The Dancer

[dazed]

Great setup. Hooked her in real good. Hope things heat up

[*Lady Lucia*]

PART FOUR

I wasn’t sure which was louder - my heartbeat, or the thumping bass from the vague club music the DJ turned back up for my ‘performance.’

I began to nervously move my body to the music. Despite my years of experience dancing, my dance moves all felt a little bit rigid and awkward as I tried to match the pounding club music. I could hear a few laughs, no doubt from old classmates in disbelief that I would be doing something like this, but Ashley was quick to grab the microphone and tell them I was just warming up. The relief didn’t last long, as Ashley added on, “Just give her a minute. Bella is a stripper. She knows what she’s doing!”

The reminder of my ‘profession’ made the heat rise to my cheeks, but that paled in comparison to the pressure the last sentence added. I’m supposed to know what I’m doing. They’re paying me all this money, and I did practice for two full days before this. Somehow, I needed to push past the doubt and awkwardness.

Little by little, I allowed my movements to get more fluid, though the self-conscious thoughts persisted. By the end of the first song, things were starting to feel more natural. I finally managed to tune the crowd out and start feeling the music in my body. I was also a good dancer. Sure, I didn’t like being the center of attention, but at least I was doing something I excelled at.

“When’s she going to strip?” A girl in the front row asked loudly. Her question set off a chain reaction of voices that were quickly directed more towards me than to each other. Cries of “Strip!” and “Take your clothes off!” came from a number of horny boys and amused girls in the crowd.

As the next song started, I reluctantly obeyed. I ever so slowly began to lift my gray halter top, revealing the smooth skin just above my waist. What was I doing? But it felt like I had no choice. I was a stripper, at least for the night. I was annoyed that Ashley hadn’t been more specific on the phone, but I also partially blamed myself for not calling back to ask about those specifics.

What could I do now? Every little motion was a mental battle with myself, though my body somehow knew to keep dancing throughout the whole experience. Thankfully, the crowd was on my side. They were cheering me on, though I could tell from some of the faces that the ones that knew me were relishing this surprising side of me. Even so, they all seemed to appreciate what was coming.

Keeping a shaky grip on the hem of my top, I finally willed myself to pull it past my breasts. Realizing I was about to lose my nerve, I quickly yanked the thin fabric over my head and completely off my body before I could stop myself. Not the most smooth motion, but no one seemed to care. The crowd grew ecstatic as my black bra came into view. Glancing down, I realized just how much cleavage the undergarment was showing off as it held my full C cups together. Oh my God, and everyone was going to see how they moved once I started dancing again!

“Keep your skirt on, Bella. For now!” Ashley’s voice boomed out over the music again. I glanced back to see the blonde still confidently standing next to her DJ friend. It wasn’t lost on me that she and I were dressed the same now. Black bottom layer and a bra, the rest of our skin available for everyone to see. “We still have plenty of time until midnight. Who wants the first lap dance??”

Once again, cheers filled the room, and a number of hands shot up into the air. The beginning of the dance and the act of stripping my top almost made me forget the rest of the things that I agreed to. It wasn’t just 45 minutes of dancing. It was giving dances to people.

“Looks like Ryan is the only one who knows how this works!” Ashley exclaimed. I turned in horror to see a guy from high school who had asked me out at least ten times before graduation. Cocky, annoying, and incredibly persistent. I was 100% sure he only wanted me because he took my ‘prudish’ nature to be a challenge. Excuse me if I wanted to be with guys who I actually had a connection with. But now, the dark haired college freshman was sitting there with a grin and a green bill held up in his hand. “For those of you who don’t know how this works,” Ashley continued, “You don’t ever hand the money to her. You find a more…creative way to give it to her.” It felt like the blonde was partially saying it for my benefit as well, considering I wasn’t a real stripper.

I wanted to run, but I felt trapped. Topless, committed to the ‘job,’ and really wanting that $500 for next semester. It was just a dance. It didn’t mean anything. At least, those were a number of things I told myself to justify it. Stepping down from the table, I sauntered over towards the cocky boy in the leather chair.

As I lightly let my legs straddle him to close the distance, I gave him as much of a smirk as I could handle. “Hi, Ryan.” I said it in the most seductive tone I could manage, trying to suppress the vomit at the same time.

“Bella,” he gave me a knowing smile back. Obviously not much had changed. But this time, I couldn’t refuse his flirting. He held up the green bill, and I was a little surprised to see it was literally just a $1 bill. “This is about how much you’re worth to me,” he said. Nice and quiet, so no one else could hear. And then, before I could think of a reply, he reached forward and stuffed the money in my bra.

[dublinjohn]

So glad to see this back

[dublinjohn]

Please come back to this

[*Lady Lucia*]

PART FIVE

Oh. My. God.

For a moment, I actually felt Ryan’s fingers graze my bare breasts as he roughly shoved the dollar bill into my bra. Yet somehow, it wasn’t the momentary violation or the arrogant smirk that made me cringe. It was the fact that I felt the scratchy paper against my skin, and the peripheral vision of a green bill sticking out of my bra. The mortifying visual must have crushed any doubts about me being a proper stripper, and I knew right then that it would be the first bill of many. Yet I didn’t have time to think about that.

I had to figure out how to give a lap dance.

I had practiced a lot of things after Ashley’s call, but this was not one of them. And I had to figure it out on Ryan, of all people. “Well?” The dark haired asshole finally broke away from his blatant staring at my breasts to look me in the eyes. Of course, I knew what I had to do. And I didn’t need him to demean me in such a patronizing way.

Not saying a word, I just smirked right back at him. I had never been so grateful for my teachers forcing me to practice expressions in front of a mirror for dancing. It wasn’t my favorite assignment, but I had gotten to the point where I knew how to show what I wanted with my face, and could hold it and manipulate it for a full dance routine. Swallowing my pride, I leaned forward and placed my hand on his chest, shifting my hips to further straddle him. “If you touch me again, you don’t get a dance.”

Honestly, most of my lap dance ‘knowledge’ came from shows and movies. I had seen guys groping the girls’ asses, but had also seen clubs enforce the ‘no touching’ rule. Of the two, I quickly decided in the moment to go with the latter. If I let Ryan get away with it, it would set the tone for the rest of the night.

And then, hoping it wasn’t too awkward, I gave him a short dance. As I faced him, I reluctantly ran my hands along his face and chest, letting my hips and thighs constantly shift as I straddled him and moved to the music. To me, his attitude and the $1 payment was insulting enough that I leaned forward as if I was going to rub my breasts on his chest or his face, and then promptly stood up to turn around without giving him any satisfaction. Not knowing what Ashley had promised her guests, I then lowered myself back onto Ryan, this time straddling him with my skirt covered ass facing him. Only halfway through the next few series of motions did I realize that leaning over in such a way showed off a ton of cleavage to those watching from across the room.

At that realization, I felt my cheeks flush. Deciding that I was done with Ryan, and done with how my black bra didn’t cover nearly enough of my breasts in that position, I swiftly stepped away from the boy, hoping the dim room hid my light blush. Only then did I realize just how many eyes were on me as the music pounded away. Somehow, I convinced myself that the best way to keep my dignity was to keep dancing as if none of this bothered me. After all, Ashley and half her friends were showing off just as much skin. Hell, Ashley herself was just wearing a bra like me.

Still, I decided to continue satisfying the excited crowd. I was in too deep, the money was too good, and Ashley would kill me if I bailed on her now. Letting the false smirk rest on my face, I pushed back my loose red hair and strutted over to another raised hand holding a green bill.

I gave dance after dance. Save for the hands stuffing bills into my bra, everyone at least adhered to the no touching rule. The stares were actually worse than the dancing itself. I had long gotten over close contact with dance partners, and that somewhat bled over into the mortifying task of giving lap dances. But seeing the way that each guy shamelessly stared at my bra-covered breasts made me constantly aware of just how exposed I was without my top on. And, while I couldn’t see it myself, I’m sure my ass got plenty of stares each time I did the second half of the ‘routine’ I was starting to develop.

Ten dances in, I concluded that straddling old classmates was WAY worse than straddling strangers. I tried my hardest not to focus on the girls who looked somewhat appalled at my behavior, or the onlooking guys who were loving every moment of my exposure. Thankfully, the music was loud enough that I couldn’t hear any of the conversations around the room. My bra was slowly getting more and more full of paper bills, all of which stuck out in the most damning and humiliating way. And, as I got up from yet another lustful boy’s lap, Ashley got my attention by calling out my name and raising a green bill of her own.

I cringed internally, but managed to keep my performance up. Strutting over to the scantily clad blonde, I slowly lowered myself onto her as she generously slid a $20 bill into my bra. If the boys were lustful before, I could only imagine their excitement as two girls were face to face in nothing but bras. Her short shorts were technically more revealing than my skirt, but I could feel the gray fabric riding up on me every time I straddled somebody, Ashley included.

“Just thought you’d want an update,” Ashley softly smiled, as I carefully placed my hand on her upper chest. Unlike the guys before her, the blonde below me had boobs, and I had to be careful not to land too close to them.

“What update?” I asked, blushing again as the crowd cheered when I began naturally moving to the music and ‘teasing’ Ashley with my body, the same way I had with the other boys.

Unlike everyone else, Ashley pulled out another bill, being a little more rough this time as she shoved it into the opposite bra cup from the first. “You have 25 minutes left,” she said, leaning forward to whisper in my ear, “And it’s time to lose the skirt.”

[dublinjohn]

Thank you so much for returning to this

[Spanker]

Bella's going to be losing more than her skirt.

I think she's going to be regretting she took the job

[*Lady Lucia*]

PART SIX

That’s right.

The earlier conversation with Ashley had explained as much. Her words from the bedroom echoed in my head. She had answered my question simply and to the point, but it didn’t change how daunting or embarrassing the answer was: “Your bra and underwear, Bella.”

Just when I had found my ‘stride’ giving lap dances with my cleavage constantly shown off to the whole party, I was reminded that there was more to do. And, considering I was currently straddling Ashley in said bra and with my skirt riding up, I was well past the point of calling this whole thing off.

“Bella.” Ashley poked the bare part of my breast to bring me back to reality. The surprise of being prodded that way kept me from snapping at her like I may have done to one of the guys, and I realized I had also been subtly dancing on her thighs even when I momentarily got lost in my thoughts. Damn dancer instincts. I wasn’t even sure if I was impressed or appalled with myself for doing so. “That’s two twenties. You should really mix your routine up. More money means a better dance,” she smirked, no doubt loving all the attention from all the onlookers. Our faces were still rather close, and her words were meant just for me, especially with the pounding music that filled the room and the rest of the house. “Let’s put on a good show, okay?”

“O-okay…” I muttered, meeting her eyes. Despite the trepidation in my voice, I managed to maintain the smirk I had plastered on my own face from the moment I walked in the room. And, taking a moment to collect myself, I got to work.

Guessing all the things I had already done to her and the boys before her weren’t quite enough, I started to improvise. My hands ran up and down her bare upper half, though I made a point to barely hover away from her chest each time, rather than actually touch her bra-covered boobs. And I got way closer with my face than I did with any of the guys. Inwardly cringing, I lowered myself to her chest, then shifted to her neck, and then to her lips, teasing her like I’m sure I had seen in some video at some point in my life. I was keenly aware of our bare legs constantly pressing against each others’ as well, but that paled in comparison to all the lewd motions I made to her upper half.

Shit.

It took me way too long to realize it, but HER hands were on MY body too. Mostly holding my bare sides as I did all the work, but it still broke the ‘no touching’ rule I had enforced earlier. Maybe it wasn’t too late. “No touching,” I narrowed my eyes as I voiced my first and only personal stripper rule, and briefly took my hands off her body to pull her hands away. It didn’t matter if this was the most uncomfortable thing I had ever done. I may have been topless, but I was still a little in control.

Ashley just subtly rolled her eyes, as if to say ‘fine.’

Guessing it was as good a time as any, I shifted back and stood up for a moment to turn around, then lowered myself down again to begin the second half of her dance. It was only once my skirt covered ass was in the blonde’s face that I realized the DJ was playing some club remix of “I Kissed A Girl.”

Face lightly flushing, I ‘flaunted my body’ for everyone; my ass for Ashley, my boobs for anyone watching. Somehow, I kept a confident expression, but it somehow felt even more wrong to be doing this with a girl. It’s not that I’m against any kind of sexuality, but I’m just not into girls myself. Yet there I was, giving Ashley a lap dance as if I did it all the time.

Remembering her point about how much she paid compared to everyone else, I even went the extra mile. When I had done about as much as I could creatively do with my body while straddling someone else, I got up and turned back around, leaning down as if I actually was going to make out with her. God, what was wrong with me? Half of me was playing the part, and the other half was thinking about the $500 I needed to ‘earn.’ But, instead of kissing her, I just gently took her blonde locks and walked away, letting her hair trail off in my fingers until she was out of reach.

Then it was time.

Ashley was my ‘boss’ for the evening, and she wouldn’t want me giving another dance without doing what she said first. So I tossed my own hair back and strutted back to the coffee table, stepping up onto the makeshift stage. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this, but I was already in WAY too deep. Halfway done with my commitment. I only needed to last another 20 minutes or so, and I could go home and take multiple showers to get rid of the gross feeling that straddling Ryan and a few other pervy boys gave me.

And, as I took the ‘stage,’ I also realized I could kill a little more time up there to avoid future lap dances. So I let my body move with the music, making a few sharp movements with my head and hips. The cheers were somehow both mortifying and mildly helpful at the same time. Doing something like this to a dead room would have been 100 times worse.

But I couldn’t delay the inevitable forever. Allowing my smirk to grow into a confident grin, I hooked my fingers underneath the waistband of the short gray skirt, eternally grateful that it didn’t have a zipper. Ugh, bending over was going to show off my cleavage again, but it wasn’t like everyone hadn’t seen plenty already. Resigning myself to my self-imposed exposure, I sloooowly lowered the skirt to the cheers of the crowd. Partly because my perfectionist self wanted to put on a good show, but also because the proper side of me was still faintly resisting.

Regardless, I made it. As gravity took it the rest of the way, my gray skirt pooled around my ankles as I reluctantly stood back up.

There I was, standing on the makeshift stage and baring my matching black bra and thong to the crowd.

And there was still more to come.

[dublinjohn]

Great to see this back, please don't leave the next chapter too long

[*Lady Lucia*]

PART SEVEN

The phrase “Sunk Cost Fallacy” had never been so apt than when I stood in just my plain black lingerie, surrounded by former classmates and total strangers.

Everyone had already seen my top half swaying and bouncing and shifting as I danced in just a bra, and now the whole room could see most of my bare legs and ass. When I put on a thong earlier, it had been for the sake of avoiding panty lines in the tight skirt. In retrospect, panty lines would have been much preferable to showing dozens of people just about everything aside from my most private area.

But the current problem was the same as the previous problem. I had already come this far. If there was a time to bail, it would have been before I removed the skirt. But Ashley’s lap dance, especially the choice of song, had distracted me enough that my main focus was getting off her lap and to the next part of the evening.

The moment my skirt pooled at my ankles, regret and reality washed over me. This was too much. Somehow, I had managed to justify topless lap dances, but being bottomless on a ‘stage’ raised the stakes. Everyone behind me could see my bare ass cheeks, and everyone else could see my bra stuffed with cash and only a triangle of fabric protecting the rest of my modesty. On top of the exposure, I was suppose to keep flaunting my body in this state of undress, and give more dances? No way.

Degrading myself like this was NOT worth $500. It wasn’t worth triple that number.

Could I just grab my skirt and run? Pull it back up first? There were a ton of problems with the ‘run away’ strategy. My purse was back up in the bedroom, and I had no idea where my shirt ended up after I stripped it off for the crowd. Getting out of here was going to be an enormous headache, and I was beginning to accept the fact that I’d be driving home topless with no money to show for giving up so much of my dignity. Ashley didn’t seem like the type to pay for an incomplete job. God, why did I let her talk me into this in the first place? I could have just left.

Making an executive decision, I stepped one foot at a time out of the skirt, trying my very hardest to keep the faint smile on my face like nothing was wrong. It would be easier to flee with skirt in hand than by making the plan obvious by partially dressing myself before running. Seeing countless cameras capturing my newfound exposure, I suddenly felt a wave of validation in regards to my choice to run away. My current image would require a TON of damage control if family or college friends saw any of this. No need to supplement that material with even more damning pictures and videos.

My hips swayed just enough so I wouldn’t awkwardly be standing on the table, and time seemed to slow down as I allowed an entire house party to stare at me in just my underwear. I used those mortifying few seconds to map my escape route; between the sofa and the armchair, past the DJ’s table, and back to the kitchen. Before I could overthink it, I leapt off the table, snatched up my skirt, and ran.

For a few moments, everything was a blur. From all around, I could hear jeering and complaining as the night’s main entertainment lost her nerve. No one tried to stop me, but pushing through the crowd left me vulnerable to all kinds of violations. As I was shoving my way past the pocket of audience members who had congregated between the furniture, I felt a few rough squeezes and slaps of my bare ass, but that was nothing compared to what came next.

One of the last guys standing between me and the kitchen squared off with me and, with a disgusting grin, grabbed both of my breasts and squeezed. Gasping, I shoved him hard, so hard that he probably would have fallen on his ass if it weren’t for the kitchen table he ended up colliding with instead. Ignoring the insults and profanities he yelled after me, as if I was the bad guy for overreacting to him GRABBING my BOOBS, I raced for the stairs without looking back.

The silver lining to publicly degrading myself? There were no other obstacles between me and the bedroom. Apparently my little show was enough to drag the whole house over to watch. I bounded up the stairs and back to the room where Ashley convinced me to go through with my ‘commitment,’ and slammed the door behind me.

One big breath. And then I had to keep going. The privacy was much needed, but this wasn’t my bedroom and wasn’t my house. There was no time to relax or process or decompress. I quickly stepped back into the dark gray number, pulled it up my legs, and let out a sigh of relief once the skirt was situated where it was supposed to be. Next I pulled the money out of my bra cups, the sensation of paper-against-skin causing me to blush to myself now that I was thinking more clearly. God, I really was a stripper for a few minutes, wasn’t I?

Not bothering to count the total, I folded the stack of bills in half and went to put in my purse. Except my purse wasn’t there. I could practically feel my heart drop as I took in the empty dresser top. That meant no phone, no wallet, no keys. I distinctly remembered placing my things there before heading downstairs for the biggest mistake of my life, but now they were nowhere to be seen.

Before I could begin tearing the room apart to find where my stuff might have been moved to, however, I was interrupted by the telltale sound of a doorknob being twisted.