Deena is Casted

Deena's Story

Despite the fact I was going to a strip club, I dressed formally as it was still an interview. I wore a tight fitting ivory sleeveless blouse and a short black pencil skirt. Every girl likes heels and I'm no exception, I stood tall and proud on my six inch black stilettos.

I knew this was the quickest way of earning money. It might sound arrogant, but I knew I was more than just a head turner. Men craved me. So I was more than confident about being a stripping success.

The club is situated on the edge of a tech park. Probably far enough from the city centre to avoid generating headaches for the city council, but close enough to attract the clientele who had wallets fat enough to keep the revenue flowing in.

The low sun cast long shadows across the car park. Despite my earlier confidence my heart began to flutter as we stepped up the concrete steps towards the double glass doors.

Stepping through the open glass doors, the club was empty. A tinny echo of a radio played music from the sixties. Only two middle aged women dressed in scrubs busied themselves with a mop and bucket. On the stage was a mountain of bin bags filled with empty plastic bottles and glasses.

I held Toby's hand as he led me through a side door and followed him up a narrow staircase. Toby stopped and knocked on a heavy secured door. Mickael's asked us to wait. Hearing his think Eastern European voice set off my nerves. I squeezed Toby's fingers and stared into his brown eyes. "Are you coming in with me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes... But then again it's not professional."

"You're right."

"After all, I'm a big girl now."

"I'll be right outside. The blinds are open and I can see what's going on in there."

"That's good."

"I promise not to wank if you have to strip."

"You think..." Right, it might sound daft seeing as I'm at an interview to be a stripper. But I just thought he would take one look at me and make me sign the dotted line. "Crap."

Suddenly the door opened, and there stood the muscle bound, bald headed brute. I loathed Mickael... but he was the only man who could save us from our financial cliff. "Mickael, how lovely to see you again."

"Deena... As gorgeous as ever. I see you have come dressed for the occasion, with your lovely long legs out for everyone to see."

"Thank you." The fact he was already ogling my figure repulsed me. "I find your charm most flattering."

Mickael wore a grin as he nodded at Toby. "You're a lucky bastard."

"I know."

"See you in a half an hour, Toby."

My heart fluttered and I felt my skin clamed up. I glanced at Toby with **** eye, before stepping into Mickael's office.

The office was softly lit and the walls were painted in maroon. Large paintings of exotic vistas hung in simple frames that were subtitled with motivational phrases. Mickael gestured for me to sit on the two seater leather couch. He sat behind his neatly kept desk which seemed far too organised for a man of his apparent background. Leaning forward from his chair he smiled, showing a gold tooth, no doubt the result of some backstreet brawl. He stared at me as he spoke. "Toby has told me about your situation. I'm sorry about your job."

"He told you that?"

"This not true?"

"Yes, it is. Just I thought some things were private. That's all."

Mickael leaned back and opened his drawer. He brought up a carved glass decanter filled with what appeared to be whisky, and then followed it up with two crystal tumblers. Wearing an unnerving smiled, he muttered, "I drink while I do business."

"Isn't that bad practice?"

"It works for me. I'm not exactly broke, am I?"

"No... Not your not."

"Join me."

It sounded like an order, rather than a token of Mickael's generosity. "Just a small one thanks."

"Good, I like a girl who drinks."

I stood from the couch and took the tumbler off Mickael. We touched glasses before I sat back on the couch. "Cheers."

Mickael lent forward and rested his elbows on his highly polished mahogany desk, then placed his hands together as if he was about to pray. "I've always treated Toby like a son." His smile again unnerved me. "But you know what your husband did to my brand new Merc."

"I know."

"But as always, I'm willing to help. Deena, this is an easy way to earn a lot of money... In process, repaying your husband's debt to me."

"A man might think it's easy."

"I bet there are a million shelf stackers that would think there job is harder."

"What can I expect to earn then?"

Mickael stood from his leather chair. "For a girl like you." He walked around his desk before sitting on its edge, then stared at me. "Limitless."

"I need figures."

"I'll have many fingers in many pots."

"Come again?"

"I own this gentleman's club, the casino downstairs. But I run an exclusive escorting agency, and an adult film studio."

I arched my eyebrows and felt I was getting involved with someone that I shouldn't be. I downed the whisky in one. "Here's me thinking I'm here to be a stripper."

"You need ten grand in a month, not five."

"I know, but... Can't we negotiate the deadline?"

"No... I've been generous enough."

"I have morals."

"I did once. But life robs you of them, one, by one." Mickael crunched an ice cube in his mouth. "You either fuck a few guys, or I fuck up Toby's legs. It's as simple as that."

"I hate you."

"Funny. It still amazes me how women really think that hurts me."

I felt like spitting at Mickael's fat ugly face, "I hope you rot in hell."

"I probably will. That's why I'm making the most of things."

"So, go on then. What's quickest to repay you? And ending this nightmare"

"Royalties from films will earn you the most over time. But you need instant cash, so escorting. My girls earn 800 a night. But I reckon I can squeeze a grand out of you. But it's low season, unfortunately. So your mine for at least a month... Then you can leave."

My heart sank. I stared down at my heeled shoes while feeling a sense of darkness descend on me. "I have **** but to agree."

"Right." Mickael climbed off the desk and stepped up to a cupboard. "So let's begin the interview."

"Oh, haven't we already?"

"All models have to be casted."

"Casted?"

"Yes. It's common industry practice." Opening the door Mickael pulled out a tripod and what I took to be a camera bag. "I'll send the video to my trusted contacts."

"I'm not sure I'll be comfortable with that."

"If you want to succeed in this industry, then you have to cast. What clients are going waste time and money if they don't know who they are... working with? Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"But I'm a professional. What if the video is leaked?"

Mickael fixed the expensive camera to the tripod. "It's up to you. You want to walk, fine. Leave." The bastard nonchalantly shrugged. "Want the money, and your husband's legs. Stay, and take off your clothes."

I couldn't believe what I was doing. My knees trembled as I stood from the couch. Toby was the only man to have seen my naked body. Yet here I was about to undress for a man I detested. All in the hope entering the sex industry.

Whatever had happened to my dignity, where was my life going?

Mickael's Story

I am a bastard, I admit it. But I don't exploit women in the sense of treating them like slaves. They are rewarded well and offered protection should they need it. I am merely a talented business man. I must be, I have a large portfolio of businesses and investments across Europe. Call me arrogant, but I see myself as the Richard Branson of Albania. Although my empire couldn't be called Virgin, obviously. Slut would be more apt.

As for Deena, it's her fault for marrying such an idiot. It's a case of his legs or her dignity, she's made her choice. The wrong, one, but I'm not complaining. Plus, I really like my car. I had to go without it for a month, because Dickhead had wrapped it around a tree.

Sitting my on my leather desk chair, I picked up the remote control for the CD player and pressed play, filling the office with seventies Mo-town. I grinned at a nervous Deena. "You like..? I don't have any Bollywood music."

"Thought that would be the case... No, that's Ok"

"I can change to something a bit more... hip, though."

"No, it's fine."

"Good. Let's get started." I switched the camera on and trained the viewfinder on the Deena's beautiful Indian body. "Strip to the music."

On the few times we had met, Deena had always portrayed an obvious confidence and commanded an air of authority that her looks deserved. But as she slowly began to unbutton her blouse she appeared most awkward and trembled like a virgin. I wore a wry smile while I offered my advice. "Relax, you're the most gorgeous girl that I have ever casted. Ignore me, and dance like you would for Toby." Deena offered an awkward smile as she continued her less than convincing routine.

However, a minute later my words... or the whisky, seemed to have an effect, her once rigid hips began to sway to the rhythm of the music. The confidence suited her, and I could begin to imagine the girl making me a ton of money.

I have casted, I don't know, as many as a thousand girls or more. But a confident Deena, stands above every single one. It's not just about her looks, I've probably casted better looking women. But there was just something about this girl. She possesses a class and sophistication that girls in this industry lack. The girls that do have classy looks tend have more attitude than a cat caught in the rain. So far, I'm yet to see Deea throw a tantrum... I suppose Toby must deal with all hissy fits. Talking about my long serving barman... Why the fuck Deena is with him? He's a nice enough guy. But this chick is top, top dollar.

Deena had unbuttoned her blouse and let it slip down her long slender arms. Her stomach was flat and her ribs were just about visible. Not enough to call her skinny, but just enough to show she took a certain pride in her body. I now wanted to see her tits.

She didn't disappoint. She dropped her black and silver plunge bra, revealing a small but fulsome rack. They were probably too small for a for a good tit wank, but big enough to hang on to. The kind of tits that will still look good when she hits her menopause.

Deena ran her fingers through the waist band, signalling it was time to lose the platted pencil skirt. She reached around to her back and pulled the zip before guiding it down her smooth brown legs. Now, I have never been much of a leg man, but fuck me, I was converted. They were longer than the Trans Siberian railway and smoother than my baldy scalp. "Now, Deena, turn your back to me and lean over the couch."

My voice broke her from her routine and robbed her of her confidence. The awkward girl returned. "You want me to..?"

"Yes, back to me, place your hands on the cushions and stick your arse in the air... And lose the knickers."

"But..."

"Your arse and pussy are the tools of your new trade." I unhooked the camera and stepped towards Deena while she had her brown backside stuck up in the air. Her black laced knickers separated pert rounded cheeks. "Obviously your clients will be interested in what you're packing."

My eyes widened with glee while Deena slowly pulled down the black laced knickers over her nubile thighs. I leaned forward holding the camera, recording her inner details on HD. My mouth moistened as the glow of the camera's light painted her succulent tight pussy a pale blue. She smelt good and obviously took great care of her hygiene "Part your legs and spread your cheeks." I listened to her groan under her breath while she did what she was told. Poor Deena must have been tense as her arse hole winked at me.

My dick was ready for business. "Sit back now, and relax." Like all the girls do, Deena made a B-line for her clothes. It has always surprised me how easy it is to get girls naked, even the clever ones like Deena. Every girl has an inner slut. If only I had realised this fact when I was at high school. I would have never been the need to worry about being a virgin. Smirking I watched as Deena covered her tits with her blouse. "No, no. Not finished yet."

"Please."

The panic on Deena's face made my heart cry. But work is work. "It's now time for the physical."

"No. You can fuck right off."

The disrespect alarmed me. "Don't tell me to fuck off. You're mine, don't forget that."

"Sorry."

"You need to prove you can do this. I can't have you embarrass me."

I noticed a uncomfortable looking Toby on the other side of the window. I'm not worried about him. After all there was a reason why I had left the office blinds open. A few weeks ago we all had a right laugh when security found a shit load of cuckold porn on his phone. So today the three of us have a vested interest in the next hour being a success.

Deena looked like a worried virgin who was about to be busted. She lifted her doe eyes, and glanced at me. "Can I have another whisky?"

"Sure."

"In fact, make it a double."

I felt like being generous. "There are cigars in my draw for afters, if you want."

"No thanks, I seem to have enough dirty habits at the moment."

Deena was damn right.

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