Finish the job, of course

"Heck, may as well do the job right," one man said. "Get the bitch naked."

"No," Ryleigh said, but no one was listening to her.

"Sounds good," the bearded man said.

"Before you finish," one of the other men said, "can you make the little slut dance her way out of her panties? And then throw them to me?"

"Absolutely," Ryleigh's bearded tormentor said. He turned to Ryleigh. He was smiling.

"No, please," Ryleigh said. "I'm begging you. Please."

"Sorry, honey," he said. "The people have spoken." He didn't speak for several seconds, giving Ryleigh a chance to anticipate what was coming. Then he said, "Bottomless. Boogie."

Ryleigh started dancing. She didn't want to, any more than she'd wanted to remove any of her clothing, but, as with everything that had happened to her today, she had ****. She found herself dancing, slowly, moving her hips, legs, and arms in a sexy way that she recognized.

During her first year in college, Ryleigh had visited a strip club with her boyfriend of the time, who took her after she said she wanted to see what the fuss was about. She hadn't gained any insights into the popularity of such places, but she vividly remembered watching the way the girls who worked there danced.

The dance moves she was doing now, she had seen in that strip club visit several years ago. She had never done any of them before, but clearly remembered them. Or maybe her tormentor remembered them, and thought they were appropriate for what she was doing now.

Before Ryleigh danced more than a few steps, one of the men pulled out a small MP3 player and started playing a song she didn't recognize. It had a strong bass line, and was easy to dance to, not that she found this any comfort.

Partway through the dance, Ryleigh slipped her hands under the elastic of her g-string and pushed them down to her ankles. She stepped out of them, picked them up, twirled them around her head, and then threw them to the man who had asked for them.

Ryleigh watched in horror as the man sniffed her g-string, then wadded it up and stuffed it into a pocket. The compulsion to dance was gone now, and Ryleigh stood, covering herself with her hands. She said, "No," but didn't expect much by now.

She wasn't surprised when the man ignored her.

Ryleigh looked around at her audience. No one was paying much attention to her now. She looked behind her, where the doors to the back of the library lay. Beyond those doors were the break room and the back room where they stored books and other materials, as well as shipping and receiving. And the back door out of the library was at the far end of the back room.

If she could get to the back room, Ryleigh could get to the back door, then out into the street. Then she'd have to figure out how to get to her apartment without being seen again.

Was it possible?

Ryleigh decided to risk it.