Chapter 7: PART SEVEN: (18+) Client Work

Jamie clutched the duffel bag full of clothes that Alexandra had put together for her. The biggest bulge was the platform heels she’d tried walking in a few days before. They had turned out to be useful for pole dancing, for gripping and turning. She and Alexandra had shoved all the furniture in their tiny dorm room to one side, so Alex could draw a shiny metal pole extending from floor to ceiling. It was hardly a pole dance studio, but it had worked for the special kind of “training” they’d devised.

It had been an unusual crash course; she’d given thought to how she’d look good, and what she might be into doing, with plenty of input from Alexandra. Before trying any actual moves, she’d let Alexandra position her against the pole to draw lines of motion with the Burin. These looked like arcs of shiny darkness in the air, or shimmering, blurred refractions of her own arms and legs moving. When Alex finished one set, it was on to the next position, new lines and motion around her arms and legs, and so forth.

For some of the more complex positions, each had taken over an hour, some of which she spent upside down until Jamie felt the blood rushing to her head. Still, as Jamie had pointed out herself, the whole process was an awful lot faster than practicing every day for months or years. She had to accept some measure of discomfort and grueling physical strain to get drilled up so quickly.

She was surprised every time when it worked—when she threw her body into a sultry slide on the floor, lifting her hips up and stretching her legs out, or spun around into a kneel with one leg tucked under her and the other knee at her chin.

After a week of practice and being drawn and more practice, Jamie knew eight ways to grab the pole—those were quick to draw—and half as many spins, some flashier than others. In such a short span of time, her girlfriend had granted her the body and muscles to pull off acrobatic feats, and the muscle memory, or whatever it was, to put them into practice.

Now she herself had to will that destiny into motion. She practiced her sexy, confident stride and thought about becoming Alex’s dream girl. Her own dream girl. A girl who’d blow everyone’s mind.

As she walked along the sidewalk towards the strip club at the very end of the street, she noticed men eyeing her ass. It wasn't hard to figure out why. Even in lower heels, with a simple wrap skirt that fell to her knees, she was eye-catchingly tall and dressed to be noticed. She hadn’t wanted to walk into this kind of job interview looking like the shy nerd she still felt like inside; on the other hand, she now felt like a stripper strutting her stuff on her way to work. How did I ever get to this point? she wondered. If you told me six months back that I’d be auditioning to shake my tits and ass…

"All right, kid," Gail said as she stopped outside the door, interrupting her train of thought. "This is it—your first visit to a strip joint, and you’re going inside as the product! Hope it’s what you always dreamed of!”

As soon as she opened the door, below the big neon letters, loud music poured out of it and enveloped Jamie in a wave of bass. They stepped inside, into what seemed to be the main room: a wide open space with a bar across one side and two small stages against the back wall for live performers, which reminded Jamie of the dancing platforms at the queer party.

Besides assorted clusters of seating, the focal point of the room was a long runway extending from a curtain on the back wall to a round platform with a pole. Was this where she was going to audition? She suddenly wished she had Alexandra at her side, despite their mutual decision that “bring along your doting, protective, louder girlfriend” didn’t match the confident and sexy stripper vibe.

A man approached them, clasping Gail’s hand in a fraternal manner. He wore a black blazer over a white shirt with a Hard Rock Cafe logo on it, and blue jeans. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, framing a face that was young but slightly weathered; he wasn't bad looking, Jamie thought, in a greasy sort of way. When he turned to her he held out a business card. "I'm Carlo," he said.

"Jamie," she replied, taking his card. She wasn't sure what to say next, and her eyes darted around nervously. There was nobody else in the big room, save for an elderly man in a denim jacket, who appeared to be aware of very little beyond the drink in his hand.

"So you're the one who got turned into a girl?” Carlo was askin. “What'd you do, fall into a sacred spring or something?"

"No," Jamie said. "I—uh—"

Gail cleared her throat and nudged Jamie's shoulder with hers. "It's a very painful story, Carlo. Jamie's fiancée comes from a family of witches, and they really didn't want the two getting married. They cursed with the form of a beautiful vixen," and here she made an elaborate flourish towards said vixen, “until she can come up with the dowry.”

"Yeah," said Jamie. "It sucks... I can't believe how, like, humiliating this all is! A woman!" Jamie rolled her eyes inwardly. How long was she going to have to keep this act up. “But Gail said it could be a good opportunity to make some cash, and I know how to dance… so I’m grateful for the chance to try out.”

Carlo leered. "You don't have to sound so excited about it." His expression faded into a more pleasant smile. "But hey, we're here to help you get used to the idea. You can take your clothes off right now if you want and I can assess the damage, so to speak. Or we can go upstairs to the VIP room." He glanced over at the old man. "Lester won't bother us, but you never know who else might wander in early when I don't lock the place up."

Jamie didn't have to feign shock at the idea that Carlo was going to size her up; she wasn’t actually a reluctant woman, in fact about as far as it was possible to get from reluctant. Although she still wasn't used to the idea that her body would be inspected and assessed, that’s what she was here for, right?

The three of them climbed upstairs, Gail bringing up the rear. Carlo kept his patter going. "So, what did you end up with. C cups? D cups? You're tall, though. I guess those witches didn't want to shrink you into a tiny little helpless girl? I met a transformee once who must have been four foot ten, but stacked…"

She tried to think what an unwilling man would say in her place. "Damn... that would suck! I can't believe how much these tits weigh, though... totally throwing me off all the time. It's damn humiliating." Was that embarrassed enough? Wouldn't guy Jamie just be sullen and silent in this situation? Acting had never been her strong suit.

Gail laughed loudly. "Oh honey, you're adorable—you'll fit right in once you start shaking your butt for tips. Just accept that you're stuck with a hot, jiggly bod for now and you'll be fine." She nudged Jamie again, in the ribs, though Jamie wasn’t sure if the gesture was meant to be encouraging or hinting at something.

The second floor was surprisingly ordinary, like a hotel lounge without much decor besides another pole at one side of the open center. Jamie could see how the dark, leather furniture, glass tables and sleek bar might have a different mystique at night, with the lights low. Gail pushed her towards a small, barely concealed door. "Go get changed in there, sweetie. No need to give Carlo an advance show." Jamie hurried inside, hearing Carlo ask Gail why she was taking such an interest, and breathed a short sigh of relief for the privacy.

She pulled out the outfit she'd decided to wear—if you could call the collection of stretchy straps an outfit. Two triangles of fabric, part translucent, covered her breasts, or at least the upper outside third, revealing cleavage and quite a bit of under-boob. A long thin band extended down her back and connected to a web of filmy, stretchy cord, straps and netting pieces that wrapped around her crotch, with another tiny triangle to cover her sex.

Wrestling her limbs into the loops and strands, figuring out where each piece was supposed to go, was as complicated an obstacle course as anything she’d done while training to be a firefighter. She finally got the flimsy fabric to stretch properly over her labia—she hadn't wanted to shave everything off, but what choice for clothes like this? Then, as suggested by Alexandra, she fixed things in place with a touch of spirit gum here and there. On went the big black platform heels, which Alexandra had recolored to match her spiderweb theme.

She checked herself out in the convenient full-length mirror, meant for girls like her—strippers, or would-be strippers. The effect was striking; her chest looked larger than usual, bulging through the clinging fabric of the bra, and her ass popped out more prominently, thanks to her heels.

Her legs were smooth, shapely and looked ridiculously long, and the web-like straps of her costume—it did feel an awful lot like a costume—accentuated her warm, creamy complexion, making her look pale, a bit goth. She smiled at herself and imagined herself dancing on the main stage downstairs, then brushed the front of the fabric that covered her vulva, her clit. Her other hand reached up to tweak a nipple.

Jamie sighed; this was going to be harder than she expected. She was too nervous to get sexually excited, despite Gail's hint that a flush of arousal could be a real selling point. Surely nobody could just get turned on just like that?

She thought about Alexandra, about kneeling before her and begging her for sex like a dog. Maybe Alex would spank her later, make her ass shake with the force. Hmm, that did it. She felt a surge of heat between her thighs—a familiar feeling, but nothing like the erections she used to deal with. She checked the mirror again: cheeks slightly flushed, nipples standing up, makeup still unsmudged; yes, that was good.

With some effort she pulled the last piece of her outfit on—a filmy black negligee, cut high enough to reveal plenty of leg while still managing to leave her underthings partly concealed. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then stepped out of the dressing area.

Carlo had seated himself on one of the leather couches, watching her approach. "You look great," he said. "Now sit down so I can check your posture."

She sat gingerly on a stool opposite him and crossed her legs. Wait, it occurred to her, am I supposed to be sitting like a guy who’s been cursed to be a girl? She looked startled, and Carlo gave a low chuckle.

“I see. Very ladylike. You have some magical behavior modifications too, eh?” Just the dance moves, Jamie thought, at least as far as I know. “That could come in handy. But show me how you sit down one more time.”

Jamie got to her feet, thinking about how a guy would sit. She plopped down on the stool again with her legs open, and an elbow on one knee. “This is difficult, my body’s… all wrong.” She swung one knee over and tucked her legs on the side, frowning.

“Perfect,” said Carlo. “That’s the awkwardness people associate with your type. All right… Gail said you had a routine prepared?” Jamie inhaled slightly and nodded. Carlo gestured to the area with the pole, and she saw that there was a wide stripe on the floor, to one side of where anyone might be walking; maybe it was meant to mimic the runway downstairs? Jamie went to one end.

“Um… Gail, can you play that song…?” The blonde girl, leaning against the bar, nodded and tapped her phone. A tinny beat began to play: “Firestarter” by The Prodigy. Carlo raised an eyebrow, and Jamie began to dance, shaking her hips from side to side, then turning so they were perpendicular to Carlo’s gaze, and rolling her hips forward in an undulating motion as she swayed her arms over her head.

Her hands glided up along her sides as she bent her knees—then snapped straight back out to the side, throwing her hair over one shoulder. This time she spun completely around to face Carlo again, moving faster than before as she shook her hair like a horse's mane.

She kept going until she was facing the bar counter, then paused briefly to glare at Carlo again as she let her body settle into a pose, her hands raised with fingers spread, her back arched to thrust her posterior out. Then she pulled the negligee open, its fastenings unsnapping, and let it fall to the ground, revealing the web-like straps of her bra and panties.

“Nicely done,” said Carlo, and she felt a flush of heat run up her neck.

Her hips moved slowly in circles; then suddenly she threw them out to one side as she twisted her torso and leaned back to place her hands on the floor, turning around and dropping onto her knees as well. Her hair hung down in front of her face—oh crap, forgot to put it up, what a klutz—but she made the best of it as she twisted and writhed on the floor, scissoring her legs open and lifting her hips. When she rolled over to face him again, she was breathing with exertion, but far from winded.

"All right," said Carlo, "that's better than I expected—"

She rose to her feet, still swaying, and held a finger up. Then she began to run, just a slow trot as she bounced on the toebox of the platforms en pointe, keeping her elbows close to her body as she moved lightly towards the pole. As she reached it she lifted one leg, hooked it around, and hoisted herself up onto the pole, grabbing with one hand high and one hand low.

She swung around once, twice in a ballerina spin, then pushed off the floor into a position where both legs were out, turned upside down, looped her legs around again, and eventually held a pose called “tabletop,” as if lying on her back, but suspended in midair. She swung upside down one more time and placed her hands on the floor to dismount; her legs arced high above her, then she came to a rest in a pigeon pose in front of Carlo.

She looked up at him, eyes gleaming, as if challenging him to say something. She'd done it well, not without her hair getting disheveled, but she felt proud.

Carlo leaned down to look her in the eyes. "Those are sweet behavior modifications. You sure you've only been a girl for... what did you say, Gail? A month?" He grinned, and Jamie blushed deeply. "Not bad—not bad at all."

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"So I’m hired?" asked Jamie, bringing her legs around in front of her chest. If she was pretending to be an embarrassed guy who didn't want to be a girl, she'd dislike the feeling of exposure, right? Her blush was real, though; Carlo's stare was raking over the way she looked and moved, and gave her an intense feeling, like a laser cutting to her core.

"We'll give you two weeks' trial period," said Carlo. "If you don't quit within those two weeks, and if you keep moving like you just did, we'll sign you on as an exotic dancer here. Do you have any questions about the rules?" She looked at Gail uncertainly.

"I'll fill her in, Carlo. She's not going to hook or anything like that, look at her."

"Okay," said Carlo, nodding his approval; then he turned back to Jamie and started talking. "The three big nos of every club: No drugs, no sex, no fighting. I also prefer no drinking while you're on the clock, especially if you're going to do pole work. Provide your own clothes; keep clean; it's minimum wage just like everywhere in this city, but you keep all your tips."

He kept going, clearly not trusting Gail to know the details. "Coordinate with the other girls if you want to do some kind of act together, sanitize surfaces whenever you can. We don't want any scabies here like they have in some joints. Most of all, no touching. If anyone touches you, Vijay or Pug will be right there. Don't touch the customers either, unless you know what you’re doing."

He looked her over again. In the platforms, she was a significantly taller than him, but sitting on the floor she felt like a child. "You gonna do lap dances? Earn that debt off more quickly. Or is that... too humiliating for you?"

Jamie blanched, and let it show. "Uh... I hadn't really thought about it. But I don't like men, so... I might not be comfortable with, uh... intimate contact?"

Carlo laughed. "She really is green! Were you a virgin as a dude, my man? Look, you might want to try it. Lots of queer girls have worked clubs. Lap dances are what the back rooms are for, and up here too; they all have cameras, and you can touch… except in the bikini areas, you get what I'm saying?" She nodded mutely. "If you want... you can practice on me. You do dance pretty sexy, I gotta say."

He took his jacket off and draped it over a chair. Beneath his white shirt, the muscles beneath were hard and defined—and he smelled like a man, Jamie realized with a start. She hadn't smelled that... for a while. She glanced over at Gail again, who shrugged. "We can get out of here whenever you want, Jamie."

"No," said Jamie. "I think this might be interesting."

Carlo smiled. "Is that your magic curse making you girly again, or are you... curious?"

"I've never done this before," Jamie said, "But I can learn." She got to her feet and approached him, keeping eye contact. She lifted one platform and grazed his chest, then placed it on the leather seat next to him.

She leaned towards him, her nearly bare pussy just inches from his legs, and reached out to run her fingertips along his collarbone. She could feel his pulse pounding under his skin. She slid her palms down his chest until she met his belt buckle and pressed her leg against his side, then turned around to crouch in front of him, wriggling her body.

Reaching behind her, she ran her hands up his thighs until they reached his waist, then let go and slid up his left leg, rubbing her ass against his shin. She leaned forwards, bringing her cleavage close to his nose. Carlo looked up at her with interest but keeping his cool. She could see the swelling through his jeans and wondered if she should touch it—no, this was a test of sorts.

With a deep breath, she stepped away from him again, just a little bit. Then she danced, right in front of him, for him. Jamie danced like she thought a stripper should; she writhed, sliding her hips across his view as she ground her bare crotch against an invisible lover, bouncing her thinly concealed pussy in the air. This was… kind of hot, in a way. Especially if she thought about doing it for Alexandra.

She lowered her ass towards his erection, then pulled it away, swinging her leg to straddle him, raising her torso up high to shift and shimmy, letting her breasts sway rhythmically. There was no music; Gail hadn’t cued up anything else, but she had the beat of her own movements to carry her forward.

When she bent over to see him framed between her legs, she saw him staring at her cunt like a hungry man watching steak sizzle on the grill, she stopped abruptly and turned around to stand before him. She dropped one hand between her legs and stroked herself gently. “You like?” she said in what she hoped was a sultry voice. Then she pushed the tiny triangle of fabric aside; brazenly showing him her glistening slit and puffy labia.

Carlo licked his lips and nodded eagerly; he couldn't hide the fact that he liked it, and the thought made something twist inside her; a little bit of power. But Carlo had seen enough girls do this to know how to react without over-reacting. “How much?” he asked, clearly playing the part.

“Oh, honey. Your lap dance is over now, but we can have another one if you have the cash!” said Jamie cheerfully.

Carlo laughed. “All right. I can see you can handle yourself. Shit, I don’t know how you flip the switch like that—I’d be humiliated if I were in your shoes, man. But you act like a perfect little slut sometimes.”

Remembering who she was supposed to be, Jamie’s face dropped. “Oh… oh my god. I don’t know what came over me. God, it was like I was being… controlled by someone else!”

Carlo rolled his eyes. “Okay, sure. Whatever. Look, I don’t care if you were really transformed by a curse or what. You’ve got that mix of coltish, shy and thirsty that I like, and we can bill it as supernatural. But drop the act around me, okay?”

Jamie snapped to attention. “Sir, yes sir!” She’d done this other act, the obedient good girl who followed orders with rigor, for Alexandra all the time.  She knew how to make this one funny and satisfying.

Carlo looked over at Gail, who was now perched on top of the bar. She’d poured herself a martini. “Where do you find these kids, Gail?”

Gail took a sip and swirled her glass some more. “Oh, you know. Around. A warehouse party.” She winked.

***

“I got it! I’m probationary again, but only for two weeks! You officially have a stripper for a girlfriend!” Jamie swung in the door, the duffel bag hanging from one long arm. Out of the complicated undergarments and platforms, she felt as light as a bird.

Alexandra squealed and came to give her a hug. “I knew you could do it, baby! Was the whole routine completely amazing? Blew them away, rolling on the ground orgasming uncontrollably?”

Jamie gave her a huge smile, which Alexandra thought might have been the single most adorable thing she’d ever seen. “I pulled it off great, but get this—the owner also wanted me to act like a guy who didn’t want to be a woman, who was like… embarrassed and humiliated?” Alexandra furrowed her brow, and Jamie told her the whole story.

Alexandra frowned. "There are people who find that sexy? I guess anything can be a fetish… but now I feel silly. We spent all that time giving you dance moves, and the whole time you could have just done this?” She crumpled her face in anguish and grabbed at her own ample breasts. “Noooo! I’ve grown boobs, I’m turning into a woman!”

Jamie cackled, kicking her heels off. “Help, my arms and legs are so dainty and helpless! My poor son… he’s been kidnapped!” Alexandra gaped at that last statement, and then they both burst into peals of laughter.

“But how are you even supposed to dance on a pole in way that says ‘Oopsie! I’m suddenly all curves, eek?’” Alexandra wondered. Jamie twisted her lips in puzzlement.

“I’ve been pondering that. But I think it’s like… supposed to come up more in the context of lap dances? A kind of… shame and unwillingness vibe. I’m not sure I’m into it—I almost screwed up that part of the audition because I just owned what was going on.” Jamie leaned back and put her arms behind her head, stretching. “It is kind of a rush to turn a guy on even when I’m not interested him in the slightest, I guess.”

Alexandra’s mouth changed from a bow to a circle as she gasped. “Wait.. you did a lap dance? We never even talked about that. Are you okay with doing those?”

Jamie thought about it for a moment. “I mean… I guess it was just like in the movies. Or when I was dancing just for you,” she said with a sly grin, looking over at her girlfriend. They’d had an extra-special session the other night that run late and moved away from the pole, the Burin forgotten. “Nowhere near as hot, but like I said… kind of powerful? At least, unless I’m playing ‘boy who doesn’t want to be a girl’ for their kicks.”

“The part I’m not sure about,” she admitted, “is what to do with the dicks. They’re definitely involved, right… I mean, I’m supposed to signal for security if someone whips it out or touches me? And technically I’m not supposed to rub up against a dick… but there is gonna be a hard dick right there. Touching sure seems like it’s bound to happen, in order to earn a repeat customer? And when I think about it… I still get a little squicked out. Is that weird?”

Alexandra shook her head and came to Jamie’s side, putting her arms around her love’s neck and shoulders. “Setting boundaries never makes you weird. You’ve never been into guys, and there’s nothing wrong with being gay, right?”

Jamie gave her a look. “Some girls have dicks too, or need I remind you? You went down on mine about a month ago.”

Alexandra nodded. “Sure, of course. But you’re allowed to have complicated feelings about body parts, especially when you were traumatized by having one attached to you for years. People feel all sorts of ways and nobody can simply change how they feel.”

Jamie gave her a long, appreciative look. “For an artist you’re pretty good with words. I guess I might try it. But I won’t do anything that, like you say, crosses my boundaries.” She looked at Alexandra with affection clear in her face, her eyes. “You don’t think I’m like, a stereotype or something, right? A new girl going right for a slutty job, working in a strip club?”

Alexandra gave her an incredulous look. “Seriously? The thought didn’t cross my mind. I’m proud of you, excited to help, and happy as long as you’re happy with it.” They snuggled into each other, worries forgotten for a time.

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