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The next day found Lauren looking furtively up and down the street before approaching the entrance to The Landing Strip. She had changed out of her work clothes in advance and was now wearing a tight pair of jeans and small t-shirt. Her hope was that if there were any body requirements for entering this contest, the decision-maker would be able to see whether or not she qualified without having her disrobe.
Finally, she steeled herself and walked up to the bouncer, a man with a shaved head whose biceps were bigger around than her legs. His name tag said “Eric”. He held out a hand. “Fifteen bucks.”
“Um, actually, sir, I just wanted to sign up for the amateur contest.”
“Oh, okay. Fifteen bucks then go to the first door on your left when you’re through the curtain.”
She looked around uncomfortably, not wanting to be standing in front of the entrance any longer than necessary. “I don’t have any cash on me, sir,” she practically whispered.
Eric opened the door and pointed to an ATM in the small entrance before a heavy red velvet curtain. She could hear some peppy country song coming muffled through the curtain. She sighed—this was ridiculous—but went in and put her card in the machine. It warned her that it was going to charge a $6 fee plus 10% of her withdrawal. Was that even legal?!
It didn’t matter. She hit the button for $20, the minimum it would distribute, knowing that it was costing her $28, and turned to give the twenty to Eric. He gave her five singles in return and told her, “See Mr. Lopez. Through the curtain and in the office on your left.”
As Lauren stepped through the curtain, the music got a little louder. The place was mostly empty. Just a few patrons paying close attention to a lone woman dancing on the stage. Lauren knew a moment of hope: the petite blonde dancer was wearing panties and a bra to go with her high heels. Maybe she wouldn’t have to get completely naked in front of a bunch of strangers. Sure, the panties were thong and she’d still be really exposed, but anything was better than completely naked. She did, however, screw her face in distaste at a poster advertising a “Pet of the Month” who would be performing. Did they need to be so degrading to women by giving them titles like “Pet”?
Hope faded when she looked around a little more. There were two other women circulating around delivering drinks. They were completely naked except for their high heels. If the waitresses had to be naked, what hope did she have as the entertainment?
Somewhat furtively, Lauren observed that one of the women had a completely bare mound and the other was maintaining a landing strip. She gulped and turned left. The office door was open so that the occupant had a clear view of the stage, but Lauren knocked anyway.
Mr. Lopez was on the phone, but he gestured her in. She stood there for a few moments and then suddenly felt her heart pounding. What if he wanted her to take her clothes off now? Her butt was still cherry red from her spanking the other day. It would be so embarrassing.
As she half-listened to Mr. Lopez’s phone conversation—it sounded like he had some sort of supply issue that he was clearing up—she realized that she was standing in what she had come to think of as Position 2. She took a deep breath, lowered her arms, and tried to relax.
He finally hung up. “What can I do for you?”
“I would like to enter the amateur night contest, Mr. Lopez.”
He nodded. “Turn around slowly, please.”
She did so, cringing at the feeling of her body being examined. When she had turned one complete revolution, he told her to take a seat. As she did so, he added, “You can have our last guaranteed slot for $200 or compete for one of three dance-in slots for $150.”
Lauren’s jaw dropped. She had to PAY to be allowed to strip?! Mr. Lopez apparently read her mind. “It’s a contest. The winner gets $2000. We can’t just give that away.”
She resigned herself to the situation. A $50 difference didn’t make it much of a choice when she couldn’t risk not getting into the contest. “I’ll take the last slot, please, sir.”
Mr. Lopez nodded and hit something on his computer. The printer started spitting out paper. “Ok. Just need you to initial at the end of each of these paragraphs and then sign the contract at the end.”
Lauren hesitated, then started scribbling her initials. “Um. . . I want you to actually read it. Here. I’ll go over it with you.
“The first paragraph just acknowledges that you are not an employee of The Landing Strip, are not entitled to any benefits, and will not receive any direct pay. You are an independent contractor responsible for all of your own expenses.
“The second paragraph notifies you that The Landing Strip is a fully nude club. You are committing to dance at least six sets and get completely nude during each one. For every set that you fail to complete, you will pay us $1000.” He looked up. “We’ve had problems in the past, especially with these amateur nights, with girls getting shy and backing out on us. It’s a real hit for us financially.”
He continued with the contract. “Paragraph three reminds you that The Landing Strip is NOT a no-touching club. If you prefer to be no-touching, that is still your right, but it is up to you to enforce it.
“Paragraph four outlines The Landing Strip philosophy. In general, the customer is always right. However, in the event of any dispute that you cannot personally resolve to the satisfaction of the customer, any Landing Strip employee can adjudicate. Whatever decision the employee makes is final.
“We’re dedicated to making this a truly amateur night, so paragraph five just says that you’ve never done any stripping other than other amateur contests or any porn at all. If we discover that you did do any before working at The Landing Strip, you’ll have to pay us any money you earned here plus a $5000 penalty. At the end of the paragraph, you need to write in where you currently work. Don’t worry. We won’t reveal it, but our customers like to know that it’s classy white collar chicks or college students taking their clothes off for them, and we want to be able to guarantee that.
“Paragraph six just says that sexual activity is not permitted on the premises of The Landing Strip. If you’re caught, you’ll be disqualified, sent home, and subject to the sanctions from paragraph two.”
Lauren had initialed the remaining paragraphs as Mr. Lopez went through them and now signed at the end of the contract. “Sir, I’ll just need to go get the cash.” He nodded.
Back in the entranceway, Lauren sighed as she put her card into the ATM. This was going to take up almost the rest of her allowance, she realized. Back in Mr. Lopez’s office, she handed him the $200.
“Thanks,” he said. “Be here and ready to dance at 10:00 am next Saturday. Oh, one piece of advice: make sure you’re completely clean.” She must have looked confused. “Honey, at some point during the day every single bit of you is going to be visible, and these guys WILL make comments, so I’m trying to save you some embarrassment. Make sure you’re clean.”
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