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I had just returned from college and was so broke it hurt. I hadn’t a penny left from my allowance, but that was so tiny. I was always the poorest girl in my class – my parents did as much as they could, but simply didn’t have enough to keep themselves, let alone subsidise me.
My mum went back to work just to help me. She couldn’t get a job in her speciality so worked evenings serving at tables in a rather cheap and nasty restaurant, getting her bum groped by strange men. So I really shouldn’t complain. There aren’t many mums who would put up with that, so that they could educate their only daughter.
I was the only girl in a family of six; all my siblings were boys, well, men to more accurate. I was the youngest. Mum always said I was a second honeymoon mistake. But she loved me so much, and my dad thought the sun actually shone from my backside. He wanted a girl so much that he called me his princess.
To get to the story I want to tell you about; I was invited by one of the girls I was friends with at college, to her eighteenth birthday. She was the best looking and wealthiest girl in the whole year. I so wanted to go but didn’t have anything to wear to such a posh party that I knew she would have.
I couldn’t ask my mum to pay for pretty party clothes out of the paltry wage she earned, besides she wanted that to stop now I had graduated. The only alternative was to find a job, and quickly. I had less than a month to find the cash to buy something nice enough for the party.
We lived in the country. It was an hour’s bus ride into town. Sitting on the bus I was so sure I could get any job I wanted. I was full of confidence, but by four that afternoon I wasn’t so sure. My feet hurt, and so did my head from trying so hard just to get an interview. The real world had found me, and found me short of what it took to get a job.
Of the interviews I got, some said I was too qualified, others said I had no experience. I felt like I was between a rock and a hard place. My feet ached from walking round the town, trying every business and even shops – anywhere I thought I might find a job. I sat in a little café drinking a coffee. I would have liked something to eat but didn’t want to squander the last of my money on food, because it looked like I was going to have to pay the bus fare again tomorrow.
After three days of constant knock-backs I was desperate, and very broke. I sat at home that evening with mum and dad. Mum mentioned that she was handing in her notice on Friday and it suddenly struck me that her job would be open, so I asked her to get her manager to take me on, in her place.
Both of my parents were shocked that I would set my sights so low and protested that, as I had a good education, I shouldn’t waste my time in a sleazy café. I explained that I had tried for three days to find something suitable, but nothing was on offer. Eventually they persuaded me to at least give it till the weekend to find a ‘proper job’, as they called it. Dad lent me the bus fares to go into town to try harder to get a decent job. I tried the agencies next, putting my name down for several different jobs that I thought my qualifications might get me. The last agency was a sleazy back street affair, a little office on the third floor of a run down building.
There was no receptionist, just this rather disreputable-looking man about ten years my senior. He sat me on a low chair facing him and his eyes seldom met mine. His line of sight was lower, ogling my bust and my legs, obviously trying to get a peep up my rather short skirt.
After filling in his silly forms, and being aware of him leering down my top as he stood above me, he read through them, asking several questions.
“You haven’t mentioned modelling,” he remarked.
I replied that I hadn’t any experience of modelling.
He smiled and said, “You don’t have any experience at anything else either”.
He was so right. I was just a country girl with a few college grades and nothing to show for it. But modelling was something I hadn’t even considered. I was just desperate enough to listen to his suggestion of work. I should have known better but the money he offered was off the scale, several times better that anything I had tried unsuccessfully to get.
He told me to turn up the following day at ten, when he would tell me what was on offer. During the long journey home I thought about his offer and, ignoring the warning sounds clanging in my head, decided to go back the following day. I could always turn him down.
I arrived sharp at ten the next day, scared out of my wits. I knew it wasn’t as legitimate as he made it sound. £uk100.00 a day called for more than just modelling clothes but he was very upbeat and keen to get me to sign a contract. I scribbled my name on the form without reading it properly.
He took me in his big flash car to a club on the outskirts of town. The club looked very posh and even had doormen in uniform standing either escort ataşehir side of the front entrance. He went to the reception and asked for Rupert, the manager. We were asked to wait in the lounge.
Rupert came in, smelling of a very female perfume, not manly at all. He kissed me on both cheeks like I was some film star and said, “Come this way my dear.” Taking my hand, he led me to the lifts. As we rose through the building he told me that he would put me in the hands of his senior girl. She was delightful, he added. We arrived at Bernadette’s room and, after introducing me to her, he said, “I will see you later.”
She took me into a room all girly and festooned with lace and so pretty. She smiled at my look of wonder. She said, “You are new to this aren’t you dear.”
I said, “Yes, this is my first job. I need the money so badly.”
Bernadette took me into a changing room and selected some clothes for me to model, but this wasn’t the sort of modelling I had in mind. The outfit consisted of nothing more than a few scraps of lace held together with pink ribbons. She asked me my size. I told her I was size 10, but she said, “Not your dress size dear, your bust.”
“32D,” I answered, without thinking.
“Yes,” she said, “You look about the right size for this,” bringing out an ever tinier underwear set, nothing but lace and see-through at that. She told me to try it on and, as I stripped off my clothes, she watched closely, until I pulled my panties down showing my luxuriant bush of blond pubic hair. “Oh dear!” she exclaimed, “That will have to go.”
Sitting me down on a stool, she took a safety razor and some foam and shaved my pussy as smooth as a baby. The feel of the razor, and her hands as she held my skin taught for the blade, was both frightening and exciting. She didn’t have any inhibitions about where she put her fingers, touching my little bud several times.
Despite my fear, I could feel myself getting wet. She commented on it, saying, “You will soon get used to being touched there my dear,” and gave my clit a hard rub with the tips of her fingers. “Rupert will love to see that,” she exclaimed.
To try to tell you what was going through my mind is impossible. I was so frightened and so excited but, most of all, just plain turned on. She had the most wonderful hands, and seemed to know just where to touch me to make me want to cum. In fact I was very close several times before she finished.
Dressed in that outrageous outfit I felt like a tart, the sort of girl that performs in the sleazier cabaret shows, but she didn’t give me the chance to back down. I guess she was aware of my nerves and wanted me to stay.
She said, “You look fantastic. I will get Rupert to come to see you now. It’s his decision whether you get the job. Try to smile and be entertaining, and don’t worry about Rupert. He’s not interested in girls, he’s gay.”
Picking up the phone, she said, “Amber is ready for you now Rupert.” Replacing the receiver, she told me, “There is one more thing you need.” She brought out a pair of strappy sandals with heels so high they looked dangerous. They were at least five inches high.
I tottered around the room feeling so silly and so exposed as the door opened and Rupert entered.
“Oh! You look divine,” was his first comment. He sat on the chaise longue, telling me to walk this way and then sit, stand, turn and bend. My bum was so exposed. Thank goodness Bernadette had told me he was gay, but that didn’t stop him touching the gusset of my tiny pants and saying, “Oh good, you are turned on wearing this sexy set.”
To be completely honest I was turned on. Not in a way I had ever experienced before – this was so scary and strange but still my pussy was contracting and my tummy turning over like the first serious date I had in college. But this wasn’t two young people finding out about the opposite sex. This was almost a clinical feeling, like going to the doctor.
I could feel the heat in both my cheeks, and in my groin. It was so surreal and I loved it. He asked me if I wanted the job. I said, “Yes,” not even knowing what the job was. All I could think of was the aching in my pussy.
“Ok,” he answered, “You can start this evening. Have you got transport?”
I told him I had come on the bus and that was the only way home. He smiled and said to Bernadette, “Do you have a spare room for Amber?”
“No,” she replied, “But she can share with Julie for now. Perhaps Julie can take her under her wing and teach her the ropes.”
“Whatever,” he said, abruptly, and walked out.
“You are very lucky,” Bernadette said. “There aren’t many girls who have no experience that get a job here. You must have appealed to him. But don’t worry, you are in good hands. Julie will make sure you know what to do.”
I asked if I could phone my parents to tell them I wouldn’t be home this evening. She just pointed to the telephone and told me I kadıköy escort could use that one or the phone in my room.
Julie was great. She had been at the club for nearly a year, and told me everything I needed to know. We were hostesses not hookers, as she put it. No-one had sex without the girls’ express permission, and then it was outside working hours. But we had to wait at tables and generally be nice to the punters, especially when the gaming tables were in full swing.
The dress code was something like I had just worn for Rupert’s inspection. Julie said “You soon get used to wearing them. It’s nothing more that you might wear on the beach,” she claimed.
Well, I had never worn anything so revealing in my entire life. Julie told me to get some sleep because we were in for a long night, not finishing till early hours of the morning.
I was about to say I hadn’t got anything to wear to go to bed. When she slipped off her robe she was naked underneath it, and climbed into the double bed. What could I do? I knew I couldn’t sleep, but I suppose the only thing I could do was try. Stripping off my clothes again I got into the bed with Julie. Her skin felt so soft and warm. I wanted to cuddle up to her, but was far too shy and frightened to do that.
I laid on my back thinking about what had happened to me in so short a time. What had I let myself in for? This was only just better than a brothel, but I needed that money, and short of having sex for cash I would do about anything. I resolved to stick at it for just a week or so and then get out quick.
Despite my not being tired and the state of high excitement, I did drift off to sleep. The next thing I knew was someone touching me. Not just an innocent touch, no, this was a very real fondle. One hand was stroking my tit and the other hand was on my belly stroking and massaging my flesh.
I gave an involuntary groan, still worked up by the strange and wonderful morning, being shaved and touched by Bernadette and now Julie. I’m not going to claim total innocence here; of course I had messed around with other girls in college, giving each other mutual climaxes. But this was different, she thought I was asleep.
Pretending to not have woken up I lay as still as I could. Her fingers found my clitty, rolling it round until I could pretend no longer. I lifted my bum off the bed to both encourage and help her get the right spot. I needed this more that I realised. Perhaps I should have got it off in the bathroom, before getting into bed, but it’s easy to be wise after the event.
Her fingers gripping my nipple made me come, as she stroked and massaged my pussy. Her hand on my newly bare skin was so sensational and she was so good. She seemed to know just how and where to touch me. She drove me over the top several times before she laid back and said, “Your turn now Amber, I need some relief as well.”
I reached down to her pussy. It was wet and ready for some serious play. I ran my finger round and into her opening just like I did it to myself. She groaned and said, “Yes Amber, that’s the spot, keep doing that please.” Remembering a girl I shared with in college who, as she called it, loved eating pussy, I wondered if Julie would like that as much as I did.
Pushing the sheet back I positioned myself between her legs, bending down so my face was in her pussy. She cried out as my tongue flicked her clit, her hands wrapping round my head, pulling me tight to her. As I lapped at her she squirted a little juice into my mouth. It tasted strong and bitter but I couldn’t have pulled away if I had wanted to. She was holding me tight.
Julie climaxed but still held me tight to her cunt, clamping my head with a vice-like grip until she had subsided enough to let me go. I was gasping for breath, but so pleased that I had made her come.
We showered and she showed me how to keep my pussy smooth with her epilator. It wasn’t as much fun as Bernadette’s razor, but perhaps that wouldn’t be as good the second time. She told me how to handle the clients and what to do if they got too amorous. But, she said, they expected to grope us girls and that was what we got paid for.
It was almost eight o’ clock. Time to go down to do my new job! I was shaking with fear and trepidation. Could I go through with this? Julie held my hand as we went down in the lift. She assured me it would be alright. I felt so exposed in this skimpy outfit – nothing more than a tiny half cup bra. My nipples were sticking over the top, still inflamed from our sex session and the thong that covered only the very minimum. Even that was transparent.
Julie led me into the bar. It was full of men, not a single lady in sight. I asked her where the wives were.
She grinned and said, “Men don’t bring their wives to this place. Why should they, there were plenty of girls to go around.”
She introduced me to the rest of the girls; about twenty of them all dressed similar to maltepe escort bayan me. Well, undressed like me would be a better description. They seemed happy and to be enjoying the prospect of the evening. Or was it just the money? Before long I had a tray of drinks and instructions to take it to table forty four; there were five men sitting at this table and I got groped by all of them by the time I had put the glasses down in front of each of them. The whole evening went in a similar way, getting felt by almost every man in the place.
My little panties were so wet I could feel the moisture between my legs. Several men commented on the fact I was enjoying it, some shouting: “This one’s so hot she’s leaking out of her knickers.” That made me blush so much. My nipples were sticking out like organ stops, I wanted to run and hide, but it was gone midnight and I had almost earned £uk100.00. That would buy me any dress I wanted, I wouldn’t give up now.
Julie was right. By the time the gaming tables were in full use, the men had drunk enough to lose what little restraint they had earlier. One pulled my panties to one side and slipped a finger right into me, then held it under his cohort’s noses to smell, saying, “She smells so sweet and sexy, I could eat that for supper.”
I had taken a few drops of Dutch courage myself, and my inhibitions were slipping as well. I just laughed with the dirty old men.
At last it was over, the men going home to their wives or girlfriends pretending to have spent a night with their mates drinking and playing cards. I was knackered, being on my feet all night in those bloody shoes. My legs ached as if I had run a marathon.
The biggest surprise was when Rupert walked up to us girls and gave us £uk100.00 in cash. No tax or insurance. He winked at me and said, “You seemed to enjoy your first night, but be careful with the gin, you mustn’t drink too much or you might get into trouble.”
We climbed into bed so tired we just went to sleep. I woke next day remembering to call my folks, telling them I was staying with friends for the rest of the week. Mum thought it was a great idea save me the time and cost of the bus each day. If only she knew how much it had cost to stay away!
The next few nights went the same way. It got easier every day; Julie was great giving me loads of attention and keeping me on the boil most of the afternoons, with her special girly love. She liked making me come but wasn’t so keen on getting any in return, so we drifted into a routine where she played with my body for hours. I just laid there luxuriating in her attention.
Saturday night was the big event. Julie told me we would be packed out; some people had booked weeks in advance because it was impossible to get in on the night. We worked so hard and got so much stick from the men’s fingers in both holes. My nipples were sore from the constant groping and gripping.
But I had £uk400.00 saved already, I didn’t want to stay in this job for long as it wasn’t what I worked so hard at school and college for. It was fun and it helped me to earn some easy money, but it was not a career I wanted.
About halfway through the evening I had to serve a table that I hadn’t been to before. As I approached it I saw him sitting there. Oh my god! It was my mum’s brother, my uncle Geoff. I pretended not to see him, but he spotted me and said, “Hi Amber. I didn’t know you worked here. It’s a bit of a waste of your education isn’t it?”
I whispered in his ear that it was only temporary, and not to say anything to my parents. He winked and told me give him a call tomorrow.
You need to know a little about my uncle Geoff. He was always around when I was growing up and he was a pest. Growing up in a big family with mostly boys and men you get used to being tormented and, yes, touched. Not so much in a sexy way but lots of slaps on my butt as I walked past. Most were nothing more than affectionate love pats, but Uncle Geoff always made sure his fingers curled round under my fast developing bum to feel my pussy, keeping his hand there much longer than anyone else. I couldn’t say anything. He was my mum’s favourite brother and she wouldn’t have believed me if I had told her he was groping me, so I grinned and bore it like a good little girl. But to be honest, I hated him for his invasion of my body. He was the only one who took such advantage of me. I dare not call him as he might tell my parents where I was working. It would have broken my mother’s heart as she was a very strict church-going lady.
I told Julie about him that night. She said I shouldn’t have taken the job in my home town, it was silly. All the other girls came from away, she would have warned me if she had realised, in fact she was surprised Rupert had hired me living so close to the club, he normally only allowed girls from other towns to work here.
She told me to talk to Bernadette next morning and then decide what to do about my Uncle Geoff. I didn’t sleep much thinking about the strife I had got myself into, but then I actually enjoyed what I was doing. It wasn’t so bad and the money was fantastic because added to the wage, paid by Rupert, we got loads of tips from the punters – hundreds of pounds most nights.
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