You try work as a tavernwench

You weave between the crowded tables with a heavy tray of ale mugs, your skirt swishing around your knees, and the tight corset pushing your breasts up with every step. Patrons stare openly at your cleavage as you lean over to serve drinks.

One rough hand brushes against your leg as you pass. Another customer whistles low and drops a few coins on your tray “for the view.” It's quite an ensemble of perversion to say the least, but it isn't too bad all things considered. Despite the couple dozen pairs of eyes on you the entire time, you manage to perform the job well enough and avoid tripping or any displays of poor dexterity.

As you finish your shift, you approach the innkeep and notice him grinning from behind the bar.

“Keep moving like that, and you’ll do just fine.”

“I take it I'm good enough to not be garbage?”

He laughs. “Aye!”