It was my first year of college and my parents had saved for years, to get me there. I was there, although I was indeed broke. Being so far from home was the worst part of it I guess, being that no one could actually be with me. I was truly on my own. For the first few months, I made it, it was tough and money was tight, but I made it. Some of the classes were hard, but I had some great teachers. Algebra was the hardest, but it was also the class with the best teacher. Mr. Jemison was always willing to help, and never minded taking extra time out of non class hours to work one on one with his students.
Once my money began to run low, I knew I had to do something, and of course the answer was to find a job. Experience was definitely something I was lacking, so my options were limited. I spent the evenings going from one restaurant to the other, many of which were hiring, but none that could work with my school hours. I had not decided on a specific major, or I could work on a pre-profession program. But considering it was already mid-term, I was out of luck there. It seems like I had covered every coffee shop, and every mini-mart in the area, when I came across a tiny club called "The Toy Box". It was pretty obvious that is was a strip club, marked with all those XXX's on the door and sign. Believe it or not the place looked pretty cozy, and I needed a drink BAD.
When I pulled in the thoughts of going to in to a female strip club for a drink crossed my mind as weird, Okay really weird, not that I thought for a moment I wouldn't fit in, or have even a lack of self confidence. I had never actually been with another woman, but I had kissed my best friend in high school, while the locker room of basketball players watched, of course I had never lived that one down. I didn't consider myself Bi, but I did find the female body pretty in it's own way. If there was any thing that my parents and family had instilled in me, it was self confidence. It was shortly after my 19th birthday, and the county where I was in school, that was legal drinking age. So in I walked, with the intentions of drinking a beer, watching a few dances and trying to devise a plan of just where I was going to get gas money for the rest of the week. Not a smart plan, but it was the plan, at the time.
The place was dark, and mostly empty, since it was a Wednesday afternoon, except for a couple guys at the bar, and one or two sitting with a dancer in the lounge area. I went directly to the bar, and after presenting my I.D. began nursing a cold draft. I took a few minutes to look around, was winked at by one of the guys at the other end of the bar, and then made my way to a table where I might find refuge in the dark.
I sat at the little corner table for an hour or so when I was approached by a man in, (of all things) a business suit. The man extended his hand and flashed a smile that spoke money. "Hi, I'm Mr. Taberson, but please call me Tony. I'm sorry it took me so long to get over for your interview."
I cleared my throat and looked at him with what I am sure read total confusion. "um I think you have the wrong person. I'm just having a drink, and trying to relax for a while."
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. You just looked like a dancer." He scratched his head, and continued to stare at me. "I mean, look at you, you are incredible." He brushed my hair which was a natural blond, and then ran his hands over my shoulder. "Forgive me if I sound rude of come across too bold, but honey you are a knock out. You mind standin up for a minute?"
I hesitated for a moment and then thought what the hell. I stood up and just for kicks ran my hands through my own hair and down my sides. "Damn girl, I would be willing to start you out with an hourly pay, if you would dance for us.
"What do you mean an hourly pay"? I asked.
"Here, the dancers work for tips, that's their pay, but I would pay you and hourly if you would reconsider."
I thought for a moment and knew my poor mother would go completely ballistic if she knew what I was considering. But I needed money, and by the way things were going, I was going to have to walk to class for the couple of weeks, until my parents could send more. It wasn't like it would be a permanent thing, just a few weeks. "Okay," I said reluctantly. "But only temporarily, I go to school here at Arksford and I cant let anyone find out about this."
"Honey your secret is safe with me, let's you get up for an audition,"
"Now, you want me to dance now?"
"Well sure, is that Okay?" I didn't answer, and after a moment he had summonsed the waitress to bring me not a drink, but a couple of drinks. Once those were down, NOW, was just fine.
I picked out an outfit, with the help of Goldie, one of the other dancers. And within just a few minutes, I found myself taping pasties on my nipples and picking out a song. I was introduced by a voice that seemed to come from no where. And my song started. Scared was an understatement, but the alcohol helped, a lot. My body moved, I shook my ass, and titts, for several songs. And by the end of the evening I left with not only 150 dollars in tips, but a job.
I danced several nights a week, and the money was great. So far so good. One afternoon, Nancy, a good college friend of mine, caught up with me in the hall on the way to our Algebra class. "You know some of the other girls were noticing the way Mr. Jemison has been looking at you, are you like seeing him or something?"
"What?" I stopped dead in my tracks. "Of course not. Why?"