A skimpy School Girl uniform.

I blush when I see the skimpy schoolgirl uniform, not all that different from the one I wear to school every day.

For a moment I have to fight the urge to protest, but then I realize that I've already come this far and that backing out now might mean I never get to know my father.

A few minutes later, I'm dressed and walking timidly onto the stage.

Swallowing hard, I start to sway to the soft music filling the club, but shortly, someone changes the song to something considerably more up beat, and cranks the volume way up. My movements are mechanical and stiff, fear gripping me as I try to do what I must.

"Dance like you mean it!" "She must fuck good, cuz she cant dance." "Good grief." And other comments fill the air, making me even more self conscious than I was before.

I close my eyes for several seconds, letting my movements nearly stop completely, I've got to dance, daddy said if I dont do good, I wont see him again.

I take a deep, calming breath, then step towards the nearest poll, taking hold of it and spinning around it. I do my best to ignore everything outside of my dancing.

The jeers seem to fade away around me.

Gyrating my hips, I pull myself close to the poll, my lips mere centimeters away from the chrome pole. I pause, trying to decide how to proceed.