I could see the circle of light clearly showing where I was to be performing my interview, but my bravado was leaving me with every step I took and in spite of my internal coaching. The light was startling in its brilliance as it pointed down from the ceiling and shot off the shiny brass floor-to-ceiling pole showing me exactly where I was supposed to be. I saw that there were mirrors on each wall surrounding the pole and added highlights to the dancing area.
I approached the platform that would determine the rest of my financial life as a college student and raised one leg to step up onto the 12 inch raised platform as the beginning bars of Moby’s keyboards started.
“I’m not ready, yet,” I threw over my shoulder with one foot on the stage and the other, awkwardly on the floor with my ass unfortunately, and what I was sure was unattractively, pointing his general direction.
“Sorry”, Jake replied. “Let me know when, yeah?”
Whether it was the apology, his casual ‘yeah’ or the softness of his deep voice, I’ll never know; but I gained strength in Jake’s response. His calm tone rode along my panicked nerve endings and seem to fortify my resolve.
I managed to get myself up onto the little stage and stepped into the area behind the pole that was steeped in darkness. I grabbed the pole and realized it was a spin pole which should, if my research was correct, make it easier for me to do spins around it.
My knees were still shaking and my stomach muscles were quivering as I heard Jake banging around in the area in front of the pole. I shielded my eyes to see what all the noise was about only to discover he was dragging a chair over to sit about 8 feet from stage center. He obviously wanted to capture the full experience of my yet to be discovered pole-dancing expertise.
I waited for him to settle and then breathily said, "Okay, now" as I took what I hoped was a dramatic pose there in the shadows. Jake pointed his remote over his shoulder and then made himself comfortable in his chair by extending his long worn jean clad legs and crossing his feet at his ankles, his clasped hands resting comfortably on his well-formed chest.
With the notes that began one of my most treasured songs, I pointed my right foot toward the pole using my outstretched hands in motions moving to capture the surrounding light and bring it towards me as I slowly undulated, hip-rotating into the light and to touch the pole. As the initial piano kicked in, I began to pretend the pole was the man of my dreams, the one I longed and yearned for, the one I would, without question, give myself to totally. The song continued as I dipped, stepped and swayed around it teasingly lost the sweet sounds of the music.
In my fantasy, I grew bolder and began caressing the shiny length of brass, lightly stroking one hand and then the other up and down its length in assurance that 'he' was the one I wanted as my hips gyrated invitingly . I coyly turned my back to the pole as I unthinkingly closed my eyes and leaned against it. Slowly reaching up one arm up over my head, I pressed my back against 'his' shiny cold exterior, slightly swaying to move my hair away and expose my neck and shoulder as if to give access to 'his' touch. Provocatively, I bent from my hips, my hands sliding down my thighs yet keeping my knees locked as I slowly rubbed my ass against 'his' firmness moving from side to side. Wiggling without thinking, I felt the globes of each cheek rub against the hard pole, catching a bit as it bunched the denim of my skirt between the cheeks of my ass. As the notes swelled, I twirled, pranced and shimmied, hair flipping and spinning around me. But I never removed a hand from pole as I rotated around using both my hands and thighs to grip it as I rubbed, dragged and touched my quivering pink pieces to its shiny surface. In my fantasy, my moves were designed to entice and invite a response from this inanimate object as I found myself caught up in my hallucination of seduction.
The chorus found me hooking a leg around my stalwart "lover" to spin in a deliciously slow circle allowing my head to fall back, my hair to hang to my waist and present the arch of my neck as I slowly rotated, feet lifted, using only my hands and thighs lowering myself down the pole. I was lost in the power of the song's hypnotic, seductive tones and in my own imagination. There was a bright blast of light against my eyes and I slowly open them but saw nothing but my own visage in the mirrors. Squatting, I dropped my ass to my heels and daringly opened my knees to straddle the cold brass but still aware enough of my audience of one to point my crotch away from his direct gaze but still be reflected in the mirrors surrounding the pole.
Standing straight, I again brushed my pink parts against the pole teasingly--a nipple here, a long slow slide of my vulva there, a quick turn to present my ass. For that moment, and with that beautiful music, I got lost again in the music, in my movements and totally forgot that I was an orphan deeply in debt and was just applying for a job. That I was just there to impress someone that could help me pay for the next two and half years of my life. I was caught up in the fantasy of being desired, needed. There is such delicious power in being sexually wanted and I was completely lost in the world of my own making, the fantasy of it, even if 'it' was just a cold, metal pole.
The last notes faded, I found myself on the floor, back arched in surrender, my legs lifted and intertwined around the gleaming brass of the pole. If that wasn't bad enough, I caught myself softly rubbing my now thoroughly saturated panties that were pulsating with my quivering, swollen, expanded leaves of pink, only separated from the delicious coldness of my steely 'lover' by a scrap of silk, and just a couple of hip thrusts away from the only ecstasy I'd ever experienced alone in my bed and with my fingers. To say that I was breathing hard would've been an understatement.
I don't know if there were simply a couple of beats of silence or if I kind of lost it for a while, but the next thing I was aware of was the squeaking of Jake's chair. I tried to disengage myself from the pole as gracefully as possible and glanced up only to see his back as he made his way to his desk. Pulling my hair from my face, I snuck a glance at the pole while I straightened to a sitting position, looking for tell-tale signs of wetness on its lustrous surface. Moving quickly, I got a whiff of my own arousal and hoped he hadn't sitting so close to the stage to see any smearing or to smell what my dance had generated within me.
Jake hit the switch on his desk and the bright light around the pole went out and the room's perimeter, indirect lights came back on. Those few seconds gave me the break I needed to shimmy my skirt down and maneuver my feet to the end of the stage. My blush was in neon, a throbbing of my upper chest neck and face following the few moments of my abandoned dance.
Jake slowly turned back towards me as he rounded the edge of his desk but, in the ambient lighting, I couldn't see his expression. My heart was still racing and I was still trying to find my breath.
After what felt like days of silence but were probably only a few seconds, I couldn't help but question, "Well?"
Using a 'come-hither' hand gesture while again directing his eyes towards my single-sheeted resume, Jake motioned for me to re-seat myself in one of the chairs in front of his desk. As I sat down, I realized I was primly tucking my skirt in and sitting up straight as if points were being awarded for perfect posture and deportment.
Jake slowly sank into his chair across from mine, never meeting my eyes, and, picking up his pen, started clicking.
Again.
"That was quite a show," Jake began. "Your choice of music was…"
"Inspired?" I asked hopefully, when he hesitated.
"Unusual," Jake affirmed finally looking at me although I could swear his amber-hued glance was at my chin. The clicking of the pen seemed to beat a faster tattoo as he spoke.
"And the dancing?" I asked trying to sound calm, cool and collected although I was again starting to sweat awaiting his response, his verdict.
The clicks were coming even faster and I found myself breathing in time to the rhythm of it.
"You're aware that you would be wearin' only a g-string if you were to become a dancer?" Jake asked rumbling quietly yet still avoiding my eyes.
"Ye-yes,"
I stammered but I could feel another tell-tale blush creeping up my neck to my face as I thought of exposing my bare, naked chest to Renee's pervs. It wasn't so much that I was a prude, at least that was what I told myself, but that I just wasn't used to showing my own uncovered self to strangers that had me trembling.
"Maybe I'm off the mark here, ah, Caitlin," Jake said glancing down to my resume where my name was presented in bold-faced, 14 point Calibri font. "Gettin' the impression that exotic dancin' ain't exactly your choice of careers. So, why are you really here?" The pen clicking stopped as his dark honeyed eyes finally met mine dead on and honed in on the question I'd been asking myself since I had arrived.
I battled with myself. Tell the truth or to lie? There were more than a few beats of silence as I warred within myself.
"To tell the truth, sir, I just flat out need the money."
His left eyebrow rose as he studied me. Using his 'come-hither' wave again, I realized he wanted more of my story.
I explained to Jake about maintaining my grades to meet the scholarship requirements and my parent's deaths in a car accident at the beginning of summer following my high school graduation. While insurance had covered a lot of costs of burial, there were still bills to be paid, financial needs to be cleared and what little remained was held in trust until I turned twenty-five.
"I only got a partial scholarship which covers tuition. But I'm working four part-time jobs now that don't leave me a lot of time to study. If I can get one job instead--a job that will help me get the money I need to pay for lab fees, books and the other necessities like food in order to live--then I can have the time to both sleep and study." I paused as I allowed myself to acknowledge how scared I was of failing out of college. It had been my parents dream that I get my degree; a dream that was non-negotiable. They had been determined that I was going to do better in life than they and had been convinced that a college diploma was the way to do it.
"I've taken on just about as much as I can handle. Quite frankly, the pressure is…" I paused realizing that I was talking too fast and too truthfully.
"Almost enough to make you take your clothes off in public?" he finished softly or as softly as his deep, rough voice could get.
"Uh-huh" I admitted in a whisper, eyes to my hands twisting in my lap, feeling my blush deepen.
I glanced up to gauge his reaction to my admission but his eyes were back on my single sheet that depicted the highlights of my work experience. As I waited, I couldn't help admiring him. Jake was a gorgeous man, with his dark, shoulder length hair, well-defined, broad cheekbones and squared off chin which, combined with his smooth amber eyes, was deadly combination. Plus, I had showed him of all people my sexuality; a side I had never showed to anyone, ever. I felt a closeness between us than those of most interviewers/interviewees. At least, I was hoping that was what I was feeling after my wanton display on the pole. My dancing, and its subsequent arousal, were still echoing within me.
The pen-clicking started again and I gazed around his large office to try and distract myself from him and the fact that his choice would either see me obtaining my degree with a job at his club or asking, 'Would you like fries with that?'
"I need to see you naked," he mumbled with his head still down.
Chapter Two
"Er--what?" My heart tripped as my eyes shot to his face and my head tried to make sense of his words. "N-naked? Here? Now?"
The pen clicking stopped as he raised his eyes to mine.
He nodded.
My heart started pounding almost out of my chest.
"Uhm" my mind raced trying to remember what underwear I had on and frantically wondering if the lights were going to be on or off when I removed my clothes. I had never stripped in full view of any other person since I started bathing myself when I was seven.
Under the covers was more my style.
Under the covers and in the dark if you want to know the truth.
"Ah, sure. Okay." I could feel the blush begin building yet again as it crept towards my hairline just thinking about doing it. 'It' being the fact that my clothes would soon be off and all my pinkish bits would be open to his, this gorgeous, successful, hunk of a man's, inspection. He's probably seen hundreds or even thousands of other girls in various stages of undress, I told myself.
Yeah, but he's never seen me.
And I've never been seen like that.
"Is there a problem?" he asked still gazing directly into my eyes.
"N-no, uhm. I mean, no real problem" my voice trailed off uncertainly and my eyes skittered away from his, which even I knew gave lie to my words.
"If you are uncomfortable" Jake began as his left eyebrow again lifted towards his hairline.
"N-no, no. I'm good." I forced my lips into a firm yet false smile as I swallowed loudly. "So, is right here okay?"
Not waiting for his response, I used my hands on the armrests of his office chair to again lever myself upright, teetering back up on the platforms. To this day, I don't know how my legs supported me. My knees were knocking together in time to my accelerated heartbeat and I felt slightly nauseated at the thought of my upcoming unveiling. I could feel my eyes darting nervously looking everywhere else but at him as I tried to stand still on my borrowed shoes and in an upright position.
I can't remember if Jake even responded to my question but I do remember how numb my hands felt as I reached underneath my blouse and began to unbutton my jean skirt. I had the zipper half-way down when I heard Jake's voice breaking the silence.
"Caitlin, Darlin'."
I heard his soft rumble as my hands paused it's fiddling at the waistband of my skirt, a hip already tipped upward to help me wiggle it off.
I froze.
"Yes?" I queried raising my eyes to his.
"In this business, you usually take your top off first."
"Oh" I could again feel the blush working its way northward across my chest and face.
I crossed my arms to grab the hem of my gauzy top and started to lift it. This is too much, I told myself. But $300.00 per session, my other self whispered temptingly.
"Can we have some music?" I asked cautiously not looking to prolong the moment but hoping to lose myself in music like when I was dancing on the pole. "You choose."
He turned back to his sound system as I uncrossed my hands and simply placed them at the bottom of my blouse. The opening sounds of Fifty Cent's special, sexy voice surrounded us and talked about the Candy Shop and lollipops. I heard the creaking of Jake's chair as he slowly turned back to me though I couldn't bring myself to look at him.
Taking a deep breath, I mentally braced myself, as I forced my hips to begin swaying to the thumping beat of the engaging song. I tried to gracefully, stealthily wipe my sweating palms on my skirt before I grabbed the hem of my blouse and began pushed it upward. I felt the cold of the air-conditioning hit the nervous sweat that shimmered on my skin as I lifted my top. I bared my belly and midriff slowly as I bunched the lightweight fabric upward. When my hands brushed the bottom band of my bra, I lost my nerve.
Sneaking a quick glance through the hair that I had started swinging in time to my swaying hips, I saw that Jake was sitting forward at his desk, resting his chin on his knuckles with his elbows firmly braced on the mahogany desktop. His eyes were laser-like, moving over my skin with such intensity that I could almost feel its caress. I turned as quickly as those damn shoes would allow and presented my back realizing, without knowing, that he was more than interested in my undressing. This thought brought the shakes back and I braced my knees against the leather seat of the chair to help still them. I again raised the hem of my shirt and lifted it over my head swiftly, awkwardly.
Remembering I was supposed to be enticing him, I shook my hair to settle it into place around my shoulders and down my back as I tossed my top away casually, or as casually as my sweat-soaked, shaking fingers could disentangle themselves from the gauzy fabric, and let it fall to the side of the chair. I snuck a peek
at Jake over my shoulder to gauge his reaction. His eyes met mine and there was a definite sizzling energy that arced between us as our gazes met before his moved down to my undulating hips.
I swallowed audibly as all my pink parts responded with a spasm to that brief, shared look. Still facing away, I again crossed my arms, cupping each breast in the opposite hand then slowly turned towards him, careful to keep my hips in motion to the beat of the song. I could feel how hard my nipples were against my palms through the sheer cups of my bra and steeled myself to show my girl parts to this awesome, handsome stranger.
I was loathe to remove my hands.
My mind was racing as fast as my heartbeat.
I knew I had to uncover myself but my hands didn't want to obey my mental command.
I clutched the cups of my bra to press the fabric even harder against my breasts and the straps, in response, fell from my shoulders. Jake's eyes followed the movement as one strap slowly slid off my shoulder and down my arm. While I didn't feel the strap, I did feel the intensity of his focused gaze. Focused as his eyes followed the descent of the strap then moved to visually caress my breasts that were now squished and mounded beneath my grasping hands.
Pole Dance Page 2
