Hard Times 4

The faces surrounding me at the table mirror my own.

Sullen, frustrated, fearful.

The economy has worsened, everyone have either lost their jobs or had their hours cut so drastically that they might as well have.

My granddaughter is ill and needs very expensive medications. My kids and their families have moved in with me because I have the largest house, and pooling what resources we have was best. But even that is not enough. They are looking to me for answers, and I am fresh out.

I look through the want ads again. Out of the few that are listed, only one is remotely a possibility. But I don't say anything. I can't. They would talk me out of even trying for it...

WANTED: Exotic Dancer

Pussycat Club

W. Highland

Apply in Person

Great. The sleaziest place in town.

But always packed... go figure.

Later that day, dressed in leggings and a top I would never wear in public and hid under a long coat, thanking mother nature for cold weather, I drove to the Pussycat Club.

I sat in the parking lot a few minutes, summoning every ounce of courage I had and pushing every ounce of self doubt below it. I got out and went inside. Thankfully it was early enough that the place hadn't filled yet. There were a few men at the bar, but they were engrossed in their own woes.

I approached the bartender... "I would like to speak with the owner" I tried to sound confident.

The guy looked me over, "What do you want to speak about?" he asked.

"The ad in the paper" I respond, as I straighten my back and give him a look I hope reflects conviction and confidence.

He walks to a side door at the end of the bar, knocks, and when a voice shouts from the other side, he opens it, says a few words I can't hear and then looks at me, "C'mon, Dan says he'll talk with you."

I walk to the door and enter. It's darker than the club, a desk lamp providing the only light. As my eyes adjust I see a man sitting a leather chair. He is large, tall and muscular. He isn't bad looking, but rough. He hasn't shaved in a few days, and his hair hasn't seen a barber in a while either.

He says nothing, but looks me over, and over again. "Take off the coat" he states.

I unbutton the coat and slip it off my shoulders, lying it across the arm of a small couch. Hoping the couch is actually cleaner than I expect it to be.

He looks me over again.

I am not tall at 5'3, and not thin at 150 pounds. I am curvy, with large breasts and round hips, flat stomach and belly and great legs, even if I do say so myself. I work on my body daily, I am fit, and I know it.

"Turn around" he says, this time twirling a finger in a circle as he speaks.

I make a slow turn in place, trying to remember what is riding on my getting this job.

"Not bad... not great, but not bad." he says, talking to himself more than to me, and then, "Tell me why a woman of your age is trying to get a job here, and don't lie to me, 'cause I know this is the last place on earth you would want to be seen."

I gulp, but stand my ground. "Hard times. My family is all but destitute, my granddaughter is ill and needs expensive meds. This place is my last hope."

He frowns slightly, runs a large hand through his hair and leans back in his chair. "I understand where you're coming from, but here's the deal" he says, leaning forward again and fixing me with a glare, "You're competing with a twenty-three year old that has promised me a blow job every day she works... and I am sure she'll make my customers happy. Now, why would I hire you?"

I take a deep breath, I have to make this good. "I am an adult, not a naive kid still wet behind the ears. I don't do drugs, I don't smoke, I don't drink. So I won't be taking smoking breaks, call in with a hangover or be late because I don't care." His eyes narrowed, so I kept going... "I know what men want, I know how to tease. I know if they get too much too quick they'll have their fill and leave. They have to stay here long enough to keep drinking, so you keep making money." He was thinking. That's a good thing I thought to myself.

"What about the blow job, I really like the idea of a daily blow job." he sneered.

I leaned over the desk, knowing my 38D's were in almost full view... "Tell you what, if I fail to increase your sales in the first week I am here, I will give you two a day for the next week, and one a day after that."

He was silent for a few seconds and then burst out laughing. I wasn't sure what it meant until he recovered enough to speak again. "Well, you have spunk, that's all I can say. And what you said before makes sense, I can tell you understand business." he said, shaking his head, "Okay, it's a deal, you start tonight."

I almost fell over from relief, but anxiety quickly took it's place. He explained the way the sessions worked, 20 minutes on, 40 off, because there are three dancers. During the 40 off I would be waiting tables. If one of the other girls didn't show up it would be 30 on, 30 off. Six o'clock PM to 1:00 AM, six days per week, because it was closed on Sundays. Extra costumes were on a rack in the dressing area, or I could wear my own if I preferred. "Umnn... yea, thanks but I think I'll scrounge up something on my own thanks." I muttered. He laughed and handed me a card from Daisy's Dukes down the street. "Go see her and give her this card, she'll fix you up and you can pay me back a little each week, I'll trust you for it, but if you quit or get fired before they're paid for, they're mine."

I nodded, took the card and drove down the block to Daisy's. In an hour she had me outfitted with 2 sets of bras and matching

g-strings. I was still in shock at having gotten the job in the first place, so it hadn't sank in yet that I was actually going to have to go on stage and dance in front of drunken, lecherous men. "What the hell were you thinking?" I thought to myself, as I headed home to change. I had an hour before I would be starting my new "job".

I donned my coat again and told my family I would be gone until late and not to worry, that I was going out with some friends. They gave me questioning stares, but thankfully didn't ask for anything more by way of explanation.

I drove to the Pussycat Club and entered, making my way through the tables to the dressing area. Two other girls were getting dressed when I entered. They gave me similar stares to what my family had. "I'm Gayle" I said holding out my hand to one and then the other.

"Sidney", said the first, "Just call me Sid."

"I'm Frankie", said the second, "Not short for Francesca, my dad wanted a boy."

I laughed and she smiled. That was a start at least.

"You're a little old for a gig like this" Sid stated as I removed my coat and hung it on the costume rack.

I cringed inwardly... "Yes... I guess I am. Hard times can befall anyone."

The young women nodded in agreement.

"Any tips you can give me? I haven't done this before." I asked, hoping I could trust them not to sabotage me.

"Try to stay just far enough out of their reach that they can put money in your g-string, but not grab you." Sid offered.

"Bernie, the bartender keeps an eye on us, but he gets busy, so we watch out for each other as well. Dan, the owner is also the bouncer, but unless it gets ugly he won't do much or he's scaring away his own customers." Frankie added.

Sid was on first, then Frankie and then it would be my turn at the bottom of the hour, which suited me fine, so I could watch them for a time. Frankie and I went to talk with Bernie and figure out the table split as Sid took the stage.

The next 40 minutes flew by and I had already been groped, slapped on the ass, pinched and embarrassed more times than I ever had my entire life. And I hadn't been on stage yet. Frankie came over and tapped me on the shoulder, "Your turn Gayle." My heart sank and my belly flip-flopped. I handed her my tray and nodded. She noticed my expression and added, "You'll be fine! Just don't forget to smile."

I stepped up on the stage and the music started. I was petrified. The colored lights were flashing, the music seemed louder... I took a deep breath and started to dance, swaying my hips to the beat and trying to imagine myself alone in my house... and gave myself over to the music.

A hand poked a bill under the string of my pantie and startled me, Ok, this is what I am here for, tips are good I told myself. I began to dance a little closer to the men seated around the stage, some just held up bills, which I would bend down to let them put in my scant bra, others would stand to put them in my pantie. There was a tip jar behind me, and I could put the excess bills in it for safe keeping while I danced.

After a few minutes I started to relax and almost enjoy myself. This was easier than I had thought. I was actually making tips! The rule between the girls was no bare boobs before eleven o' clock. That worked for me. By the time eleven came it really didn't bother me as much as I thought to take my bra off. I even enjoyed the cat calls I received... ENJOYED it! Who would have thought.

The time flew by and finally it was time to go home. I had a stack of bills, mostly ones, but several fives as I glanced through. I would wait until I got home to count them. We said our good byes and becarefuls and went our separate ways.

I entered my home quietly and went upstairs to my room. I pulled off my coat and costume, sprayed it with febreeze and hung it to air out. I was glad to have 2 to switch out. I would get another as soon as I could. "What!" gads, making future plans? I have lost my mind. After a shower, I lay down on my bed and counted my tips. Almost $300! WHAT THE HELL? I counted again, unable to process my thoughts. Surely that has got be a mistake. But there it was. If I could make that every night it would be over $2000 a week with my wages. Unbelievable.

My family began to question my late nights, and I explained that I had gotten a night job helping a friend clean offices. That seemed to satisfy them for the time being.

The rest of the week went by as fast as the that first night. My tips were consistent, up a bit on Friday night. At the end of the shift on Saturday night Dan called me into his office. "Well, I haven't really talked to you since the day I hired you, what do you think so far?" He asked.

"I am liking it, making decent tips, the other girls are great." I felt much more enthusiastic than I had the week before when I was applying for the job.

"Well, I have to say, I have been surprised... you have managed to breath some fresh life into the place." he said. "But that doesn't let you out of our deal entirely."

My heart sank. How could I have forgotten that. "But you said... you agreed..." I stammered.

"We agreed on what would happen if you failed to make the club money, but we didn't agree on what it would take to keep the job if you did." he leaned back in the chair and smiled.

Cocky bastard.

"What have you got in mind?" I asked.

"You were willing to do what we negotiated, so I figured we would renegotiate to something a little easier."

"And that would be?" I asked.

"A blow job any time I want."

Fuck.

Now what am I going to do. I don't want to lose this job. I have made over $2000 in one week. I even bought another damn costume. I look him in the eye, quickly assess my options and say, "Fine."

His eyes narrow, his lips curl into a slow smile, "Glad to hear you are so co-operative." He leans forward in his chair once again, but scoots out to the edge of the seat. He grasps the first button of his levis and pulls... the rest come undone in quick succession and he reaches in to free his cock and balls. "No time like the present."

I put my purse and coat on the couch and walked over to the chair where he sat. I knelt in front of him, between his legs. The club always smells like cigarette smoke and stale beer, and he no different, though I also smell his cologne, and soap. It is a pleasant surprise. He make look rough, but at least he's showered recently.

I take his cock in one hand, his balls in the other. Slowly massaging them as I stroke his thick length. I lick the head with the tip of my tongue, once... twice... and wrap my lips around it as if to kiss the head. I hear his breath hiss. I take the crown in my hot, wet mouth, and lick in a circle around the head, all the while still stroking the shaft and massaging his balls. I look up at him and see his eyes riveted on my mouth. I take him further... inch by inch, sucking and licking, until my nose is buried in his trimmed patch.

I hear a groan and a reflexive buck of his hips tells me I am on the money. I keep up what I am doing... pulling away almost completely then descending again and again. His hands are gripping the arms of the chair, I am sucking him to the back of my throat and swallowing around the head to increase pressure and sensation. I pull on his sac and he moans louder still, one hand tangles in my hair and he pulls my head to his groin hard as his hips begin to rock... "Fuck yea" he grinds out between clenched teeth, "Suck that cock baby!"

I increase my efforts and tighten my grip around his balls, he is skull fucking me now, hard and fast, his groans loud, ragged until he finally slams my head down one last time, holding it there and I feel his seed explode against the back of my throat.

"Fuck yess!", he growls, as he cums hard.

I swallow quickly to keep from choking as his cum fills my mouth, I don't miss a drop, and keep sucking as his cock softens in my mouth. His grip on my head lessens and I can pull back, releasing his cock from my lips.

"You keep that up and I may make you a partner." he says with a satisfied smile.

I stand without saying a word, pick up my coat and purse, throw him a wink over my shoulder and walk out of his office.

I have to drop off one of my costumes at the 24 hr. cleaners on the way home.