The Dancer, Part Eight
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 . . .”