A Part-Time Stripper

For the first time in a long time, Sarah Pelham wore a disguise. It wasn’t anything fancy, just some sunglasses, a hat, and a long, black coat, but it was necessary as she walked into Palanquin. She’d rather die than have anyone recognize her. Not that anyone could even really see in her, geez. Strobe lights left spots in her vision and the music was so loud she could barely hear her phone as it chimed

Circe: Ayyyy, you made it! Don’t worry, I think I’m the only one who recognizes that fine behind of yours. On your left is the coat check, go ask for number 216, and get dressed.

Sarah started to type up a protest and then remembered the last time she argued with this user on OnlyCapes. They had initially hopped in her DM’s and dropped a lot of money asking for a “clit pic.” That was money donated just to ask, stating they’d pay the same if she followed through. Sarah had pushed back, reminding Circe of the proper ways to request content on her page, but Circe had only stated that she would lower the payment for every minute until she got the pic. Sarah kept arguing, but Circe kept spamming the amount, each time just a little bit lower. Despite her pride, Sarah caved, making sure the door to the office was locked before quickly pulling down the front of her pajama pants and panties to snap a picture of her unshaven vagina. Immediately, Circe had responded with “oh my god, you actually did it!” with a whole page worth of laughing face emoticons. Sarah was sure she’d been duped until her banking app chimed as the money hit, the decreased amount paid. New Wave had gotten needed upgrades to their costumes soon after.

A month or so passed like that, with Circe lighting up her phone and asking for things at usually inopportune times. And when Circe got impatient, she started counting down the amount until Sarah either had to give up the golden opportunity for easy cash or hastily excuse herself from her life to go take pictures or send naughty voice messages. A photo of her on all fours. Over the top moaning. A video of her sucking her thumb. A picture of her butthole. It was all incredibly humiliating, but she’d made so much money that it was getting harder and harder to say no.

And tonight was going to pay more than all of those other times combined. She tucked her phone back into her pocket. She wasn’t about to lose a single cent from this by complaining, even though she really wanted to.

The woman at the coat check was on her phone, but immediately put it away once Sarah walked up. Faultline ran a very tight ship here to make sure it was the best club in Brockton.

“Hi,” the woman said, chipper. “I hope you’re enjoying your night, may I take your coat?”

Sarah panicked a bit. All she was wearing underneath this coat was her nicest lingerie, as instructed.

“I’m hear for 216?”

Immediately, the woman’s face soured “Oh. It’s you.”

Sarah tilted her head, confused. “I’m sorry?”

But the woman was already walking to the back. She was taking a while too, a line forming now. Finally, she returned, hands completely full. Oh no.

“For the record,” the woman said, “we don’t appreciate you leaving this much…attire… with us in the future.”

The woman then tossed everything down on the counter with a thud. Why the fuck were there roller skates on top of a pile of clothes?!

“Next guest?” the coat woman said, smile painted back on.

The guy behind Sarah nudged her out of the way and began chatting away, forcing Sarah to stand awkwardly to side with the random clothes she’d been given. Her phone buzzed.

Circe: As adorable as your face is right now, we’re on a timer right now. Stop dawdling and choose one to get dressed, ya milf.

Sarah then realized there were two outfits and she hurriedly separated the clothes until she could figure out the options and pick before she started to lose money.

• The first is a schoolgirl uniform. Wait, not just any schoolgirl uniform, she recognized it. Upon closer inspection in the dim club lighting she could tell it was the same ones used at Immaculata, the school her daughter attended for a brief spell. It seemed sized for a high schooler too, far too short in the skirt and tight in the shirt to be anywhere close to decent on her mature body. There were even little hair ties and white stockings that would surely rip if she tried to put them on.

•Sarah had no issue seeing the other one, a mess of neon colors. It was figuring out how it was all supposed to be worn that was hard. Surely the neon green mesh net thing was supposed to be a top, but there was no actual shirt in sight. The bottoms offered plenty of coverage but even she had enough fashion sense to know that wearing zebra print spandex shorts over bright pink leggings was something no one had ever worn since jazzercise videos decades ago. And those roller skates! Was she really expected to wear those?