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The next week-and-a-half flew by. Don had taken her over his knee and given her twenty hard spanks to her bare bottom the night she had gone to sign up for the contest because she hadn’t had dinner ready on time, but other than that Lauren had avoided the need for any more discipline. She had taken a personal day the following Friday and spent it cleaning the apartment from top to bottom. The following day, Don had pronounced the results, “Acceptable. Barely.”
The next Friday, the day before the big day, she heard some guys around the office talking about a bachelor party the next day and felt a silent dread that they might show up at The Landing Strip. She tried to eavesdrop a little to find out their exact plans, but couldn’t learn anything more.
And then the big day had arrived. Lauren awoke at 6:00 with a pit in her stomach. The first thing she did was examine her pubic hair in the mirror and touch it up with a razor and pair of scissors. She considered asking Don to inspect it for her but realized she’d just be opening herself up to the potential of that horrible punishment. This was already going to be the worst, most humiliating day of her life; she didn’t need to add that possibility to it.
She took a long shower, making extra sure that she was clean everywhere just like Mr. Lopez had recommended. Then, she got dressed quickly and made breakfast for Don and herself. Don asked her if she was looking forward to the day.
“Um. . . not really, sir.”
Don shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry you feel this is so beneath you. I just happen to think the world would be a much better place if more women focused on doing what pleased men. I suppose it’s just as well that you’re not looking forward to it. This is supposed to be a punishment after all.”
Lauren wasn’t sure how to respond, so she settled for, “Yes, sir,” and continued eating.
Lauren arrived at The Landing Strip at quarter till ten. This time she was let in without paying and she went directly back to the dressing room which reminded her of nothing more than a gym locker room but with more mirrors. Most of the other contestants were already there, looking mostly nervous or sleepy, but all pretty. Through some surreptitious eavesdropping and casual questioning—she had always been good at making conversation with other women—she got to know a little about her competition.
The first one she met was Connie Du, an Asian girl who was about to start her sophomore year at the local college. Connie was hoping to make enough money—maybe even win the big prize—to pay for her textbooks this semester and next. Her sorority sister Becky, a dirty blonde tall and athletic white girl, was there for the same reason. They were both thin and hot in the way that most even average nineteen year old women can be hot.
Emma was definitely going to be some competition. She was also white, but dark complected She was a shorter woman—maybe 5’1”, but definitely older than the first two. She was maybe 25, but her hotness had nothing to do with youth. Everythnig about her was tight and perfectly proportioned and she had a mischievous look to her, and not a bit of nervousness. Lauren didn’t learn much about her except that she worked for the city government in some way.
Amy was next, and she seemed to have gathered all of Emma’s missing nervousness. She had quite a chest but was otherwise pretty-but-average. She confided in Lauren that this was her way of getting back at an ex-boyfriend. He had always wanted her to do a strip tease for him, but she never would. He had broken up with her, so now she was going to do a strip tease for anyone who was willing to pay to see it. Lauren wasn’t sure how that rated in terms of good ideas.
Juliet was next. She was a law student in town for a summer internship. Her parents had fallen on hard times and the unpaid-but-prestigious internship no longer seemed like such a great idea, and she was definitely hoping to make some money to cover some of her summer bills. She was a pretty brunette, but pale skinned. She seemed convinced—and was arguing with others about it—that full nudity was not required, and she didn’t intend to strip down past her bra and panties. Considering that she didn’t understand what was plainly put forth in a simple written contract, Lauren doubted her future acumen as a lawyer.
A pale, shapely red-head claimed to be Kelly, but Lauren had the oddest feeling she was lying about her name. She was, perhaps, one of two contestants older than Lauren but by no more than a couple of years. Lauren wasn’t really able to learn anything about her background.
Tracy was the second woman older than Lauren. She was easily in her mid-thirties, but with her broad, pearly smile, wave-y dusty blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and, most importantly, large breasts, Lauren was pretty sure she she’d be a hit with the guys. And Lauren was astonished to learn that she was a professor! And a finance one, too, but fortunately at a competing school to Lauren’s program. Lauren wasn’t able to figure out what in the world her motivation was for being here today.
Sarah was shorter than Kelly and blond, but equally shapely. She was a resident at a local hospital and was apparently doing this because, “you only get this body for so long, and I want to do something crazy with it while I still can.” She didn’t seem to share Lauren’s nervousness or Emma’s cool confidence. She was plainly excited.
The ninth contestant was the most physically similar to Lauren. A girl in her early-20s, she was slim with pert breasts and a tight, heart-shaped ass. She had wave-y dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, and a faint tan. She came in at the last minute and all Lauren learned was that her name was Amber.
Lauren did noticed that, except for Connie, they were all white. That said something about Mr. Lopez’s tastes, she supposed. As she thought of him, he walked into the dressing room unannounced. “Ok, girls,” he shouted, “gather ‘round. I need to cover a few things.”
The excited and nervous chatter died out as the dancers-to-be clustered around the bench that Mr. Lopez stood on. Lauren felt the pit in her stomach growing—she was dreading what loomed ahead of her.
“Here’s how it’s going to work today, girls. First, two rules. Number one: no drinking. Some of the customers might offer you drinks. You will graciously accept and then dispose of it while no one’s looking. You will not drink alcohol tonight.”
Great, thought Lauren. There went Plan A on how to get over her nervousness.
“Number two, and I know I already said this to all of you but I can’t stress it enough: no sex with the customers. You all know the consequences. Don’t do it.
“So, for your dancing. You will dance in sets of four songs. You will start the first song in some sort of sexy outfit. By the end of that song, you will be down to your bra and panties or whatever underwear you’re wearing as part of the outfit. By the end of the second song, you will be topless, by the end of the third song, you will be naked, and you will dance through the fourth song naked. If you fail to complete any of these steps on time, you will be docked points.”
Lauren felt goose bumps as she listened to how regimented her stripping was going to be. Looking around, it was clear that some of the other girls were uncomfortable, too. There were a lot of folded arms and worried looks.
“There are two things you will not take off,” Lauren felt a surge of hope. “You will not take off your tip garter, and you will not take off whatever footwear goes with your outfit.”
Oh. That wasn’t too comforting.
“When you are done with your fourth song, you will not gather up your clothes, and you will not stop to get dressed. You will immediately go to the cashier’s window to deposit your tips so that they can be counted toward your point total. You will then go and serve as a waitress through the next three girls’ performances. Once again: you will not stop to get dressed before this.”
Lauren was appalled. She was going to have to walk around amongst the men, serving food and drinks completely naked?!? That was far worse than even dancing naked on stage. By the muttering that was going on, most of the other contestants agreed.
“Shut. Up.” The muttering stopped and Mr. Lopez glanced at a note card. “Once you have finished your turn waitressing, you have the next six girls to take a break or offer up private dances. Just remember that we get $20 from each private dance so whatever rate you charge needs to be above that or you’re going to be losing money. And make sure you’re in your new outfit and ready to go when your turn is up. You will not wear the same outfit twice tonight, and you will not trade outfits with the other girls.”
Shit! Lauren hadn’t thought to actually bring any outfits. Again the worried looks surfaced.
Mr. Lopez seemed to notice them. “Don’t worry. There are all sorts of outfits available for purchase or rent in the shop.
“At the end of the night, I will gather all of you girls up and interview each of you before a panel of judges. Your final score will be based on three categories: the tips you earn while dancing, your private dance fees and waitressing tips, and the judges’ score at the end. Are there any questions?”
Only Juliet raised her hand. Mr. Lopez pointed to her and grunted. “Do we have to get naked? We can just get down to our underwear and dance, right?”
Mr. Lopez stared at her for a moment. “You don’t have to do anything, but if you remember from the contract you signed, you will be fined $1000 each time you don’t. And the point penalty will be enough that you will not possibly win the competition. Now, if there are no further questions, you all need to get into your first outfit for the group photos.”
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