Story 2
My name's Krista and I'm an exotic dancer. I only do it because a) I have tuition to pay for and b) It's a quick easy way to make money doing something I love, dancing. It's fortunate that I have all the right features to check off any guy's dream girl list. I'm fit, petite, busty, blonde, and I've been told that I have a pretty face with soft cute features.
I started this job near the end of my freshman year of college. See, college life was great, but I wasn't fortunate to get any scholarships and couldn't get a loan large enough for the school I wanted to get into. I had saved up enough for the first year and figured I'd find a job to get me through the rest. That was about when I discovered that I hate working. Every job I tried just made me miserable, worked me to the bone, left me no time for classwork, or was filled with perverts who found any excuse to bump into me and look down my top.
Then, at some point near the end of the year, I found myself sitting in one of the school cafes, trying to get my work done before my next class that day when I heard two girls talking about how much they made dancing at a club the night before. All I'd have to do is stand on a stage, tease the crowd by dancing suggestively and stripping naked, then collect all the money that was thrown at me. I frowned, I couldn't do that.
You see, I grew up about four hours away in a small town away from the city, the kind where everybody got to know everyone else. I was a really popular girl in school, the boys gave me a lot of attention and I was friends with just about every girl. In fact, I was friendly with everyone except for a boy named Tommy Bresner. He frequently harassed me, always trying to bump up against me in crowded halls, or get a glance down my top or up my skirts. He was completely infatuated with me in all the worst ways, a real creep.
Anyway, I was a stereotypical good girl. Never dated, never had sex, I had my first kiss on prom night and was dropped off back home at 10 pm sharp. I didn't do drugs, had no tattoos, and I didn't smoke. So the idea of stripping in front of a crowd of men was terrifying beyond belief. No, this was one job I'd have to pass on. I thanked the girls for the information and went on with my day.
About a month later I learned that I had already blown through my loan. I hadn't counted on all my other needs such as needing a place to live and to eat when I calculated how long I could stretch those funds. My day job wasn't bringing in enough money, and I hated working there so much that I refused to ask for more hours. The dancing gig those girls talked about started to look better and better.
That night, when I got to my student housing, I practiced. I shut all the blinds, adjusted my standing mirror, and gave myself a striptease. It was awful. I embarrassed myself with how bad I was. I couldn't even figure out where I was going wrong. I mean, I have all the right parts for it.
My legs were long and slender, I had a cute round butt, firm abs, slightly larger than average (for my size) breasts, and a cute face with shoulder-length blonde hair. I even neatly trimmed my blonde happy trail. Hell, even looking at myself naked made me hot. So was I really that bad at dancing? I love dancing, my friends and I used to go out dancing all the time and I've always been told I was a good dancer.
When in doubt, use the internet. I searched for erotic dancing and watched several videos with stripteases, and eventually came across a site with tips on dancing while doing stripteases. I shouldn't strip right away, give the man a chance to want me to undress, then when I did it was like rewarding the man. I should move slowly but deliberately, if I moved too quickly it would be difficult for the man to follow along and if I moved too slowly he'd get bored. Keep my back arched whenever possible. I should move in rhythm with the music, timing moving my hips and ass with the beat. It instructed me that depending on my outfit, I'd want to always remove all my outer clothes first, before my bra and panties. However, with the right clothes sometimes removing the undergarments first could be a far greater tease. Turn away from the man when removing my underclothes, and keep my breasts covered when I turned back around so I could tease him longer before I revealed my nipples.
This was all golden advice that, when I thought about it, was also common sense. Yet I clearly needed to have it pointed out to me for it to sink in.
Even though I practiced nearly every night and thought I was getting very good at it, It still took weeks before I could summon enough courage to go to the club and request a job. I had just walked in and the patrons were already treating me like one of the staff, requesting private dances and offering to buy me drinks. I thought it might be scary to have so many strangers approach me like that, but oddly enough it actually helped settle my nerves.
Needless to say, with all the attention I was getting while in my clothes, the manager, Mike, couldn't wait to see how much attention I'd get out of them. So I was hired on the spot. I was shown around the club, given a table with a mirror in the dressing room area, shown all the costumes they had available for me to dance in, and then I was shown the private area where I would be doing private dances.
Then Mike said "Remember honey, you let me know if they stick anything inside you bigger than a finger. We charge double for that shit."
I was stunned for a moment before asking "What do you mean?"
"If they fuck you, I wanna know about it. Sometimes they'll request it upfront and pay the extra rate, but if they try to sneak it in there, we'll charge 'em double."
"I am not having sex with anyone!" I said firmly and I meant it. Mike looked at me for a moment and then grinned and said "Sure thing, sweetheart. But that's where all the big money is. You let me know if you change your mind."
I was a wreck my first time on stage, forgot half of the tips I had read about. I swear I felt like I just stood up there, took off my shirt, and flailed about awkwardly. But the men cheered regardless and I went home with a thick stack of bills that night. It got easier after that. The other girls treated me with respect, even most of the men did too and those that didn't, well, they were the type that got tossed out face first.
I was surprised at how much I enjoyed working there. Even still, College life is expensive and even with what I made at the club, I found that I was having trouble making ends meet. So I began opening myself up to the idea of private dances and eventually to small sex acts. I still hadn't ever had sex, but I did give hand jobs and blow jobs and I'd grind my pussy against a guy's lap, and once I even let a guy finger me for a little bit.
It had been about eight months since I had started at the club, and I had developed quite a following. I had many regulars and the fact I didn't put out just added to the lust they all felt for me and I had been pulling in good money.
One night after class and before heading out to the club for a few hours, I decided to go through the pile of mail that had built up. I knew there was a bill in there for my next tuition payment. When I opened it, I was shocked to see that it was substantially higher than my previous payments. Apparently, the cost of tuition had gone up and as I was paying as I went I didn't have a fixed rate with the college. I checked my bank account but I knew it would tell me I wouldn't have enough. I had to get my car serviced about two weeks ago and that took a good chunk of what I had saved up. I needed to make some money, fast.
When I got to work, I asked Mike if I could take a few extra shifts so I could make enough to cover tuition.
