Against the Grain

Chapter 1 - My First Day

Chapter 1 - My First Day

"Please welcome to the stage - CANDY!" Brett's voice rings through the club over the speakers. He's got one of those dry radio voices, great for a late night show host. "Candy," ugh.I really hate that name. But I couldn't think of anything better when I applied for the job, and it kind of stuck. Becky told me it's fine, though it's hard to believe her when she pokes fun at me for it too.Focus, Janiya. Get on stage. It's your turn to dance.

My stomach is churning. I can't remember ever being this nervous. The floor is mostly empty. No surprise there, really; it's not even 6:00 on a Wednesday. But still, I feel like dying.What if they hate it? What if they hate *me*?I hold the rail as I walk up the steps.Maybe I should've picked shorter heels.The crimson leather feels nice against my calves, as it should. I spent the vast majority of my birthday money on work clothes. I remind myself that I look damn good as I clean the poles, and a glance around the room gives me a proper read of the audience.

Six guys. Becky's already talking to one of them, so really more like five. One is sitting at the edge of the stage. He looks to be in his 40s. Not ugly, but not handsome either. Confident though, that's for sure. The look on his pale face tells me he's done this many times. Balding a bit, and somewhat out of shape, the onlooker wears an expensive-looking silver watch on a hand that props up his face.I'm gonna have to dance for *him,* aren't I?

My song starts. Of course it's rock. Seems like that's all they play here. The silver lining is that I just have to make it through one song. That's the name of the game for now: dances that are short and sweet while I learn the ropes. I grab a pole, the one further from the man, where none of the sixteen close-up seats are filled.Let's just take it slow to start.It's easy to ignore the "crowd" under the dull blue lights, but that doesn't stop the feeling of eyes boring into me. I sway my hips to the beat, making slow circles around the pole, hanging my weight off of it. Some day I'll learn tricks, but for now I'm focused on surviving this dance. After a few rotations, I let go of the pole and take to exploring my body.

The texture of my bra catches slightly against my hands. I picked it because the lace reveals everything and nothing at the same time, the sheer fabric just barely obscuring my nipples, already hard as rocks. I focus my attention on stage-guy as I dance. He's engrossed in my performance, and I see money in his hand.Fuck it. College doesn't pay for itself, right?I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, dragging the straps slowly down my shoulders. My body feels electric, dancing half-naked in front of complete strangers, some of them decades older than me. Becky winks at me from her spot at the bar. That woman could run this place all by herself on the busiest day of the year. My bra falls to the floor as I get down on my knees, crawling forward.

"Hey, baby." The man leans forward in his chair.

My heart is in my throat. "Hey, sugar." I arch my back, shoving my ass in the air and pushing my boobs into the stage. This new position of my cleavage must be a fine sight for the voyeur. I thrust my hips against an invisible partner, rocking my body back and forth. My guy leans in close and grabs my elbows, pulling me upward. I oblige, letting him put me on my knees.

"I'm Candy. Enjoying the show so far?" My hands find support in his shoulders as my hips roll seductively near the floor.

"My name's Jason. I certainly am, though I'd love to enjoy your body too."

My hands move with a mind of their own, pulling Jason toward me so that his face lands between my breasts. I squeeze them together against him and shake my chest back and forth. When the song comes to a close, I push Jason playfully away and pull on the side of my thong, waiting for him to make good on his role in this exchange. He slides a bill into my underwear, lingering a little too long and a little too close to my pussy.Holy shit, is that a fifty?

I stand back up, the adrenaline of the moment fading. A bead of sweat rolls down my face. I grab my bra and the bills Jason must have thrown when I wasn't looking before heading off-stage. I go straight to the dressing room, desperate to sit and decompress for a moment.

"Holy shit!" I say to nobody at all. That was both exhilarating and terrifying. A giant sigh escapes my throat as I slump into my chair. I imagined a strip club to be a dirty place, but they keep it nearly immaculate back here. The light grey, laminate countertop is split into stations sectioned off by small wooden dividers. Each station also comes with a tacky, but comfortable, pseudo-barber chair that matches the carpet. Everything is clean and tidy.

I watch my reflection clean itself up in the mirror, which reminds me of a movie theater, the way the yellow lights dot its dark wooden frame. I grab a rag and clean myself up, then tuck the cash into my clutch. $72 in all, and for just three minutes of dancing. Way better than anything I'd ever made at McDonald's. After the 15% the club takes...Maybe I should ask Mr. Johnson to re-teach me percentages tomorrow at school.Brett told me I could take up to five minutes in the back after each stage dance, but then I'd have to go back out to the floor. I guess I'd better see if Jason wants a lap dance.Here goes nothing.

I walk back onto the floor and see Jaosn sitting right where I left him. I decide to be bold. I walk up to him and sit right on his lap, draping an arm behind his neck and crossing my legs at the knees. His erection presses into my ass as his hands caress my legs and lower back.

"Ready to continue the show?"

He looks at me smugly, not caring to hide his wandering gaze. "You must be new. I keep telling them to get some black chicks in this joint. Looks like somebody finally listened to me. I can already tell that you and I are going to have fun tonight." I cringe internally at his comment. I expected misogyny and racism, but still. I must have made a face, because Jason narrows his eyes at me. "What? You're not interested?" he demands.

"No baby, I'm ready to have some fun with you." Trying to recover some ground, I stroke the back of his head gently. Jason pushes his head against my hand, catlike, clearly touch-starved.

"Good. You should make it a point to learn what I like, Candy. I'm here a lot, and I expect we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other."

Oookay. Trial by fire then, it seems.I fake a smile. "Gladly. Tell me about yourself, Jason. What do you do for work?" My eyes flicker to the wedding band he wears on the hand near my waist. His hands are more telling of his age than his face. They're rough and calloused, scratchy against my skin. Prominent scars cover his palms.

"I run a construction company. I've been doing so for twenty years now. Started when I was just a teen, working for my dad. It wasn't long before he trained me to take over the company. When he retired, I took over full time. I won't lie, I kind of miss the other side of things, but the pay is worth the burden of leadership."

Good, talk all you want. It's easier to feign interest when I can just look and listen."Do you ever do any of the work with your employees? I imagine it gets lonely at the top." I let a note of pity slip into my voice as I say this, my hand still stroking the back of his head. This is the easy part, playing people. Ever since I was little, I've found it easy to read into others' feelings and desires, at getting them to think that I wanted what they wanted.

"I wish, but no. Can't have anyone thinking I'm one of them. They need to respect me as their superior. It's okay, though. I always have some project to work on at home." He says this introspectively, his gaze growing distant.

"Yeah? What are you working on lately?" My curiosity is lightly piqued.

Jason's eyes come back into focus. Clearly, I've touched on something good. He seems eager to share. "I've got this '58 Bel Aire I'm rebuilding the engine on. Do you know cars? Nevermind. Of course you don't. My wife hates it, but I don't care. She has her shoes and clothes, so I get my car. Anyway, the carburetor's been a bitch. Some dickwad who had the car before me installed a custom-made one, poorly..."

Jason's eyes drift away from me as he continues to talk excitedly. I actually do know a lot about cars, but he doesn't need to know that. Let him play the role he wants, and I can play the naive eighteen-year-old he wants me to be. I let him talk a while longer before deciding to take control. My free hand finds the hem of his shorts and climbs up his thigh. That gets his attention. His eyes snap to my face.

"Care to take this to a VIP room, stud? I know you're excited to talk about your car and all, but I figure I can excite you even more about something else." I give him a sultry wink to accentuate the point.

Jason answers with a wry chuckle. "My, you move fast, don't you, Candy? Sure, we can do a dance. I'm sure your tits make for better company than your conversation does anyway."

I've misstepped. Now I know to wait longer in the future. To talk longer. Club etiquette is new to me, but I'm a quick learner. I grab his hand and stand up, letting him be the one to guide us upstairs to the rooms. He didn't even acknowledge the mention of VIP; he just went.Hmm. Must be a successful business he runs.

Jason hands the bouncer, Shane, a twenty and takes me back to the furthest room. He takes off his belt and flannel, which seems presumptuous, but I don't say anything about it. Instead, I ask him, "How long do you want me for, love? I assume you know the pricing structure."

He shrugs, sits on the couch, and says, "I guess that depends. Is this just a dance, or something more?"

Ice creeps through my veins. I take a quick mental inventory of the situation. This guy is cocky and offensive, sure, but nothing's signalled blatant danger so far. I'm probably okay to decline. Shane seems like a good guy, and he's close by if I get into trouble. I scoff lightly under my breath and climb on top of Jason, spreading my legs and pressing my crotch into his. "Yes, baby. Just a dance."

He sighs disappointedly. "Should've known you'd be a prude. I'll get my cock in you someday though, just you wait. 15 minutes then."

Gross.I pretend to ignore his comment, though it does bother me. "VIP for 15 minutes? You know you still have to pay for the full hour, right?"

"Of course I know that! Just get to it, bitch."

Now I'm angry. I have to remind myself to play nice. "Are you the talkative type? Or would you rather just enjoy the moment?"

He pauses. I'm not sure he's been asked the question before. After a few seconds, he answers politely. "I'll just take the time to enjoy your body, thanks."

Jason's hands find their way to my ass in seconds. Touching is fine, as long as he stays away from my pussy. I grind myself against him, enjoying the stimulation. It's been several months since I've had sex. My last girlfriend was a lying cheater, and I haven't found it in me to connect with anyone since. Jason pushes himself back against me, moving in tandem with my gyrations.

We go on like this for some time, then I turn around and bend over in front of him, shaking my ass for him to see. I feel vulnerable in this position, but there's also something exciting about relinquishing some control. A sharp smack cracks against my left cheek. Jason is clearly enjoying the moment. I let out a yelp, and he chuckles.

"Careful there, baby. That'll cost extra," I joke. My hips push back against his hand, letting him grope me as much as he wants. Somewhat awkwardly due to positioning, I reach back and take my bra off again, letting it fall to the floor. Jason rewards the action by grabbing my hips and pulling me roughly onto his lap, giving him the access to grope my chest. I hate and love the attention at the same time, but I decide to lean into it, moaning into his touch and reaching a hand back to grab his head again. Then the inevitable happens.

Jason slides a hand conspicuously downward, pushing inside my panties without giving me time to object. His rough fingers clumsily grope at my lips in an attempt to get inside before I grab his wrist.

"No sir. That's not allowed. Stop it."

Jason pushes my hand away and continues his assault. "C'mon baby. You'll love it! And I promise I'll tip well." He marks his point by thrusting his penis against me from below.

I consider my options. Who knows what he'll do if I challenge his advances. I really don't want this, but I also don't know how far he'll push if I acquiesce. The third song is almost over, so we're more than halfway through. Is he a man of his word? Probably not.

"Fine," I exclaim angrily, "But you're not allowed to enter me, understood? I have no problem getting you kicked out of the club if you do." I don't actually know if I could do so. They may value a regular more than a new, inexperienced dancer. But I need to exert whatever perceived power I have.

Jason laughs dryly. "Sure, doll. But only if you return the favor." I elect to ignore the comment for now. Maybe the 15 minutes will be up before he decides it's my turn to stroke him.

Reluctantly, I push myself against his unappealing gropeage. He respects the shifted boundary and stays at the surface of my entrance, though I do feel an odd motion beneath me. I look down to see his erect cock bobbing between my legs, precum leaking from its uncut tip.

"Well? Get on with it, woman," he barks.

Begrudgingly, I reach a hand down to his member. My gut wrenches as I accept the gravity of the situation I'm in.Maybe it'll be worth it,I try to reassure myself. "I swear to god, you'd better not cum, prick."

Jason lets out a genuine laugh at this, which pushes more precum from his "tip". I begin to stroke him, slowly at first, still pushing myself against his hand. Shamefully, I recognize that my own arousal has been growing. It's nearly impossible that he hasn't noticed this too, but I'm certainly not going to draw extra attention to it. We sit there, my hands on a stranger's cock, that stranger's hands on my chest and vadge, stroking each other for what feels like an eternity. At the conclusion of the fourth song, a whisper echoes in my ear.

"Suck my dick, bitch."

I let go of him immediately and firmly exclaim "No!" This is a line I'm not willing to cross.

"Fine. I'll take my money to someone else then." Jason shoves me off of his lap and gets up, putting his clothes back on.

I rush out of the room to find Shane, who's waiting at the top of the stairs. "Shane, this guy's being real pushy and I think he's gonna try to stiff me. Can you help me out?" I give him puppy doll eyes, and it's only now that I realize I left my bra in the room with Jason.

Shane's eyes dart to my chest and back. "AGAIN?" he exclaims. "That dick. This is the last time."

Shane lumbers back to the VIP room. The guy is built like a tank, but from what I've seen he's really just a big softie, and I don't think he gets angry all that often. Still, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. Jason stumbles out of the room, pushed forward by Shane, both of them heading toward me.

"Pay the lady, NOW," Shane tells him, "plus ageneroustip."

Jason, obviously flustered, digs through his pockets for his wallet and shakily hands me $425. Shane leads him downstairs and out the main door.I wonder if that's the last I'll see of him?

I retrieve my bra and head downstairs to the dressing room, shaken. It's a good haul for the night so far, but I'm not sure about this line of work.Is this gonna be a regular thing?I didn't become a stripper to turn tricks. Shane finds me and asks if I'm alright. Maintaining what little composure I have left, I look him calmly in the face and tell him that I am, even though I'm not.

He retreats to his post, and I sit there in vague silence for a long time, just breathing. A couple of other dancers come in and out of the room, starting their shifts for the evening. I don't really know anyone yet, so nobody makes an effort to talk to me. I just sit and observe. When I finally look back at my phone, the time reads 7:42.Have I really been back here more than an hour? Brett's gonna be pissed.I scramble to put myself back together and go back out front. My shift ends in eighteen minutes. Maybe I can decompress with Becky before I go.

When I leave the dressing room, Brett gestures for me to come talk to him. "Shane told me what happened. Don't worry about the extra long break. See Renata at the bar to pay out, then go home. If you want to come back, I'll see you on Friday at the same time?" I nod and walk to the bar. I'm surprised at how protective they are of me here. Becky is nowhere to be seen; she must be with a client. Renata tells me I owe $75. I pay her, go to the dressing room, and get ready to leave. I haven't decided yet if I'm coming back or not, but I'm sure Paris will help me figure out what to do tomorrow. As I leave, I notice a strangely familiar car in the parking lot: an early aughts grey Mustang with a broken taillight. I can't quite place it, so I file the thought away in my brain for later, where it nags at my subconscious the entire way home.

I've never been so happy to see my bed.