times, measures

You look at the note from your landlord and give a little sob of despair.

"This is to inform you that your rent for this month is now two weeks overdue. In addition you still owe half of last months rent. This is unaccptable. I require full and complete payment within four days of the date of this notice or eviction proceedings will be implemented. This is your final, and only notice."

You're broke. And worse still, so are your room-mates. One of them lost her job over a month ago, and the other had to get her car fixed. You foolishly spent a lot of money on clothes and partying, and then had your waitress shifts cut back, dramatically reducing your income. You asked your parents for money a while ago and while that bought you a little time, it's obvious your landlord's patience has run out. You're too embarrassed to ask your parents for more money, and you slump into a chair, holding the notice, your mind reeling as you try to figure out what to do to get some money fast.

For a moment the idea of being an escort forces it's way into your head, but you grimace and reject it, scared and a little repelled by the idea of prostitution. Repelled but a little intrigued, in the dark places of your heart, you admit, the thought of taking money of suck and fuck strange men, giving you a little flutter in your belly.

You're mind starts toying with the idea, and you find your hand drifting towards your pussy, rubbing yourself gently through your shorts, telling yourself that it would be wrong, reminding yourself you don't even know how to start doing it even if you want to. You break off teasing yourself with a little sob, biting your lip in despair.

Another idea worms into your head. You're a good dancer, and on a dare a few months ago took a pole dancing course. It was supposed to be about fitness, but some of the moves you learned were unbelievably erotic. You'd leave each session with your pussy drenched, virtually running home to relieve yourself, fucking yourself silly with a vibrator.

You know there are several strip clubs nearby. You pass two of them on the way home from school and you've seen a sign on one saying they're always hiring. You've heard that exotic dancers can make incredible money in tips. Maybe you could do it for a few days and get enough to pay the rent, or at least buy a little more time. It's sleazy, you tell yourself, but you feel the excitement fluttering in your belly again, mingling with the desperation in your mind.

With a sudden decision you decide to give it a try. You go online to find a number for the strip clubs, then, taking a deep breath call the first one. A gravelly male voice answers after a few rings.

"Club Paradise."

"Umm...Hi...I saw your sign...that you were always hiring? And... I was.."

"How long you been dancing, honey?" he interrupts you.

"Umm not long....I mean I just started...I...."

"Look honey, I'm not interested in amateurs."

"But...I've trained...I can pole dance..." you say with desperation. "I'm a good dancer...and I'm pretty." There's a silence on the other end of the phone for a moment, then he clears his throat.

"How old are you sweetheart?"

"Twenty-three."

"Twenty three," he says with a thoughtful tone. "How big are your tits honey?"

"Umm, big." you gulp, taken aback by his forthright question and matter of fact tone.

"Ok. Here's what I'll do. You come down prepared to audition, dressed for it, you know what I mean. Bring some ID. We don't open for another four hours today, so if you get down here right away I'll give you an audition. If that works out, we'll see what we can do."

"Thank you so much," you babble. "I really appreciate this. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Ok honey. What's your name anyway."

"Lisa."

"Ok Lisa. I'm Tony. Come round the side entrance to the club. I'll leave the door unlocked. Just come in and yell."

"Thank you Tony, I really appreciate it,"

"Sure honey, whatever. Just get here soon," he says, as he terminates the call.