You find yourself a strip joint around the corner from home

On the bus ride home you ponder the question, asking yourself again and again if you can truly bare your body in front of a crowd. When you're a stop away from home you spot something you'd never noticed before.

Right around the corner from your dingy little apartment is a brick building with pictures of girls on it. 'Girls Girls Girls' it says, but it's the 'Amateur Night' sign that catches your eye.

"Perfect!" you whisper, startling the guy next to you. Smiling an apology you dig out your cell and the phone number of the director.

After a number of rings you're certain that it'll go to voice mail.

"Andre Smith's office," a breathless voice says, "This is Julie Carncross speaking."

You open your mouth to speak, to tell her you've found a place and can be ready that night, but somehow you can't get the words out.

"Hello?" Julie sounds a little peeved.

"Hello, Miss Carncross? This is Ashley. Uh, Ashley Campbell, I auditioned today."

Silence fills the line, punctuated by a rhythmic slapping sound you can't quite place.

"Which role was this?" she asks, still breathless, as if she'd had to run to the phone.

Looking around you see the man beside you is eying you with interest. Apparently the word audition had peaked his interest. You glare at him until he turns away, then turn away to whisper, "Stripper."

More slappping sounds, then Miss Carncross speaks again, sounding perky as she says, "Oh yes, Kaitlyn." You should have said that. "Have you made a decision?"

"Yes. I found a place."

"Excellent. And what time have you arranged."

"Tonight."

"Well that's quick. We need three hours, as I said, so where will we be seeing you perform in three hours time?"

You glare again at the man, but this time he doesn't look away as he eyes you with avid interest, his eyes all but sucking in your breasts. Putting a hand between you and him you try to whisper the address.

"What was that? Speak louder, please," Julie says, her voice wavering, the slapping sounds becoming louder and more frequent. You could swear you heard a groan in the background.

Grimacing you repeat the address twice more, speaking louder each time. At long last you hang up, only to realize that three different guys are staring at you. Studiously ignoring them you reach up and yank on the cord.

Getting off at your stop your mind turns to what you need to do. Anything to keep you from panicking at the thought of removing your clothes in front of strangers.