Cloak of Shame

I had danced with other girls before.  But this: dancing with Megan, was different.  There was no awkwardness.  It was natural. 


Smooth.

XXXXXXX About 5 Years Ago XXXXXXX

"Let's goooooooo, Lex!" Regan encouraged. 


"Um, I'm really not comfortable with this," I hesitantly spoke.  "I don't think this is really the way for me to get more confident.  Plus, this kinda goes against everything I stand for..."


Regan rolled her eyes at me.  "Ok, Lexy," Regan sarcastically began.  "You've tried the past several months to get it together, and nothing has worked.  Just try this.  If it's really bad, or you start crying, I'll rescue you and never force you against what you stand for again.  Promise."  Regan gave me puppy dog eyes.


"But what about Brett?" I whined in a last ditch effort.  Brett not only would never approve of this, but would be so angry, seeing as how HE had never seen me naked.


Regan stopped dragging me towards the door, faced me, and grabbed both of my hands in hers.  "Alexandria, I promise on my life he will never find out about this unless you tell him."


I gulped down the last of my fear and anxiety and nodded my head.


Regan was on the cheer team with me, and had become my very best friend in the few months we'd been at Miami together.  Both freshmen, both standouts.  A lot of people even thought we were sisters, if they'd never met us previously.  Both on the small side, blonde, blue eyes.  However, while I was (usually) confident, outgoing, but conservative, Regan was boisterous, the life of the party, and about as opposite of conservative as can be.  We actually made a good match.  I was more the instigator, whereas she would actually jump first, ask questions later.


I had been musing as to how to get my confidence back so I didn't lose my full-ride, or worse, get kicked off the squad, when she said she had an idea.  She hadn't told me what it was, just told me to trust her.


That's how I wound up in a town a couple hours away, at a sketch looking strip club with "Amateur Night" flashing in lights on its sign.  I knew that Regan would sometimes strip at amateur nights when she wanted extra money, and did so out of town so as not to run into anyone she knew, but I never actually thought that's what she had in mind for me.


The bouncer didn't even card us when we walked in the door.  I looked around the dank, dated inside of the club.  It was small, with ripped maroon clothed chairs sitting around tables.  The tables were sporadically sprinkled around a single small stage, with a lone gold pole in the middle of it.  There was one girl dancing on the stage wearing what appeared to be jeggings and  bikini top.  Her glasses (not the seductive library looking kind) kept falling down her nose, and her dancing appeared to be more like... jerky random movements.  At one point she laid on her back and started clapping her legs together, then wide open, then together again.  Over and over.  There were several small groups of rough looking men scattered around, not paying close attention to the lone girl.


I could feel my mouth agape and took a step backwards.  Regan grabbed my arm.  "I don't think I can do this..."


Regan put her face right in mine, "Yes you can.  And you will."


She dragged me towards the bar, but I couldn't look away from the girl on the stage.  It was like a train wreck.  I didn't know what would be worse: if the groups of guys all watched me, or if none of them did.


She had a conversation with someone behind the bar, and they clearly knew each other.  If I had to guess, I'd say that Regan had been here before, a few times. 


Regan tapped my arm and I looked to see she had slid a double shot towards me.  "Here," she grinned, "you might want this."


She clinked her shot glass to mine and we downed them.  Then she grabbed two other glasses the bartender made while we were standing there and told me to follow her. 


She took me into the back, and I barely heard what she was saying to me as I focused on downing my drink and changing into the outfit she was lending me.  It was some school girl looking outfit.  Lacy thong, with a tiny skirt that didn't cover my butt cheeks, and a white see-through tied top.  Apparently the club we were at was only topless, thankfully, so I wouldn't have to take off any part of the bottoms if I didn't want.  And I didn't want.


As she pushed me out towards the door to go to the floor, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  I quickly studied myself.  Heavy make-up, majorly teased hair, my cold and terrified nipples visible and poking through the top.  Although I didn't recognize the reflection looking back at me, the most unrecognizable part was the cloak of shame I was draped in. 


I had never been ashamed of anything I'd done before.


Regan came up behind me and slapped my butt.  I jumped.  She was wearing some sexy dominatrix looking outfit.  She wrapped her arms around me.  "Look at you," she exclaimed.  "Fucking hot!"


Despite how incredibly awkward I felt, I laughed at the situation.  We looked like we were dressed up for a slutty Halloween party, not ready to go strip on a stage.


"Do I have to go up there alone?"


"Yes.  This wouldn't serve its purpose if you didn't," she said firmly, and she pushed me through the door into the still mostly empty hole in the wall.

XXXXXXX Present Day XXXXXXX

Megan's body slid around mine, as we masterfully grinded, parted, slithered around the poles, and then back to each other as if we had spent days choreographing our seductive dance.  We knew exactly when to part and work the crowd that was shoulder to shoulder around our stage, lapping up every move we made.  When the final beat of  Bruno Mars' "Gorilla" played out, we ended face to face, one of her hands on my cheek and one of mine on her hip.  She winked at me, and I laughed.  We parted ways going around the stage letting the men tuck bills into our G-strings, making it clap for extra.


We met in the middle and Megan grabbed my hand and we strutted off stage.  "That," she pointed back at the stage, "was amazing."


"You can move," I said, impressed.


"I couldn't dance like that with anyone else," she cocked an eyebrow. 


Then, another girl stuck her head in the door.  "Hey, a bachelor party just came in!" she squealed.  "They want us getting him up on stage right away."


"Let's go," Megan said while grabbing my hand once again and pulling me out on stage.


They already had the poor sap bent over on the stage with his pants pulled down.  Underwear up, of course.  Someone had given Megan a microphone. 


"Hmmm," she announced.  "It seems that someone's been naughty by leaving the bachelor market and needs disciplined."  Someone had removed his belt and Megan had a hold of it.  She cracked it together in her hand.  "We'll have our special guest do the honor tonight... let's hear it for Lexy!"  She looked at me and held out her hand with the belt in it.  There were whoops and hollers.  I actually hated doing this.  Part of me felt guilty for leaving bruises and welts on the poor guy forced up here by his pig-friends.  But, that's not the role I play.


I grinned mischievously, and took the belt from Megan.  I went over and did my due diligence, putting on a show, spanking the guy at the joy of his friends as they egged me on.  A few yelled out "me next"s, but they were ignored mostly.  It was this guy's time in the light.


After I handed him my hand to help him up, and one of the other girls started pulling up his pants from behind. As the guy stood and we were face to face for the first time, shock momentarily covered my face, as I found myself looking into the eyes of Brett.