From Princess to Prostitute.

Chapter 10: Let's sex it up.

Three weeks had passed since my 'dark hour' and the guilt was almost a distant memory now. I was having too much fun to feel bad, the world would just have to save itself.

Today was a Friday and after 2 weeks of intense training that consisted of 10 hour rehersals, 18 incredibily tight corsets, 7 sets of nipple tassles and more sparkley G-strings than I could count, it was the day of my first show. I was having the time of my life, learning how to work the poles (which had been greased with Aloe Vira for two reasons: 1 - it was an antibacterial substance, and 2 - it avoided that horrible squeaking noise when you were swinging about around it) and how to move my body in order to tease without showing too much. Immodesty was impressed with how quickly I picked it up and asked me to work a duet with her.

Fucking pleased was an understatement! I almost hit the roof with glee when she asked.

So here I was on a Friday night, backstage in the Bourbon Room in L.A (we took her private jet) having my face caked in more make up than I care to admit to, and having my hair styled by the campest man in history. I'm not kidding, this guy put Louis Spence to shame! He was good at what he did  though, I had to give him that. By the time the team had finished working on my look, one glance in the mirror and I was ready to screw myself. I looked hot. 

My hair has been dyed a pastle blue colour that made my eyes sparkle, and styled into long perfect curls that fell to my back and framed my breasts at the front. My skin was now flawless and my cheeckbones excentuated. Thick fake eyelashes and smokey silver eyeshadow framed my eyes to make them really pop. I wore a tight black pencil skirt that was held together at both sides by a thin thread. This was done so that Steve (one of the delicious looking backing dancers) could rip it off with ease while we danced. I also wore I low buttoned blue shirt, and killer heels to match. The real party however was my clothes under my clothes.

Underneath my hot secretary outfit was a silver corset, that was pulled so tight it had taken me twenty minuets to adjust to breathing in it. This was pared with black silk suspenders and stockings. I felt for the first time, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Before I knew it the stage director -a older man with shoulder length black hair and dressed as a real rocker - was signalling that it was our time to shine. The sense of excitement in the air rose and the anxious butterflies in my stomach went into overdrive making me feel queasy.

Immodesty looked at me and smiled a knowing smile. "When the butterflies stop, its time to give it up, because it just means you've stopped caring".

Her words made me feel lighter somehow and instead of fearing the nervous anticipation building in my gut, I embraced it. It was my time now, and I wasn't going to blow it. This is what I had worked for, no use letting nerves ruin me when I'd come this close!

Stepping out onto the stage as the spotlights flared to life, there was a booming round of applause that threatened to deafen me. The clapping died down as the music started and soon enough the familliar beat of Rob Duggan's Clubbed to Death flowed over me and the moves I had practiced tirlessly for weeks flowed through me like I was born to do this. My hips swayed to the rhythm and I forgot all about the audience. In my mind I was dancing for Gregg, to please him. I pictured the look of lust on his face if he could see me now, and it spurred me on to dance harder, throwing all I had into the moves and making them my own. I felt powerful, like I could charm the birds out of the trees. It was an incredible high to say the least, working the stage with Immodesty was incredible, we moved together following eachothers lead as we strayed away from the practiced moves and just went with the flow. We moved in sync, as one and didn't need any instruction. It was very much as though we knew what the other was doing and how to incorporate others moves into our own. Then the boys followed suit and had soon undressed us amid a spectacle of twirls and spins and gymnastic moves that were potentially dangerous since they were un-rehearsed. But that added to the thrill of it.

A lot of wolf whistles followed our undressing as we did our acrobatics in our lingre. The music ended, but we held our position, bodies interlocked to look intimate but classy as the final notes of the music faded into silence.

It was the longest 10 seconds of my life as the adreneline fell away and the silence continued. Panic shot through me, did they hate it? Should we have stuck to the original choreography? Was my dream over already?

Then it happened. The audience rose to their feet slowly and broke out into cheers. Relief flooded through me and the crowd went wild.  The press started snapping photos of us as we smiled and raised our hands in recognition of their applause. I took the chance to really look at the crowd and was amazed to find one guy in the front row buckling up his belt. Instead of being horrified I was incredibily flattered and as I pulled on the cloak that had been left on the corner of the stage for us for after we performed, I winked at the guy and pulled my panties off tossing them at him. He blushed and smiled nervously at me. Immodesty just laughed at my antics.

Backstage once again and all the girls where wild with joy.

"You two were fantastic!"

"Like warrior princesess!"

"You looked sooo hot I almost creamed my panties!"

I had to laugh at that, because as strange as it sounds, having a thousand eyes look at me as I was stripped down was arousing, and I was in need of a good f*cking.

Maybe the oportuinity to sex it up would present itself at the after party! I couldn't wait, and oh man it was legen ... wait for it ...