Strip

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

My job wasn't exactly my ideal career, but I tried reminding myself constantly that it was better than nothing. It was money, it got me and James some free food, and it really wasn't that bad. 

But I hated almost everything about it- I hated the smell of fries that seemed to be soaked into the walls, I hated the grease stains left on all my clothes, I hated the costumers, and I could barely stand most of my co-workers. I hated the windex-slathered windows and the grubby little kids who tore the heads off their happy meal toys. I hated the way my brain seemed to shut down every time I took my stance behind the cash register.

But I had a second job. And this job was so much worse. This job smelled like cigarette smoke, and perfume that made my eyes water. The customers made me want to throw up most of the time, the space made me feel like I was being suffocated, and the name alone was enough to make my throat screw shut.

There were few things I wanted to do less.

I was a stripper.

Saying it out loud made me want to burst into tears. Giving a lap dance to a man twice my age might be the single most uncomfortable thing I could ever do, and it was something I did almost every night. I still hadn't had a boyfriend see me in my underwear, but anyone could walk in on a Friday night and pay to see it. I still hadn't really been kissed, but there were guys whispering that they'd do me in the back room while slipping dollar bills into my bra. 

It wasn't that I had anything against stripping, or any of the others who did it- quite a few of the girls at Dirty Girls (yes, Dirty Girls. Creative, I know.) loved their jobs, and pole dancing was by far the hardest thing I had ever attempted. But it made me feel dirty and guilty, not to mention that it was illegal, seeing as I still wouldn't turn 18 for another 6 months.

But I didn't really have any other choice. Stripping got me a much better income than McDonald's, the tips alone, even if they were shoved between my breasts, more than I got from a full day of word behind the register.

I kept tell myself that I'm doing this for James, that it was just temporary. It was just so we could pay the bills, so we could put food on the table, so I could pay Mrs. Copper because I was gone all day at my two jobs.

That's what I was telling myself as I changed backstage. To be perfectly honest, the backstage of the Dirty Girls  feels a lot like the locker room at school. We even have lockers. I tried to change from my sweats into a lacy bra as soon as possible- I wasn't one of the girls who went topless, and I preferred that none of the girls saw my breasts backstage either.

Or the manager. Especially the manager. His name was Dicky- Seriously Dicky. He claimed it was his real name, though I don't think any of the girls believed it. He was a 30-something guy, with slightly graying hair and a belly swelling out over his belt. He was very... spirited. And supportive. He was always telling us how he "couldn't find better girls if he wanted them," which I tried to take as a compliment. 

When we first met, he was not as nice.

I first came about 6 months earlier. I was wearing my usual sweats and crazy hair. He gave me and outfit to change into that made me feel that I might as well be naked. When I came back, he inspected me for a good 10 minutes, while I stood there, as stiff as a board. Finally he said "You got a bit of an ass." But I guess that didn't matter because I also had D cups, and I'm pretty flexible. I started the following night.

When I finally got on my weird frilly underwear that made my armpits itch, and heels so high I felt a foot taller, I turned to the side door and went out. I was eternally grateful I didn't have to perform on stage- that was left to the girls who actually wanted to do it. I was just a "lap girl" as they put it, meaning I was limited to just lap dances. I hated lap dances. I never knew where to look- their face wasn't an option because their eyes were usually glued to my boobs. Plus, my seductress face still needed quite a bit of work, so I usually settled for staring at a spot on the wall.

I put on my best seductress face, and started walking across the floor in long strides. When I was first starting, the other girls taught me how to walk right- long strides, only bend the knee if you have to, arms back, thrust out chest, hair over shoulders. At first I looked idiotic, but I'd actually started to get the hand of it.

I saw a group of guys, some of which I recognized from school. This happened occasionally, and though it made it very, very awkward when I passed them in the hallways the next morning, they never recognized me.

I wasn't particularly noticeable at school, so almost no one there recognized me outside of class. Plus, at Dirty Girls I wore so much makeup I looked like a different person. At school I didn't wear any- I would only wear makeup to McDonald's because there was a study proving customers preferred it.

But just because they wouldn't recognize me didn't mean I still wanted to dance for them. However, I was kind of walking right towards them, and it wasn't like I could suddenly spin around- that was impossible to do with the sexy walk. Instead I tried casually turning like I was heading to the bar.

"Hey Sexy."

I had failed.

I looked at the guy who had called to me. He had dark hair and chocolatey eyes. I had science with him. He was the guy who started rhythmically tapping his pencil on the desk in the most annoying way possible. 

I batted my false lashes as I walked towards him- it was very clearly too late to get out of it.

"And what is your name," Chocolate eyes asked.

"Jasmine," I answered, trying to stick out my chest in a way that didn't make it look like I was being stabbed.

"Well, Jasmine. Can we get a lap dance for this fine gentleman over here?" Chocolate eyes pointed to a guy sitting in the middle looking very uncomfortable. He had blonde hair that fell in his eyes.

"Of course," I said, and slowly started making my way over to him. He looked at me with a face full of fear- he very clearly did not want to be there.

"Come on guys," He said. 

"Aw come on dude," One guy said. "Live a little."

As I reached Blondie, and started leaning down, he stood up, almost hitting me in the nose with his forehead.

"Yup, no." He started shuffling out of the way, which was answered with "Aw dude!" and "Really?"

"Said I'd do what I was comfortable with," Blondie said. "I'll be in the car.

There was an awkward moment of silence as we watched him leave. 

Chocolate eyes coughed. "So... me now?"

I stifled a sigh, wishing the song would end soon.

---

Hello everyone!

Huh, just realized that everyone is nobody.

Writing this for no one. Haha.

Anyhoo, in the slim chance that anyone actually is reading this, and doesn't think that's it's complete trash, or that I should go to hell for writing something so "dirty" please vote, comment, yah. I'll be posting more soon.

I feel so alone.

XOX

2015 Edit:

Wow young me did not have much confidence.

Or that much respect for strippers, wow.

I tried to fix that up the best I could, sorry if there's anyone out there who got offended by the old version, I probably would be.

Ok ILY BABES.

XOX