The Dancer, Part Nine
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.