover anything the Jennifer did not already know. When it was over, Sarah picked up the remote and put on one of the videos from when her Nan was a member of the dance troupe.

“My goodness!” Liz chuckled, walking back into the room with a tray of sandwiches, a big packet of crisps to share and an assortment of fizzy drink cans from the fridge. “I did have a lovely rump back then, didn’t I? Almost as lovely as Sarah’s!

They enjoyed the sandwiches and watched several more of the videos before Liz pointed out the time and said that they should be heading to the restaurant soon. She retrieved the memory stick from the back of the TV and gave it to Jennifer who stashed it away carefully in her bag. Soon they were in the car on the way to Sidney’s.

“Have fun, girls!” Liz wished them in the parking lot as they all piled out. “I’d offer to join you but I don’t want to put people off their dinners!”

“Oh Nan!” Sarah giggled, leaning in through the driver’s side window to give her a kiss. “You look great for your age!

“Sweet of you to say!” laughed Liz. “But I’ve had my time in the spotlight! Time for you to enjoy yours!”

“Thanks, Nan.” Sarah smiled warmly. “You okay to pick us up later?”

“Of course!” Liz beamed. “Now go make everyone hungry for surf’n’turf!” Giggling, the three girls went inside where Sarah introduced them to the receptionist and got them both registered and signed in as temporary entertainers.

“So, where do we get changed?” Jennifer asked as Sarah led the way towards the back of the reception ahead, behind the shop.

“Through here.” The confident young dancer pushed open a door that read “STAFF ONLY” and ushered them inside. The room was a typical locker room similar to a school or gym only smaller and tiled all over in rather classy grey granite. There were black-fronted storage lockers along one wall with combination pads rather than keys, a row of sinks and mirrors, some toilet cubicles off to one side, an open shower area with six heads arranged across three walls, dispensers of soap and conditioner mounted on the walls and a number of benches. By the door they had come in through, Jennifer noticed a button that said “Mermaid Assistance”. At the end of the row of lockers there seemed to be a cupboard but, other than the toilets, there were no privacy cubicles.

“So, what do we do first?” Caroline asked.

“Get naked, of course!” Sarah grinned, starting the process. “Then a quick shower then I’ll show you how to get the costumes on.” Since none of the girls had worn very much to begin with, there was not a whole lot to take off. Jennifer was sitting on one of the benches pulling her boots off when a young woman who looked to be in her early twenties came in and headed straight for one of the lockers. She smiled at them briefly as she passed but was clearly in a hurry. Not meaning to look but finding herself intrigued, Jennifer watched as the women shoved her light jacket into a locker and pulled out a pink uniform polo-shirt. She then pulled her own outdoor top off, revealing a cute black bra underneath, and put the uniform shirt on before spritzing herself with a bottle of Febreeze from her locker and heading back out.

“So this is the locker room for all the women who work here?” Caroline asked, now fully nude once more and folding her clothes carefully. “Not just the entertainers?”

“Did you see a lady on the door?” Sarah giggled. “It’s for everyone!” Just at that moment, as if to illustrate her point, two young men came in, chatting and laughing together before performing a similar act to the woman, one changing into a pink shirt like hers and one into the black uniform of the kitchen staff. The kitchen worker gave the three naked girls a smile and friendly salute as they headed out to start work.

“Wow!” Jennifer gasped. “Everyone shares one locker room? And we’re just stood her naked?”

“I dance naked on the stage twice a week!” Sarah reminded her. “Although in fairness we change somewhere else for that. We’ve got a room behind the stage I’ll show you later if there’s time! But yeah,” she grinned at her rather shocked-looking friends, “sorry if you didn’t realise but the mermaid costumes don’t exactly leave anything to the imagination!”

“Oh I know!” Jennifer quickly confirmed, feeling a little silly. “It’s just… well, being in a locker room feels different!”

“Trust me!” Sarah grinned as they all chose vacant lockers and stashed their belongings away safely, using easy to remember codes to lock the doors. “You don’t have anything that the staff here haven’t seen before! I guarantee it!” Giggling together, realising that Sarah was right, the trio made their way into the showers for a quick rinse off to freshen up and to get their hair wet as Sarah explained this would make it easier to get the mermaid wigs on. Once they were washed and dried by the blasts of hot air by the shower area’s entrance, Sarah showed them the cupboard where the mermaid costumes were kept.

“To the boys ever shower in here too?” Caroline asked curiously. “Like, after their shifts?”

“Oh yeah!” Sarah grinned. “You can get a pretty good show if you time it right and I’ve never known one of them turn down a blow-job, especially after a long shift prepping girls in the kitchen, if that’s your bag?” She winked and Caroline blushed a little. “Right!” she pulled open the cupboard and showed them the rack of colourful costumes. “What colour does everyone want?”


To be continued...