 |
|||
|
|
“Girls, girls, girls!” The Motley Crue song was blaring as Mr. Lopez walked around getting the crowd riled up. Sarah had convinced Becky to dance provocatively with her, and a few of the other performers were dancing individually, but nobody had told Lauren that she had to dance and she was just too tired, so she stood with her hands crossed in front of her pubic area and waited. She noticed that the five men at the judges’ table were already taking notes, so she supposed she should put forth more effort, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do so.
She jokingly thought of the way she was standing as “Position 3”. It probably wouldn’t have been acceptable in Don’s presence, but she supposed she could get away with it in front of a bunch of rowdy drunks. It was silly—she was still standing here stark naked and on display, most of them had already gotten a close look at her anyway, and she was quite sure that any who hadn’t soon would—but it helped her maintain a little dignity, a minute sense of control.
As the music died down, Mr. Lopez was yelling something. It took Lauren a second to realize he was instructing all the contestants to get in a line across the stage. It took her longer to realize he was placing her at the far right extreme. As the performers lined up, Mr. Lopez took center stage and announced, “Okay, now’s the part when I interview each of the girls to give them one last chance to make an impression on the judges. Their final score will depend on the tips they earned while dancing, the tips they earned while waitressing, and the judges’ score here. Lauren is first up. C’mon up here, Lauren.”
Lauren gulped. She wasn’t looking forward to being put especially on display for the interview and hadn’t considered the possibility that she would be going first. She walked forward, smiling hesitantly, unsure of how to behave. When she stood next to Mr. Lopez, she crossed her hands in front of herself again but, without saying anything, he reached out and moved her hands to her sides, so she left them there.
Placing one hand on the small of her back, Mr. Lopez started the interview as though it was the most natural thing in the world to have a question-and-answer session with a naked woman in front of a crowd of cheering and hooting—and clothed—men. “So, what’s your name?”
“Um, L-lauren, sir.”
“And do you have a last name, L-lauren?” The crowd laughed at his making fun of her nervousness, but Lauren looked at him astonished. Was he serious? He wanted her to give out her full name?
But he didn’t look like he was interested in waiting. “It’s, um, Hill, sir.”
“And what do you do for a living when you’re not taking off your clothes, Lauren?”
His phrasing confused her. “Well, I don’t . . . I don’t do this regularly, sir.”
“Yes, I know, dear.” The crowd joined his chuckling. “That’s why I’m asking what you do do regularly.”
“Oh . . . I’m . . . I’m a financial consultant, sir.”
“I see. And where do you work, Lauren?”
Full name and where she worked?!? He couldn’t be serious! She was almost guaranteed to get harassed if she gave all that information out. But he didn’t look like he was joking, and she couldn’t . . . she wasn’t allowed to lie to a man or refuse to answer his question. She felt tears coming up, but beat them back furiously, and pretended to wipe a bit of dust out of her eye. She’d be damned if she was going to cry in front of this crowd again. “I work for Schmooz Allen, sir.”
“Whoa!” Mr. Lopez looked shocked though he had to have known the answer already. “You fellas hear that? A financial consultant at a snazzy place like that? There’s no way she’s here just for the prize money. She musta just wanted to take her clothes off and dance for you fellas. Is that it, Lauren? Did you need the prize money, or did you just want to strip for these men?”
Lauren gulped. She certainly couldn’t tell the full reason that she was here. If she had to pick between the two options Mr. Lopez had given her, she thought the second one lined up better with her real motivation. “Yes, sir. I just wanted to . . . to dance naked . . . to show my body off to these gentlemen and serve them all day and night, sir.”
The crowd hooted in appreciation, and Lauren felt some of her confidence returning. She straightened her back and stood more proudly. She could do this. She could still win.
“Ah, yes . . . showing off that body.” He started walking in a circle around her, making her feel even more nervous and inspected. She pressed her hands flat against her thighs to hold them in place. “And let’s see what we have to work with here.” He reached out and nonchalantly cupped her left breast. “You’re not much in this department. But that’s okay, that’s okay. What size bra do you wear?”
Despite the fact that she had been dancing naked in front of these men all day, the question seemed especially personal and made her even more uncomfortable. Still, not answering wasn’t an option. “Um, 34B, sir.”
He reached out and brushed his fingers up through Lauren’s pubic hair. She jumped, startled, and the crowd laughed. “I like this. Do you always keep it this way, or did you do it in honor of the club?”
“My pub- my pub-” She stammered, the question having taken her by surprise, then grit her teeth and said it. “My pussy, sir? I . . . I always keep it this way, I guess.”
“Yeah, a nice landing strip.” He brushed it again gently. “So . . . how many guys you let fuck you?”
Her jaw dropped, and the crowd laughed. This was certainly far more personal information than she wanted to give out . . . but again, she found herself constrained by her contract—he was a man, so she couldn’t refuse to answer, and she couldn’t lie.
“Four, sir,” she answered quietly. There’d been her high school boyfriend from senior year of high school until the end of freshman year of college, another college boyfriend, and two guys since graduating.
“Four?!” Mr. Lopez repeated her answer for all to hear and sounded surprised. The crowd joined him, yelling “Prude!” and “Bore!”. Mr. Lopez quieted them with a raised hand.
“Okay,” he said, putting a hand under her chin. “But surely you’ve sucked some cocks in your day. How many different cocks have you sucked?”
This was almost too far. How could she even be expected to know that number? A blowjob was just . . . it wasn’t the same thing. Sometimes it could even happen at the end of a first date if things went really well. She honestly didn’t know the answer to the question and quietly said as much.
“You hear that, fellas?” Mr. Lopez shouted. “She’s sucked so many cocks, she’s lost track of the number!” The crowd roared at that, yelling “Cum-guzzler!” and “Slut!” and “Cock-sucker!” What did they want from her? If she didn’t have sex with enough men she was frigid, but if she was with too many, she was a slut? How was that fair?
“All right, all right.” Mr. Lopez raised a hand again. “She’s had enough, fellas.” The crowd quieted. It was only then that Lauren realized she had started crying freely. The realization embarrassed her and made her want to cry even more but she managed to restrain herself. Mr. Lopez handed her a tissue, and she dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. This was humiliating!
“Y’know,” Mr. Lopez started when she was once again under control. “I’ve saved your best part for last. Or should I say your best asset. Why don’t you turn around and show the judges that ass of yours.”
Lauren complied sullenly, feeling more than ever that she was just an object for their inspection.
“C’mon,” Mr. Lopez pushed on the top of her back. “Bend over and show these men your ass.”
She sighed heavily but bent over and put her hands on her knees.
“Now, gentlemen, will you,” he slapped her right cheek and took a firm handful of it, shaking it vigorously.
“look at this,” he followed suit with her left cheek.
“ass.” He spread her cheeks back and forth, ensuring that Lauren was fully on display. The crowd hooted its appreciation.
“Now what I’ve been wondering, Lauren,” he turned his attention to her, “pretty much since the moment I met you. Is if you’ve ever . . . been fucked . . . back here?”
She felt the penetration as he finished his question, and threw her hands back in startled response. She tried to straighten up, but Mr. Lopez leaned on her back. “Relax,” he hissed in her ear. “It’s just my finger.” The crowd absolutely roared with laughter at her reaction.
“Well?” Mr. Lopez continued more loudly. “Answer the question. Have you been fucked in your ass or not?” He drove home the question by sliding his finger in and out.
“N-no, sir.”
“What a waste. This is an ass made for fucking. Are you willing to let someone fuck you in this perfect little ass?”
Lauren found herself crying again, but did her best to hide it with her face away from the crowd. Did she have to put up with this? Didn’t his finger probing count as sex? But, no, even if it did—and she wasn’t sure Don would agree, and it was ultimately his opinion that mattered—she couldn’t sabotage all her work to win the contest by backing out now. She settled on just answering the question and decided that she should be happy that her contract at least allowed her to refuse that. “No, sir. I . . . I wouldn’t be comfortable with that.”
He finally pulled his finger out and slapped her hard on the ass. “That’s a damn shame. Now, how ‘bout you turn around and tell these gentlemen why you should win the contest.”
Feeling relief that Mr. Lopez had finally pulled out of her, Lauren took a moment to compose herself and then decided this was her last chance to make an impression. She straightened and turned, trying to look her sultriest by putting her left hand on her outthrust hip and pouting, “Because, sir, I’d do anything to win.”
That got a few cheers.
“Would you let them fuck you in the ass?” That got more—and completely deflated her.
“No, sir,” she said quietly, and the crowd laughed.
“That’s what I thought,” Mr. Lopez said with a slap to her ass. “Go ahead and fall back into the line. Emma, c’mon out here.”
Emma strode forward full of the confidence that Lauren had tried so unsuccessfully to fake. “I’ll save you some time,” she announced. “I’m Emma Ratner, I work for the city’s environmental protection agency, I’ve slept with three guys, I’ve given a blowjob to seven, and yes, I’ve had anal sex. After all,” she continued, putting her index finger up to her cheek and posing coyly, “I was a Catholic school girl trying to maintain my virginity.”
The crowd hooted at this and Lauren knew, with certainty, that she was not going to win the contest. Even if Emma wasn’t the ultimate winner, she had just guaranteed that she was going to beat Lauren.
|
|
|