A midtown hotel romp with two men left Sally in a bad way about her sexual behavior. As she began therapy it became necessary to confront her sexual history. Her college years were a good place to start.
She recalled seeing the sign: City Lights: Dancers Wanted: Make Your Own Hours
She didn’t know if it was something she could actually do but the thought wouldn’t leave her alone. It was a sexual fantasy she had harbored for some time since reading an article about college girls going to Las Vegas on weekends to work in so-called “Gentlemen’s Clubs”. She’d done crazy things before but this would be taking it to a whole new level. Then again, she thought, I could just go and see what it’s all about. Talking herself into it, she made the call. “Yes”, the man said, “We are still looking for dancers.”
They agreed to a meeting the next morning. City Lights was in Framingham, a thirty-mile drive from her campus in Boston, far enough that, if she decided to act, it could be done anonymously.
It wasn’t exactly what you’d call upscale, City Lights was in a run-down part of town surrounded by liquor stores, check cashing places, and sorry-looking grocery stores. It was ten AM and there were only a handful of cars in the lot, Frank, the man she spoke to the day before, mentioned they didn’t open for business until three in the afternoon. It was pretty much as she expected, a long bar on one side and seating up to the stage opposite that. There was a DJ set up next to a row of benches and what looked to be a back room. She approached a man sitting at the bar drinking coffee and asked if he was Frank.
“Yes I am,” was his reply. “And you must be Sally.”
She accepted his offer of coffee and he first asked to see her ID, dancers must be at least eighteen, Sally was barely legal as they say. Moving to a nearby table, Frank then explained exactly what employment at City Lights would entail. Dancers were independent contractors, there was no salary, no benefits, and no job security, all stage dancing tips, less ten percent for the DJ, accrued to the dancer. There was a lap dancing area with no touching allowed, dancers paid the house ten dollars per dance, whatever they got beyond that was theirs.
In the back room were several small rooms for private interactions. These rooms cost the dancers fifty dollars for each use. Frank explained that while City Lights was not exactly upscale she could expect as much as one hundred bucks or more for a private session. If she was going to offer sex to her clients there were certain protocols they used to avoid prostitution problems.
Frank excused himself and came back with Ahmed, the owner. Both men commented that she was unlike most of the other girls and that she could expect to make serious money. When Sally inquired just what “serious” meant, they both agreed that a thousand a night was not out of the question.
“Okay then, let’s see what you’ve got,” said Ahmed as he lit a cigar.
Sally rose and removed her sweater. Slightly unbalanced she unzipped her jeans and put them on the nearby chair. Knowing that they’d want her to undress she wore her sexiest underwear. The nipples on her small breasts were now perfectly erect as she dropped her bra on the table. She made a point of acting coquettish as she slid her panties down her legs. Her heart was pounding with the arousal of standing in this public place naked for these men to ogle and offer judgment on whether she was acceptable to work in their brothel. Hands on hips, they asked her to turn around. Frank mentioned to her that her tits were kind of small but everything else was a real moneymaker, he also mentioned she’d need to shave her pussy.
Frank stepped away for a moment and returned with a G string, tiny spangled bra, and a pair of impossibly high stilettos. He said, “Here, put these on and I’ll get Tom to play a little music. Keep in mind you don’t have to be a great dancer you just have to act suggestive and available. I might also add that the more guys see of your pussy the more you’ll make in tips.”
A pretty good dancer, Sally moved across the stage and wrapped herself around the pole while shedding the tiny bra and g string. She was burning with sexual excitement as she positioned herself on her haunches, legs spread apart, in front of Ahmed and Frank.
Coming down from the stage and still wearing the impossible heels, she joined the two men back at the table. Ahmed, cupping her breast and pinching her nipple commented to Frank that he liked her titties and, he said, as he moved his hand between her legs, “This young pussy is something men would kill for.”
Ahmed continued to caress her pussy as he told her about all the fun she would have working at City Lights. Finding her clitoris he brought her to the point where her knees were buckling and she had to bring her hands to her face to stifle her moans as she climaxed and pissed all over the floor. Laughing uproariously, Frank said, “If you can do that for clients you’ll be rich.” Ahmed agreed. They wanted her to start that night. Saying she needed a little time to think about it, she’d call back in a couple of hours.
She found the idea thrilling but Ahmed was a problem, she thought he was a creep. While she felt she had no choice but to acquiesce to his unwanted touching it portended a problem; she didn’t want to have sex with him. Back on campus an hour or so later she decided not to call. Several weeks went by and she couldn’t let it go. Should she try another place? Thinking back, she saw Frank, an older man, as more sympathetic and possibly someone she could talk to. He answered on the first ring and when she introduced herself he said how happy he was she finally got back to them. Right up front, Sally explained her reason for not calling and her doubts about working for Ahmed. Frank said he understood and that he believed Ahmed just “temporarily lost it”. He explained they had a no fraternization policy and that Ahmed was very aware of the problems sexual harassment could bring. He also said he would talk to him.
She said, “Okay.”
Monday, he told her, is a good day to start; it’s less crowded and she’d have more of a chance to get comfortable on the stage. If she could make it by three o’clock he’d have Vivian, the dance manager, fill her in on how things worked.
Monday was three days away, she could still back out if she wanted, but when she took her razor into the shower Sunday morning and shaved her pussy she knew where she would be Monday afternoon.
To be continued.