Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
But Monica was already moving and I quickly ran to catch up with her, trying not to meet anyone’s eye. We made our way to an office in the back. The door was emblazoned with a big star made out of sparkly gold. Classy, real classy.
Monica knocked before testing the knob and finding it open, slipped inside before gesturing for me to follow.
A skinny guy sat up with a jolt, quickly slamming his laptop shut when we entered.
“Didn’t your mom teach you to knock?” he spat.
“Oh please, Stanley,” said Monica with an exasperated sigh. “We know what you were doing back here,” she said, nodding to a wad of bunched up tissues on his desk.
“I could have a cold. You don’t know what those are for,” the skinny dude protested.
“Oh right, and I’m Mother Theresa,” snorted Monica. “Come on, we know you’ve been wanking off in here. You’re not blowing your nose, it’s your load that’s being blown.”
The language stunned me and the vulgarity was jaw-dropping, but I tried to hide my shock. Instead, I stood partially hidden in the corner of the dim room, hoping that Stanley wouldn’t see me. But no such luck because the manager had already noticed.
“Okay, okay,” whined Stanley. “You’re right. Whatever, it’s part of my job, okay? Scouting girls and all that. But what are you here for?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “It better be something good.”
“It is,” said Monica shortly, gesturing at me. “This is Janie—I mean, Star,” said Monica quickly. “She’s here to try out.”
“Star, huh? And why should I let her try out?” asked Stanley. “We have a full roster already because girls are dying to dance at the Donkey.”
Now it was Monica’s turn to snort.
“If you count those chicks as dancers, then you’re kidding yourself,” she said disdainfully. “The current girls have two left feet, and they fall on their asses during sets sometimes. It’s embarrassing to watch!”
“So what?” asked Stanley. “They fall down onto our customers’ dicks, and that’s what counts,” he sniggered. But Monica must have spoken the truth about general skill level because he turned to me and said, “Okay, lady. Let’s see what you got.”
I stood in place, frozen. I mean, I’d been expecting to try out but I thought I’d get to warm up first. I thought that at the very least, there’d be music to dance to, but Monica just turned to me and hissed, “Go! Go on!”
I looked at her with a stunned expression.
“And do what?” I whispered back. “There isn’t even a pole!”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “Just take your clothes off and look sexy. That’s all they really want to see.”
“Ahem,” interrupted Stanley, clearing his throat. “Is there a problem ladies?”
I was about to storm out except Jimbo’s disgusting leer swam in front of my face again, and my stomach dropped. I straightened my shoulders.
“No problem sir,” I said, clearing my throat. “Everything’s fine. I’ll get right on it,” I said, keeping my voice steady. Ugh. Didn’t Scarlett O’Hara have to do all sorts of sleazy things to survive in the war-torn South? I’d have to channel some of her resourcefulness and do the same.
As a result, I closed my eyes and made myself think of the unpaid rent as my hips began to sway. God, if only the city were less expensive then I wouldn’t have to go to such measures.
But unfortunately, I needed money pronto, so I let my mind wander and entered my own little dream world as music played in my head. It was a sexy samba with a driving beat, and it directed me to circle my waist and twist my torso sinuously as I slowly shed my trench coat, revealing a tiny bikini and stilettos beneath.
Getting into it, I reached my hands up behind my head and ran them through my hair. My blonde curls fell through my fingers, trailing suggestively over my shoulders, and I followed the curve of my body until I reached the tiny G-string which hugged my hips.
With a teasing smile, I opened my eyes and looked directly at Stanley. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, I swept two fingers in and lifted the fabric to the side, away from my pussy in order to give him his first look at my bare, nubile slit.
“Do you like it?” I purred. “This is all for you, Daddy.”
It must have looked delicious because the man gasped, his hand working its way down to his pants. He unzipped himself as he watched, utterly mesmerized and I giggled internally. Oh yeah, I was definitely getting this job.
But I wanted to get more technical and to show off my skills a bit. Letting the material fall back into place, I tilted my hips up so that he could see the wet spot at the crotch, my sweetness already running with juice. Slowly, with stealthy fingers, I began pressing on the dampness, rubbing a bit at first, before pushing the material into my steaming hole. When I had about an inch of fabric inserted, my other hand crept to the waist ties of my G-string and pulled slowly, the string coming undone at my hips until the fabric fell loose, held up only by the portion stuffed in my sweetness. Ooh, the sight was so naughty!