Not on the face of it; she's more trouble for herself than anyone else is

With the cheering audience buoying Amanda up after each nick and cut her confidence couldn't decrease, which of course meant she couldn't act smarter. So she decided to do something fancy to finish taking off the stockings. For this she called upon her old ballet flexibility. She'd stopped when she grew breasts, but her flexibility remained, something that she only used rarely.

She tucked the rose behind her ear so that the bloom was behind her ear. She didn't want to get a thorn in her ear or the rose tangled in her hair while she did this.

The rose taken care of safely she kneeled, one knee forward and the other one toe-up behind her. Utilizing her flexibility she arched backwards, proudly jutting out the beautiful orbs that had stopped her ballet but made her such a target for men like these. The audience hooted approval as she reached back over her head to take her left leg's stocking by the toe. They watched and waited to see what she'd do this time.

Amanda efforts were surprisingly thwarted, making her arch even more. Her arm pressed against the rose and her face, and in spite of her best efforts she found the thorn once again digging into her skin like a mosquito, this time pushing slowly but forcefully as she reached farther and farther back. At last she reached down far enough, her back painfully arched before the stocking at last gave.

The hush of the crowd turned into wild applause as the stocking flew through the air, landing in the hands of a man who'd come to see Mary and was now just dying to plow this other girl. Amanda followed the trajectory and when he looked at her she smiled dazzlingly and reached up to touch the scratch, a single drop of blood from it seeming like a sign to him.

Her smile turned to the audience, though she turned around, resting her stinging cheek against the cool metal of the pole, rubbing against the tiny cut. She'd figured it out now. The bastards all wanted to see her scratched by the thorn. This was one of those clubs where the girls let the guys whip them. She hadn't counted on that, but she saw guys pulling out money, preparing to give her wads of cash, so she figured a little bit of scratches wouldn't be too bad if it encouraged them to pay. And if she could get them excited by little accidents, maybe some planned accidents would her more money!

Excited by the decided to get a move-on. The sooner the stockings were out of the way the sooner she could plan something.

So thinking she pulled her stinging cheek from the golden pole, tucking the rose on the uninjured side so she wouldn't deepen the little cut, turning it around so the the same thing wouldn't happen. And it didn't. Things went perfectly this time, at least until she got to the back-breaking point and realized that she couldn't go any farther down and the stocking wasn't coming off. Puzzled she moved her head a little to look, only to lose balance. Her knee came up, releasing the end of the stocking, and her hand flew up, her body snapping forward. The stocking stayed in her hand, caught the end of the rose stem and with startling momentum raked its thorns across her previously unblemished cheek.

The crowd cheered again, either enjoying how she'd looked doing it, or maybe they were applauding what looked like three cat scratches across her skin. She tentatively smiled at them as if everything was going according to plan, emboldened by several wallets appearing, not noticing when her eyes left them that they were just buying beer. She twirled the stocking with its golden ribbon and loosed it into the crowd, not bothering to see who caught it.