You dance like your life depends on it. And maybe it does.

You hurriedly strip out of your sweat shirt and track pants, letting them fall to the floor. You rummage in your bag, pulling out the elements of your schoolgirl costume and putting them on, casting furtive glances at the group of men across the room who seem to be ignoring you. Jerry stands by, watching you with hooded eyes, once moving a stool for you to sit and roll the stockings up your legs.

"Is there a bathroom?" you ask him. "I need a mirror to do my makeup."

"I wouldn't worry about it," he says, shaking his head. "Just do the best you can as quickly as you can."

Trembling, you run a brush through your hair and put it back in pigtails before slipping into your heels. You look at Jerry and nod, biting your lip, not trusting your voice to speak. He looks you over and gives an approving nod, his lips pursed, then escorts you back to the group of men. They've rearranged the seating so they're in a sort of horseshoe, with Jimmy at the top and an open space in the middle.

"Even made you a little dance floor," Jimmy says, turning his reptilian gaze on you. "Yeah, you make a good little schoolgirl. Don't she boys? Got them tits nearly busting out of the shirt, looks good. You grow those yourself or did you get help?"

For a moment you don't understand him and stand uncertainly, biting your lip.

"Your tits, you dumb bitch! Are they natural or did you get implants?"

"Oh...they're natural...that's all me..." you say with a tremor, attempting a smile.

"That's good. I like the real ones. The boys too, right boys?" There are some nods from the other men watching you, and you see the sexual hunger in their faces. Jimmy turns his dark eyes back towards you, making a small gesture with his hand. "So let's see you dance, Bambi."

You hesitate for a moment, then step into the centre of the men. Jerry takes the remaining seat at the end, effectively completing a rough circle around you. You try to will yourself to relax, to put on a show for these frightening men, to ready yourself for whatever may happen, then you realize there is no music playing.

"Is there music?" you ask with a quavering voice. Jimmy shakes his head as he gazes at you.

"No music. You just dance for us."

Trembling, not daring to ask more, you start to move. Your first steps are tentative as you try to get into some kind of rhythm without musical assistance. You see glances of scorn pass between the men at your clumsiness.

You try to remember the music played when you danced at the club, playing inside your head as you move. It works, giving you a rhythm to move to, letting you get into the dance, swaying and writhing your body in front of the staring men.

You sway around the circle of men as you slowly unbutton your shirt, but make sure to concentrate your attention on Jimmy, standing in front of him as you open it, giving teasing flashes of your body before taking it off and dropping it at his feet.

You writhe through the second song in your head, slowly peeling off your clothes, bending and stretching and showing off your taut body. You put a sultry pout on your face as you strip, looking at each man with your best bedroom eyes, biting your lower lip as though in need of them.

It's not entirely an act. Despite the situation, or perhaps because of it, you're getting excited, a fluttering warmth growing in your belly, your pussy starting to swell with damp heat. You drop to your knees as you drop the last of your clothing, leaving you naked except for your stockings.

You toss flick your blanket flat on the cement floor, prowling towards Jimmy on your hands and knees, tossing your head slightly and licking your soft lips with the tip of your tongue. You spin on your back, showing of your pussy to him, then circle the group, giving each one a show of your lush body before ending before Jimmy, laying on your back with your legs spread, arching yourself and grinding your hips as though being fucked by an invisible lover, putting a look of orgasmic lust on your face that is not entirely faked.

As the song in your head ends your rise to your knees, and bow your head, looking at Jimmy through your lowered lashes, seeking approval in his face but seeing nothing except the same implacable dark stare.