Chapter 1

I knew it was a weird, daring idea. I just couldn’t have predicted how all of this would go down. I’ve always been wanting to try new things, and from all the things I had been wanting to try, I might have picked the wrong one.

My obsession with the idea started already months before I went on and did it. I was becoming addicted to watching anything that had strippers, escorts, street prostitutes, porn stars, every edgy sex related profession went by on my TV or laptop screen. At first I didn’t know why I was obsessed by all these things. I mean, sure, it was just so different from any other job, which is why most people find it interesting. But there was something more to it. The attention that these girls would get. Attention not for who they were as a person, but really only for what they looked like.

For hours I browsed websites of strip clubs in the city I live in, or even in neighboring cities. Initially just to look at some pictures, to have some idea of the inside of such a club. The stages, the stripper poles, the VIP booths, even the private rooms in some cases. But soon enough, I also started taking notice of any job openings for these clubs.

Almost every one of them had job openings. They were targeting mostly students to make an extra buck. And yes, of course you had to be “presentable”, they often asked about your exact sizes even in the form you could use to apply, and it was usually required to send one or more “representative photos”. Of course I knew what that meant, it made perfect sense.

My thoughts wandered off while browsing those websites, and I imagined myself to be on a stage, swirling around a stripper pole, tens of guys watching me as I’d get undressed, showing off my almost nude, and with time, even nude body. It strangely aroused me, and I found myself masturbating to this idea more often than I would ever dare to admit. It became a downright obsession.

Of course, I wouldn’t actually go through with that. Getting naked in front of a bunch of guys? I wasn’t some kind of slut. In reality, that would probably be scary and gross, people would be treating me harshly, and it wouldn’t at all be as arousing as it would be in my fantasies. Besides, I couldn’t even actually pole dance. So, just a fantasy then. But it was a fantasy that presented itself over and over, and wouldn’t go away for a long time. It started to even get frustrating, to have this one particular image not leaving my mind for months.

Then, on one of the Twitter feeds for the clubs I was following by then, something caught my eye. A club called The Stiletto tweeted “Tonight is ladies night again, all you single or married ladies come enjoy the view!” At first, I was confused. The club wasn’t known to have male strippers. Not usually anyway. I checked out their website more thoroughly than I did last time, and there it was, under Theme Nights.

It turned out that Ladies Night was held every first Tuesday of the month, and it was promoted as an event where women could visit a strip club safely, without having to feel embarrassed about doing so. Whether it was to explore their bisexual side, or having a bachelors party, or simply ‘just to enjoy the feel and sight of our pretty hostesses’, as the website read.

Wait, what? Hostesses, meaning strippers? But then, “feel”? The idea stuck with me, my fantasies ran wild, and I couldn’t let go of it anymore. I just had to go find everything there was to know about it.

The phone was answered with a guy answering a simple “Yes?”.

“Hi. I’m, uh, I have a question about ladies night?”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, um ... well I was just wondering ... on the website of your club, it says, uh, to enjoy the feel and sight ... and I was just wondering, what that, uh...”

“Oh so you’re curious about the girls huh? Well it means what it says, you can look at em nude, touch their tits and pussies, all for the right price of course.”

I was blushing like crazy, even though he used language only guys normally would, as I thought back then, there was an undeniable itch between my legs.

“Oh I see, so...” I had to swallow my nerves. “ ... but no sex, right?”

“Well, no, if you want sex you can come at one of the regular nights, a few of them are bi. Some might do a little extra on ladies night, but that’s really up to the girl, so you can’t expect it.”

“Oh yes I see.”

“Well, if you’re interested, you’re welcome to join of course. Entrance is 20 bucks, including one drink and excluding any stuff on the menu.”

Little did I know then what menu he was talking about.

“Aha. Well uh ... actually, well I was wondering, if you need any more girls for that night.”

The guy remained quiet for a few seconds.

“Ohh, you’re looking for a job? Sorry, I didn’t get that.”

“Well, no, I mean yeah, but only for this ladies night.”

There was another short silence at the other end.

“Give me a moment,” the guy said.

There was about half a minute of silence, after which I heard a female voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

“OK, so I hear you want a job only at ladies night? Is this like a jealous boyfriend thing?”

“Well...” and then I realized this might be an easy way out of a hard discussion, getting to avoid the real answer here. “Yeah that’s pretty much it. But if possible, I’d like to just try it for a night, and then if it goes well, I can come more often.”

“You mean every month.”

“Uh yeah, I mean as long as it’s just on the ladies...”

“Yeah it’s every month,” she cut me off, as if she wanted to get straight to the point and not waste time. She continued after a small pause. “Tell you what. You apply through our contact form on the website, send a few pictures where I can see you well enough, and then put in the comments in the form that you want ladies night only, so I’ll know it’s you. Okay?”

I was blushing. This was going to become very real. I’d apply for one of those ... erotic jobs, officially becoming an employee at a club like that.

“Yes, sure, perfect,” I answered.

“OK then, I’ll hear from you, OK? OK, bye,” she responded as if somewhat in a hurry. She was probably busy with something.

While I could feel the adrenaline rush of it all already, I then sat down and filled in the form on their website, basically asking for a job. This felt so weird. In order to get my little adventure, I was actually applying for a job.

They didn’t expect any motivation to be filled in; just my sizes, ethnicity, hair color, space for a few photos, a comments section, contact information, and, something I had to get my mind around - a stage name. I put in Crystal as a stage name, just like I saw in one of the documentaries that I watched, and I was already getting absorbed in my fantasies yet again. Fantasies of being Crystal.

A cute selfie and a photo of me in a bikini while on vacation was what I hoped to convince them with. Hitting “Send” had never been such a nerve wrecking moment.

Even within an hour, I received a short reply. “Hi Crystal,” it read. Right away, my so called stage name was used. “I think you could be a good fit for our club. Attached are some rules, regulations and details about your salary. If you could drop by somewhere in the early afternoon tomorrow to meet face to face, I’ll give you a quick tour of the club, and if we’re both still happy about it, you can start next Tuesday on our monthly ladies night.”

I opened the attached document, which was short, rather simple, even somewhat amateuristic, you could say. But it was clear enough, and probably even legal. A base salary of 150 dollars, and per ‘customer’ I’d get to keep 40 percent of the money. Customers! It sounded so ... I mean, it sounded almost as if I was going to be an actual hooker. I had no idea what I’d make with ‘customers’, but soon enough, caught up in the rush of a new experience, I replied that I was going to be there in the beginning of the afternoon.

I looked up the club’s location on Google Maps, and tried to figure out what it looked like from the outside by using Google Street View, but all I could see was a large metal door and a turned off neon sign that said ‘The Stiletto’ in the blurry photograph. The Google Car must have been there in the early hours, when they weren’t open.

While dressed casually, I tried to look my best when I finally left to visit the club. It took about 20 minutes by metro to get there, after which I had to walk for another 10 minutes before I could find the exact same door that I had seen on Google.

Next to it was a small intercom, and I pressed the button right at the bottom of it.

“Hello?” I soon heard a somewhat raspy voice, which sounded remotely like Jen’s voice.

“Hi, it’s Crystal.”

I hesitated for a few seconds, as I just realized that I used my stage name, and it felt as if I could be found out by passersby somehow, which was a ridiculous thought. I was just going to start to explain how I was having an appointment here, while I could already hear the buzzer for the door.

I pushed against the metal door, after which my eyes had to get used to the dimmed red light inside, contrasting with the bright light outside.

I stepped inside, and ended up in a hallway with an empty wardrobe behind a counter, which I figured was usually the entrance of the club during opening hours.

Just in front of the counter stood a woman, dressed in a knee length black skirt, high heeled boots and a sexy, partly unbuttoned black blouse.

She looked as if she was in her fifties or maybe even sixties, her face wrinkled, but her big blue eyes outstandingly sharp. She wore an excessive amount of jewelry.

“Hi, I’m Jennifer, the girls call me Jen,” she introduced herself while she extended her hand.

She sounded as if introducing herself was a routine thing. “The girls” was what gave me a slightly nervous tremble. It was as if she already considered me to be one of the girls.

“I’m Samantha,” I introduced myself while shaking her hand, “or Crystal,” I added with a slight grin.

“Yeah we only use stage names here, to avoid mistakes. Your real name is only for the books,” she promptly corrected me, without the slightest smile.

“Got it,” I nodded.

Then, before I realized what happened, she grabbed my upper arm, and pulled me slightly, clearly as a hint that I should turn, which I did. She held me like that for a few seconds without saying anything.

The next moment, she did something that made me blush even more than I was doing by then. She let go of my arm, but reached to the hem of my jeans, and without any warning, she hooked her finger through the belt loop and simply tugged at my jeans, making them wrap tightly around my butt. Then after yet another few seconds, she let go of it, leaving me blushing deeply, which fortunately wasn’t noticeable in the dim light.

She didn’t make any comment. Or rather, she complimented me indirectly.

“Sure you don’t want to work regular nights as well?” she asked, while finally, more gently now, she grabbed my upper arm again and simply turned me to face her again.

I didn’t know what to answer just yet.

“I guess first I’ll have to see how this goes,” I gave her an indefinite answer.

Something told me that I had to be in her good graces. Seemingly slightly unsatisfied with my answer, she let go of my arm finally, with a slight nod. There were so many new sensations to feel in only this initial reaction. The way she looked at me, the way she treated me. The way she, without words, made sure she could check out my figure. I guessed that if I was to work here, I should at least be able to stand this sort of treatment. But to my embarrassing surprise, it excited me more than it scared me. Even though it was scary as hell.

The rest of the visit went well. I could notice Jen carefully observing my body at times while we walked around. She made no secret of that, either. At some point she pointed at my sneakers.

“You can walk in heels, right?” she pointed at a large row of shoes with extremely high heels in the dressing room we arrived at, in a number of different sizes. Just like the types of shoes I had often seen in the documentaries that I had been watching. It all started to feel so very real.

“Sure, no problem,” I nodded, as I made sure not to seem a bit intimidated by how dangerously high they were looking.

“It’s easier than it looks like if you can walk on regular heels already,” she mentioned, as if she could read my mind. “Have you done any sex work before?” she asked even casually as we made our way to the club area, in between a long bar with stools, and an area with mostly small tables and booths in the back. “Not really,” I answered honestly.

“Stripping?” she continued to investigate.

“Nope ... first time,” I answered with a slight smile.

She shrugged. “Well, it’s not like taking your clothes off is very hard of course, so that shouldn’t be a problem. You just get undressed, except you do it slower, they want to see you do it” she said almost with a bit of shallowness in her voice.

Her voice almost sounded a bit bored as we went upstairs, where there were apparently private rooms for ... well, sex.

“This is more for the regular days, but ladies night isn’t really about that, so you’ll probably not be here,” she mentioned casually as she opened one of the rooms with dark red interior, large mirrors, a box of condoms on a table, a large bed without any pillow or blankets.

I was intrigued by it, but mostly because it looked so very real, so like what I had seen in some documentaries. It was even a bit scary to actually see this with my own eyes.

“You can use the rooms though, I mean, the money can be good. If you change your mind,” she added, leaving my head spinning for yet another minute.

As we then finally concluded the tour, she turned to face me and looked into my eyes directly with her sharp blue eyes.

“Well, I think you’ll do just fine with a body like that,” she briefly moved her finger up and down from head to toe, “Just realise that you’re here to make money, this is a business, we expect to make money, and you won’t be an exception to the other girls, even though you only do women. We have expectations, and so have our customers, so no funny stuff or drama,” she added with a very serious, even strict tone.

This was probably the attitude needed to manage a place like this. I almost felt a bit intimidated while she laid out the situation like that, and kept nodding in agreement. I wondered what her background was. What she did before she did this. But it didn’t feel as if this was the time to ask questions like that.

“No no, sure, I’m easy going.”

“Yeah, easy going is good, and your body is 80 percent of the work anyway, so you’ll be fine.” she went on. “Just wiggle your ass, smile, and pay attention to any hint that a customer gives you to come to them, because that’s where the money is.”

I nodded casually, even though processing all this information was, while simple, downright overwhelming.

She paused while looking into my eyes. Or at my face, as it turned out.

“You have an innocent face. Women like that. Women go for young and innocent,” she assured me, as if it was a fact.

I didn’t know if I should thank her for the compliment, and while I had no idea that was actually true, it seemed as if it was true at least in her experience.

“Alright then, well, if you just sign here, we’ll see you in a lot less clothes next Tuesday,” she said with a slight grin after she got a contract from her desk, and I laughed a bit as I felt yet another blush crawling to my cheeks.

“This contract is the only thing that will have your real name on it, otherwise everyone will know you by your stage name. We like to keep things discrete here, I’m sure you’ll appreciate that. So don’t introduce yourself using your real name ever,” she emphasized yet again.

I nodded while quickly going through the papers, full of boring employee/employer agreements.

“I appreciate that,” I smiled as I handed her back the signed papers.

“Oh, you can bring your own clothes, but we also have plenty for you to wear, and usually on first nights I help the new girls with their outfit so they’ll fit right in, so you don’t really need to bring anything.”

I nodded again, and I already started wondering what she’d have me wear that night. She pointed at my crotch.

“Down there you can be either smooth or trimmed, so no bushes or anything like that. We’re not some fetish club,” she said bluntly.

“Sure, got it,” I responded with a nod, trying to sound confident, while quietly I was already planning how I was going to trim my small, sexy strip even more carefully than usual, and at the same time the thought of people actually looking at it drove me crazy.

“So, see you on Tuesday,” she lead me to the exit rather quickly, and opened the door for me to walk out, as she seemed in a bit of a rush.

The next few days I hardly thought about anything else. I could probably recite their website from the top of my head, I watched even more documentaries, and I already started to feel as if I was one of them. One of the girls in the sex industry.

Of course I’d just be a hostess, but I remembered very well what the guy on the phone said, and it was probably safe to say that it was even a level up from being a stripper. I would strip, if I knew how to pole dance, but I couldn’t even imagine how long it would take to learn how to do that. So this was the next best thing, in a way. Jen made it sound as if this job was easy, and I tried really hard to believe her.

Finally, Tuesday arrived, after a night of hardly any sleep. It was going to be a day full of grooming.

I took another sunbed session in a spa near me for another while, made sure I’d be smooth like a baby, except my blonde little landing strip which I’d trim neatly. My nails, my blonde long hair, everything had to look perfect.

I already felt like I was a showgirl going to work, when I then took the subway to the area of the city where the club was, some 45 minutes from my place. Sure, dressed in just regular jeans and blouse, leather jacket and sneakers, and hardly wearing any makeup yet, I wouldn’t stand out in the crowd at all, but it was the idea of being entirely groomed and ready to be transformed into one of the hostesses working at an erotic club that made me feel, well, special in a way.

As I was getting closer, my nerves did start to act up. I was actually going to do this. I’d be working there just like the other girls. I had a contract and everything. All those thoughts kept buzzing in my head.

It was dark already when I arrived at the place at 6:30PM as requested. The club entrance was still anything but glamorous, except now the pink neon light for the sign saying “The Stiletto” was turned on.

It didn’t take long before Jen opened the door after I pressed the buzzer.

“Hi Crystal, come on in,” she said as she seemed slightly in a hurry.

She led me to the dressing room she showed earlier, and there were already a few girls changing.

They looked somewhat bored, while one of them was dressed in a very short purple tight dress, while standing on her bare feet doing her makeup, and another just getting out of her sweatpants.

“This is Crystal, she’s new here,” she quickly introduced me, while I smiled politely.

The one girl with pale skin and dyed black hair doing her makeup responded with a bored sounding “hi,” which seemed to be more out of courtesy because of Jen, than really meaning it.

“Hi,” I responded with a smile, wanting to make a good impression on the others, but these two didn’t seem to be interested at all.

In the meantime, Jen was looking through some outfits on a rack, looking at me, looking back at the outfits, seemingly trying to make up her mind about what would look best on me.

“Here, I think this will do,” she then said as she handed me a coat hanger with a sheer white baby doll and something that looked like a small white thong wrapped around the hook.

I tried hard not to show my increasing nervousness, while she was looking at the long line of shoes, while I noticed she was holding a paper with my details printed on it, just as I had submitted them on their website.

“Here,” she then handed me a pair of very high, transparent plastic, platform high heels.

The kind you’d see in pretty much every porn movie I tried watching, or actually watched. Stripper shoes. Fuck me shoes. Porn shoes. That’s what people call them. I just took them from her, while hardly being able to imagine what I’d end up looking like wearing those.

“I think it’s good if you show off a little extra as you’re getting used to it still, to make it easier to get clients,” she elaborated while pointing at the baby doll I was holding.

It made sense, yet it seemed so ... little, to wear.

“Oh and if someone pays for topless, just take the dress off, think of it as your bra,” she gave me another pro tip.

The other girls hardly seemed to listen, or at least weren’t very impressed as I got my instructions.

“Some touching is fine if a customer wants your attention, but no unpaid nudity or other stuff that’s on the menu, and if someone does something anyway, just charge them.”

I wasn’t sure whether I understood what she just said, but I just kept nodding, and for her it seemed so normal that it seemed almost casual.

“Alright, get changed, you haven’t done your makeup yet,” she then gestured to me as if I should hurry.

Another few girls entered the dressing room. So far I seemed to be the only blonde, and as it turned out, as far as I could see I really was the only white girl, the others being latina or black.

I nodded, as I started to feel a bit nervous. I was actually going to change into that very skimpy outfit. The other girls seemed to be changing into somewhat “tougher” looking outfits - I saw a black fishnet dress, red shiny hot pants, just really short dresses, but no one in a sheer white baby doll like the one I’d be wearing, and was now changing into.

I put on the small, white thong, and put the sheer white baby doll right over it. It reached just barely over my butt cheeks while standing up. This would be really, really exposing. I couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like to be seen like this in the presence of people who would actually be paying attention to me.

For a while then, not a lot happened in the dressing room, as the other girls would be doing things on their phone, doing their makeup or generally just looking bored while already dressed up, and I was nervously trying to put on my makeup. I cheated by looking at the other girls to see how much would be normal to wear. And that was a lot. Like a ridiculous amount. I probably never wore as much makeup as that night ever before. Dark eye shadow that made me almost unrecognizable, bright red lips, darker mascara than usual. I just imitated what I saw around me.

When I looked in the mirror while wearing my final outfit finally, without the shoes as none of the girls were wearing them yet and I didn’t want to feel too different, I felt shocked by my own image. The sheer baby doll slightly showed my bare breasts, the small thong clearly visible under it, and the makeup so heavy that it seemed as if, well, as if I fit right into a place like this. I looked like one of the girls from the documentaries. Literally. I hardly believed I was transformed this quickly. By then, I felt excitement just as much as I felt incredibly nervous. I tried to comfort myself with the thought that the amount of makeup made me unrecognizable. As if I was a different person.

I had no idea when the club was going to be open for guest and had to enter the public area. There was probably going to be a hint of some kind, I figured. And there was.

Jen opened the room and stood right in the dressing room, and spoke to us briefly. It was all clearly a routine.

“Alright girls, let’s make some money, let’s go. And no more of that childish shit like last week,” and while saying the last thing, she looked very sharply to one of the girls on the bench.

“She fucking pulled my hair,” she muttered, which made some of the other girls pay attention to the conversation, as if it was something important for them to take notice of.

“Oh she pulled your haaaaiiir,” Jen responded sarcastically, as if the girl was exaggerating. “What do you think you are, some kind of princess? Are you fucking kidding me? Pulling a few of your hairs is a problem? Do you really want to know what other shit we’ve been experiencing here? Well?” Jen backfired at the girl.

The girl just looked away, annoyed, perhaps even frustrated. One thing was certain, I wasn’t going to make any trouble with Jen.

“Let’s go, money doesn’t grow on trees,” Jen then added, as the girls finally got into some kind of motion, while once again making it clear that this place really was about money, which was something that pulled me back to reality, away from the little fantasies I had been having.

As if it was rehearsed, all the girls then grabbed their pair of high heeled shoes, and finally put them on. I did the same. I simply slipped into them and carefully stood up straight. I never stood up straight on heels this high. Holy mother, they were high.

The girls stood up, one after another, and I clearly noticed how it seemed as if they naturally started to sway their hips as they walked out of the dressing room, as if it was, once again, a routine act they were putting on and were very used to. I was the last one to join them.

There I was, in the line of girls, and entering the public area, while my heart was pounding. People were actually going to see me like this. In that sheer baby doll, the ridiculously small thong, and the stereotypical very, very high stripper heels that I’d be wearing. For someone who didn’t know better, I looked like some kind of hooker.

I even imitated the way the other girls walked. One foot in front of the other, and I swore they even pushed out their butt with every step. I felt slightly embarrassed as I tried to do the same, although I’m sure I was holding back naturally, and I was afraid I was looking like an idiot.

Finally then, I saw the public club area, and there were people already. Women sitting at the small tables. Some alone, others in groups of two, three sometimes. Their noses all moving into the direction where we came from once they noticed us.

I felt very vulnerable, embarrassed even, while entering that public area like this. The whole thing got my head spinning.

But the most alarming thing was seeing the girls around me getting to work. I noticed one of the black girls immediately walking off to a specific customer, and without holding back, she straddled right onto the lap of some much older woman.

“Hey baby, thought I’d never see you again,” she said to the woman, loud enough for most people to hear.

Trying desperately to learn how other girls were doing all this, I kept looking around, and saw another girl standing in front of two women, while teasingly sliding up her black tight dress, exposing her panties, while the women in front of her nodded and said something to her that I could not hear from where I was standing.

All the girls went off in random directions, but everyone seemed to at least have a clear target. Yet there I was, having no clue how to begin, and feeling somewhat intimidated by all the things happening around me, while starting to seriously worry whether I had what it took to work here.

I just started walking into the area, while feeling so tense about everything at this point, and it seemed as if there were eyes on me from all directions I looked into. Until I heard a voice.

“Eh, hello?”

I heard the voice from somewhere behind me, and when I looked over my shoulder, I looked into the eyes of an older, short haired woman, having an extremely critical, and almost cold and frustrated look in her eyes. I realized that I had to play the part right, even though I didn’t know what was actually going on, as she used a tone that would make it seem as if I didn’t understand something.

“Hi,” I then smiled with an awkward feeling, feeling my legs tremble with adrenaline while turning around, having just realized that she wanted my attention.

“Hi,” she shot back with a definite expression of impatience on her face.

She made a tired, almost bored impression, yet she was eyeing me over downright shamelessly. I could see her eyes glancing from my bare legs to the skimpy outfit I was wearing, before she finally looked into my eyes.

“Yeah so, dress off please?” she continued, in a tone that indicated as if I should have known what she wanted in advance or something, while she shoved a few 5 dollar bills over the table.

It was apparently really that simple. Get paid, take things off. It was only then that I noticed the menus on the table, which she was just briefly reading off before putting 15 bucks on the table. I really had no idea what was on that thing.