Algebra 101

It was my first year of college and my parents had saved for years, to get me there. I was there, although I was indeed broke. Being so far from home was the worst part of it I guess, being that no one could actually be with me. I was truly on my own. For the first few months, I made it, it was tough and money was tight, but I made it. Some of the classes were hard, but I had some great teachers. Algebra was the hardest, but it was also the class with the best teacher. Mr. Jemison was always willing to help, and never minded taking extra time out of non class hours to work one on one with his students.

Once my money began to run low, I knew I had to do something, and of course the answer was to find a job. Experience was definitely something I was lacking, so my options were limited. I spent the evenings going from one restaurant to the other, many of which were hiring, but none that could work with my school hours. I had not decided on a specific major, or I could work on a pre-profession program. But considering it was already mid-term, I was out of luck there. It seems like I had covered every coffee shop, and every mini-mart in the area, when I came across a tiny club called “The Toy Box”. It was pretty obvious that is was a strip club, marked with all those XXX’s on the door and sign. Believe it or not the place looked pretty cozy, and I needed a drink BAD.

When I pulled in the thoughts of going to in to a female strip club for a drink crossed my mind as weird, Okay really weird, not that I thought for a moment I wouldn’t fit in, or have even a lack of self confidence. I had never actually been with another woman, but I had kissed my best friend in high school, while the locker room of basketball players watched, of course I had never lived that one down. I didn’t consider myself Bi, but I did find the female body pretty in it’s own way. If there was any thing that my parents and family had instilled in me, it was self confidence. It was shortly after my 19th birthday, and the county where I was in school, that was legal drinking age. So in I walked, with the intentions of drinking a beer, watching a few dances and trying to devise a plan of just where I was going to get gas money for the rest of the week. Not a smart plan, but it was the plan, at the time.

The place was dark, and mostly empty, since it was a Wednesday afternoon, except for a couple guys at the bar, and one or two sitting with a dancer in the lounge area. I went directly to the bar, and after presenting my I.D. began nursing a cold draft. I took a few minutes to look around, was winked at by one of the guys at the other end of the bar, and then made my way to a table where I might find refuge in the dark.

I sat at the little corner table for an hour or so when I was approached by a man in, (of all things) a business suit. The man extended his hand and flashed a smile that spoke money. “Hi, I’m Mr. Taberson, but please call me Tony. I’m sorry it took me so long to get over for your interview.”

I cleared my throat and looked at him with what I am sure read total confusion. “um I think you have the wrong person. I’m just having a drink, and trying to relax for a while.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. You just looked like a dancer.” He scratched his head, and continued to stare at me. “I mean, look at you, you are incredible.” He brushed my hair which was a natural blond, and then ran his hands over my shoulder. “Forgive me if I sound rude of come across too bold, but honey you are a knock out. You mind standin up for a minute?”

I hesitated for a moment and then thought what the hell. I stood up and just for kicks ran my hands through my own hair and down my sides. “Damn girl, I would be willing to start you out with an hourly pay, if you would dance for us.

“What do you mean an hourly pay”? I asked.

“Here, the dancers work for tips, that’s their pay, but I would pay you and hourly if you would reconsider.”

I thought for a moment and knew my poor mother would go completely ballistic if she knew what I was considering. But I needed money, and by the way things were going, I was going to have to walk to class for the couple of weeks, until my parents could send more. It wasn’t like it would be a permanent thing, just a few weeks. “Okay,” I said reluctantly. “But only temporarily, I go to school here at Arksford and I cant let anyone find out about this.”

“Honey your secret is safe with me, let’s you get up for an audition,”

“Now, you want me to dance now?”

“Well sure, is that Okay?” I didn’t answer, and after a moment he had summonsed the waitress to bring me not a drink, but a couple of drinks. Once those were down, NOW, was just fine.

I picked out an outfit, with the help of Goldie, one of the other dancers. And within just a few minutes, I found myself taping pasties on my nipples and picking out a song. I was introduced by a voice that seemed to come from no where. And my song started. Scared was an understatement, but the alcohol helped, a lot. My body moved, I shook my ass, and titts, for several songs. And by the end of the evening I left with not only 150 dollars in tips, but a job.

I danced several nights a week, and the money was great. So far so good. One afternoon, Nancy, a good college friend of mine, caught up with me in the hall on the way to our Algebra class. “You know some of the other girls were noticing the way Mr. Jemison has been looking at you, are you like seeing him or something?”

“What?” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Of course not. Why?”

“It’s just a question. I mean you know he is still young for a professor, late twenties maybe, and so adorable, and we, I mean I, was just wondering.”

“Absolutely not, Nancy, you should know better than to even ask.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Forget I asked.”

We walked on, but what she said did make me curious. So I made it a point to take notice of any out of the way looks or actions from him, and I honestly didn’t notice anything. Once class was over, Mr. Jemison asked to see me. So I waited on the classroom to empty. Nancy walked by me and winked, I rolled my eyes, but smiled a sly smile in return.

“So,” he said. “Are you still looking for a job?”

“I didn’t know others were aware that I was looking. News sure travels fast.”

He smiled, and let out a small chuckle. “I wasn’t being nosey. Just a little worried,”

“Mr. Jemison,” I started kindly.

“Call me Chuck,” He said with a smile.

“Chuck. I found a job, one that will tie me over for a while. Then next year I hope to be able to enter a program for my major, that’s once I decide on one.”

“Well good.” The room was quiet for a moment and I could tell he was about to ask me where.

“You know I have class in about 10 minutes, and really need to be going.” I didn’t give him time to ask another question, just hurried along so I wouldn’t have to come up with any answers.

It was Friday night and I was scheduled to work the 8pm to 2 am shift, I didn’t like the hours but that is when I made the most money, so to complain would only be hurting myself. It was probably 9 or so, and I had just finished my dance. I had been invited over to a table to enjoy some flirting and drinks, when I caught a glimpse of the one thing I could not believe. Mr. Jemison, was coming in around the bar, and I turned immediately in hopes that he wouldn’t see me. I risked a few glimpses to make certain I saw what I thought I had seen, and indeed it was him. He was drinking a beer, and talking to one of the other dancers.

After a few minutes, Maggie the dancer who had been enjoying his company, slipped me a note. It read, song request Nasty Dancer, I would love to buy you a drink. Mr. J. I folded it , and looked in his direction. Our eyes met, and he smiled. For the first time, I saw him in a completely different light. He winked at me, and I feel my face burn with blush. I don’t know how I summonsed the courage to put the song in line, but I did, then it happened my song was up and I was on the stage ready to show him what I had. He had moved to sit directly in front of me, money in hand, though I didn’t see how much. And so I danced and I danced.

Shook my ass directly in his face, where he placed a five in between my ass cheeks, I rubbed my own dark nipples, and he put another five in between my titts. Security was tight there, but not tight enough that he didn’t manage a quick rub up the front of my g-string, and there he slipped another bill inside. I laid on my back and spread my legs for him, raising my hips to the music in rhythm, and touched my ass underneath. I knew I needed to stop before we got caught. The song ended, and I came off the stage, and looked for Chuck. He found me instead, and told me he wanted a lap dance. “40 bucks,” I told him.

He smile, and handed me a 100 dollar bill. “A PRIVATE lap dance,” he said.

I couldn’t stop the look of shock on my face. “How private”? I asked.

“As private as I can get for my money, angel.”

I took the money, smiled and lead him to a room that no one, NO ONE, knew about except the dancers and the guys willing to pay for a PRIVATE lap dance. It was a rather small room, with scattered couches, and I led him through a door off to the side, it was locked but he and I were allowed to enter. It was a little larger, black lights lots of smoke, loud music, and A LOT of sex. There were probably 40 or so people counting the dancers and the ones who had paid for the PRIVATE dance. I stopped and looked at him, he was smiling from ear to ear. “You know I’m not sure what 100 bucks will get you.” I smiled, after all it was intended to be a joke.

To my complete surprise he pulled out another 100 bill. But I didn’t take it, just lead him to a couch and sat him down. The music was so incredibly intense, and moans from the others around us were even more intense. I began to remove the pasties from my nipples, but another dancer stopped me and said “You know you can’t do that in here.” She smiled and said “Let me do it for you.” Carla was HOT, one of the hottest dancers there, at the time the only thing she wore was her thongs and fish net, along with her 5 inch heels. My out fit was close to the same, in fact the only difference was my 4 inch heels.