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Lauren finished her waitressing shift feeling like she could sleep the rest of the weekend. One more to go, she thought. Just one more.
The last shift dancing had actually been fairly lucrative. She’d been so absorbed worrying about whether or not Andy had seen her that she didn’t have her normal reaction to being groped which meant the tips had poured in—until one man had brought her back to the present with a particularly hard slap to her ass. She’d turned on him and snapped angrily, “Keep your damn hands to yourself!” And that had been the end of the free flow of dollar bills. Still, she’d finished that round with $83 in her tip garter and then picked up another $65 waitressing, though one man had made her sit on his lap and talk to him for a few minutes to earn a measly $5; she was feeling good about her chances of winning the competition.
As she walked backstage, Mr. Lopez was standing by the changing area watching some of the girls get ready. When he saw Lauren, he smiled broadly. “I just want you to know that I’m docking you 100 points for that little stunt you pulled.”
“Stunt? What stunt, Mr. Lopez?”
“How ‘bout missing your queue and leaving us with an empty stage and music playing?”
For that? He was docking her points for that? “B-but, sir, the men I knew were leaving . . . I . . . I just needed a few seconds—”
“I don’t give a shit what you think you needed.” She became uncomfortably aware of her nudity while he was chastising her and began to cross her arms in front of herself. He slapped them down. “Don’t you cover yourself in front of me. And I don’t give a shit if you have to show your ass to some dudes you work with. You signed a goddamned contract, and that’s your job tonight little Miss Uppity. You say another word about it, and I’ll make it 200 points.”
She stood there gaping, tears welling up in her eyes. When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “Good then. Get yer ass ready for your next dance. You only have about fifteen minutes.” He turned around and walked away.
She looked out to the main area and saw that he was right. Switching shifts had left her with a very small break here. Sarah was already down to a lacy white bra and sheer panties and whipping herself around the pole. Lauren hurried off to buy her final outfit.
Her options were rather limited at this point. While she was looking through them, she thought about what Mr. Lopez had just said. It really didn’t seem fair that he was deducting points from her like that. Before now, she’d never worked in a restaurant or any kind of menial job. In high school, her parents had wanted her to focus on her grades, so they’d given her any spending money that she needed, and in college, she’d always had excellent career-boosting internships—good office work that exercised her brain.
And despite that, despite what a lowering of herself this was even if she’d been fully clothed, she’d done everything asked of her tonight! She had hustled all night for drinks and food. She’d bussed tables and cleaned up after all the rowdy men. She’d taken their orders and dodged their gropes. And she’d done it all with a smile while tottering along in these impossibly high heels and otherwise stark naked.
Well, mostly with a smile, she admitted to herself. She’d stripped in front of a room full of strange men and spread her legs to reveal her most intimate parts to them. She’d given a private dance to that pig Carl! And she had only wanted a few seconds to avoid utter humiliation. Was that too much to ask?
But it was, she realized. Respect and obedience were not part time pursuits. She was either respectful and obedient at all times or she was disrespectful and disobedient—even if it was only for “a few seconds”. She sighed deeply. She had to get this through her head. That was the whole point of her being here, to help her learn her proper place. Her needs and desires—or what she thought were her needs and desires—were irrelevant until she’d satisfied those of the men around her.
But that wasn’t completely true, either, she thought. She didn’t have to submit to sexual contact or obey sexual demands. That was in her contract. She straightened up a little. That’s right, she thought, I don’t have to be completely obedient. It was lost on her for the moment that that was irrelevant in terms of her going out on stage late.
She picked out her final outfit, a $70 cowgirl affair in which the hat was by far the largest item.
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