Ordinary jobs

Chuck Thompson checked his watch, the seven thirty train was four minutes late. His schedule tightened further. He would have to adjust the meeting at four to make up for lost time, he would need to call his secretary at the office to move things around so everything would line up on time. As dedicated as he was to the productivity of the firm, he did like to go home on time every now and then. Chuck fumbled with his tie out of nervousness, tightening it and then loosening it. The longer he waited for the train, the more he could feel the fabric of his well pressed work suit becoming stuffier and more uncomfortable.

He began to sweat, feeling the ticking of the clock of the watch on his hand like a literal weight on his chest. The more it ticked, the more he would have to adjust. Chuck prided himself on his time management skills, and was one of the main reasons he was chosen to be promoted this month for being one of the most well organized in the firm. He managed cases professionally, and presented them with ease and clarity that no other could.

However, the constant pressure of being the best man for the job took a toll on him. Long hours, grueling and challenging research often by himself, and the envy of his peers. Chuck however persevered, and was now the head of the claims department at the firm.

He was a bit nervous he wouldn’t make it on time this morning, since he had spent the night out with the other guys from his office at a strip joint celebrating his promotion. But was surprised at the amount of energy he seemed to have, limber and ready to start work at the office in full.

Finally Chuck heard the train in the distance and gave a relieved sigh, picking up his briefcase and extracting his train pass from his suit coat.

The train doors closed behind him, as he steadied himself on a steel pole in the middle of the subway aisles just like he always did with both of his thighs scissoring the bar as he hung off it upside down using only his inner thighs as an anchor and twirling around with an afterthought.

The other subway goers paid no mind as Chuck swiftly worked the aisle bar, letting his tie loose and throwing it offhandedly to a man playing a handheld game, letting it hang off his head while more and more Chuck's clothing made their way off his body and onto the floor or other passengers bodies.

“Carla, how's it going deary...what brings you by this morning...you’re not usually here for the morning slobs...what gives?” Patricia wondered why one of the nightly headliners was showing up for a morning shift.

Carla was one of the highlights of Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights. She was the final act to their special nightly events and she always drew a big crowd with her highly professional act. Men would throw thousands at her just to get a chance to see her perform, she offered one of the most unique shows in the business.

“Oh, sorry Patty...I’ve been going through a bit of financial trouble...a cousin of mine got sick and I'm helping take care of the kids. So I hope you don't mind if I pick up an early shift...I need some spare cash for bills and food, and you know Jerry is ...well ...” She leveled off with a weary shake of her head. Patricia gave a strained lipped smile in consideration, knowing full well what the younger dancer was dealing with.

“I understand hon, don't worry... some of the other girls do the same thing...don't expect much with this morning crowd though...they’re a bunch of poor slubs” Patricia waved off, an older vet of the club that now works as a sort of den mother and coordinator to most of the dancers. Carla sighed and gave Patricia a quick thankful side hug and trotted off backstage.

“Could you tell Trevor to get Stage 2 ready for my set? I’ll be doing routine 23 right now...something light” Carla called over her shoulder. Patricia nodded in understanding.

Carla primped and preened herself in the mirror, while the rest of the morning crew did the same. There were only three other girls, two of them fresh out of being college dropouts and pretty green. They were newbies, fresh and untalented. The third girl was an older woman who danced for fun and side cash, not really that great but doing so mostly for herself.

Carla wore one of her older outfits, a red PVC bodice with matching black and red garters and lace thong. She applied the gel to her bare nipples and stuck on the matching tassels. Smirking at the ridiculous sight as she jiggled them to and fro. She gave herself a kiss in the mirror before moving off to the stage entrance

Carla trotted up to the stage, her red and black heels strutting along the stage as the lights centered on her and the music started up.

She smiled to the sparse crowd, just ten men and oddly enough two women populating the entire club whose sole attention was now centered on her. She basked in their gaze and let the DJ start her intro.

“Everyone give it up for a very special treat, the magnanimous Carla Rhodes! Yall should feel blessed just to be in her presence” The DJ thundered, she smiled prettily as the curtains parted and the small crowd clapped and whistled in awe and appreciation.

She sauntered down the catwalk, heels clattering all the while with a stiff and business-like gait that set eyes bulging and mouths watering. She stopped at the edge, grateful for Trevor setting up some of the props for her set and getting down to business.

All of the men in the club's eyes were glued to her as she poured a steaming cup of coffee into a cardboard cup, watching with rapt attention if she would use the creamer or half and half or be bold and go straight black today. Patricia, smirked proudly, the guys went wild for that bored slack expression on her face as she stirred her coffee and waited for the steam to die down.

She usually spent the time talking about client privileges and doing powerpoint lectures about adjustment portfolios dressed in her best, which always seemed to make the guys start showering her with green.

Carla sipped her coffee idly while she sat in a stool near the stage and read the notes from the days previous meetings to her “secretary” which happened to be one of the lucky shlubs in the crowd. He spent most of his time drooling and blubbering over her while slipping ones into the neatly stacked folders on the stage which she handed out to them at the beginning of the set. She would collect their folders and evaluate them each in turn when the set was over, which always went over real big at the end of the night.