Original Story: Scipio
Continuation: RogueAlan
Forward: New readers, it would be best to go All the way back to the beginning put down by Scipio. Fans, I apologize for the long wait... I hope you think this is worth it. The next bit should be shorter and I hope to get it written and out quickly, but cannot promise anything, because life gets in the way. Haters, don't waste your time... or do... it may keep you from flaming some writer who might be adversely affected by your vitriol. Anyone who has read this far and NOW decides to whine that this is impossible or stereotypical or anything else... Really? It's not real, but hopefully as you're reading at least it Feels real. I hope the characters are stable and the story flow feels right and the dialogue seems like what you would hear on any campus you might visit today. As ever, fans, thanks for keeping me going. I hope you like the tidbits I dropped your way... it's right here in this chapter. The outline has three more segments to this chapter, and two more definite chapters before there's any sign we'll have to wait for more inspiration. Roby, you've done wonders for that, btw. I always appreciate hearing from folks who've liked the story. But let's get on with the sex...
Chapter 15: Mistletoe, Ornaments, Gift Wrap, and the ball
"... and he says, all embarrassed, 'I thought I was putting it in the right place!'" The women were talking and laughing, sharing stories about the night's various customers and prior customers they had dealt with, the stories recalled by similar events of the night. The scene would have seemed entirely familiar to anyone who has worked retail and has escaped the floor for the sad and too brief respite of a break room... except that the women were all more or less naked, and the discussion included frankly sexual anecdotes rather than innuendo.
"That big cowboy drove a brand new Escalade and was slipping tens into our G-strings," Naomi paused, then asked one of the other newer dancers, "How was his private?"
"His privates made it clear why he drives a monster SUV," the light skinned black girl, Amelia answered, as she settled into one of the hard plastic seats arrayed before the gang vanities, having just returned from the champagne room. Her meaning got a laugh from the other girls, "But I'm not complainin.' He tipped all right, and wasn't arrogant or demanding or aggressive." The other girls nodded more solemnly, recognizing that it might be fun to laugh at the man's expense, but that he would be a great 'sugar daddy.' Go was always pushing them to establish 'regular customers,' and an easy lay who paid like that would be a real catch.
"Well that big guy who knows Go isn't overcompensating," Glory, another new girl warned them, wincing as she pressed her hand between her legs.
"He packing, then?" Phoebe was checking the Velcro of her costume, ready to take the stage when Fallon was done with her set.
"Honey, I he smiled and asked if I was ready to celebrate 'hum day'." The other women groaned, "Then he went to work, and I wondered if I'd have to apply for worker's comp before he was done." Everyone laughed at that. Go did not let any of his girls work enough hours to have to pay benefits, and had deftly ended the handful of outbursts Kelly or Sharon had seen where one or more of the girls suggested they 'deserved' such by pointing out they were making more than any two women their age were for the time that they did work. To his credit he had never minimized the work they did-- the work that was making him rich-- and he never stooped to pointing out there would be little public support for strippers trying to unionize. Kelly snorted at that though, guessing even union organizers would hesitate to support that, unless they thought they could supplant Go as strippers' ultimate pimp.
The last time it had happened, Palomino had stormed off of the stage after the first number, irate at a regular having 'touched her' while tucking a $10 into her G string, then demanding that Go provide them with better protection and rambling that he owed them health coverage and retirement contributions, according to 'her man.' Go had calmly ripped what little of her costume remained and the bouncers had thrown her naked into the parking lot. Horrified, the girl had scrambled to her feet, unaware of the gravel and abrasions as she tried to hide her nudity while begging Go to let her back in.
He had met her plea with a stone face, only glaring at the other girls who had gathered at the door to watch. Palomino had realized too late she was pushing it, and collapsing in the dusty gravel lot, she had begun to apologize, insisting she had just been mad because her boyfriend had used all of the 'medications' she needed to work. Go had shrugged, and one of the bouncers had tossed the hapless girl her purse, along with a five sizes too large mumu on which the Snake Eyes logo was prominent.
Seeing her usual means of manipulating men were not working, Palomino had again changed tactics, scrambling to her feet, leaving her chest bare, breasts thrust proudly at the bouncers and Go, the dress held discreetly over her pelvis and legs as she had defiantly warned Go that 'her man' was not going to like what he had done to her. Pausing, Go had sighed, then looked back at the too self-confident woman whose beauty had begun to fade under the press of too many long nights dancing and drugging.
"Girl," he had rumbled without raising his voice, "You send him right along... We'll be happy to show him just what you been doin' to bring home all that money he's been spending." Palomino had quailed at that-- few of the girls let their boyfriends even consider they did more than dance at Snake Eyes-- if the boyfriends had been polled, only three or four of the girls would have been even offering lap dances. "You just learn from this... Get off the dope." That was the closest Kelly had seen Go approach duplicity, considering most of the girls did the occasional hit of one stimulant or another to get through a long shift. And it was not just 'occupational use' as she had heard other girls term those highs... she and the others had seen Palomino using in the dressing room more than once, and more than recreationally-- the girl had a habit that was eating her alive. In short, none of the other dancers had been surprised she had not lasted.
"I'll give you a rec for any of the other clubs. But if you think you 'deserve' anything, go on down to that big Occupy Event we're hearing about in St. Louis, see if they offer you any more equality than you got while you were here." All of the men had snorted at that, and then had left the shaking, humiliated young stripper as she struggled into the shapeless garment.
Glory shook her head, her long platinum hair fanning expressively, but without impact-- the dancers were blind to theatrics, if not to the beauty of their co-workers. Kelly had not decided yet if her decidedly increased interest in women was from the wonderful things Sharon did to her, or the time she had spent with her fellow BZ Sisters, or if-- as Dave insisted was true-- all women were lesbians at heart, and only tolerated cock as a guarantee of protection. It seemed a strange claim, considering the stable of women the frat maintained, and when she was enjoying a cock it seemed absurd, but watching Glory, Kelly found herself wondering... She blushed as Sharon swept into the room, pausing to look at the others before her eyes settled on her partner. The women smiled, and Kelly's frequent lover sauntered over, her expression and attitude immediately sparking something inside the younger woman. Glory seemed a pale comparison.
"You waiting for me?" Sharon was slightly out of breath, having just completed her fourth 'private' in the champagne room. They had not frequently done as much before becoming the Snake Eyes headliners, and Sharon's unusual popularity had not gone unnoticed by the other women.
"Why, you going back for more?" Naomi teased from her position near Kelly. Sharon's eyes flared, and for an instant Kelly saw not another dancer and BZ 'Sister' but Dave or one of the other frat members... arrogant, unchallengeable... More and more often her once demure, naïve friend and lover seemed downright aggressively masculine. Naomi quailed slightly at Sharon's response, as if she, too, worried the older woman might lash out. Instead, Sharon blinked, her body almost visibly shuddering as she took a breath and held it, running a hand down her bare stomach, pressing against the sequined thong covering her femiscaped mons.
"Mmmm," she managed after her eyes stopped fluttering, "I might just have to do that," she bit her lower lip, Kelly assumed feigning arousal, "That last brute was hung, but he just couldn't tire me out."
"Damn, girl," Amelia snorted, "You was shoutin' for him to fuck you harder loud enough my boy picked up the pace." The women laughed.
"No lie," Glory sniffed, examining her intricately painted nails, "You could tone it down a bit... my guy thought I should be 'more vocal' after hearing you two going at it." Sharon shrugged, obviously unaffected by any animosities the other women held. She flopped unceremoniously into the seat beside Kelly, looking anything but ladylike, but unquestionably sexy as she examined her face, then body in the mirror. She grimaced.
"If I can't get a handle on this acne you won't have to worry," she complained to no one in particular, "Go won't let me in the club... God, I look like a leper." Kelly laughed.
"I though that got better with age."
"I haven't ever had acne like this," Sharon shook her head, "I've changed make up, I'm washing my face and chest constantly, even with that ProActive stuff they advertise... nothing is helping... if anything, it's worse." Kelly shrugged.
"Well, it's not costing you popularity," Phoebe patted both women's shoulders as she passed, having heard Fallon's last song start, "Wish me luck."
"Break a leg," several of the women chorused in return, Amelia adding, "And a few hearts, too, girl." As the women resumed their various conversations Kelly glanced at the clock. She never looked for too long-- Go was famous for catching girls 'eyeing the clock' as he called it, and would pointedly ask if they were bored and needed to work the front room more.
"Phoebe's probably the last set," she said, considering it was a week night, and they would be closed at least for drinks and dancing in another 30 minutes. She and Sharon were supposed to be spared having to 'work longer,' but the other girls were right-- they were supposed to be spending less time in the champagne room, too, and Sharon was busier than ever. "You ready to get out of here?" Sharon considered, which surprised her younger friend. She knew Sharon was not as comfortable servicing so many strange men, and was aware, unlike the others, that the BZ girls were not really dancing purely by choice. But her Honda was in the shop... again, and she had come to work with her friend.
"Don't tell me you're considering going out again... Would that be four?" Glory had been eavesdropping.
"Five," Sharon answered, her voice almost a growl that made the younger woman lean away. Unwilling to let on she had been intimidated, she shook her hair out once again, then rolled her eyes.
"You two have it made, why would you volunteer for more abuse?" Kelly was glad someone else had asked what she was thinking. Since they were doing three sets more than the other girls... and longer sets at that, Go was not pushing them to do any time in the champagne room, and beyond her handful of 'regulars' she had found herself having to 'entertain' for several weeks. She had laughed at one point to Sharon it really seemed like vacation had just continued after the Thanksgiving break.
Headlining was not easy, to be sure, but it was more fun. The money was better, and they avoided the scut the other dancers did, helping to clean the place. And with the practice time it was definitely better exercise. Anything that reduced the time she spent with strangers sweating and grunting over her for a few minutes was a positive change. Glancing at Sharon, who was shifting regularly in her chair as she touched up her make up, Kelly had the sudden thought that her friend was rubbing herself, almost masturbating right in front of the other girls.
"Well, Glory," Sharon drawled, batting her eyes as she spoke, "I just sort of find that sex is a wonderful cure to whatever ails ya. Cut loose... beg them to give it to you just the way you want it, and maybe they'll surprise you." She stretched languidly, "But I think Kelly and I are ready to call it a night." She reluctantly, Kelly thought, reached for her Timbuk bag, a gaudy pink and gold bag one mousy chubby white admirer had given the married co-ed after she had paid him a little attention. Kelly had been amazed, considering the guy had not even asked to take her friend back to the champagne room, and a little jealous when what he had insisted-- that it was a one of a kind bag-- had been proven true with a little work online. The oversized messenger bag was a perfect means to transport the clothes and accessories Sharon would not wear 'at work.'
