The Dancer, Parts 1-15

Part One

“Hey, Bella?”

A vaguely familiar voice was on the other line, but I couldn’t quite place it. Especially since I was still hungover from a super late Christmas party the previous night. I sat up a little bit in my bed, adjusting my loose tank top and brushing the hair out of my face.

“This is she,” I answered, after clearing my throat, “Who is this?”

“It’s Autumn!” the girl’s chipper voice gave me a slight headache in itself, and I held the phone away for a moment, “From East High?”

“Autumn, right,” I said. From high school. The two of us both graduated last summer, and had moved on to completely different colleges. Either way, we barely knew each other. We were classmates, not friends; the former wasn’t even true at this point.

“Yeah, Autumn Davis,” she said, just as cheerfully, “I got your number from Victoria. You’re still dancing, right?”

“Of course,” I replied, rolling my eyes. The phrase ‘still dancing’ is an iteration of phrases I hear all the time from relatives. It’s the most ridiculous understatement. I’m halfway through my freshman year at Oklahoma City University, working on a dance performance degree. I worked my ass off to get into the program, but I try not to brag about it. All I want is for people to understand that it’s an amazing opportunity, and that dancing IS a career—not just a hobby.

“Oh, perfect! Victoria was telling me you might do parties? She said one of her dancing friends in college does something like that to make some extra money around Christmas,” Autumn explained, as I woke up a little more. Victoria and I were in theatre together in high school, but I also hadn’t really heard from her in forever.

“Like a Dance Host?” I asked. One or two of my upperclassman friends at Oklahoma told me about being ‘dance hosts’ for a little extra spending money, where they’d show up and dance at different events and classy gatherings. Everyone thinks they’re just another guest, a friend of a friend, but they’re really attending as a paid employee. Contract worker, technically. Essentially, the job is to dance all night without taking a break. It keeps bodies on the floor, and makes the place look more popular and lively. Personally, I didn’t really like the idea—using my body and my skills to dance with strangers seems inappropriate and undermines my career aspirations.

“Yeah, our dancer totally bailed. I just got the call this morning,” Autumn explained further, before I could tell her I might not be the right girl for this, “So we’re a little desperate. We can offer you $800 for the night, if that sounds fair?”

Wait, $800?? With a small gasp, I quickly grabbed a notepad off the side of my desk. Hopefully Autumn didn’t hear my surprised reaction. The best hosting jobs generally offered $300 at most per night, or so I had heard. Though, once I stopped to think about it, Autumn’s family was rich. Grabbing a pen, I tried to ask calmly, “Can you give me the details, Autumn?”

“It’s a New Year’s Eve party,” she told me, which I wrote down, to my displeasure. I already had a party I was excited to go to, but this sounded be too good to pass up. I wouldn’t have to scrounge as much next semester with that chunk of cash padding my bank account. “It’s about what you’d expect. You have to dance, give dances, and a lucky boy might get a midnight kiss!”

“Wait, what?” I paused from my note taking.

“Bella, relax,” she giggled, “Loosen up. It’s a New Year’s party! You know how to flaunt your body, right?”

“I mean . . .” I hesitated, not quite knowing what to say. I had done advanced jazz and modern dance, so I’m much more fluid than I was in high school. I knew how to move my body. But ‘flaunt’ isn’t the word I’d use, personally.

“Look, if you can’t flaunt it, I’ll have to find someone else. Any recommendations?”

“No, I can flaunt it!” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up as I said the ridiculous phrase. Saying it out loud was so much worse than hearing it. But the money tempted me too much. It was just a night of casual dancing. I could survive a few hours of that.

“Good!” she exclaimed, “You can show up at 11 PM. And make sure you wear something sexy, okay? None of those outfits you used to wear in high school.”

“Wait, can’t I just-“

“Parties at my house are fun,” she said. I was a little annoyed that she was cutting me off, and more annoyed that she was implying that I’m not fun. But it was hard to argue when she was the one offering me the job, “Look, if you don’t want to, just say so.”

“No, it’s fine,” I told her, already decided. My older dancing friends did it. It would be a good experience. And, of course, it paid really well. “Dress sexy, dance sexy. Got it. 11 PM?”

“You got it, Bella. See you there!” she said. I heard a light giggle, but she hung up before I could say anything else. I got out of bed, dropping the notebook back on the desk. Thankfully, I still had two days to practice my club dancing, something I rarely do. After calling through the house to make sure I was home alone, I changed into a more revealing outfit and put on some dance music. Even if it was a casual night of dancing, I had no idea how many familiar faces would be there, and I didn’t want to seem awkward to any of them.

Much like a recital or choreography, I started to practice for the weekend.

Part Two

After a whole afternoon of deliberation and trying on countless outfits, I ended up choosing a short gray skirt and a black halter top, feeling as prepared as I would ever be. As one of my instructors always tells me, you have to fully commit to every dance opportunity. That includes outfits. Against my better judgment, I wore my long red hair down. I always, always, always wear it up when I dance, since it tends to get in the way otherwise. But tightly pinning my locks didn’t seem totally appropriate for a party, so I just lightly curled them instead.

One of my friends dropped me off at the party, and I could tell that it was already in full swing by the time I got there. I walked up the driveway, ignoring the two people I saw making out against a car. I walked to the front door and knocked. Then rang. Then rang again. After a minute or so of waiting, I just open the unlocked door and let myself in.

I was greeted by loud music and a packed house, with dim, flashing lights from different rooms of the Davis’s mansion-like home. I carefully made my way through the various rooms, almost getting trampled once by several drunk people running down the hall. I finally found Autumn in the kitchen, pouring shots for herself and a few other girls.

“Oh, there she is!” Autumn exclaimed. The blonde girl smiled, pointing me out to the other three. I thought my outfit was revealing, but Autumn was literally wearing black short shorts and an emerald green bra, leaving nothing to the imagination, “Wow, Bella! I almost didn’t even recognize you!”

“Hey, Autumn,” I said, feeling a little bit out of place. Autumn seemed in control for the most part, but her friends were definitely drunk already. “You really need a dance host at a party like this?”

“What’s a dance host?” one of Autumn’s friends asked. Two of them giggled at the phrase, and the last girl just looked confused, “Is that the prudish word for stripper…?”

“I am not a stripper!” I snapped. Drunk or not, it was insulting. It didn’t matter that she was a stranger; I wasn’t about to have my major interpreted like that. “I’m just here to dance, like Autumn told me.”

“But-“

“Girls, relax,” Autumn told them. She walked over to me, taking my hand before I could object, “Bella, come with me.”

“Autumn, I-” I started to protest, but it was pointless. She gave a sharp tug on my hand, walking me through the house. Reluctantly, I let her guide me. I could hear her friends laughing about something, but I chose to ignore them. I followed her through another room with two different couples making out (such a classy party), and then I was walked upstairs, presumably to Autumn’s room.

“Paige, out. Now,” Autumn harshly said. A brunette girl I vaguely know from high school was sitting on the bed, not so subtly flirting with two different guys. She didn’t look too happy about it, but reluctantly took her two companions and left the room. Once Paige was gone, Autumn closed the door, “Bella . . . you can call it whatever you want, but you do know you’re stripping tonight, right?”

Wait, what? “Umm, no I’m not.” What else was I supposed to say? I half hoped she was trying to pull a crappy joke, but the look on her face said otherwise.

“Oh my God, are you serious? Were you listening when we talked on the phone . . .?” Autumn rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms as she stood across from me.

“I said dance host!” I said, feeling more offended than when the other girl called me that. Why on earth would Autumn consider me a viable choice to call if she needed a stripper?

“Bella, you said you were fine flaunting your body, and you said you were fine giving dances to anyone who asked,” she started explaining it, almost like I was a child. Technically I did say those things, but in a completely different context, “Everyone here was promised a stripper, and they all paid for it already. I could have found somebody else if you said no, but now it’s too late. Way too late, Bella.”

“Yeah, but I-” I started to object, but Autumn just kept talking as if she didn’t even hear me.

“Aren’t you a professional dancer?” Autumn put her hands on her hips, looking annoyed, “Because bailing the night of is pretty unprofessional. And shitty, for that matter. It makes me look terrible as a host. Are you really going to leave me without a dancer tonight?”

“I . . .” I hesitated, my head spinning. For years, I had always shown up early to every practice and recital, and never once left any of my coaches or partners hanging. But did this count, if I didn’t know what I was agreeing to? Stripping was degrading and, personally, it would be embarrassing to dance in front of others in a setting like this, even clothed. But . . . I technically gave a commitment. It was difficult to think clearly when Autumn was staring daggers at me. “How far . . . how far would I have to strip . . .?” I asked, feeling the heat rush to my face.

“Have you really never been to a strip club?” she asked. She at least seemed a little relieved that I was considering it. “Down to your bra and underwear, I guess, if you didn’t bring anything more exciting. And, like you agreed to, you have to dance alone and give lap dances.”

Again, not what I said. I thought I was dancing with people, not giving people dances. “For how long?” I reluctantly asked, swallowing my pride. I would treat this professionally. I had danced in sheer clothes before, so this would be fine. Incredibly awkward, due to so many old classmates being around, and a bit degrading, but fine. Totally fine.

“Thank God,” Autumn said, smiling. She dropped her hands back down to her sides, “You need to dance from 11:15 until midnight. Then you can go home. Okay?”

Forty-five minutes. That was a lot of time to be dancing solo. Or giving lap dances . . . I almost changed my mind, but couldn't ignore Autumn's stare that was somehow both hopeful and judgmental all at the same time. Despite leaving the hierarchy of high school, I couldn’t help but give into a popular girl’s request.

I let out an exhale, giving in, “Alright, fine,” I said, still uncertain. I was not 100% okay with it, but Autumn made a point I couldn’t ignore. I would never leave anyone hanging, not even for something as awful as this, “But no videos, okay?”

“You’ll be our stripper?” Autumn asked. She gave me an expectant look.

“I just said I would, Autumn.”

“I need to hear you say it,” she rolled her eyes, “I don't want to get people's hopes up. Are you committed or not, Bella?”

“I . . .” I hesitated. Ugh, it felt so gross to say out loud! But after an uncomfortably long period of silence, I mumbled, “I’ll be your stripper.”

Part Three

It was almost time.

My hands were practically shaking as I stood just outside the room I was supposed to be dancing in. I didn’t like being the center of attention in general, but this was worse in every way. What was I thinking?? 

Part of me wanted to bolt out the door, yet I remained frozen in place. I had now told Autumn twice that I’d do this for her. I couldn’t bail now, could I?

It would be fine. I would be dancing for old classmates that I barely knew any more. Strangers I’d never see again. It would be fine. I would leave at midnight with whatever dignity I had left, and $800 in my pocket. And a good life lesson to always get the details for future gigs.

Autumn’s instructions echoed in my head as I waited for the impending ‘show.’ 

‘Money can go in your bra or thong.’

‘Give dances to anyone who asks.’

A myriad of other instructions that included how I needed to balance stripping and lap dances, and how I needed to dance the full 45 minutes, as instructed. It was exhausting, and I hadn’t even started yet. When the blonde girl bounded off to take care of whatever other hosting business she had to attend to, I let out a sigh of relief. 

A few minutes later, the blaring music in the other room was abruptly cut off mid-song, causing a chorus of “aww’s” and “boo’s” from everyone nearby. 

“Attention, everyone!” Autumn’s familiar voice filled the room over the speakers. “For those that haven’t heard, we have a stripper to help us count down to midnight.” Oh my God, she was making it sound like it was my job or something! But before I could consider fruitlessly calling out to correct her, Autumn called my name out. “Bella Ryan, everybody!”

I was a dancer. I could do this. 

Allowing myself a second to take a breath, I forced myself to don a faint smirk. Then I strutted out into the living room before I lost my nerve and/or before I could talk myself out of this. 

My stomach sunk the moment I crossed the threshold into the room. There were a LOT of people. Some crammed onto couches, other sitting on folding chairs or the floor, and even more standing on the outskirts of the room. The coffee table was conspicuously clean compared to all the other surfaces in the house littered with bottles and red solo cups. Oh God, it was supposed to be my stage . . .

I wanted to run. I wanted so badly to run. But I didn’t have a choice. I was already here, I had already committed myself to Autumn. So I carefully stepped up onto the coffee table, forcing myself to keep the smirk that was normally reserved for the rare dance number that called for it. I could feel the dozens of eyes looking me all over. A feeling that would certainly only get worse once I removed a layer or two.

“How many of you remember Bella from high school?” Autumn asked. Her voice was easily heard thanks to the mic she held to her lips. My face flushed as a good fifteen or twenty hands shot up. I had been able to blur out the faces before, but now I recognized a good number of girls and guys that I vaguely knew in high school. I wasn’t necessarily a prude, but I never wore anything nearly as revealing as I was wearing right now to class. I could see a good number of the girls whispering and giggling, while the guys looked both intrigued and excited.

“And how many of you are ready for Bella to strip?” Rather than raise hands, the whole room cheered and applauded this time. ‘Smirk. Keep the smirk. Everything is fine.’ I told myself as I looked over the sea of faces. Just for good measure, I put a hand on my hip so they both weren’t awkwardly resting by my sides.

“Ready, Bella?” Autumn smiled over at me. The question clearly wasn’t meant for answering, as Autumn snapped and pointed at the guy beside her. Apparently the DJ, as he turned to the laptop beside him and started up the music again. “Have fun!” The blonde's chipper voice sounded out over the music and cheers of the crowd.

And, before I could allow myself one more thought of fleeing, I began to dance.

Part Four

I wasn’t sure which was louder—my heartbeat, or the thumping bass from the vague club music the DJ turned back up for my ‘performance.’ 

Nervously, I began moving my body to the music. Despite years of dancing experience, my moves all felt a little bit rigid and awkward as I tried to match the pounding club music. I could hear a few laughs, no doubt from old classmates in disbelief that I would be doing something like this, but Autumn was quick to grab the microphone and tell them I was just warming up. The relief didn’t last long, as Autumn added on, “Just give her a minute. Bella is a stripper. She knows what she’s doing!” 

The reminder of my ‘profession’ made the heat rise to my cheeks, but that paled in comparison to the pressure the last sentence added. I’m supposed to know what I’m doing. They’re paying me all this money, and I did practice for two full days before this. Somehow, I needed to push past the doubt and awkwardness.

Little by little, I allowed my movements to get more fluid, though the self-conscious thoughts persisted. By the end of the first song, things finally started to feel more natural. I managed to tune the crowd out for the most part, the same way I did for recitals, and instead focused on feeling the music in my body. I was a good dancer; it was a natural talent I had honed. Sure, I didn’t like being the center of attention, but at least I was doing something I excelled at.

“When’s she going to strip?” A girl in the front row asked loudly. Her question set off a chain reaction of voices that were quickly directed more towards me than to each other. Cries of “Strip!” and “Take your clothes off!” came from a number of horny boys and amused girls in the crowd of the college party. 

As the next song started, I reluctantly obeyed. I ever so slowly began to lift my gray halter top, revealing the smooth skin just above my waist. What was I doing? But it felt like I had no choice. I was a stripper, at least for the night. I was annoyed that Autumn hadn’t been more specific on the phone, but I also partially blamed myself for not calling back to ask about those specifics. 

What could I do now? Every little motion was a mental battle with myself, though my body somehow knew to keep dancing throughout the whole experience. Thankfully, the crowd was on my side. They were cheering me on. The strangers were merely enjoying the show, though I definitely caught a few faces of former classmates that were relishing this surprising side of the somewhat reserved girl they knew in high school. Even so, they all seemed to appreciate what was coming.

Keeping a shaky grip on the hem of my top, I finally willed myself to pull it past my breasts. Realizing I was about to lose my nerve, I quickly yanked the thin fabric over my head and completely off my body before I could stop myself. Not the most smooth motion, but no one seemed to care. The crowd grew ecstatic as my black bra came into view. Glancing down, I realized just how much cleavage the undergarment was showing off as it held my full C cups together. Oh my God, and everyone was going to see how they moved once I started dancing again! 

“Keep your skirt on, Bella. For now!” Autumn’s voice boomed out over the music again. I glanced back to see the blonde still confidently standing next to her DJ friend. It wasn’t lost on me that she and I were dressed the same now. Black bottom layer and a bra, the rest of our skin available for everyone to see. “We still have plenty of time until midnight. Who wants the first lap dance??”

Once again, cheers filled the room, and a number of hands shot up into the air. The beginning of the dance and the act of stripping my top almost made me forget the rest of the things that I agreed to. It wasn’t just 45 minutes of dancing. It was giving dances to people, and not in the way I initially interpreted when I signed up for this.

“Looks like Luke is the only one who knows how this works!” Autumn exclaimed. I turned in horror to see a guy from high school who had asked me out at least ten times before graduation. Cocky, annoying, and incredibly persistent. I was 100% sure he only wanted me because he took my ‘prudish’ nature to be a challenge. Excuse me if I wanted to be with guys who I actually had a connection with. But now, the dark haired college freshman was sitting there with a grin and a green bill held up in his hand. “For those of you who don’t know how this works,” Autumn continued, “You don’t ever hand the money to a stripper. You find a more . . . creative way to give it to her.” It felt like the blonde was partially saying it for my benefit as well, considering I wasn’t actually what I was pretending to be.

I wanted to run, but I felt trapped. Topless, committed to the ‘job,’ and really wanting that $800 for next semester. It was just a dance. It didn’t mean anything. At least, those were a number of things I told myself to justify it. Stepping down from the table, I sauntered over towards the cocky boy in the leather chair.

As I lightly let my legs straddle him to close the distance, I gave him as much of a smirk as I could handle. “Hey, Luke.” I said it in the most seductive tone I could manage, trying to suppress the vomit at the same time. 

“Bella,” he gave me a knowing smile back. Obviously not much had changed. But this time, I couldn’t refuse his flirting. He held up the green bill, and I was a little offended to see it was literally just a $1 bill. “This is about how much you’re worth to me,” he said. Nice and quiet, so no one else could hear. And then, before I could think of a reply, he reached forward and stuffed the money in my bra.

Part Five

Oh. My. God.

For a moment, I actually felt Ryan’s fingers graze my bare breasts as he roughly shoved the dollar bill into my bra. Yet somehow, it wasn’t the momentary violation or the arrogant smirk that made me cringe. It was the fact that I felt the scratchy paper against my skin, and the peripheral vision of a green bill sticking out of my bra. The mortifying visual must have crushed any doubts about me being a proper stripper, and I knew right then that it would be the first bill of many. Yet I didn’t have time to think about that. 

I had to figure out how to give a lap dance. 

I had practiced a lot of things after Autumn’s call, but this was not one of them. And I had to figure it out on Ryan, of all people. “Well?” The dark haired asshole finally broke away from his blatant staring at my breasts to look me in the eyes. Of course, I knew what I had to do. And I didn’t need him to demean me in such a patronizing way.

Not saying a word, I just smirked right back at him. I had never been so grateful for my teachers forcing me to practice expressions in front of a mirror for dancing. It wasn’t my favorite assignment, but I had gotten to the point where I knew how to show what I wanted with my face, and could hold it and manipulate it for a full dance routine. Swallowing my pride, I leaned forward and placed my hand on his chest, shifting my hips to further straddle him. “If you touch me like that again, you don’t get a dance.”

Honestly, most of my lap dance ‘knowledge’ came from shows and movies. I had seen guys groping the girls’ asses, but had also seen clubs enforce the ‘no touching’ rule. Of the two, I quickly decided in the moment to go with the latter. If I let Ryan get away with it, it would set the tone for the rest of the night.

And then, hoping it wasn’t too awkward, I gave him a short dance. As I faced him, I reluctantly ran my hands along his face and chest, letting my hips and thighs constantly shift as I straddled him and moved to the music. To me, his attitude and the $1 payment was insulting enough that I leaned forward as if I was going to rub my breasts on his chest or his face, and then promptly stood up to turn around without giving him any satisfaction. Not knowing what Autumn had promised her guests, I then lowered myself back onto Ryan, this time straddling him with my skirt covered ass facing him. Only halfway through the next few series of motions did I realize that leaning over in such a way showed off a ton of cleavage to those watching from across the room.

At that realization, I felt my cheeks flush. Deciding that I was done with Ryan, and done with how my black bra didn’t cover nearly enough of my breasts in that position, I swiftly stepped away from the boy, hoping the dim room hid my light blush. Only then did I realize just how many eyes were on me as the music pounded away. Somehow, I convinced myself that the best way to keep my dignity was to keep dancing as if none of this bothered me. After all, Autumn and half her university friends were showing off just as much skin. Hell, Autumn herself was just wearing a bra like me. 

Still, I needed to continue satisfying the excited crowd. I was in too deep, the money was too good, and Autumn would kill me if I bailed on her now. Letting the false smirk rest on my face, I pushed back my loose red hair and strutted over to another raised hand holding a green bill.

I gave dance after dance. Save for the hands stuffing bills into my bra, everyone at least adhered to the no touching rule. The stares were actually worse than the dancing itself. I had long gotten over close contact with dance partners, and that somewhat bled over into the mortifying task of giving lap dances. But seeing the way that each guy shamelessly stared at my shifting cleavage made me constantly aware of just how exposed I was without my top on. And, while I couldn’t see it myself, I’m sure my ass got plenty of stares each time I did the second half of the ‘routine’ I was starting to develop.

Ten dances in, I concluded that straddling old classmates was WAY worse than straddling strangers. I tried my hardest not to focus on the girls who looked somewhat appalled at my behavior, or the onlooking guys who were loving every moment of my exposure. Thankfully, the music was loud enough that I couldn’t hear any of the conversations around the room. My bra was slowly getting more and more full of paper bills, all of which stuck out in the most damning and humiliating way. And, as I got up from yet another lustful boy’s lap, Autumn got my attention by calling out my name and raising a green bill of her own. 

I cringed internally, but managed to keep my performance up. Strutting over to the scantily clad blonde, I slowly lowered myself onto her as she generously slid a $20 bill into my bra. If the boys were lustful before, I could only imagine their excitement as two girls were face to face in nothing but bras. Her short shorts were technically more revealing than my skirt, but I could feel the gray fabric riding up on me every time I straddled somebody; Autumn included. 

“Just thought you’d want an update,” Autumn softly smiled, as I carefully placed my hand on her upper chest. Unlike the guys before her, the blonde below me had boobs, and I had to be careful not to land too close to them.

“What update?” I asked, blushing again as the crowd cheered when I began naturally moving to the music and ‘teasing’ Autumn with my body, the same way I had with the other boys.

Unlike everyone else, Autumn pulled out another bill, being a little more rough this time as she shoved it into the opposite bra cup from the first.

“You have 25 minutes left,” she said, leaning forward to whisper in my ear, “And it’s time to lose the skirt.”

Part Six

That’s right.

The earlier conversation with Autumn had explained as much. Her words from the bedroom echoed in my head. She had answered my question simply and to the point, but it didn’t change how daunting or embarrassing the answer was: “Your bra and underwear, Bella.”

Just when I had found my ‘stride’ giving lap dances with my cleavage constantly shown off to the whole party, I was reminded that there was more to do. And, considering I was currently straddling Autumn in said bra and with my skirt riding up, I was well past the point of calling this whole thing off.

“Bella.” Autumn poked the bare part of my breast to bring me back to reality. The surprise of being prodded that way kept me from snapping at her like I may have done to one of the guys, and I realized I had also been subtly swaying on her thighs even when I momentarily got lost in my thoughts. Damn dancer instincts. I wasn’t even sure if I was impressed or appalled with myself for doing so. “That’s two twenties. You should really mix your routine up. More money means a better dance,” she smirked, no doubt loving all the attention from all the onlookers. Our faces were still rather close, and her words were meant just for me, especially with the pounding music that filled the room and the rest of the house. “Let’s put on a good show, okay?”

“O-okay…” I muttered, meeting her eyes. Despite the trepidation in my voice, I managed to maintain the smirk I had plastered on my own face from the moment I walked in the room. And, taking a moment to collect myself, I got to work.

Guessing all the things I had already done to her and the boys before her weren’t quite enough, I started to improvise. My hands ran up and down her bare upper half, though I made a point to barely hover away from her chest each time, rather than actually touch her bra-covered boobs. And I got way closer with my face than I did with any of the guys. Inwardly cringing, I lowered myself to her chest, then shifted to her neck, and then to her lips, teasing her like I’m sure I had seen in some video at some point in my life. I was keenly aware of our bare legs constantly pressing against each others’ as well, but that paled in comparison to all the lewd motions I made to her upper half. 

Shit.

It took me way too long to realize it, but her hands were on my body too. Mostly holding my bare sides as I did all the work, but it still broke the physical contact rule I had enforced earlier. Maybe it wasn’t too late. “No touching,” I narrowed my eyes as I voiced my first and only personal stripper rule, and briefly took my hands off her body to pull her hands away. It didn’t matter if this was the most uncomfortable thing I had ever done. I may have been topless, but I was still a little in control.

Autumn just rolled her eyes, as if to say ‘fine.’

Guessing it was as good a time as any, I shifted back and stood up for a moment to turn around, then lowered myself down again to begin the second half of her dance. It was only once my skirt covered ass was in the blonde’s face that I realized the DJ was playing some club remix of “I Kissed A Girl.” 

Face lightly flushing, I ‘flaunted my body’ for everyone; my ass for Autumn, my boobs for anyone watching. Somehow, I kept a confident expression, but it somehow felt even more wrong to be doing this with a girl. It’s not that I’m against any kind of sexuality, but I’m just not into girls myself. Yet there I was, giving Autumn a lap dance as if I did it all the time. 

Remembering her point about how much she paid compared to everyone else, I even went the extra mile. When I had done about as much as I could creatively do with my body while straddling someone else, I got up and turned back around, leaning down as if I actually was going to make out with her. God, what was wrong with me? Half of me was playing the part, and the other half was thinking about the $800 I needed to ‘earn.’ But, instead of kissing her, I just gently took her blonde locks and walked away, letting her hair trail off in my fingers until she was out of reach.

Then it was time.

Autumn was my ‘boss’ for the evening, and she wouldn’t want me giving another dance without doing what she said first. So I tossed my own hair back and strutted back to the coffee table, stepping up onto the makeshift stage. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this, but I was already in WAY too deep. Halfway done with my commitment. I only needed to last another 20 minutes or so, and I could go home and take multiple showers to get rid of the gross feeling that straddling Ryan and a few other pervy boys gave me.

And, as I took the ‘stage,’ I also realized I could kill a little more time up there to avoid future lap dances. So I let my body move with the music, making a few sharp movements with my head and hips. The cheers were somehow both mortifying and mildly helpful at the same time. Doing something like this to a dead room would have been 100 times worse. 

But I couldn’t delay the inevitable forever. Allowing my smirk to grow into a confident grin, I hooked my fingers underneath the waistband of the short gray skirt, eternally grateful that it didn’t have a zipper. Ugh, bending over was going to show off my cleavage again, but it wasn’t like everyone hadn’t seen plenty already. Resigning myself to my self-imposed exposure, I sloooowly lowered the skirt to the cheers of the crowd. Partly because my perfectionist self wanted to put on a good show, but also because the proper side of me was still faintly resisting.

Regardless, I made it. As gravity took it the rest of the way, my gray skirt pooled around my ankles as I reluctantly stood back up. 

There I was, standing on the makeshift stage and baring my matching black bra and thong to the crowd. 

And there was still more to come.

Part Seven

The phrase “Sunk Cost Fallacy” had never been so apt than when I stood in just my plain black lingerie, surrounded by former classmates and total strangers. 

Everyone had already seen my top half swaying and bouncing and shifting as I danced in just a bra, and now the whole room could see most of my bare legs and ass. When I put on a thong earlier, it had been for the sake of avoiding panty lines in the tight skirt. In retrospect, panty lines would have been much preferable to showing dozens of people just about everything aside from my most private area.

But the current problem was the same as the previous problem. I had already come this far. If there was a time to bail, it would have been before I removed the skirt. But Autumn’s lap dance, especially the choice of song, had distracted me enough that my main focus was getting off her lap and to the next part of the evening. 

The moment my skirt pooled at my ankles, regret and reality washed over me. This was too much. Somehow, I had managed to justify topless lap dances, but being bottomless on a ‘stage’ raised the stakes. Everyone behind me could see my bare ass cheeks, and everyone else could see my bra stuffed with cash and only a triangle of fabric protecting the rest of my modesty. On top of the exposure, I was suppose to keep flaunting my body in this state of undress, and give more dances? No way.

Degrading myself like this was NOT worth $800. It wasn’t worth triple that number.

Could I just grab my skirt and run? Pull it back up first? There were a ton of problems with the ‘run away’ strategy. My purse was back up in the bedroom, and I had no idea where my shirt ended up after I stripped it off for the crowd. Getting out of here was going to be an enormous headache, and I was beginning to accept the fact that I’d be driving home topless with no money to show for giving up so much of my dignity. Autumn didn’t seem like the type to pay for an incomplete job. God, why did I let her talk me into this in the first place? I could have just left.

Making an executive decision, I stepped one foot at a time out of the skirt, trying my very hardest to keep the faint smile on my face like nothing was wrong. It would be easier to flee with skirt in hand than by making the plan obvious by partially dressing myself before running. Seeing countless cameras capturing my newfound exposure, I suddenly felt a wave of validation in regards to my choice to run away. My current image would require a ton of damage control if family or college friends saw any of this. No need to supplement that material with even more damning pictures and videos.

My hips swayed just enough so I wouldn’t awkwardly be standing on the table, and time seemed to slow down as I allowed an entire house party to stare at me in just my underwear. I used those mortifying few seconds to map my escape route; between the sofa and the armchair, past the DJ’s table, and back to the kitchen. Before I could overthink it, I leapt off the table, snatched up my skirt, and ran.

For a few moments, everything was a blur. From all around, I could hear jeering and complaining as the night’s main entertainment lost her nerve. No one tried to stop me, but pushing through the crowd left me vulnerable to all kinds of violations. As I was shoving my way past the pocket of audience members who had congregated between the furniture, I felt a few rough squeezes and slaps of my bare ass, but that was nothing compared to what came next. 

One of the last guys standing between me and the kitchen squared off with me and, with a disgusting grin, grabbed both of my breasts and squeezed. Gasping, I shoved him hard, so hard that he probably would have fallen on his ass if it weren’t for the kitchen table he ended up colliding with instead. Ignoring the insults and profanities he yelled after me, as if I was the bad guy for overreacting to him GRABBING my BOOBS, I raced for the stairs without looking back. 

The silver lining to publicly degrading myself? There were no other obstacles between me and the bedroom. Apparently my little show was enough to drag the whole house over to watch. I bounded up the stairs and back to the room where Autumn convinced me to go through with my ‘commitment,’ and slammed the door behind me. 

One big breath. And then I had to keep going. The privacy was much needed, but this wasn’t my bedroom and wasn’t my house. There was no time to relax or process or decompress. I quickly stepped back into the dark gray number, pulled it up my legs, and let out a sigh of relief once the skirt was situated where it was supposed to be. Next I pulled the money out of my bra cups, the sensation of paper-against-skin causing me to blush to myself now that I was thinking more clearly. God, I really was a stripper for a few minutes, wasn’t I?

Not bothering to count the total, I folded the stack of bills in half and went to put in my purse. Except my purse wasn’t there. I could practically feel my heart drop as I took in the empty dresser top. That meant no phone, no wallet, no keys. I distinctly remembered placing my things there before heading downstairs for the biggest mistake of my life, but now they were nowhere to be seen.

Before I could begin tearing the room apart to find where my stuff might have been moved to, however, I was interrupted by the telltale sound of a doorknob being twisted.

Part Eight

Naturally, I expected it to be Autumn.

She was the one who hired me, and the one who would be pissed off that I ran away before finishing the job that she was paying me for. Not to mention that I just teased an entire room and then bailed, instead of just putting my foot down and calling it quits right after learning that I was apparently called to be a stripper instead of a dance host. I could already imagine what the girl might say about how I was ruining her New Year’s Eve party, and how I needed to get back out there, etc. etc. 

Except, it wasn’t her. Instead, I found myself face to face with Heather. Dark hair, tall and slender, and dressed just as scantily as Autumn and her friends. She and I used to be on the same dance team in high school, but she ended up pursuing a more safe major. There wasn’t any bad blood between us, mostly, save for the fact that I usually got the better parts and positions on the team. But we also weren’t friends; team solidarity is about as close as we got on that front. Long story short, I had no idea if she was here as an ally or an enemy. 

Letting the door click closed behind her, Heather said, “Looks like I was right.”

Right about what? I wanted to ask, but I held back. My old teammate hadn’t yet made it clear why she had followed me up here. For now, I decided to ignore the cryptic comment. She could elaborate if she wanted to; or not. “Not now, Heather,” I said. Even though it was just us two girls, I crossed my arms over my bra-clad chest. Way too belatedly, I realized that it didn’t matter if my top was missing. I was in Autumn’s bedroom, which meant that there had to be something around I could wear for the time being. “Look, can I borrow your phone? Please?” 

Heather just scoffed. “No. Of course not. I’m not going to trust some stripper with any of my things. I’m just here to bring you back downstairs.” 

Not on my side, then. “I’m not going back. This was all a huge misunderstanding.” And a huge mistake, on my part. “The only place I’m going is home.”

“Mm hmm. So you say.” Heather placed a hand on her hip and gave me a not so subtle once over from head to toe, “This is a good look for you, Bella. Though it was better when your bra was stuffed with bills. We should put those back in before you start stripping again.”

“Heather, you’re not listening,” I said. My hand remained firmly clasped around the stack of cash recently retrieved from my bra cups; probably the only payment I’d be receiving tonight. Something told me that Autumn wouldn’t give me partial credit. “I’m done. End of story.”

“You know, all those boys are going to love rewatching their videos of you. But me? I think I’m good. The fairer sex never really did it for me. Although it would be such a waste to just delete everything. I mean, I took a ton of pics. And damn, girl, your cleavage is something else when you bend over. I’m surprised your bra managed to hold those things in.”

I couldn’t help but blush at the memory of taking my skirt off, or perhaps she was talking about the lap dances. My boobs weren’t even that big! Just solid C cups, though I suppose dancing in just a bra might tell a different story from the right angle. “Heather-”

“I took a few videos, too,” she said, with an idle smile, “You know, phones these days are pretty amazing. Everything is so crisp and clear. And that skimpy little thong didn’t leave much to the imagination, did it?”

“I-” Only I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Heather kept talking over me. 

“Hmm, I wonder what your university would think of this kind of behavior? My school makes it so easy to communicate with all the professors. I mean, you can literally go to any department and get the email address of anyone. Or, if you were interested, of everyone. How about yours, Bella? Does your school’s website make things just as convenient as mine?”

Oh my God, she wouldn’t!! 

Just imagining how that might play out was a trip. It would be a nightmare. For the ones that mentioned it, I’d have to deal with a mortifying conversation. And for those that kept it to themselves, I could already picture the sideways glances and the silent judgment. Evidence of me stripping wouldn’t get me expelled, but I’d lose all respect for using my talents in such a way. Especially since a number of expressions and movements were borrowed from things I learned from them. Honestly, I’d rather have friends and family see me ‘performing’ in such a way. At least then, I could lie and come up with some story about it being an experimental piece or something. There would still be judgment in one form or another, but at least I’d have a flimsy excuse in my back pocket. My teachers, however, wouldn’t be so gullible.

“Heather, please,” I replied. All the wind was immediately knocked out of my sails. Less than a minute ago, I was finally frustrated enough to have a backbone about this whole stripper thing. But with my education, and potentially career, on the line, I found myself on my back foot and poised to be easily knocked over. “You can’t.”

“Can’t I?” she smirked, “Tell you what, Bells. If you do what I say for the rest of the night, then we’ll talk. Think you can handle that?”

The rest of the night? I couldn’t write a blank check like that! “But-”

“But nothing. Choose. Now, Are you going to go home, or are you going to do whatever I say?”

Swallowing hard, I reluctantly answered the only way that gave me a chance of keeping this contained to my home town. 

“I’m going to do whatever you say . . .”

Part Nine

I had to do anything Heather said. 

Since I barely knew the girl, I had no idea what to expect. Was this belated revenge from high school, just because she didn’t get to star in as many dances? Or was it just opportunistic bullying, just because she could? At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter. I was at her mercy.

Heather began with, “Take your skirt back off.”

She said it so casually, save for a hint of smugness. The tone of voice itself made me want to scream at her, as did the idle smile on her face, but I couldn’t do anything but obey. My reputation and my future depended on it, as I needed my instructors as references down the road. I narrowed my eyes in annoyance, to at least show that I wasn’t happy about this, but did as she said. With none of the bravado from the first time around, back when I was playing the part of the featured stripped at Autumn’s party, I merely yanked the garment down and let gravity finish the job. Assuming that she’d want it all the way gone, I stepped one foot at a time out of the dark gray number that was pooled around my feet for the second time in less than ten minutes. 

Kicking it aside, I put a hand on my hip and tried to pretend that the exposure didn’t bother me. “Is that it?” Maybe challenging her was a mistake, but I couldn’t help it. I was less frustrated at her, and more frustrated at myself for digging such a deep hole instead of just leaving when Autumn first pressured me to stay. 

“It’s a start,” Heather shrugged. She held out her hand, “Now, give me all that lovely dirty money you earned. We need to put it back where it belongs, and strippers don’t do that themselves.”

She was referencing Autumn’s degrading explanation from downstairs. “Fine.” Picking up the stack of cash I had stashed on the nearby desk, I handed them to Heather.

Plenty of girls during my ‘show’ earlier had enjoyed sliding the bills into my bra. With the boys, it was a chance to briefly touch my bare chest along the way. Disgusting, and a total invasion of privacy, but at least they were predictable. When it came to the fairer sex, however, it was a lot more complicated. In Heather’s case, or in Autumn’s, it was all about the dominance that amused them. The others were all over the place in terms of motivation, as it was obvious that this was their first stripper experience. Mine too, of course. 

I wasn’t particularly into girls, which made it difficult to say which gender I preferred in terms of who got to stuff money into my bra. Normally I’d choose girls, as my indifference would make it fine, but I’d almost rather have pervy boys than a girl like Heather. 

“Hold still, Bells,” she said. 

Unnecessary.

Once again doing as I was told, I just scowled at her as she slid the first bill underneath my right bra cup. Alternating left and right, she added all the money I had made from stripping and giving lap dances downstairs, except the blackmail she was dangling over my head gave her the power to break the rule I had established during those dances. Heather cupped one of my breasts and gave a hard squeeze after adding yet another dollar bill.

“HEY.” I snapped. Instantly slapping her hand away, I take a step back, “What the fuck, Heather?”

“I need to make sure they’re going to stay in place,” she said. With an eye roll, naturally. “And I told you to hold still. Strike one, Bells.”

“It’s Bella.”

“That’s strike two. Hold still, and shut up.” 

I pursed my lips and resisted the urge to reply. Heather was still making the rules here, and I had to play along. I was sure that ‘strike three’ wouldn’t mean a mass e-mail to my instructors, but she definitely had the power to make my night worse in other ways.

Heather got back to work. In a matter of minutes, my cleavage was marred by a countless amount of dollar bills. I could feel the problem before I saw it, though I glanced down to verify. Unlike the haphazard way that a bunch of random strangers had tipped me for my stripping services, Heather overlapped the bills in a dangerous manner. My C cups were barely touching the bra at all, as the doubled and tripled bills had been pushed more deeply between the bra and my boobs than before. While it made everything tighter around my chest, there was also less friction. It was fine while I was standing still, but the wrong move could potentially cause my breasts to pop out of the cups if I wasn’t careful. 

Had Heather done that on purpose? Or did she just enjoy the sight of how slutty her handiwork made my chest look?

Either way, she wasn’t done yet. With that same smug expression, Heather slipped a folded bill into the waistband of my black thong.

Since I had fled the scene in the living room seconds after removing my skirt, no one had gotten a chance to try this out on me. Honestly, I couldn’t say if it had even crossed my mind as a possibility. Lightly gasping in surprise, I didn’t get a chance to voice my surprise before she beat me to the punch. “Come on, Bells. This is a better look for you. Trust me.”

Trust her. As if.

Most of the bills were already in my bra, but Heather had saved a handful to add to my underwear. And then, adding insult to injury, she showed me the $20 Autumn had given me, as well as a handful of 5s and 10s from others along the way. 

Teasingly putting those in her own bra, she said, “Agents get 90%, right?” she said, with a wink.

Part Ten

Just like that, I was back downstairs. 

Hand in hand with Heather, though there wasn’t any reason for her to keep a grip on me. I had already made my choice. I was mostly bothered by the seemingly friendly and casual way her fingers laced between mine, when she and I were anything but friends. And, while I’d never admit it out loud, I was also really annoyed that she took so much money. Money that I had earned, at the cost of degrading myself. 

While most of the return journey was a willing one, my pace subconsciously slowed as we neared the living room. Was I really about to go back out there? Strut my stuff on the stage and give countless more lap dances to strangers and old classmates? Apparently so, because Heather gave a hard yank on my arm to ‘encourage’ me to turn the corner with her.

We were met with a strange combination of positive and negative reactions to my arrival. Half the room clearly didn’t appreciate the fact that I ran away and spoiled the show, but the other half was glad it was going to continue. The dark haired girl I was attached to, however, had a plan to win the others over. Walking me over to the DJ, Heather grabbed the microphone Autumn was using before, then changed course to bring us both onto the wide coffee table that served as the makeshift stage.

“Hey, be nice!” Heather exclaimed. She stood on the elevated surface with me, speaking into the mic as we remained positioned side by side, hand in hand. “Bella just got a little stage fright. This is only her sixth time stripping, by the way, and her first time doing a private party! You want her to keep going, right?”

This earned more cheers than before, while I did everything in my power to keep my jaw from dropping. Something about putting a number on it made my fake identity for the night feel a lot more real. Suddenly, I had a ‘backstory,’ and who wouldn’t believe her? I was a dance major, after all. And everything I had done so far only breathed life into the lie, as did the image of me standing in my lingerie with a bunch of dollar bills stuffed inside. I nervously scanned the sea of faces, spotting Autumn in her green bra in the same armchair I had given her a lap dance in. She seemed more than content to let Heather run the show in her stead. 

Going on, Heather said, “Funny story. Bella had a bit of a crush on me in high school. Unfortunately for her, I’m super straight, but who can blame her? Be honest, people. Who else had a bit of a crush on me when I wore those short shorts and danced my heart out?”

Once again, there were a good amount of cheers coming from the crowd. It was true. Not the part about the crush; our dance team uniforms didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination, and Heather was objectively hot. Besides, it was a confident girl polling a big audience. Even people in the room who didn’t know her were probably part of the response just from the mental image of an attractive girl wearing skimpy shorts and flaunting her body. 

As for me, I was mortified. Not just from once again being the center of attention while half naked, but also from the implication that I was into girls. There’s nothing wrong with any given sexuality, but that didn’t mean that I wanted to be seen as gay or bi when I was only into guys! I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Heather was already running with it. 

“Anyway, it’s New Year’s, and Bella definitely needs a midnight kiss! So, any girls interested? Let me know, and we’ll let our sexy stripper pick one of you at random. Sorry, boys. You’ll just have to enjoy the show. Okay, Bells. The stage is yours!”

Just like that, Heather let go of my hand and hopped off the stage. Taking that as a cue, the DJ turned the music back up, and both Heather and Autumn gestured for me to get to it. 

The dancer within me was at least able to begin slowly moving my hips to the beat, but the external me was stiff and unable to commit to much more than that. I was going to have to kiss a girl?! It had been awkward enough straddling a few members of my own sex to give them the lap dance they paid for, but that hadn’t meant anything. It was all for show, and I was honestly guessing that most of the girls outside of Autumn had done it more for the attention, and/or to tease and treat the nearby guys. Not that a kiss would mean anything either, of course, but that was something so personal. It would be a notable first of mine, witnessed by Autumn, Heather, and a sea of other witnesses. And it would be caught on camera and video, too.

But there was the other potential fate–having all my instructors see me using my talents for something so unprofessional and improper. The thought of that alone got me moving in the meantime, and I began to work my body to the beat. This, at least, felt familiar and more comfortable than the alternative. I’d much rather be dancing by myself than giving a dance to literally anyone in the current crowd. Dancing in a thong, however, wasn’t quite the same as dancing in short shorts. I was keenly aware of how basically the entirety of my ass was on display to the whole room, which made it a lot more difficult to get lost in the music. 

I tried to meet eyes with Autumn, and even considered going over to give her another lap dance if it meant we could share a private word, but I never got the chance. One of the boys in the front row stood up and walked over to slip a dollar bill into my thong, which reminded everyone else that they could do the same.

Part Eleven

That was new.

The last time I was on the ‘stage,’ my skirt had been on. Now I was in a thong, however, and Heather’s single dollar bill that she tucked in the waistband of my underwear while we were upstairs was an easy visual that others could do so as well. Once one guy took the initiative, plenty of others followed suit. 

I was a proper stripper, strutting my stuff for money. For a moment, I thought that bills being slipped into my thong would be better than my bra. At best, my cleavage had been brushed with each new hand. At worst, there had been a number of ‘accidental’ touches and squeezes during the process of situating the dollar. I’d much rather people touch my hips and thighs than my boobs, so I figured this might be a good change of pace. However, the thong presented an ordeal I hadn’t been prepared for, pretty quickly crushing my hopes for a silver lining amidst my greater exposure to dozens of college students. Unlike my bra, my underwear didn’t give me the opportunity to see everyone’s approach. Those in front of me, sure. Even while swinging my hips and moving to the music, I could keep an eye on my most private area and make sure no one roamed too far south when adding another bill to the growing collection. 

My backside was a different story.

I figured out pretty quickly that I wasn’t always going to be prepared for someone new to walk up. While one person was pushing a dollar into my already stuffed bra cups, I found myself totally caught off guard when I was touched from behind. Slightly jumping as a feminine hand pulled at the waistband of my thong, I froze for a second in fear of losing my underwear entirely. Instead, she merely put a bill into place and allowed the fabric to snap back into place. To make matters worse, whatever girl it was ended things by giving one of my mostly bare cheeks a sharp slap. 

Squeaking more in surprise than pain, I could only pray that no one heard the meek sound over the loud music. Autumn was quick to grab the microphone and remind me to keep dancing, as my previously fluid movements had temporarily grinded to a halt. Forcing a confident smirk back on my face despite how degraded I felt, I began working my body to the beat like everything was fine. Though I had managed to keep up the ‘no touching’ rule during the lap dances earlier, that concept was destroyed with one little spank. Now, every time someone walked up to ‘pay me’ from behind, I had to deal with an exploratory squeeze and/or a slap to go along with the bill that was added to my thong. 

Every time, I let it happen. I just kept dancing and wishing that there was a clock nearby so I could more efficiently count down to the end of this violating turn of events. Eventually, my chest got a little more action as well, as a few guys were emboldened by what was happening on my helpless rear. None of them went so far as to fully grope me, though I had already dealt with that a few times already. Instead, their hands lingered in my bra cups, fingers exploring my bare skin for way too long before leaving their cash behind. And, instead of slapping them away and verbally berating them, I simply met their eyes with a flirty smirk and acted like I was enjoying it. 

A proper stripper, indeed. Thanks to Autumn, and then Heather. And, of course, to my own naivety and total lack of a backbone. 

Thankfully, my former classmates were content to watch me get loaded up with bills, and there was never a directive to start with the lap dances again. A small mercy, though I had long since forgotten what was coming. 

“Alright, it’s time to see who gets the midnight kiss!” Autumn announced. 

The DJ turned the music back down to a more normal volume, and I looked at her in shock as I finally came back to reality. Even with all the wandering hands, I had still managed to disassociate the inappropriate touches by losing myself in the music and the role I was playing. Without the pounding music to assist with that, however, I began thinking about just how exposed I was. Especially on my backside, with only a strip of fabric between my otherwise bare cheeks. Out of pure reflex, I raised my arms to cover myself, to the instant displeasure of the crowd.

“Arms down, Bella!” Autumn snapped. Instead of the bubbly blonde personality she had when I first arrived, this was a lot more harsh and demanding. A little more slurred, too, after a good amount of New Year’s Eve partying. 

I could feel everyone’s eyes fixated on me, which made it almost impossible to re-expose my more private areas. “But-” I began, trying to find my voice. As usual, there were SO many cameras, though it’s not like they were going to capture anything new at this point. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true, if this ‘midnight kiss’ was happening. Technically, Autumn did mention it over the phone, but she had totally played it off as a joke at the time. 

“Or would you prefer to go home in what you’re wearing right now?”

There was a bit of laughter and jeering throughout the room at that comment, and I immediately felt my face heat up at the thought of driving home in just my underwear. As much as I didn’t want to obey, I reluctantly lowered my arms and let everyone see me again. It was a miracle that my bra and thong were still intact. At this point, I could feel the fabric starting to give, especially down below.

Part Twelve

Luckily, I had worn more practical undergarments, as this was supposed to be a dance gig and nothing more. Still, I was nervous about the waistband tearing and could only imagine how loose underwear would make a bad situation worse. With how much I had already suffered through wandering hands, something told me that any number of the drunk and horny guys present would react in a less than pleasant way to something like that. 

“Better,” Autumn said. 

A wave of murmurs in the crowd was painfully telling. They were picking up on the fact that I was stuck doing whatever Autumn told me to do, rather than simply being the stripper I was hired to be. It was a bit of a revelation for me as well, now that I was on the spot in front of so many former peers of mine. I wanted so badly to leave right then and there, but I didn’t know where any of my things were. No keys to drive myself home, no phone to call a friend to pick me up. With Heather involved, I was also in way too deep to flee for a second time, even if I had the means. 

Autumn walked over to me with a cheap plastic New Year’s hat full of folded up slips of paper, holding it up so I could reach it from the table without too much trouble. “Now, whoever you pick gets a kiss at midnight. Let’s see who the lucky girl is,” she said. In a much quieter tone, she added, “And if it’s not an amazing kiss, you’re not getting your clothes back.”

It was such a simple threat, and this was the second time she had used it in a matter of seconds. As repetitive as it was, however, it was still perfectly effective. My house was miles away, and it was cold outside; did Autumn even know about the other reason I needed to stay? I could only hope that the original deal was still in place–I was only supposed to be the party’s ‘stripper’ until midnight. Just one awkward girl kiss to round out the mortifying night, and then I could be done. 

I reached into the hat and pulled out a slip of paper. “Umm . . .” I recognized the name immediately. Every time it seemed like the night couldn’t get any worse, something else proved that it very much could. My face flushed even more than before, as I was already flustered from having to stand half naked for the whole room without the pounding music to distract me. 

Autumn took the slip from my hand. Upon seeing the name, she smirked. “Zoey!” she called out, to a few gasps from the crowd. 

Autumn’s younger sister leaped up from one of the sofas, her lips pursed in a small smile that was reminiscent of the older blonde’s expression who just called her name. The girl was literally still in high school; I knew so, because Zoey was on the dance team as well. She was a junior when I was a senior, which meant she was halfway through her last year there. While Autumn had the obnoxious ‘hot girl’ look, Zoey’s features were more cute in comparison. 

She might have had a more innocent appearance from the neck up, but her crop top and tight jean shorts were evidence that she didn’t mind flaunting her body at a crowded party. I also vaguely knew Zoey from practice, and she certainly wasn’t shy. “You SO picked me on purpose,” Zoey said. She stepped up onto the table next to me, to the cheers of everyone else. Once she was on my level, I was surprised to see that we were almost exactly the same size. Like, not just in height.

“Please. I didn’t even know you entered the raffle, sis! You are eighteen, right?”

“As of a month ago,” Zoey grinned. She tossed her hair back, then looked right into my eyes, “Although if I knew Bella was into girls, I would have made my move sooner.”

“You don’t even like girls!” Autumn exclaimed, “It’s just a phase.”

“Tell that to the girl I fucked last week.”

It dawned on me way too late that they were just playing the crowd, instead of actually bickering as sisters. Every reply caused some kind of amused reaction, especially from those that actually knew Zoey. She was a total flirt, and been openly bisexual for years. Obviously, Autumn would know that, and was just echoing the cliché adult phrase for such things. 

“Do you want to fuck Bella?” Autumn asked.

“Stop stalling, sis!” Zoey replied. I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t deflecting. If anything, she was just getting impatient. The need to be the center of attention certainly ran in their family. “Start the music.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Walking over to the guy who had been DJing all night, Autumn placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. 

A few seconds later, that same fucking remix of ‘I Kissed A girl’ started playing. 

It was one thing when I was giving a lap dance to Autumn, but the song was much more fitting for what I was about to do with her younger sister. Any hopes of getting my blush to go away were dashed when I looked into Zoey’s eyes and fully realized that I was about to make out with her in front of everyone. Turning beet red, I totally froze. 

She didn’t seem as bothered. “Come on, Bells.” Starting to sway her hips, she took my hand and tried to get me back to the effortless dancing that we both knew I was capable of doing. “It’s just one song. Look.” She nodded her head towards the TV across the room. 

11:57.

Just three more minutes, and this would all be over. 

Taking a deep breath, I pushed a smirk on my own face and began moving to the music.

Part Thirteen

I really had to fall back on my training as I faced Zoey on the table that was our makeshift stage.

Tuning out a crowd was something I was capable of doing, as was matching my expression to the mood of whatever dance I was doing. The blur of an audience, however, was not quite the same as being face to face with someone. There was no way to ignore the blonde girl in front of me, especially as she gazed at me with flirty eyes and a smirk of her own. 

This was about to happen. I was about to kiss an eighteen year old girl.

She was still in high school. I was very much straight. “Zoey . . . ” I started to say, as she brushed her shoulder length blonde hair out of her face without once breaking eye contact. 

As a competent dancer herself, she gave just the right pull on my hand that had me following on instinct. Before I knew it, I was being turned around. Zoey put her hands on my hips, pressed her chest into my back, and began swaying left and right to grind me. I let it happen, once again wanting to fake confidence in front of everyone in the name of making it to midnight with no further complications. “Here’s the deal, Bella,” she whispered in my ear. Her hands traced up and down my bare sides as she idly explored my smooth skin while simultaneously teasing the audience, “You need to strip me until we match.”

“What?!” I gasped, whisper-yelling the question for her and hoping no one else heard the horrified question over the pounding music. Using skills of my own, I took her hands off of me without making it seem too forced, then swiveled around so I could face her. Keeping up appearances, I placed my hands on her shoulders and ran them all the way down her back until I was holding her hips. Moving my own body to the music, and dancing closely with her as well in a way that no doubt was exciting to all the horny guys I had given lap dances to, I met Zoey’s eyes again and muttered, “That’s not part of this.”

“I’m Autumn’s sister,” Zoey said. Giving me a wink, and looking a lot more devious than her deceptively cute appearance seemed capable of when I first met her, she placed her hands just below my breasts. Shifting up so her thumbs and index fingers nudged the base of my breasts through the bra, she leaned forward so our faces were dangerously close together. “So it’s kind of like we both hired you, right?”

That’s- No, that wasn’t right. My movements slowed for a moment as I tried to discern whether or not Autumn had drawn Zoey’s name on purpose. Or if this was just a really unfortunate coincidence that worked out in both their favor. “Zoey-”

“Dance with me, Bella!” The young blonde glided her hands up with no warning and fully palmed my breasts. She didn’t squeeze, but her physical presence alone was enough to make me tense up. Wrong. SO wrong. Thankfully, despite professing that she was into girls earlier, Zoey didn’t violate me like the audacious guy earlier. Instead, she moved away from my chest as easily as she had arrived. Fingertips grazing upwards, she landed her hands behind my head. “Come on. Let’s make it sexy for the boys.”

“Okay, okay,” I whispered, thoughts racing through my head and a healthy dose of panic still coursing through my body. It was daunting enough to be kissing the girl in . . . what, less than two minutes now? But to strip her beforehand? It was pretty clear that she wasn’t just talking about dancing inappropriately close to each other. At the same time, I thought about my own situation–how exposed I was, in just my bra and thong; both were also still stuffed with cash, which made a nip slip or a waistband tear below dangerously possible. And I was far away from home without my keys or a ride until I found my things. 

Before I let myself overthink it, I shifted my hands up from Zoey’s hips until I could feel her bare midriff. Not lingering, I moved upwards until I could fiddle with the hem of her crop top. Time wasn’t on my side at the moment, and there was a very real chance the girl could whine about me to Autumn and make the end of my night more difficult. Instead of teasing, I simply began pulling it up. 

Zoey gracefully raised her arms above her head, still swaying to the music with the occasional sharp movement to match the heavy beat. All the while, she stayed beyond close to me, occasionally letting her chest rub up against mine as I stripped her top off. The crowd cheered us on, of course, and I lifted the top up and over her head before I could lose my nerve. Zoey’s raised arms smoothly came back down, and she took a moment to fix her short blonde hair. She clearly wasn’t shy at all about showing her cleavage and mostly bare top half to such a big crowd. I could see her C cups practically spilling out of the white lace bra, but she just kept moving to the music. I reminded myself to do the same, trying to make my body match the beat, all while stripping this girl I barely knew.

“And my shorts, Bella,” she said. In one fluid motion, her hands floated from the ends of her hair to the sides of my breasts so she could hold me nice and close again. “Not much time left! Don’t you want to see all of me before our kiss?”

I wasn’t like that, but there was no time to get into those details. It was almost 11:59 PM, and apparently Zoey and I both had to be in our lingerie before midnight. “Hold still,” I hissed. Somehow, I kept the idle smirk on my face, but my eyes narrowed ever so slightly. I was still the older girl, and didn’t need the shameless lesbian flirting directed at me.

Barely one minute to strip Zoey the rest of the way down, and give her my first ever girl kiss.

Part Fourteen

Zoey wasn’t making it easy. 

Since we were right up against each other, the only way down to her waist would be putting my face right into her cleavage on the way down. But what choice did I have? We were running out of time. And, with the way Zoey was sensually holding me close by the sides of my breasts, I couldn’t simply step back to get the job done. Cringing at how it was going to look for the audience who all were under the impression that I liked girls, I placed my hands on the young blonde’s hips and began lowering myself along with her shorts. 

Sure enough, she decided to ‘help.’ Abandoning my boobs in order to guide me along, Zoey pulled my head forward and simultaneously jutted out her chest. Now that she was just in a bra, I ended up buried in her cleavage and blushing up a storm until she loosened her grip. I’m sure it was hot for the boys who enjoyed watching two girls doing such things, but it didn’t do anything for me. And, instead of squirming in discomfort, I had to do the counterintuitive thing and keep the show going. Slightly rolling my hips and making a show of grazing my lips against the exposed part of her breasts, I continued doing whatever it took to lean into the nightmare these girls had concocted for me. Anything to rip off the bandaid and get the whole thing over and done with. 

I bent at the hips and quickly yet smoothly pulled Zoey’s tight jean shorts all the way down her legs. Not only was there barely a minute left until midnight, but I knew that any hesitation on my end would potentially land my face in her crotch. From the way my thong rode up a little, I knew that everyone behind me once again had a perfect view of my practically bare ass as I bent over, but did it even matter? Everyone had seen enough of me throughout the evening that another promiscuous pose wouldn’t make a huge difference. Once the shorts were pooled at Zoey’s ankles, I stood back up in a less than sexy way in the name of speed. Meanwhile, she kicked the shorts off her feet, clearly not as concerned as I was about whether or not they would disappear in the crowd.

“Now grind me. And feel me up!” Zoey practically ordered. She winked at me, and kept her voice low enough that only I would hear it over the pounding music. Before I could utter a single word of protest, she swiveled on her heel and backed up, pushing her ass up against me. I almost lost my balance, but managed to grab her hips more on reflex than anything else. Belatedly remembering that this was a performance, I pushed a confident smile back on my face as I reluctantly grinded left and right with the lingerie clad girl. Not playing along could result in my clothes being kept from me, as Zoey could easily sway her older sister. So I sucked it up and went for it. Letting my hands drift up her bare midriff, I cupped the sides of her boobs and hoped that would be enough. 

Obviously, it wasn’t.

Zoey took my hands in her own. She guided me until I was fully holding her breasts, then pressed me down for a squeeze. My palms were mostly just on her bra cups, but my fingers ended up sinking into the bare curves above. “Like you mean it, Bella!” And then she let go, dropping her hands to roam my thighs as she danced against me. This time, I didn’t have the excuse that she was leading me. Swallowing my pride, if there was even any left at this point, I gave a hard squeeze to Zoey’s boobs. And, as I tried to stay in the moment with my dancing, I continued to grope her over the bra. It was hard not to notice some of the guys in the room appreciating the latest turn of events, while the girls in my view seemed either amused or judgmental. At Zoey’s directive, I leaned forward and sank a deep kiss into her neck when she offered it to me. 

“Switch,” Zoey whispered a few seconds later. I don’t know why she bothered telling me, since she just began leading the maneuver herself. Pivoting while brushing my hands off her chest, the blonde slid past me on the table-stage. The way she bumped me almost caused me to fall off, until she grabbed my hips from behind to save me from the lack of balance she had caused in the first place. 

Before I knew it, she was pulling me into her. I tried to keep my expression the same as I had been doing all night, though keeping a sultry smirk was difficult when I was screaming on the inside. This was not like me. At ALL. And yet here I was, acting like a lesbian slut with Autumn’s eighteen year old sister. Hardly thinking twice about it, I began grinding my ass against Zoey, keeping with Katy Perry’s beat. Just like I had done with her, Zoey glided her hands up from my hips and reached her hands around to grab my boobs. And I let her. Unlike my reluctant approach, the blonde dance-embracing me from behind didn’t bother with sideboob. She went right for it, grasping my breasts with a much harder opening squeeze than I had given her. 

My lips parted in shock, which I could only imagine looked like something a lot more damning to everyone watching. She was- Zoey was . . . Before I could come to terms with how experienced and effective her touch was, the girl yanked out all of the cash from both halves of the bra with one hand, and used her other hand to give another assertive squeeze over one of the cups, this time pushing in with her thumb to tweak my nipple through the fabric. 

“Thirty seconds!” a male voice yelled, to a cheer from the rest of the room.

Part Fifteen

Twenty-nine seconds, and I was going to be kissing a girl. 

Somehow, this whole ordeal had been twisted into me dreading the very time that was supposed to mark the end of me demeaning myself by pretending to be a stripper. Speaking of reprieves turning into things being worse than they were before, I immediately lost the mental countdown I had started when Zoey gave a sharp pinch to one of my nipples before retreating out of my bra cups. That should have been good, but I learned /why/ she stopped groping me a moment later. 

The eighteen year old slightly pulled away from my body, and deftly undid the clasp of my bra. 

I let out a light gasp, but immediately regained my composure. Trying to look completely calm and comfortable, I prayed that the idle smirk on my face was still selling that I wasn’t freaking out about all this. My chest was still covered, but only just. The now loose bra cups shifted here and there on my chest as my unfettered boobs slightly swayed with every little movement. I wasn’t dancing as much due to the risk that it posed to my undone bra, but it’s not like I could freeze in terror. My body remained fluid, or at least as fluid as I could manage under the circumstances. This had gotten even more degrading and slutty than before, but I still clung to the idea that I shouldn’t be showing the room that I was beyond mortified. Half naked and confident was still better than half naked and embarrassed, right?

Zoey firmly gripped my hips and pulled me back into her. Once I got the unspoken directive, I began more actively grinding my backside against her, isolating my hips as best as I was able from my upper half.  She then traced her fingertips up my sides until she was poised to return to the position she had before. Reaching under my loose bra cups, she gripped my bare breasts with her hands and gave a hard squeeze to both of them. 

I couldn’t help but gasp again. She was clearly going for more pain than pleasure. “Zoey!” I hissed. For all of one second, I tried to turn my head back towards her before realizing it was impossible due to how closely our bodies were as we continued our performance for the crowd. My words were absolutely pointless, too. She gave a few more squeezes, roughly exploring my boobs with her fingers and thumbs, and went so far as to pinch my nipples a couple times now that she had better access than before. I tried to take some solace in the face that her hands in addition to the bra were keeping me more covered than just the latter, but that was hardly a silver lining when my entire reputation as a dancer and a typically good student had been warped beyond recognition at this point. 

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, I heard Zoey’s voice in my ear. “Arms up,” she whispered, “Sway those hips.”

I took a deep breath, hardly able to believe that I was willingly going along with all this. Allowing another girl–a girl who hadn’t quite graduated from high school–to feel me up, to dictate how our dance would go, and so much more. Even on the car ride over, the impending night seemed like it would just be a little bit uncomfortable. But not this. I only hesitated for a second, when I felt a HARD pinch on both my nipples. Flinching and unable to stop a slight squirm of my body as I sharply inhaled, I had to deal with Zoey getting on my case before I could recover from the unexpected jolt of pleasure-pain.

“Bella!” she hissed, “I said arms up!!”

I obeyed. Immediately. Not abruptly, as the professional dancer within me was still trying her very hardest to split the difference between ‘I’m a stripper’ and ‘I’m trained to perform properly.’ Raising my arms and allowing my body to sway and naturally move in the new position, I was caught off guard when I heard Autumn’s piercing voice over the speakers due to both her drunk sounding tone and how closely she was holding the DJ’s microphone to her lips. “TEN.”

In all my reluctant lesbian activity with Zoey, I hadn’t noticed that someone had projected a count to midnight on the wall off to my side. I wasn’t even sure where it was coming from, but that wasn’t my concern at the moment. I was almost time to kiss a girl. It’s not like I was repressed. Would I have agreed to any of this if I was? If someone had dared me to do a kiss like this at a quiet sleepover, I probably would have. It’s not like it would mean anything. But now that the whole room had been informed that I was ‘into girls,’ every single thing I did with Autumn’s little sister would be taken the wrong way. Zoey might be shameless, but that didn’t mean that I was. And this /would/ mean something, at least in terms of how everyone else saw it. 

“NINE.”

Most of the crowd joined Autumn in the countdown. There really was no backing out now, was there? The peer pressure was real, and I had already done so much as the party’s stripper. If I bailed on the midnight kiss, then the bitch of a blonde running this show would have an excuse to follow through on the threatening implications she had made earlier. And then there was Heather, who was honestly a lot more intimidating in terms of what she might do if I didn’t put on a good show. Plus she seemed a lot more sober than Autumn, unless she just did a better job of hiding her inebriation. Either way, crossing one or both of the girls at this point would be a horrible idea. 

“EIGHT.”

“SEVEN.”

Out of nowhere, Zoey whisked my bra off. Over my boobs, past my head, and up my arms. I screamed from the newfound exposure, but my voice was completely drowned out by a crowd-wide “SIX,” as well as a ton of gasps and fingers pointing at my now fully bare chest as those that were watching me and Zoey got the attention of those that had temporarily turned to watch the clock. Anyone who hadn’t been staring at us before in anticipation of the kiss was certainly looking now. 

“FIVE.”

Zoey held my arms above my head and used them like strings, jerking them left and right to make my boobs jiggle for everyone as my chest naturally moved back and forth in the opposite direction of my arms. Less a dancer’s reaction, and more due to basic physics. For all the efforts I had made to play it cool thus far, I could only imagine how dark the blush on my cheeks was. 

I was topless! In public! 

Letting go of me when she felt my belated resistance, the young blonde bunched up my dark bra and threw it into the crowd. I watched in horror as it disappeared into the hands of a guy I didn’t even know. How was I supposed to get it back now?! I was up on the table-stage, and he was deep enough in the audience that I wouldn’t be able to push through without getting groped by everyone that could get their hands on me like earlier. 

Pressing her lips against my ear, Zoey muttered, “Ready, slut?”