Chapter 1
My name is Hilary. I'm a senior at Georgia Tech, just back from a year of overseas study in France. And I'm running out of money. If I can't make some money quickly, I'm going to have to drop out. My parents don't want that, but they don't have another dollar to give me, and I am borrowed up to the max.
I work on campus 16 hours a week, but they pay me a pathetic $8 an hour, and that's for cleaning the dishes after dinner in the dorm cafeteria. What a godawful job!!
I've been whining about this to anyone who will listen, but no one has any ideas. I check the want ads for any retail jobs that might pay $10 or $11, but the economy sucks, and I can't find a thing.
One day I was perusing the want ads, feeling like I was wasting my time, when I came across an ad that said "Exotic dancers wanted. Great pay. Short hours. Contact Steve at ***-**** at The Pussy Willow Club." I thought, yeah right, but a friend from high school had become an exotic dancer, and she said the money was beyond her wildest dreams. Beyond my wildest dreams was about how much money I needed to complete school.
I hesitated, but not very long. I called the number.
"Pussy Willow Club"
"Yes, I saw your ad for exotic dancers. Can I speak to Steve?"
"Hold on."
I waited a couple of minutes.
"Hi, this is Steve."
"This is Hilary. I'm calling about the exotic dancer job."
"Well, how old are you?"
"I'm 20."
"That's legal. Are you hot?"
I didn't like the way this conversation was going, but what choice did I have? I decided to be a wiseass.
"Well, all the guys I've blown have told me I am."
Steve laughed.
"Well, I can't tell if you are hot over the phone, but I love smartasses. Come on in for an interview."
I scheduled a time on Tuesday, and arrived promptly. The club looked a little seedy with all the lights up, but I figured it wouldn't be too bad in the dim illumination of evening. And it didn't smell like old beer, which was a welcome change from most bars I had been in. Steve came out and shook my hand.
"Hi, Hilary."
"Call me Hil," I said.
"OK, Hil, come into my office."
We sat down, him behind his desk, and me in front in a swivel chair. I had decided to dress conservatively. I have no idea why. I was wearing a calf length brown skirt, and a white blouse with long sleeves, buttoned all the way up.
Steve said "I like your look right away. Have you ever done this before?"
"No, but I really need money, and I've heard this pays really well."
"You heard right. Now, the first time a girl decides to try this for a living, it can be a bit of a shock. I'm going to ask you to do some things that may make you uncomfortable, but they are things you need to be able to do to perform this work, and performance is what it's all about. So will you trust me to walk you through some exercises?"
I could see where this was going, and I was no shrinking flower, so I said "I can handle whatever you throw at me."
"Leave your shoes here and follow me."
We went out to the dance platform (stage), where the floor was shiny, and there was a pole every 3 or 4 feet.
"OK, Hil, take off your skirt, and your blouse. For now you can leave your bra and panties on."
I did it, put them down, and stood there in front of him. He handed me a pair of spiked high heels, which I put on. He looked me up and down.
"Yes, you are hot. If you can get through the training, you will make a whole lot of money."
"How much money?" I asked.
"Well, we pay you $25 an hour"
Before he could go on, I was already excited. How naΓ―ve I was.
"You work 15 minutes each hour of a 4 hour shift. We pay you for the whole hour. You work 4 nights a week. Then in tips you can expect anywhere from $100 to $250, depending on how good you are."
"Wow, I said, you mean I could earn, like, about $200 or $300 each night?"
Steve looked at me and laughed.
"No, I meant $100 to $250 in tips AN HOUR!! You could earn a $1000 or more every night you work."
I stopped breathing. I looked for a chair to sit down, but there wasn't one, so I leaned against the pole. Steve laughed again.
"Yeah, I know how you feel. The first time a girl hears that, she's rendered speechless."
I got my wits about me, and said "OK, you certainly have my attention. What's next?"
"OK," said Steve, "I want to see if you can play with the pole and how you dance."
He walked over to the music console, pushed a button, and I heard Donna Summer's Hot Stuff firing up. Great song to dance to. Steve turned the volume down so I could hear him.
"You're on," said Steve.
I closed my eyes and started to dance. I swiveled my hips and moved my arms over my head, and just generally tried to look sexy. I don't know why I wasn't bothered by doing this in my bra and panties in front of Steve, but I guess all I could think about was the money, and money has a way of lowering your inhibitions.
"Now play with the pole".
I grabbed the pole, and swung to one side, then the other. I straddled the pole, and wrapped my long hair around it. I climbed up a foot, then slid down, with my pussy rubbing up against the pole.
"Very nice," said Steve. "You're not going to need much training. Now, don't get uncomfortable, but I need you to be completely naked."
I froze. Why, I wondered. Was he going to pull some funny stuff?
"Relax, kid. I've been doing this for 12 years. I've hired well over 100 girls, and I've seen them all naked, many times. It just goes with the territory."
I eyed him warily, but what was I to do? I took my high heels off first, and set them down. Then I removed my bra, and set that down. I hesitated, then pulled my panties down quickly and kicked them aside. Steve looked me up and down.
"You have a spectacular body for this sort of work. Only one thing. The bush has to go."
"What? I have to shave my pubic hair?"
"Yes. Believe me, I'm an old timer, and I really miss the days of hairy pussies, but those days are gone. The men sitting around the dance platform want to see a slit, and the more naked it looks, the more money you get."
"I've never shaved there before."
"OK, come with me to the dressing room."
He started to walk away. I grabbed my bra and panties, skirt and blouse, and put the bra and panties on awkwardly as we were walking.
We got to the dressing room and there before me was a beautiful statuesque black girl, 6 feet tall if she was an inch, high cheekbones, long smooth hair, gorgeous chocolate color skin, breasts that were the most perfect I had ever seen, and legs that went from here to eternity. She was wearing a thong and no top, as she was in the process of changing. She seemed totally relaxed in her body.
"Jet, meet Hil, our newest dancer. She needs help. First, what should we call her?"
Jet looked me up and down and said "Celeste."
I had no idea how she arrived at that name so quickly, but I kind of liked it. It had a European flavor.