Author's note:
Once again I appreciate everyone's feedback, it's always good to hear new ideas and suggestions. This chapter was definitely more difficult to write, especially in terms of getting the plot lines to work out. Hopefully you won't be disappointed.
*****
Brittney slowly opened her eyes and was blinded by a bright spotlight pointing at her. She was lying on her back, knees bent and legs spread, and there were people cheering all around her. Her whole body ached as if she had been working out for way too long. And then reality set it. "Oh my god!" she shrieked. She had cum so hard that she momentarily blacked out. And she had cum in front of a crowd of strangers! She scrambled to get to her feet. The stage was slippery, making it difficult to stand in her heels. She noticed all the bills strewn on the stage, but her only desire was to get away.
She found her footing and moved as quickly as she could toward the dressing room. Before she got there Cinnamon was standing in her way.
"Hey, you're not done. Go pick up your tips," she ordered Brittney. "Oh, and here. Clean up the mess you made on stage, slut," Cinnamon commanded as she handed her a towel.
Brittney took the towel but was afraid to walk back out there.
"Come on, get to it!" Cinnamon was angry for not getting her way with Brittney earlier, but even more upset with having to go on stage after Brittney's performance. Nothing she could do was going to get their attention now.
As Brittney walked back out on stage with her hed down another cheer went up. She picked up all the tips, and had to get down on her knees to wipe up the stage. She heard more hoots and whistles, and went red with embarrassment. Here she was, crawling around naked on stage cleaning up her own pussy cream while everyone watched her. She turned red in shame and embarrassment and tried to complete the task as quickly as possible. Finally finished, she ran off stage and pushed her way past Cinnamon, who was smiling wickedly and obviously enjoying Brittney's discomfort.
*****
The doctor was worried; Very worried. She pondered the meaning of the phone call. Someone else knew about Brittney, and seemed to know way too much about the clinical trial and the nanomaterial. This was bad, they could make life miserable for her, or sell her design to someone else. And she had a good suspicion of who it was. The situation had become critical and had to be stopped, whatever the cost. She picked up her phone and called a number.
"Hello," came the gruff voice on the other end.
"Jack, it's Jennifer. I need a favor," the doctor said.
After a long pause, he responded. "Ok. But it's going to cost you."
*****
An short, balding, overweight man sat alone at a table in the corner and nursed his drink. He stopped here fairly often, particularly on Friday night after a long week on the job. He had just seen an amazingly sexual display on stage. He knew the girl, Brittney Banyard. As provocative as the performance was, something wasn't right. He knew Brittney well enough to know that she wouldn't do this of her own free will.
Ted Packard took another sip of his drink and thought about how Brittney had acted in his office yesterday. Sure, he had blackmailed her, but her response yesterday was way over the top. Again, this wasn't the same shy and reserved Brittney that he first met. No, she had changed, and very quickly. Something was definitely wrong, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. His thirty years of experience in the newspaper business started to kick in. He thought about the story outline that Brittney gave him. There were some clues in that otherwise worthless outline. He pieced that together with other rumors he'd heard about BioZene from the previous reporters that tried to get the story. The pieces were starting to fit, and they pointed to sexual response testing on humans. But a hunch wasn't good enough. He needed to find some hard evidence. Was it drug testing? But where could he find the evidence?
*****
Brittney sat in the dressing room alone, trying to gather her wits. She wanted to cry, but held back the tears by turning her emotions to anger towards Holly. She cleaned herself up and found her clothes, sans her bra and panties. "Figures," she bemoaned. "I'm going to need to buy new underwear at this rate."
Finally dressed, or at least partially dressed, she took a deep breath and headed out into the main room and towards the table with Holly and Billy. "You fucking bitch," she said as she sat down between Holly and Billy and blankly stared out at the crowded room.
Holly snatched the tips that Brittney was holding. "Let's see how the slut made out, shall we?"
Though she wasn't too happy with everyone calling her a slut, Brittney ignored her while Holly counted out the bills. Finally Holly spoke up. "Well, not too bad. Your cut from Tracie's dance was $18, plus the private dance with Mr. Takahashi was $40 along with a nice $20 tip, and your dance on the main stage got you $52. Now let's see. Take way the house's cut, that leave you $90."
Brittney continued to ignore her, sulking in her chair. "Holly continued. So with another $90 applied to this month's rent, I'd say you're going to need to do this about two nights a week just to cover rent. How's that sound to you, slut?" Holly said as she stuffed the bills in her purse.