That you look pretty damn .

"You're in trouble, huh?" Jeff leans back in his chair, and you don't like the way his eyes are moving up and down you now. You've seen him checking out other girls in the store like this when they're not looking.

"W-well, I am, but..." you stammer, trying to back-track.

"A girl like you who needs money - lots of money?" you nod a nervous confirmation, "well, you could do a lot better than working a shitty job like this one." Jeff knows that the pay is shitty here? You're a little stunned.

"L-like what?" You finish drying your eyes. Of course you could do other jobs, but you need something flexible and part-time that'll allow you to keep studying. And you hated working in a bar, it was too hectic.

"What do you think, Holly? You can't be that innocent."

"What?" you really don't know...

"You have a great body, Holly. And you're cute as hell... no, frankly you're sexy as fuck and I'm luck to have a girl like you walking the floor here. You make our clothes look amazing, and they're really not." Your mind is spinning, both at what he's saying and at how frank he's being. "I'm saying that I know other college girls working in the strip-clubs on the other side of town bringing in twice what you make in half the time."

"A stripper! A... what the hell do you think I am? I can't do that!" You recover your composure completely in this moment of outrage.

"What do I think you are?" Jeff laughs, "I think you're ****."

Fuck, he's got you there. You are ****. Your position is almost hopeless and you're going to have to start thinking about doing some **** things to get yourself out of it.

"Do you really think... that I... that people would pay to see me..."

"I know they would," Jeff grins and leans forward, pleased to have got the thought into your head. "I mean I, right here, right now, would pay you twenty bucks just to see your tits."