One of the reasons Amanda always had a hard time with jobs, aside from her natural dis-inclination towards work, was that she was always late. Today was no exception.
She arrived at The Golden Pole fifteen minutes late dressed in a minidress that made her look fabulous, a thong, and no bra.
Pushing through the doors she was went from daylight to darkness, and had to stand still for a moment before her eyes would adjust.
"You Amanda?" a voice rumbled, and she jumped, spotting a giant of a man in standing almost right beside her.
Instead of speaking she nodded.
"You're late."
"Oh, am I? I thought it was...."
"Go through that door. You'll be on in fifteen. Tell the girls you're golden."
"I am? I mean, sure," she nodded, and after fumbling with the all-black wall to find the all-black door she went through into a narrow corridor that ended in a well-lit room filled with mirrored make-up stations and clothes of every variety.
Then of course there were the girls.
"Who're you?" glared one of the older ones, a woman who'd obviously been under the plastic surgeon's knife a few times.
"I'm... golden?" she said, not sure if that was what the doorman had meant.
The girls laughed like it was the funniest thing they'd heard all day.
"Right. The new girl. Amanda, was it?"
Amanda nodded and the woman rattled off a series of names as she pointed to different people. Amanda didn't remember any of them, not even the woman's.
"So... I'm supposed to dance. Audition. What kind of dancing am I doing?" she asked.
The room broke out into howls again and the woman smirked. "Stripping, of course."
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