Cindy Becomes A Dancer Pt 03

The following is PROBABLY a work of fiction...

So before I go any further, I have to tell you a story about this guy I dated a couple of times in high school... well, really about his DAD. You see, his dad was a nice enough guy, but clearly peaked some time in the 1980's, so his entire persona was like something out of Back to the Future. He wore a mullet (I'm not kidding) and spent all of his spare time polishing some kind of classic 1980's truck. But the big deal was his music, like the playlist from Rock of Ages -- lots of Twisted Sister, AC/DC, Metallica, Styx, Motley Crue... Anyway, I was reminded of that the first moment I walked into the Gold Club with Brianna, Brandy, and Tiffany and heard Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me" blasting like a jet engine from these oversized speakers next to the stage. Admittedly, it got a LITTLE better, with the obligatory "I Kissed a Girl" and something from Nine Inch Nails... but yeah, I'm like way ahead of myself here.

Friday was sorta the opposite of Thursday. I picked up my cash box at Bill's warehouse, but Bill was already out on his rounds. The kiosk business was a little bit busier on Friday morning than Thursday, but not by much. When Bill came by to check on me about 11:30, he explained that by Friday, all of the kids were sunburned and tired of just playing in the beach sand. Parents usually planned something else to do Friday, and particularly Friday afternoon. I could expect business to totally and completely suck this afternoon.

Speaking of sucking, I was VERY glad Donnie wasn't working at the adjacent lifeguard stand today. Was he even working today? I can't remember. Of course, I had this nagging, irrational fear that somehow every guy in the lifeguard corps now knew that the little ginger cheerleader at the north end got drunk and sucked dick on the first date. I had this vision of them lining up with cheap beer and hard peckers behind one of the lifeguard stands. Of course, I wanted to THINK that Donnie was more of a gentleman than that, but still, who knows, right?

So anyway, by the end of the day Friday it was a bust, cash flow wise, with maybe half the tips from Thursday. Lots of dads sent their kids with exactly the right change, I guess figuring they'd tipped me on Thursday and that was enuf. If this kept up, I might not have gas money to make it back home. Saturday morning, I was stretched out on a lounge, mulling over the meaning for my existence, and wondering when I'd see Donnie again. Brandy came down after a while to catch a few rays, just as I was rolling over and wondering if it was too early to start drinking. She asked me how I was doing, and I blurted, "Broke and overworked. You?"

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. You've picked like the hardest ex-cheerleader job at the beach. Waitresses do better, honey."

"Yeah, well, I'd take a waitress job after yesterday."

"Cindy, we've all done those kinda jobs. I worked as a waitress at an IHOP in college, until someone pointed out that I had the... let's call it 'persona' for Hooters. Tripled my tips the first night. Look, on a good night at the Gold Club, you could make as much in tips as you're gonna make all week hustling lemonade."

I just sighed. I couldn't go home and admit to my parents I'd made less money for school at the beach than I would have made staying home and picking up dog poop.

"I dunno, Brandy, I can't picture myself dancing naked on a stage. Plus, I've seen "Showgirls", and those lap dances look pretty damn personal"

"Well first, it's just topless, not nude, so you're wearing about what you're wearing out here by the pool now, 'cept maybe a smaller thong and heels. Second, the private dances aren't nearly as personal as you saw in that movie. Sure, a little titty in the face action, but he keeps his hands to himself."

"Huh..."

"Saturdays are generally one of our better nights. On weeknights we get a lot of locals and tourist dads who are sneaking out on their families. On Saturday, we get lots of frat boys and convention guys who spend freely. Lots of birthday and bachelor parties. All fun, and the tips are great. Plus, for some reason, lots of girls don't want to work Saturday or call in sick to be with their boyfriends. The club is always hunting for fresh girls. You could tryout tonite. On your first night, the club lets you keep your tips with no club share."

"Club share?"

"Yeah, it's called a tip-out. We're all independent contractors, which means what you say to the IRS is your own business. Since you already have a job with tips, it makes it simple for you. However, there's a tip-out. The club gets 10% of what you make, which they waive on the first night just so you can see how you like it. They're really good that way. Most clubs aren't like that, but the owner of this club is a woman who used to dance herself and she's really, really cool. Also, you need to tip the DJ at least $20, maybe more if you have some kind of complicated song request when you're on stage, and $20 to the bouncer who walks you to your car at the end of the night."

"And that's how the club makes money?"

"The club makes money four ways. First, there's a cover charge. Second, drink sales, third your tip percentage, and then there's the dancer drink hustle."

"Drink hustle?"

"Yeah, lemme explain. Have you ever been in a club like ours?"

"No!"

"Yeah, I figured as much. Every girl takes a turn on stage. That takes two songs, so maybe like 7 or 8 minutes. First song you're dressed, usually doing pole dancing or something, and second song you drop your top. During the second song, you dance on the floor around the stage, usually going from guy to guy, and they tip you a few dollars. It's chump change compared to private dances, but its marketing. Let's say 8 minutes plus a couple of minutes to switch dancers, so 10 minutes per girl. If there are 12 girls working, which is fairly typical for a Saturday, then you're on stage 8 minutes every 2 hours. See?"

"OK, then what?"

"It varies, but most girls pick out a guy who is sitting alone, or maybe a group of guys, and you go over and ask if they'd like some company. Lots of guys will tip you for just sitting there and talking with them. They're usually here because they're lonely, after all. But anyway, somewhere, you ask them if they'll buy you a drink. They nearly always say yes, and you order something outlandish to the waitress -- just make something up, like a gin fizzie or a champagne drop or something senseless like that. It doesn't matter, cuz the waitress is going to bring you plain juice and maybe club soda with an orange slice or a cherry. It will DEFINITELY not have alcohol in it. The last thing the club wants is a drunk dancer falling off the stage, or, in your case, an under-age bust."

"Don't the cops check?"

"The cops come by regularly. They're all familiar with the drink hustle. It's part of the game. Anyway, the club loves the drink hustle, and the manager keeps a little tally on that. He expects you to do four or five a night."

"That's a lot of juice and club soda. I guess it'll keep my kidneys flushed."

"So, anyway, you ask the guy if he'd like a table dance. Sure, he says. That's $10, except sometimes the club runs a two-for-one special, which is fine, because it makes the guys feel guilty and they usually double up on the tip anyway. Table dances are simple. You just drop your top and do a little dance there at the table in front of him. Almost no touching. After a table dance, you tell him that there is also a private area near the stage, and you can be more personal there. That's $20, again maybe a two-for-one. Most girls get a little more personal there, and maybe let him touch you but it's all up to you. Lots of guys will get into that, and want you to dance a second or third or fifth time. Five songs, one hundred dollars. Do that once an hour, and you've had a great evening."

"And that's it?"

"Oh, sometimes there are some special things. One Saturday night, there was a big college fraternity party in town. The manager set up a beer pong table and the boys would pay us $20 each to play them in strip beer pong."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. All of us taking turns. Every time he scored on one of our cups, the girl up would take off her top. Girls ran an assembly line all night. Easy money."

Just then, I saw Don walking toward us out of the corner of my eye. Brandy said,

"Here comes your sweetie."

"What makes you say that?"

"Cuz you fucked him in the apartment last night."

"Brandy! I did not. Well, OK, maybe a blow job. How did you know?"

"I guessed, but looks like I was right. I saw how you looked at his ass when he walked away yesterday, plus there was the leftover pizza box for two when we got in, and you had this shit eating look on your face all day yesterday, so yeah, it was simple math."

I started blushing, but she had me dead to rights.

By then, Donnie was standing over us and asked me how I was doing. "Fine, or, yeah, not fine. Work sucked yesterday. Why are you here today?"

"Saturday's my day off. Gonna work out and swim and do nothing. Then he smiled and said, "You up for another pizza anytime soon?"

I thought Brandy was going to split her side laughing, but I ignored her. I said,

"Don, can I ask you a personal question."

"Yeah, shoot. I'm an open book."

"Have you ever been in the Gold Club where Brandy dances?"

"Once. It's kinda out of my league, money-wise. I'm just a poor, starving lifeguard, remember? I went in there once for a birthday party for one of the other lifeguards. Nice place. I'm not an afficionado of topless clubs, but this one had a sorta 'homey' vibe to it, like mom, apple pie, and the topless girl next door, ya know?"

"Well, I'm making like zero extra money hustling lemonade to tourists, and Brandy here is trying to expand my level of debauchery to include dancing half naked for tips. I'm trying to decide. What do you think?"

Donnie looked at me funny, and said, "Stand up." I did, and then he said, "Put your top back on," and again I did what he said. "Now, dance a bit for me. Lemme see what you've got, and lose your top about half way thru." I had no idea where he was headed with this, and Brandy was utterly captivated, so I started dancing, facing him. Fortunately, there was a nice song playing on the pool's sound system (something Latin, I didn't quite recognize, but nice) and after a minute of dancing in a bikini, flip-flops, and sunglasses, I turned away from him, reached behind to undo my top, dropped it to the floor, and then slowly turned to face him, continuing to dance.

When the song finished, Brandy started applauding, and Donnie reached into his pocket for a dollar and with a swift pull-and-tug, tucked it into the waistband of my bikini bottom. "There, now you're a professional. Great job!"

I started laughing and beating his rock-solid chest with my fists. He grabbed me, and pulled me into him, mashing my pencil-eraser nipples against his chest.

Brandy jokingly yelled at us, saying, "Now now, children, quit upsetting an old lady. Take your carnal activities somewhere private. In other words, get a room, you two!"

Donnie finally let go of me, although I was very slow to back away from him, and he said, "So, Cindy, if you want, I can come for moral support or not, whichever you'd like."

"Nah. If I do it, and I'm not saying I will, but if I do, maybe I need to do it without you there."

Brandy spoke up and said, "Yeah, and the club really doesn't like boyfriends hanging around. They don't spend any money, and they tend to start fights."

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend," I said.

"OK, fuck-buddy. Whatever."

I just looked at Donnie and said, "Maybe I'll rain-check dancing for you."

Brandy spoke up again, "If you fuck him today, be sure to wear a tampon tonight."

I just shook my head and buried my face in his chest.

Donnie said, "Look, I'm headed for the workout room. I don't go in until noon tomorrow, so come by my apartment in the morning and tell me how it went. Personally, I think it's a hot-as-hell idea, and I'm turned on just thinking about it."

I absentmindedly looked down at his board shorts, and sure enough, he was turned on!

I turned to Brandy and said, "I'm not going to fuck him... Today."

"Good girl. Now, what are you going to wear tonite?"

"I'm still not sure I'm going to do it, but what does one wear to dance naked?"

"Half naked, and our club is big into lingerie. You'll want something to compliment your red hair and overall virginal cheerleader look. I'm thinking two outfits. You'll want to change mid-evening, cuz the club is warmer than you think and you'll get hot dancing. I've got a light green front-snap babydoll with a matching thong for the first outfit, and then I think Tiffany has a white bra and thong pair she doesn't wear anymore. You and she should be about the same size, and the babydoll is one-size fits all. What's your shoe size, hun?"

I told her, and she said, "You and I are the same size. I've got a really comfie beginner pair you can wear. Only a 3-inch rise, but they look taller."

"I haven't worn heels in two months."

"Like riding a bicycle, but yeah, maybe you need to practice a bit. Do you have a little gym bag or something? We all go to-and-from the club in street clothes, then change in the dressing room. You'll need the bag for your outfits and makeup. Also, a little clutch-type purse. There are lockers and you can borrow a padlock from the office. We're all planning to get there about 7:30 to go on about 8. Let's plan to leave here about 7:15. You can ride with us."

For the rest of the day, my stomach was invaded by butterflies, and I couldn't eat a thing. I was worried about passing out from starvation. I took a much-needed nap and found out that Brianna snores. Late afternoon, Brandy woke me up, and everyone was taking turns showering. She said, "After you shower, come see me and let's try on some outfits."

I showered last, not washing my hair, so drying was easy, and when I came out, Brandy had already laid out the two outfits on my bed. Both looked like the skimpiest things I'd ever seen. The babydoll outfit had a very skimpy g-string, see-thru body, a padded bodice, and spaghetti straps. It was held together by a clasp in the front. Fortunately, I'd heavily trimmed 'down there' in anticipation of working in bikinis all summer, so the g-string fit me fine without any errant pubes sticking out. I heard Brandy yell from the front room for me to come out and model.

When I got out there, the girls were all sitting on the sofa and expected me to model. I was still getting used to the stripper-shoes but did my best to walk back and forth and turn for them, wiggling my ass as best I could. Then Brianna said, "Lose the top, roomie!"

I unsnapped the top, and let it fall backwards over my arms and toward the floor, catching it in my right hand and feeling a bit like a pro for my style. Everyone applauded and Tiffany, smiling more than I'd seen her before, actually whistled!

Then I went back to the bedroom and quickly changed into the white g-string and bra set. When I came out, Brandy said, "That needs a little white choker. Does anyone have a white choker she can wear?"

Tiffany spoke up, "I've got one with a little fake jewel in the front. It'll look just perfect."

With that, my first night as a stripper seemed to be a fait accompli. Everyone dug into eating (I managed to down a small salad) and we headed to the car at 7:15. I used my beachbag in lieu of a gym bag, and everything fit in there perfectly. When we got to the club, one of the bouncers met us at our car and walked us to the front door. He was a huge guy, like 6'5' and I have no idea how much weigh, but it was clear no drunk patron was going to win an argument with him. I felt safer already. Apparently, he knew everyone's routine and where they parked. He looked at me and asked Brandy, "Newbie?"

She said, "Yeah, and may be a virgin to boot. You'll never know!"

He just laughed and walked us to the front door. The other bouncer (I found out there were only the two) was at the door, and there was a girl in a cute outfit working behind the counter checking people in and taking cover charge money. I asked Brandy what that was all about, and she said, "She used to be a dancer but her ankles gave out. She and the bartender are both ex-dancers."

I said, "what about the waitresses?"

Brandy giggled and said, "old joke in the biz. What's the difference between a strip club waitress and a strip club dancer?"

"Dunno, what?"

"About 6 weeks."

OK, now that was funny. Anyway, Brandy took me to the managers office. I don't know what I was expecting, maybe some greasy old guy. Instead, this guy looked like he was maybe in his mid-30's and could have passed for your dad's CPA if he had glasses and a little less facial hair. He introduced himself as Jim, and said, "Brandy called me about you this afternoon. Did she tell you about the first-night rules?"

"Yeah, club lets me keep the 10%, but I need to tip the DJ and bouncer."

"You got a boyfriend?"

"Not really. Friend with a few minor benefits."

"Never quite heard that. Anyway, no boyfriends in the club. I'm running a topless bar, not a drama school."

"Got it. He says he can't afford this place, anyway."

"That's good to know. Now, if you're going to dance here, I need to see you topless." I looked at Brandy, and she nodded, so I peeled off my t-shirt and bra, leaving me standing there with just a pair of tiny jean cutoffs. He said, "Turn around," and I did. Then he asked, "Do you have any tattoos the customers might see?"

I said, "No, why?"

"Believe it or not, I get some of the weirdest body art you can imagine in here. Most of it's OK, but I actually had a girl apply for a job with a swastika tattoo on her side. That was a no-go. Then I had one with a tattoo of the chemical formula for nitrous oxide. Turns out she was a dental hygienist in a past life. She was a hoot when the annual dentist convention hit town."

"How did you know it was nitrous oxide?"

"Chem major. Get a degree in chemistry and you're wonderfully qualified to run a strip club. Plus, this pays better than teaching 10th grade."

I looked at Brandy and said, "I'm learning a lot about the value of a college education."

He said, "Three-quarters of the girls out there have college degrees. Two have masters, and both of them are school teachers on the west coast when they're not here. So yeah, you're hired, unless your freckles spell out something insulting in code I can't read. If you want to go straight to the dressing room without putting your clothes back on, you can use the back door here. Oh, and hey, what's your stripper name gonna be?"

I just drew a blank, then remembered what Ginger had told me the first day.

"Ginger."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Hey, I need a copy of your drivers license as well, the one with your real name on it."

After I let him make a copy for his secret files (I guess, the one the cops would look at), Brandy and I slipped out the back door of his office. The dressing room was very small for the 12 or so girls who would be working tonite. Right now, though, it was only the four of us roomies, and I saw that the other girls had put on just their g-strings and were working on their makeup and hair. Brianna said, "Don't put your top on yet, or you'll run the risk of getting makeup on it."

So, there I was, in a closet-sized room surrounded by professional tits, trying to put on my makeup without elbowing someone in the nipple. After about 15 minutes, Tiffany came over and said, "You white girls are the hardest. Lemme show you some tricks." With that, she took over my makeup brushes like a professional stylist, and in less than two minutes, had me finished up and ready to entertain.