There's an Archeological Dig that I really want to go on next semester; a trip to Sardinia, the tiny island which has pervaded my dreams since I saw the poster in the student union building.
Several other girls from my team have already signed up and reserved their spots with the required 50 percent down payment.
I don't have that kind of money; neither do my folks. The only reason I am here on campus at all is because of my soccer scholarship. Fact: I've never missed a penalty kick.
I take a job as a waitress at a sports bar that caters to men who have a fine appreciation for flirtatious schoolgirls wearing skimpy uniforms. I do rather well--the customers are so very generous--but I'm running out of time. Then one guy hands me his business card, says he'd love to have me on his staff.
I figure there's no harm in going to check the place out, which is how I now find myself standing in a line to get into the finest gentlemen's club in the area.
When I reach the bouncer, I show him my license then say I'm here to see the owner. He smiles at me; yes, they were expecting me. He points at a glowing beer sign on the wall, says to make a left at that hallway.
The music is loud, concert lights illuminate the stage, there are dancers on poles, topless waitresses running around delivering beer, and guys waving serious cash in their clenched hands.
I'm early so decide to sit at a small table away from the stage; I feel like a fish out of water.
I immediately notice there's a whole section of the club very dimly lit to the point that I can barely make out that it's divided up into private booths. I make a mental note to ask about that during my interview.
A blonde waitress pops by, I can't help but to stare at her perfect boobs. She notices then does a jiggle so they move around a bit. I visibly blush then order a rum & coke. She's off in a flash. I admire her booty shorts.
One of the dancer's, a fiery redhead, catches my eye. Yep, she must have a gymnastics background given the way she is twirling around that pole. I notice the guys aren't throwing money at her; seems strange. Then she begins to work the crowd, spending a little bit of personal time with each of them in turn. Now she's getting paid; bills are being tucked underneath the garters she is still wearing.
Crawling past an empty chair, she suddenly looks over at me and we make eye contact. My face is warm, I know it's flush. Luckily my waitress returns just in time before the dancer could motion me over. Then what would I have done?
My drink is 10 dollars, I give her a twenty. She smiles and kisses me on my cheek while gushing out a 'thanks, sweety.' Okay, so I guess this is a 'keep the change' sort of place. She takes a couple steps, looks over her shoulder at me and slaps her ass. I'm unsure what to do so I just raise up my glass in salute.
The redhead has already made the turn so on her way to work the other side of the stage...still on hands and knees, which means that when she leans forward, I'll be offered quite the view. I avert my gaze; nope, not quite ready for that.
My drink is cold so it goes down easy. Maybe too easy. Should I order another? Probably not right now, maybe after my interview. I check the time; he did say 'around 9:30' so guess I could pop back there now.
I find the office easily enough then take a deep breath before knocking. 'Come in!' I open the door and am immediately greeted by my guy. He is all smiles; says he was really hoping I would show. So many young ladies get cold feet at the last minute...
I reach into my clutch to retrieve my resume; he glances at it then places it on the table.
Him: "You have the look, no doubt. Let's talk seriously for a moment, though. What is your motivation?"
Me: "Well...the thing is...I really need money for college. So, I was thinking there's not much of a difference between where I'm working now and working here. Aside from the fact that I'd be topless."
Him: "Gotcha. Look, my waitresses--all of them--are bringing home over $100 an hour easy most nights. Add that up and we're talking like almost 200K a year. But that's full time..."
Me: "Yeah, I'm only looking for like weekend work... given my course load this semester. Plus, it's off season but we still have mandatory indoor practices during the week."
Him: "You know, I thought you might be an athlete when I spotted you. What sport?"
Me: "Soccer...since I was 4 years old."
Him: "Nice. Ok, back to the matter at hand. Let's talk brass tacks. How much money do you need?"
Me: "It's a trip abroad for an entire semester. The package is $22,000 dollars and then, of course, I need extra spending money...and what not."
He pulls over his desk calculator and starts punching in numbers before whirling it around so I can see: 45.83333 lit up.
