Chapter 1 -- Gwen's Transitions
Gwen finally felt pretty good about how things were going in her life. It hadn't been like that in a long time.
After the protracted and difficult divorce from her high school sweetheart she faced the hard reality that she had to find some way of supporting herself in the standard of living she wanted -- not the one she had but the one she deserved. The alimony would barely make a dent in her monthly expenses, even when the drunk made the payments, and it wasn't going to last forever. She had always thought she could have been a successful lawyer if she had the opportunity but her early marriage to that alcoholic robbed her of that prospect. So the next best thing was a paralegal (as against a legal secretary) and it was something she could afford.
She approached it like she did everything else in her life -- head on. She did what she had to do to survive until she got that certificate: she waited on tables; she even cleaned hotel rooms and houses. But the one that really got her through the financial bad times was when she worked as an exotic dancer. She ended up there by circumstance.
When she moved out on her soon to be ex-husband, all she could afford was a small (read that as tiny) studio apartment in a less than desirable part of town. She did notice, however, that many of the tenants appeared to be single or separated women with similar circumstances. So she sought a couple of them out -- Marie and Pam in particular. Their stories were so much like hers they bonded.
One Saturday evening, as had become a ritual, the three of them got a little drunk. That night, however, they decided to go watch an amateur contest at a club in Pompano Beach. Gwen's ex had often dragged her to one of the many strip clubs in the area, for some reason known only to him, so it was no big deal for her. They piled in the car, along with a new bottle of scotch, and somehow made the trip in one piece. The doorman, seeing the three attractive and very drunk women, let them in immediately and saw to it that they sat among the contestants. Peer pressure being what it is Pam was the first to suggest they try their luck for the $1,000 prize. Everyone there thought Gwen would be the likely winner so, in her debilitated state, she reluctantly agreed to go first. The booze had done its work and besides, modesty wasn't something she had ever cared about.
Gwen was escorted behind the main bar passing the men's and ladies rooms and into a small dressing room full of skimpy costumes hanging on a rolling rack and a row of old and beat up lockers. Along one wall was a large and dirty makeup mirror for everyone's common use.
"Take your pick from the rack, honey, or use what you got on -- your choice!" said the den mother and left Gwen to her own devices. She decided to use a Velcro clasping g-string and matching pushup bra with a white silk button up the front night-shirt as the cover. Her choice was solely based on the fact that those items had fewer makeup and sweat stains then the others. At least she thought they were sweat.
Soon enough the moment of truth arrived.
"And now let's give a big welcome to our first real amateur -- for her first time ever on any stage -- here's Princess Gwendolyn!" The music started its primal beat which, along with the booze, got her in the mood. Then the lights came on. She started dancing provocatively as she had seen other strippers do, swaying her hips to the beat. It didn't take long for her to lose herself in the music letting her natural instincts carry her. She worked her way down one side of the stage and up the other -- strutting her stuff. The crowd cheered and leered at the suggestion of what she was offering and she loved it. Gwen turned her back on the crowd and slowly inched up the night shirt so her thong separated ass cheeks showed. When she shook her booty the men nearest the stage hooted. She reached up and unbuttoned the top button on the shirt, then reached down and unbuttoned the bottom button, then repeated it. When only one was left she teased the men by alternately opening the bottom and then the top of the nightshirt so they could just get glimpses of what was to come. When she pulled the shirt open the men cheered and started throwing money on the stage. Up against the mirrors at the back of the stage, Gwen pulled off the night shirt and threw it on the floor. She was really into it now. She was feeling the power of the tease. The men cheering and screaming were feeding her bruised ego. There she was -- in only a bra, thong and heels in front of a hundred screaming men and she loved it. She decided it was time to be wantonly bold.
As Gwen danced down the stage toward the crowd she reached to the front of the bra and unhooked it. She momentarily held the cups in place as the straps fell down and then released it entirely exposing her tits with their upturned, and very hard, nipples. The men cheered even louder and it turned her on even more. She shook her tits at one side of the room and then the other. She ran her hands under her tits and pushed them up towards the crowd as she bent at the waist. More money came floating onstage. In the middle of the runway she reached to both sides for the velcro fasteners on the g-string and pulled. Quick as could be the g-string was high in the air exposing her totally shaved pussy to the world. The men cheered and clapped more loudly than before. More money floated on the stage. Gwen danced and gyrated up and down the stage, working the pole, pushing up her tits, spreading her legs suggestively as she squatted down in front of them showing them all she had to offer. She was so turned on her pussy was soaking and she wondered whether it was visible to the men. In truth she didn't care one way or the other.
And suddenly the music ended.
"Wow what a show! Let's give her a big round of applause." the announcer said. She quickly scooped up the bills littering the stage, collected her clothes and exited the stage flushed with excitement and laughing uncontrollably with delight. She had never felt so exhilarated in her life. When she had dressed, she counted the money and was amazed that she was holding $350 -- for five minutes work. The crowning moment was when they announced she had won the contest and presented her with another $1000 in cash. She was hooked.
The next morning through her hangover haze, she thought about the evening. She had really gotten excited by the stripping. It gave her a sense of power, it gratified her need for attention and it made her feel sexually desirable. And sure, she was probably an exhibitionist at heart. Besides, the money was great. She called the club owner and after a brief conversation about her and the house rules, made an arrangement for her to dance three nights a week. It left her plenty of time for school. Within a couple of weeks, she was making ten times more money during that twenty hours a week than she did as a waitress for forty, and it was a whole lot more fun. Even though she could have had the choice of any man at the club and given into his lust in the VIP rooms, she never allowed anything more than lap dances and head butts. Some of the girls did much more - she chose not. Her new best friends were her dildo and her fingers.
In the end, it wasn't the wanton exposure of her body parts, the public nudity, or the occasional groping that made her quit, it was the presumption she was some kind of slut and one that was available for a price. She considered herself extremely sensual and even aggressive in fulfilling her sexual needs and it wasn't like she was a virgin being "touched for the very first time". But, she wanted the choice of when, where and with whom to be the slut she knew she was. She quit dancing the week before graduation.
Her first job after graduation was with a small law office. Maybe she shouldn't have left that job before she found another but the advances, lechery and lewdness from the lawyer wasn't something she could tolerate. And when he told her to relax because he had seen her at the strip club, therefore assumed he knew what kind of girl she was, and that was the reason he "took the chance" to hire her, that was the last straw.
Consequently she had been out of work for six months. She was nearly broke and desperate. She was in danger of being evicted, her credit cards were maxed out, and her bank account was down to $200. Breaking her promise to herself, she had gone back to the club owner to ask for her old job back. His answer had been she could have it back if she gave him and every male employee a blow job, gave every dancer head until they came in her face, and fucked twenty men of his choosing starting with him. She slapped him and stormed out of the club in tears. She swore to herself she would never, ever, go back again.
So when she saw the advertisement for a position at the largest Ft Lauderdale law firm, Manns, Toman and Manns, she immediately sent her resume along with a personal photograph. She was thankful that they responded quickly and asked her to come in for an interview.
When she arrived on the appointed day, prompt and primped as always, she was greeted by a stunning woman dressed uncharacteristically provocative in a sheer blouse. She was purposely revealing a lacey and somewhat skimpy bra covering small breasts. The blouse was tucked into an extremely tight and short skirt slit slightly up the side to permit her to walk. She introduced herself as Debra and she called herself the receptionist.
"Ms. Manns is expecting you. She will be with you in just a moment" Debra purred with a voice of pure silk. Gwen had never heard a sound quite so sensual.
"Please have a seat while you wait. Can I get you anything .... anything at all?"
