Gold Star

The locker room door swung open as Craig stepped through the doorway. Humiliated didn't begin to cover it. Every step onto the studio floor felt like a personal attack from the universe.

The pleated skirt swished around his thighs with each movement. The tiny white blouse had been tied at the front because someone had removed all the buttons. White thigh-high stockings hugged his legs. The glossy platform Mary Janes clicked against the hardwood with crisp little sounds that seemed far too cheerful for his mood.

Worst of all, everything felt comfortable. The skirt moved easily when he walked. The stockings felt smooth and supportive. The shoes were absurdly stable despite their height. His body seemed perfectly content with the arrangement.

Craig wanted to file a formal complaint with reality.

A grown man should not be comfortable dressed like this. A grown man definitely should not be standing in the middle of a pole dancing studio dressed like this. And yet here he was.

Part of him tried desperately to rationalize it. At least nobody from work was here. At least Frank wasn't here. At least...

Maybe in the apartment it wouldn't be so bad.

The thought appeared from nowhere. Craig froze mid-step.

What?

No.

Absolutely not.

Maybe alone in the bedroom? Maybe if nobody could see...

"Nope."

The word came out loud enough that he startled himself. That line of thinking needed to be shut down immediately. It wasn't normal. It wasn't him. It was Eros. Another little crack in the wall. A little nudge. A little adjustment. The whole thing made him tired.

"Well, look at this!"

Melody's voice carried across the room. Craig looked up. The instructor stood near one of the poles with her hands on her hips and an enormous grin on her face.

"Check out Mister Junior Executive."

Craig felt his face warm.

"Dress for the job you want, not the job you have, right?"

"I don't want whatever job requires this outfit."

"A bit too late for that, Craig. You should have thought of that before you decided to move into management."

Melody waved him over.

"Come on. Class is starting."

Craig followed Melody onto the studio floor with all the enthusiasm of a condemned prisoner approaching the gallows. Everything felt wrong. Everything felt good. Not being sure of which was which made him feel nervous.

"Excellent," Melody announced. "Our student has arrived."

"I'm not a student."

"You literally are."

"I mean a real student. I'm not normally... I mean... this is just a costume."

Melody gasped dramatically.

"Talking back already? We've only just started."

Craig groaned. She pointed toward a pole.

"Stand over there, Miss Craig."

"My name isn't Miss Craig."

"For today's purposes it is."

"It's not."

"That's another demerit."

"Demerit?"

"Demerit."

Craig rubbed at his forehead. This was going to be a long afternoon. Melody began pacing slowly around him, hands clasped behind her back like a strict teacher inspecting a classroom.

"Posture."

Craig straightened instinctively.

"Better."

A finger pointed toward his shoulders.

"Those are slouching."

"They are not."

"They were thinking about slouching."

"Shoulders can't think."

"That's exactly the sort of attitude that earns detention."

Craig stared. Melody smiled sweetly. The woman was enjoying this far too much.

"Now then," she continued, clapping her hands together, "today's lesson is confidence."

"I thought today's lesson was pole dancing."

"It is."

"Then why are we talking about confidence?"

"Because confidence is worth twenty percent of your final grade."

"There are grades?"

"If you want to pass my class, missy, you'd better start taking this seriously," she wagged her finger at him. "Now, hand on the bar and I want you to show me what you remember about our last class."

Craig sighed and placed his hand on the bar. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to dress like that. But he didn't know how to get out of it. These pole dancing lessons were tied to his job, a job that put a roof over his head. Without it, he'd be destitute. He didn't even have Frank to help him out financially anymore. Craig was on his own, and like it or not, he was being pushed further and further into whatever plan Eros had for him.

While he was busy worrying, though, his body flowed through the first movement almost perfectly. One hand rose. A pivot followed. His feet crossed elegantly, spinning him around the bar until he was leaning his back against it, knees bend, in a squat. The transition happened smoothly enough that even Craig noticed. Melody immediately pointed at him.

"See? Gold star."

"I don't want a gold star," he answered, uncertainty in his voice. He'd had this before, his body taking over when his mind was elsewhere.

"You earned one."

Another turn. Another smooth transition. Again, he nailed it. All he wanted to do was leave. In a way, he didn't care that he was dressed as a Catholic schoolgirl. If he knew that by getting out of the studio he would get his old life back, he would have sprinted to the door in his Mary Janes. But the more he wished he could leave, the more he worried about his life, the better he danced.

By the time Melody announced that the class was moving on to "advanced curriculum", Craig was executing combinations that would've been impossible two days earlier. The realization was deeply annoying.

"Good girl," Melody said. "Top of the class."

"Not a girl, and there's only one person in this class."

"Exactly. And you're winning."

"That's not how competition works."

"Yet somehow you're still succeeding."

Craig opened his mouth. Closed it. Then found himself halfway through another sequence. This time he didn't even have to distract himself. He was finding the routine easier and easier to engage with, like he was naturally talented in this overly feminine artform.

His body spun around the pole. One leg hooked naturally. A transition carried him upward.

Was this some sort of new superpower that he had thanks to Eros' interference? Was roleplay and distraction all he needed to master a new skill? What other things could he learn just by allowing himself to be humiliated in a roleplay scenario. Public speaking? Negotiations? Could he learn a musical instrument by wearing a bikini? Could he learn to fly a plane by putting on a wedding dress?

Maybe there was something to Melody's method. Maybe pretending made it easier to access skills he normally held back. The thought occupied enough of his attention that he completely lost track of what his body was doing. A moment later he realized he was several feet off the ground.

"What the..."

Both legs were kicked out in front of the pole. His body hung suspended in midair, held there by a single hand. The surprise broke his concentration instantly. His legs let go. Down he went. Fortunately, the landing was more embarrassing than painful.

Melody appeared above him a second later.

"Happens to everyone."

She offered a hand. Craig accepted it. The instructor hauled him back to his feet.

"You'll be ready for the recital."

"I'm more worried about breaking my neck."

"Babe, you won't be breaking your neck."

Craig brushed off his skirt.

"No?"

"No."

Melody grinned.

"You're going to be turning heads."

That wasn't reassuring.

"Move like you did today and the company will have to give you a raise."

Craig blinked.

"What?"

"To stop somebody else from recruiting you."

"For management?"

Melody laughed.

"For whatever it is you want to do."

That answer somehow worried him even more.