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All Eyes On Me	By : ibgarry Category: +G through L > Ib Views: 1243 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Previously uploaded on AO3 and FFN. I do not own Ib or its characters, nor do I make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
Watching Mary struggle to fit into thigh high boots was nothing short of entertaining. It was a delight to Garry, certainly, but he didn't let it show.
But it was Ib's presence in the room that had Garry nearly sweating. She wormed her way into a knife-pleated, plaid miniskirt, facing the wall. It seemed that, even when she was turned away, she could read Garry's mind. For once, Garry was terrified of her.
There wasn't much Garry could say about the idea of a date with Ib besides the truth that laid in the back of his mind: the idea of a date was eliciting feelings he never could have expected, especially when the date consisted of him and Ib.
And there she was, her cute, nearly-naked little bottom slipping its way into a tiny skirt. It felt like she was rubbing it in. Garry's head was throbbing.
Think about geometry. Old men. Anything but her.
She had never been the idea of a romantic partner to Garry, so why was it happening now? Because she had spoken up about a date? Now, her getting changed in front of him was so much more than a part of his job.
"Garry, zip me up," Mary commanded, her back turned. On reflex, Garry zipped up the skin-tight garment. It was mint green and hugged every curve. This was routine. This was the job he could handle. Mary walked away without another word to finish her business.
"That looks so uncomfortable," Carrie groaned, pulling up the sweetheart line of her bunny suit. She turned to Garry in a similar fashion. "Is my bunny tail drooping?" She pawed at it with her hand.
"Fine as always."
"Thank God. I haven't worn this suit in ages." She brushed dirt off of the strapless suit, admiring herself in the mirror. Confirming that everything looked alright, she sat down, teasing her hair in front of the mirror.
"Date you?" He scoffed, but she was all too serious to be joking. "Ib, you know that's never going to work out."
"Maybe not, but I dared you."
"And it's against my job contract to-"
"It's just a date." She smiled. "No strings attached."
"Fine."
Mary snapped her fingers at him. "Hey, we go on soon."
"Yeah, I know."
She was nearly pouting. "You two have been very quiet."
The whole room focused its attention on her. Garry couldn't think of a way to respond.
"Sorry," Ib interrupted. "I was getting ready, so…" Her voice trailed off.
It really was a terrible excuse, but it was enough for Mary; she sat down beside Garry and crossed her arms, her boots squeaking against each other as she crossed her legs.

For months, every act had the same time slot and the same routine, so nothing surprised Garry when Friday rolled around. Problem was, Ib hadn't performed on fetish night yet. She had been squeezed into one long slot, which was how it was for everyone else.
Garry had the last half of the night, a shift he loathed but could pull himself through. And Ib was one of the last acts. Second to last.
The night seemed to trudge on while he waited with Ib until, halfway through the night, Garry left Ib and Carrie in their dressing room; Mary was still waiting for her time slot to arrive, and she planned on staying out on the floor for her "fans" right after.
Garry met her backstage, where she was standing, tugging at her clothes. Out of her peripheral vision, Mary could see him coming closer.
"I hate this," she whined, adjusting the front of the suit. There was a long, vertical slit running from her chest to her stomach, where a stretch of her stomach was visible. The outline of her breasts peeked out from the top.
"Didn't you sign up for it?" Garry scoffed.
Mary was suddenly so malicious. "It's better than that stupid bunny shit. No one likes that crap."
"I think it's kinda cute."
Mary rolled her eyes. "You sound like my old man." She was obviously in a sour mood. Garry left her alone.
The announcer before Garry, his coworker, returned from the stage. On cue, Garry and Mary stepped forward. Mary prepped herself and made her way to the opposite side of the curtain. She watched Garry as he stepped out to the low-sitting podium, and she followed.
"Are you enjoying the show?" Garry chimed into his mic.
The crowd cheered.
"Oh, but we've hardly begun! You see, Miss Mary's been very naughty lately…" The words were sour as they rolled off his tongue, but Mary played along like always.
That was all Garry had to say before Mary was on her way and the men in the crowd were hooting and hollering. He ducked behind the black curtain.
A few girls were waiting in their chairs, only acquaintances of Garry. He couldn't name any of them, but he had never been good with names in the first place. In the meantime, Garry went on inspecting the playlist looping on the PA system.

The end of the night drew on until it hurt for Garry to stand, but with no place to sit, he sat on the floor behind the curtain between shifts. He wasn't really allowed to sit, but no one would care.
And then Ib entered through the backstage door, wearing a private school uniform cut way too short and way too low. A striped tie dangled from her neck, and pink lace peeked out from under the low, gray blazer she wore. She had white legwarmers on, baggy at the ankles. The loafers she wore were black and polished.
Her hips wagged as she walked towards him. Her skirt had hardly enough length to swish.
"Tired?" She joked at the sight of him sitting on the dirty floor. He stood as she said it, although the pain lingered still.
"God, yes," He groaned, steadying himself.
"Me too." She pulled up a legwarmer that had started to roll down her calf.
The two of them were quiet for a moment. Neither had time to break the silence before the audience behind the curtain began applauding. Garry, already standing, dashed out onto the stage. Ib's loafers thumped against the floor as she ran over to her side of the stage, waiting for the word from Garry to enter onto the stage.
"What a doll," Garry purred. "Unfortunately, ladies and gentlemen, our night is nearly coming to an end..." the crowd groaned, "... but-! we have two more lovely ladies for you tonight." The cheering returned. "Our lovely little Ib needs to be punished..."
Garry's presence on the stage was replaced by Ib. Garry returned to the dark of the black box.
"You really have a talent for announcing," a girl behind him hummed. Garry turned to find the last performer of the night, a girl dressed as a cat. A blue collar, topped with a round bell, hung from her neck. Garry couldn't tell who it was through the wig and makeup.
"Thank you. Your whiskers look fantastic."
They had been applied with liquid latex, surely, but the makeup had been smoothed so well they appeared to be part of her skin. She twisted at the whiskers and managed to muster a small "thanks."
There was a small crack in the curtain where Garry had exited. Outside, he could just barely see Ib.
She had her back turned towards the audience, a wooden ruler in her hand. Garry hadn't noticed it before. It took a few moments of connecting the dots to figure out she had hidden the ruler in the legwarmer she had adjusted before going on.
She dragged the ruler up her thigh, lifting up the hem of the plaid skirt until a sliver of her pink, ruffled panties peeked out. It didn't take long for the crowd to get worked up.
Gently, Ib patted the back of her upper thigh a few times before she brought the ruler down hard with a resounding smack. The audience went crazy. Ib had hardly flinched.
She unlooped her tie and lazily swung it around at her side a few times before throwing it into the crowd. A frat boy caught it and tied it around his neck. Ib winked at him.
She got down on her knees, holding the wooden ruler against her bum with both hands. She sat on her feet and the ruler.
Ever so slowly, she began to unbutton the blazer. Her crowd realized so and shouted with the growing tension.
Garry felt himself wanting to look away again. Nothing bad was particularly happening. She was doing her job.
But this was not poetry to him anymore. This was a hundred eyes on her naked skin, and those included his gray ones, pink and sunken from fatigue. As he watched the crowd, thinking about how disgusting it must be for them to be fawning over this girl, a ninteen-year-old college student dressed up as a preteen.
The truth dawned on him that he was one of them now.
He pulled his attention away from her, watching the barely-visible floor beneath him. The cat girl to his right hadn't noticed him.
One smack. Another. Garry watched again. Ib's blazer laid on the stage behind her. She stood tall in the light in a lacy pink bra, miniskirt, and footwear, a clean red mark emblazoned on the underside of her ass.
It was over. She plucked her blazer up from the ground. Garry nearly stumbled onto the stage, but Ib was at the mic before him.
"Hold on to that tie for me, love," she cooed. And then she was off.
"The truth is, I've been thinking about the things Mary has said to me," Ib began. "I really thought about it."
"What do you mean?"
Ib sighed, pushing words from her throat. "I don't want to say that I love you, because I haven't known you long enough to say 'you mean the world to me' to your face."
Garry was silent.
"I love the idea of you and me. There, I said it."

Ib was sitting in her beanbag, wearing her street clothes: a blouse and skirt. She had her phone in her hand and was tapping away as Garry entered, exhausted from work and red in the face. He had dressed himself after the show, but Ib waited in the dressing room for him to return. He came to find the room was empty; both Mary and Carrie had left for the night.
"Hey," Garry greeted Ib, unbuttoning his suit jacket.
She dropped her phone hurriedly. "Hi," she beamed. "How'd I do?"
"Uh, good," he affirmed. Ib met the comment with rosy cheeks.
"God, your whole face is red." The comment didn't help the fact, and Garry could feel the blush spread to his chest. "What's wrong?"
"It's just really hot out there," he lied through his teeth, loosening the collar of his shirt. "You really did great tonight." He stepped forward and pulled her up from the seat. She was still inches shorter than him even with her heels on.
"Thanks," she said, smoothing out the back of her skirt. She tugged up her thigh high socks. "Shall we?"
She was so full of energy, despite having performed with so much effort. She was not herself. "We shall," Garry agreed, still red in the face.
Ib had never been an excitable or loud person, but then and there, she seemed to be. There wasn't much that could be said about Ib other than the fact that, under a facade of enthusiasm, a nervousness lingered.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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All Eyes On Me