Penelope pays him back
Penelope was nervous, hesitantly walking out of the restaurant, through the dimly lit car park. It was upsetting to fall into this infuriating situation, but she would have to find a way to live with it. There was nothing preventing her from hating it, and she had every right to hate him too.
When her parents died, she promised to keep the family home, and to live there, to keep it alive for future generations of the Morgan family. Their name meant something in the community a generation ago. It certainly wouldn't be admired if this deplorable situation came to light.
At the time she hadn't realised how much it would cost to repair the rotting heap. Repair bills kept coming in, and every time something was touched, more work was found to absorb even more money that she didn't have.
Although it was unfair, she was annoyed with a friend who introduced her to Robert, the man who kept lending her money, so much, that she was now in a financial crisis. The man was a crook, who subtly encouraged her into ever greater debt, until there was little chance of paying him back.
Working in his casino next door to pay off the debt had been rejected outright. The uniforms were lewd, so it would be highly embarrassing working there night after night. There wasn't much to any of the costumes the waitresses wore and she was a bit of a prude. The thought of serving friends in the casino would be bad, and showing off her body to them would be so very humiliating, it would be impossible to put up with.
A special arrangement was made, so she could pay off the loan, and not be seen. It would take some time, but at least it would be possible. Under this arrangement there was little choice, except to do as she was told, until the loan was paid off. This evening had been the first session and it had been just as humiliating as expected.
The nasty man didn't show it, but he must have been gloating over having the Morgan's daughter at his disposal. A respected wealthy family brought low, would bring a smile to many a face in the town, and he was no exception.
***
He had given her detailed instructions not to speak unless spoken to, where to stand when not serving drinks to his friends, and most embarrassing of all, he told her what to wear. The evening had been the most embarrassing experience of her life. Serving the horrible man was bad enough, but wearing an absurd outfit, that hardly covered her body, was horrendous.
The dress was pale blue, very short, and flared out just below her breasts, which were tightly pushed up into a deep cleavage. The stocking tops were hardly covered by the short hem, which seemed even shorter when wearing high heels. He told her she looked devastating in the dress, which she had no doubts about from the lascivious look he gave her.
'It brings out the blue of your eyes beautifully,' he crooned.
If he thought such a compliment was welcome, he was very much mistaken. It was expensive silk, though nothing so slutty as that would ever be found in her wardrobe. Part of the deal was that he chose the outfit, and this was expected. It was only a little better than what they wore in the casino. At least she only had a small audience in the card room.
While they played cards, she had plenty to do. Preparation, serving drinks, and snacks, helped overcome the nervousness a little. It was no wonder she was anxious, when wearing such a daring outfit before strangers.
Being so used to wearing conservative clothes, it was a shock to wear something so short, and low cut. It had to be kept constantly in mind, when bending over. Squatting in the right direction to pick anything up was necessary, otherwise the thin panties would show. They were plastered between her cheeks, and in front they felt obscene.
It was a relief they hadn't taken much notice of her. Instead they concentrated on their cards, so perhaps it wasn't such an unusual uniform, as it had been for her. After all, the horrible man owned a gambling club next to the restaurant, where waitresses wore very skimpy outfits.
Not daring to work there, where friends would be able to see her fall from grace, she opted to work in his private card room, where he entertained friends. Serving a select group, she could at least avoid a public disgrace.
As the evening wore on, she became used to the high heels and the short hem, just enough to relax a little. She was surprised how late it was when they broke up the game for the night. Or rather, it was early morning. After tidying up the glasses and leftover food, it was a relief the evening had passed so quickly.
Her own clothes were in a changing room locker, used by the restaurant staff. They had closed up shop and left hours ago, so she had to use another exit. It meant she had to wear the skimpy outfit home, which had only just been accepted in the privacy of the backroom. It was so much more humiliating walking across the parking lot, where anyone could see and ogle her body.
At least in the confines of the back room, it had only been his cronies that saw and commented on her figure. There had also been some safety in his presence, as they knew she was working for him. Out here she was on her own!
Walking from the anonymous doorway it was a surprise how many people were about at that hour. People were leaving, and still arriving at the casino. She felt as though all eyes were on her. Strangers would judge her, assuming she was a high-class prostitute, from the way she was dressed. The high heels clicked loudly on the concrete, bringing more attention to the walk of shame.
Young couples and young men were making their way from late night drinking and carousing, and a group had emerged from the club next to the restaurant. When they noticed her, they whistled and called out, though this was not as bad as the comments made by young women. It was surprising how unpleasant they could be.
Being called a slut was excruciating, as she clicked along on shiny high heels. She tried to keep the dress down, but it bounced up, showing off stocking tops.
'Come on, girl, I've had a win at cards, I'll buy you for the night,' a young guy shouted.
Unable to run in the heels, she continued to totter along, wobbling and wiggling her bottom.
'Don't be stupid, Tom, you'll catch something off the dirty slut!' one of the girls shouted.
'Don't mind them, we'll look after you, girl,' a couple of guys seriously spoke.
They were heading towards her, on a course that would cut her off from the car. They could see she wasn't running, which encouraged them. Penelope couldn't run in the heels, and they produced an enticing swing to her hips. There was no way she could find the courage to counter their rude remarks, so they carried on increasing their offer.
'We'll pay you double your usual fee. We won't take no for an answer,' one of them promised.
The others had shouted silly remarks to impress their friends. This seriousness was frightening. What did they mean about not taking no for an answer? They thought she was a prostitute, which blew away the protection she usually had, that a decent woman expected.
The thought of being taken here in the parking lot, up against a car, was horrendous. Having her bra stuffed with notes, would signify what she was, and destroy her self-image. She would no longer be a decent woman, entitled to the protection of society and the law.
Once she had been paid as a prostitute, that would be it, there would be no going back. Her status as a respectable woman would be lost forever. She might as well have the crude word tattooed across her forehead, and carry a sign reading, unclean.
