Sugar sugar baby

[4] Talent show

The lights were bright, almost blinding, as I sat in the front row of the audience, waiting for my turn. My palms were slick with sweat, and I kept fidgeting with the hem of my tight, ridiculous red dress. The fabric clung to me like a second skin, and every time I moved, I felt like I was about to spill out of it. The makeshift stage in front of us was set up for the so-called "talent show," and the air was thick with nervous energy.

There were hundreds of people in the audience, most of them company employees—some of the interns, but a lot of higher-ups too. My stomach churned at the thought of all those eyes on me, watching, judging. Karen had really done it this time. She'd turned a normal work event into a circus.

One by one, the other interns took their turns on stage. Some of the performances were actually pretty decent. The first guy, Ben, stood on stage in his silver dress, trying to crack jokes and make light of the situation with some stand-up comedy. To his credit, he got a few laughs. The crowd was in a decent mood, probably because they didn't have to wear what we were wearing.

"Y'know," Ben said, pausing for effect, "I always wondered what it'd be like to wear something this tight. Now I know I'm never gonna make it as a drag queen. Or a stripper."

That earned a few more laughs, but his nervous energy was clear. He was uncomfortable, but he was playing it off well enough. When he finished, there was polite applause, and he walked off stage with a relieved look on his face.

Next up was a girl named Brittney, who performed a song. She had a good voice, I'll give her that. But the whole thing felt weird, watching her belt out a pop tune in a tiny, sequined dress that she clearly didn't want to be wearing. The audience clapped politely, but it was obvious no one was paying attention to the talent—they were too busy gawking at the outfits.

After Amanda came Jason. He was juggling. Actual fking juggling. He was in his blue dress, tossing three oranges in the air with shaky hands. I could tell he was nervous as hell. His face was flushed, his movements stiff, but he managed to pull it off without dropping anything. The applause was a little louder for him, probably because people were starting to get into the wackiness of the performances. Still, it felt hollow.

"Nice job, man," I muttered as Jason sat back down next to me, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"Thanks," he said, his voice low. "I just want to GTFO of here."

I nodded in agreement, my own nerves fraying with every second. We were all in this together, but it still felt like every man for himself. No one wanted to be the one who didn't stand out. No one wanted to be the one who flopped.

Then it was Dave's turn. The guy who had been so eager to climb the corporate ladder. He strutted up to the stage in his neon-green dress, his confidence radiating like a beacon. He was grinning like he'd already won. The guy was too comfortable in his skin, too okay with this whole fucking nightmare of an event.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dave announced, holding up a microphone like he was about to perform in a Vegas show. "Tonight, I'm going to give you a performance that'll blow your minds!"

The crowd leaned forward in their seats, a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Dave was clearly about to put on a show.

He launched into a full-blown dance routine, complete with spins, twirls, and dramatic poses. It was... impressive, I guess. He could actually dance, which only made me feel worse about what was coming next for me. But the whole time, his dress swished around him, barely covering anything, and the crowd loved it. People were cheering, laughing, and clapping along with the beat. It was like he was playing to the crowd's thirst for spectacle, and they were eating it up.