Pretty quiet

The dressing room is empty and you quickly count your money, finding that the guys gave you a total of sixteen hundred dollars. You're heart lifts as you realize this will clear your rent and with some to spare. You won't have to come back here and dance naked while strange men watch you with hungry eyes, or pay you to fuck them with their hard thick cocks... You find yourself getting excited all over again, your mind admitting what your body already knew.

The knowledge that you love performing for men, love their eyes and hands on you, love their cocks in you, love submitting to them, being at the mercy of their brutal sexual desires.

You give a little shiver, and shake your head to clear it, telling yourself to get your head together as you clean yourself up and start fixing your make-up, deciding that you'll wear the slutty nurse outfit next, and giggling at your anticipation of the audience reaction.

When you get back in the club room you see that the crowd has thinned out, with only two thirds of the stage side seats occupied. You put your best effort into your routine when it's your turn on stage, and while you get applause and some tips, it's nowhere near how well you did as the farmer's daughter.

You do join a table of young guys who look like college students when Ginger beckons you over, the two of you flirting and bantering with them, but not able to sell them on a lap dance or a VIP room. When you leave to get ready for your final set, you realize the place is less than a third full.

You dance the final set as the sexy secretary, and do no better than you did as the slutty nurse, although there are more than a few whistles and you do ok on tips from the guys at stage side. When you come off the stage you see no tables of customers that don't already have a dancer with them. You're looking around, wondering what to do, when Tony steps up to you.

"You did good sweetheart. A real big hit. Personally, I thought you might flop hard, but you did real good." He gives you a pat on the ass and a proprietary squeeze. "It's got pretty dead. Always does on Tuesdays. You might as well go on home sweetheart. Go get your stuff together and come back to the office and settle up what you owe."

"Ok Tony thanks," you say, picking up your stuff and scampering away to the dressing room. Once there you pull on your track pants and sweatshirt, not bothering with underwear, and using a scrunchie to put your hair up. Putting your costumes and make-up into your bag you look in your purse, figuring what you owe Tony. Three lapdances at fifty each, and two sessions in the VIP room, should come to two seventy five, and you count out the bills, holding them in your hand as you go to see Tony.

He's in his office on the phone but when he sees you he mutters something into the receiver and hangs up. You give him a smile and put the money on the desk. He picks it up and quickly counts it then looks up at you with a frown.

"You're light, sweetheart."

"Umm...three lap dances and two times in the room...that should be..."

"It's a hundred bucks a half hour in the rooms sweetheart. Your second session you were almost an hour. You owe me another Benjamin."

You think about arguing, but realize the futility of it, and also remember that you had no concept of time when you were being fucked by the three business men. With a nod you reach into your purse and pull out another hundred.

"That's better sweetheart. Always important to pay as you go," he gives you a predatory smile, and for a moment you think he might make you fuck him again, part of you shivering in excitement at the thought.

"Ok, you run along home sweetheart," he says with a leer. "I got stuff to do."

"Thanks Tony, and thanks for the chance...do you...do I...should I come back tomorrow night?"

He looks up at you thoughtfully, his eyes wandering to the corners of the room.

"I will let you know. Gotta find out what's up with Brandy. I'll call you if I need you."

You nod thanks and leave the club, stepping out into the alley, feeling the cool night air on your face. You walk up the alley to the street, thinking you'll flag a cab there.

When you come out of the alley a large black sedan pulls in front of you, blocking your path. The back door opens and a large man in a suit jumps out and grabs your arm as you squeak in fear and dismay.

"Get in the car, bitch!" he snarls at you, pulling at your arm.