Dance for daddy.

Dance for him? I think, not fully understanding what he's asking. Dance for daddy or never see him again? The thought is almost enough to throw me into a panic. Just a little dance, then maybe he'll let me explain why I'm here.

Nervously, I stand up from velveteen chair I've been sitting in.

Taking a step away from the chair, I start to dance in place, mostly just swaying back and forth, my skirt swishing with my movements.

At first he looks amused, but after a few seconds, his expression begins to darken, "I don't have all day, and neither do my customers, lets see some skin." His voice is smooth as silk and firm enough that it hardly crosses my mind to resist his demand.

Fingers trembling, I begin to unbutton my blouse, turning my back to him as I do so. The whole time, I continue to sway back and forth. This is wrong, I shouldn't be doing this. I think frantically, at the same time, another part of my mind screams at me, But if I dont do this, I might not ever get another chance to meet him.