Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Dancer by Lady Lucia*

   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, girl.  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.  On with the show!"

   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.