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ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. ALL SEXUAL EVENTS AND REFERENCES OCCUR TO CHARACTERS WHEN THEY ARE OR WERE OVER THE AGE OF 18.
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Survivor’s benefits and my scholarship might pay for tuition, books, and a dorm room, but if I wanted more out of college life than a meal plan at the student center, I would need to get a job. Fortunately the last foster home I had been in was ran by a kindly minister and his wife who truly adored the kids that came thru their home and tried to help them out, and didn’t have a son that stood beside my bed at night masturbating while he stared at me (maybe I’ll tell that story another time.) Reverend Joe liked to tinker with cars and as a graduation present gave me an old jeep that he had fixed up. It ran great but didn’t get the best mileage, and his wife and he were in no position to help me financially.
Rev Joe and Clair, his wife, had me the last three years of high school and we were quite close. I may have been the first girl they fostered to graduate without either getting pregnant before finishing school or getting married the summer afterwards. Most of us kids from the land of misfit toys were a bit broken by the time we got to their home, but they were always patient and kind.
I had lost my parents when I was about ten and drifted between ambivalent relatives and foster parents who only wanted a check until I was placed with Rev Joe and Clair. I earned my scholarship as I never wanted to go back to public housing. As bad as foster care in their group home had been, it was better than the projects.
I budgeted carefully, but if I was going to keep gas in the jeep, pay insurance, and move off campus, there was no way around it, I would need a job. My friend Amber and her roommate Trish had a spare room I could have in a reasonably nice apartment complex off campus, which would make life so much better than the dorms. The first week on campus I spent every afternoon after class roaming town and applying for jobs.
My looks got me quite a few interviews on the spot. I’m not breath takingly spectacular, but I’m not unfortunate in the looks department either. I’m slightly taller than average, and slightly thinner than average thanks to running when I can and walking every chance I get, usually two or three miles a day. My breasts were also, well maybe average, but on my thin frame 36 C appeared to be on the large size.
I get a lot of compliments on my butt. Gee, thanks guys! Its behind me all day, I can’t see it and I mainly use it to sit on and poop with. Thanks for the compliments!
I’m also told my hair, which is mousey ash brown and fell to six inches or so below my shoulders was pretty, but like most girls, I hate my hair. With me the loathing is so great as to require a new stylist every six months or so. These days I just go to get it trimmed as Trish is pretty good at curling it for me and is slowly teaching me how. I confess when I got to college, I had never owned any make up, and from first meeting me Trish and Amber took me under wing. This made me feel beautiful but was one more thing to spend money on that I didn’t have.
After a couple days of being chatted up by assistant managers at all sorts of restaurants (I gave up on retail sales and office jobs after the first day of being rejected for lack of experience. What experience was necessary for an entry level job was never made clear.) I was finally hired by a pudgy middle-aged guy that ran a local fast food store. It paid minimum wage and I would get 25 to 30 hours per week, all evenings. Attendance was strictly enforced; I was told I was taking the place of a worker who had been late twice and missed all together once without calling in. Well, that seemed fair I guessed. I had never had a real job and was somewhat excited by the prospects.
Even more exciting was that it would allow me to move off campus. Or so I thought.
By the time taxes were taken out, and I paid for my gas to get there, I was almost working for free it seemed, and it was clear by the end of the first month that if I saved everything, after rent I would have only around a hundred bucks left. This sucked considering that school and studying was a full-time job on top of this part time one.
After a month of freedom from the dorms, I gave Amber my share of the rent and utilities. She sensed how dejected I was and offered to talk. I explained my finances and told her that it just wasn’t fair that I had to work my ass off, put up with a pervy manager that spent the shift staring at my ass, and in return I got to live off campus making just enough bank to get to and from work.
“Does your manager harass you?” Amber asked, her concern showing.
“No, he just creeps me out. Every time I turn around his eyes are looking down at my butt, until I start talking then he stares at my chest. He’s just… well, a creep.”
Mind you I wasn’t a prude. Even though dating was restricted in the Reverend’s home, and even though another girl had been my bursa escort roommate so it wasn’t usually even possible to finger myself for any self-satisfaction, I had been with a couple of guys since I turned 18, and through that experience and chatting with my girlfriends learned to give a respectable blow job, and felt that I was at least competent in the bedroom. But just having some greasy guy in his thirties staring at my ass all night wasn’t stimulating to me at all, and it was getting him nowhere. He was just creepy.
“I deal with a lot of those types” Amber giggled.
Amber only works two or at most three nights a week, most usually Friday and Saturday. I knew it was some sort of bar, but while we were roomies, I had met Amber through my friendship with Trish and our relationship hadn’t gotten to the point where I bothered to ask. She told me it was a bar, I accepted that.
“I guess so. I don’t know if I could ever work at a bar. Is the money any better?”
“Well,” Amber grinned, “I made enough last night to cover rent, probably for the semester.”
“No way!! Are they hiring?” I immediately asked. If I could make that much it would be worth it to put up with creeps, especially if I was only there a few hours a week. I never knew waitressing at a bar could make that kind of bank.
“As a matter of fact, the last waitress switched jobs last night, her slot is open. You want to interview for it?”
“Tonight is fine, but we need to get you fixed up first.” She smiled.
“I can dress up for a job interview.” I said. I didn’t have a lot of interview or church clothes, but I would figure something out.
“Well, you should know one other thing Jenni.” Amber said, her hesitation showing.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Uh, the club I work at, it’s a men’s club.”
“Uh, what do you mean, like a sports bar? I asked, thinking I would have to wear some tiny shorts and a tank top and get my ass slapped by drunk frat boys all night. Still that was better than what I was doing if it made real money.
“Well, sort of, except instead of football on the big screen, we have naked dancers on stage.” She laughed.
“Oh.” I said as a million thoughts went through my mind. “I don’t think I could do that.” Again, I wasn’t a prude, but I wasn’t about to strip naked in front of strangers either, no matter what the money.
“Relax, the job is waitressing. You just bring overpriced drinks and get flirted with. Anyone tries to touch you and the bouncers are all over them. Some of the guys are creeps, but the bouncers make sure they don’t get out of line. And they won’t be staring at your ass, not when there is a naked girl on stage! Oh, and the tips are incredible, so long as you remember to flirt back just a little. There are a few regulars, but most of the guys are first timers or bachelor parties. Every guy there is like an ATM, and you have the pass code. Come on and interview, it will be fun, you’ll see.”
I thought about it, mostly the money and the fewer hours. It would give me more time to study if I were only working two or three nights, and how much worse could it be? I was already getting ogled and hit on by one creep, and no bouncer was going to come to my rescue at a burger joint. At the very worst I could interview and if I decided it was too weird or creepy I could just say no and stick with what I had already.
“What should I wear to the interview?”
“That’s what I’m talking about girl! Come on, let’s go shopping!”
“Oh, I don’t have the cash to get a new outfit.” I said.
“No worries, you can pay me back. And let’s do something with that hair while we’re out.”
Our first stop was Amber’s stylist who was happy to work me in. I figured just a trim and set, but Amber had other ideas. First she had her hair dresser, Alicia, dye me a dark brown, almost black, then she did the cut and set. I retained most of the length, but lost the frizzy ends, and I had to admit, the results were beautiful.
“You’re going to need some bright red lipstick now, but, uh, can I ask you something?” Amber inquired.
“Sure” I said, still admiring myself in the mirror.
“Are you ready for bikini season?”
“What? Its October, why would you ask that? I mean, yeah, I’m in good shape, if we were going to the beach, I’d probably do some crunches but nothing major.” I replied to the giggles of both Amber and Alicia.
“No, I mean, the work uniform is a short skirt, and I wear tights underneath, like cheer tights, you know…”
“Those thick panties gymnasts and cheerleaders wear?” I asked, wonder what this was all about.
“Yeah, exactly. You don’t want any strays sticking out, its gross and the customers will notice, trust me.”
“Strays?” I asked, then realized she meant my pubs. “Oh! Oh! I see, well, I keep things trim down there.
“Alicia, can you take care of that?” Amber asked.
“Sure, come right this way Jennifer.”
I was led into a back room with a massage table where I received my first waxing on both my legs and pubs. Soon I was bursa ucuz escort blinded by the searing pain, although Alicia applied lots of pressure after she pulled the strips off and that helped quite a bit. I was really shy and nervous about this but didn’t want to seem like a prude in front of either Amber, who was doing so much to help me, and Alicia, who really knew what she was doing. She gave me a few options on what hair to leave but suggested that I just remove it all as most girls were doing these days. Oh well, I might as well run with the pack. I had her remove it all.
I confess when she was working around my privates, I got a little moist, especially when Alicia applied lotion afterwards to sooth the skin, but if she noticed she didn’t show it. A half hour after she started, she was done, and although I still had my top on I felt more naked than I had in a long time.
Next was a young women’s dress shop where Amber paid for a black mini, and white sleeveless button down, heels with about a three-inch spike and black thigh highs. I had never had thigh highs before, but she assured me they were more comfortable, especially in a muggy bar room. Finally, we landed at a lingerie store for a white thong, matching push up, and a garter belt to hold the stockings up.
“So, where do I get the tights you were talking about?”
“Oh, I usually pick them up at a sporting goods store, but we don’t have time today and you won’t need them tonight anyway. Let’s get home so you can change then we’ll get to the club and you can meet Tony.”
We sped home and I changed. Amber approved of my new look, but I wasn’t so sure. I had never dressed quite this sexy before, and the straps on the garter belt showed whenever I sat down. Amber assured me that when I was working no one would see me sitting except the bar tender, and again, there would always be a naked dancer on stage, so no one would be looking at my stockings.
Amber had me follow her to the club. She was working that night, but would introduce me to Tony, her boss, and she was sure he would want to hire me. By having the Jeep there, I could leave when I wanted and not wait for her to get off work. This seemed like a good idea.
The club was in a seedy part of town, which I fully expected based on Amber’s description of it. It was surrounded by a tall chain link fence which had a gate that slid out of the way during the hours it was open, and the exterior of the building was pink stucco. On the inside it was dark in the initial hallway, and there was a ticket booth where Amber introduced me first to Cynthia, the hostess that sold the tickets and checked id, and Paul the bouncer that took them and stamped customers hands. Both greeted me with warm smiles and seemed very friendly. I expected Paul to look me over and I almost explained I wasn’t there to dance, but he didn’t seem to care.
Once inside it was a little lighter and my eyes began to adjust to the dark room. There were few customers, but it was only a little after four O’clock and according to Amber men, and the few women, didn’t begin coming in until after work, and even then not until nine or ten. On the center of the far wall was an elevated stage, covered with light panels and the back wall was mirrored. Above it was the DJ booth, and to either side was a door. Protruding from the stage into the middle of the room was a catwalk with brass poles running floor to ceiling at each end. There were a few dozen tables around the room, but as I said, at this time only a few customers lingered about.
The music was loud and full of bass. Although I didn’t care for the song that was playing, the mix was sexy in that each wave of bass made me tingle down there just a bit. On stage a peroxide blond was gyrating, naked and occasionally squatting down, her knees apart, to flash her pussy at the few men there. A few bills stuck from a garter on her thigh and with each exposure of her privates the guys close to the stage would contribute more to the money on her thigh. What struck me was how wet she looked. Even across the room it looked like her pussy was practically drooling its juices out, and she had a look of bliss on her face.
“Come on!” Amber implored, taking my arm by the wrist. “We want to get back stage before Tony gets busy.
Beside the door to the left of the stage was another bouncer, Leon, who allowed Amber and I to enter. To the right was another door, and if one continued on straight it went to the dressing room which I could clearly see from there.
“This is where I leave you. I’ll introduce you to Tony, but he will want to interview you himself, I know you’re going to be great! Just relax and be yourself!” Amber said as she knocked on the door.
We entered, went up a short set of steps, Amber still dragging me by the wrist, and into a dimly lit room that looked out from under the stage and afforded a view of the entire bar area. I realized the mirrors behind the stage were one way and that Tony’s “office” was behind it.
“Tony, this is my friend Jennifer, she’s bursa elit escort here about the waitress opening, and I think she would be great!”
“Hello Jennifer, won’t you come in?”
The music was quieter here, but I could still feel the bass vibrating everywhere. Neither Tony nor the office were what I expected.
Tony was maybe in his mid-thirties and in great shape. He was dressed casually in khakis and a polo, was nicely tanned and impeccably groomed. His dark hair was neatly trimmed short, almost military short but not quite, and his brown eyes twinkled as he flashed a pearly white smile. Most impressive was the way his pecs filled his shirt, and his muscular arms extended from it so pumped and cut that veins ran the length of them. Tony was clearly a man that worked out and worked out a lot. His khakis looked tight in the front, but I realized I was seeing an impressive bulge that gave this appearance and quickly looked around the room before he caught me staring. As it happened, I was too late and he flashed another smile at me.
His office was more like a nicely appointed living room than a bar, although back away from the front window was a desk in some dark wood like walnut or ebony. A leather couch sat facing the window and a small end table with an ashtray and an as yet unlit cigar lay beside it, along with a glass of some amber liquid with ice drifting slowly around in it.
“Won’t you have a seat so we can talk Miss Jennifer?” Tony asked as he motioned to the couch. “Also, I need a copy of your license, we can’t hire anyone under 18. You understand.”
I seated myself as well as I could. Damn Amber for letting me get a skirt this short and garter straps this long, there was simply no hiding the top of my hosiery with the skirt. It was all I could do to not flash my panties at Tony in this outfit as I sat and found my drivers license to hand him. I urgently tried to push my knees and thighs together so as not to expose too much but ended up just looking fidgety and lay my hands and purse on my lap.
Tony watched my awkwardness for a moment, grinned and picked up the phone. “Two Grey Goose martinis, dry, three olives.” he said into it and returned to me after copying my license, sitting at the other end of the couch.
“Let me guess, Amber helped you pick out your outfit?” He said, handing my license back.
“Yes, why?” I smiled.
“She’s projecting her exhibitionist streak onto you. Here, let me take that, relax.” He said as he lifted my purse from my lap and set it between us. “At any given time, there are 25 to 30 girls working here, and I’ve seen them all naked. While you are quite beautiful, you need not fear exposing yourself to me.” He grinned.
I was somewhat taken back by this statement. “That’s a lot of girls to see naked.” I said, as I felt the need to say something but couldn’t think of anything useful given my nervousness.
“Not so much, not in this line of work. What has Amber told you about the job?”
“Just that its a waitress job and the tips are good enough that it makes sense to stop working all the hours I do in fast food.” I remembered I had printed out a copy of my resume’ before leaving the apartment and offered it to him.
“That’s okay” he said, setting it aside. “Here, your smile and your posture are your resume, your appearance and personality are your work experience. Have you any dance experience?”
“Wha… uh, no, not really. I, uh” A nervous knot hit my stomach when I realized the reason he asked this. “I thought this was a waitress job. I, if its, well, I’m not applying to be a dancer.”
“No, it’s a waitress job, but let me tell you how things work. The club makes its money off the door charge and by selling drinks that are seriously over-priced. The customers don’t care because they don’t come here to drink, they come to see pretty girls take their clothes off.”
Tony paused for a minute while a girl entered with two drinks, the martini’s he requested, and set them on the end table beside him. He handed one to me as the girl left, silent the entire time she was there other than to offer a polite “Thank you.”
Tony looked out through the window as a new dancer took the stage. There were about the same number of patrons as when I had walked through maybe five minutes before.
“From here I can monitor the entire bar, so while we talk I may get distracted some. If so ,I apologize. Now, where was I?”
“You were explaining how things work, uh, I don’t really drink” I said holding the cold cocktail glass.
“It will help you relax, plus I don’t drink alone.” He grinned, almost giggling.
“Right! So, we make money off the door charge and drinks, but the folks come in to see the girls on stage. Now, they tip good, but unlike the girls on stage, they will spend a great deal of time interacting directly with you. As good as they tip the waitresses early on, the customers consistently tip the dancers more. After all, they aren’t here for drinks, they’re here for pretty girls taking their clothes off. Since it is only human nature to want what you don’t have, soon enough guys will wonder what you would look like dancing. You will start getting very large tips, especially from the regulars. You will, on the very first night and every night thereafter, be asked when you will start dancing. How will you answer them, truthfully?”
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