2
Jaynee
Fifteen hours ago.
Dolly, I love you,came from both sides of the stage. The spotlight blinded me more than usual. No question the works of Richard being an asshat because I’d told him we needed to talk after my shift.
Whatever.
Richard wouldn’t be able to talk me out of quitting. Not this time anyway.
Lost in Beyoncé’s sexy voice, I let the music guide my naughty dance moves. Swirling my hips, I raised my hands above my head to give the drooling audience exactly what they paid to see: me dancing topless. I spread my legs, bending forward with puckered lips.
Work it, Jaynee.
I cupped my dangling tits, making an aroused face instead of smirking. It was gratifying to know there were dozens of boners in the room just for me. Not all were new customers. I had plenty of regulars who came to see me every day I performed.
Hearing the whistling and my stage nameDollyshouted gave me an adrenaline rush. A high I never experienced when I was a teenager. Only the popular girls got all the attention.
For years, I’d fantasized about having a model’s body, thinking it was the answer to all my problems. I had height on my side being five six, but that was it. I wasn’t a blonde. I didn’t have blue eyes or a million-dollar smile, but I had a great personality.
Some mean cheerleaders had made fun of my hourglass shape, saying my ass and chest were too big for my waist. They called mea Barbie on steroids.Compared to them, I guessed they were right. I didn’t understand how they could be so hateful. As if I had a choice in what my body looked out. Genetics played a big part. I’d tried everything to drop the weight. Exercised religiously, tried dozens of diets, fasted. I gave up meat for a month, then decided I loved steak too much to be vegetarian. In the end, I was toned, but my ass and chest never shrunk.
Like it or not, this was me.
I blew a few kisses to my admirers, feeling beautiful and desired.
Dolly wasn’t a very creative stage name. But given my bust size and my job, it made sense. My girls were natural. No boob job here. Although, I’d love to get a breast reduction so my back didn’t hurt so damn much.
I turned to grab the pole. Arching into it, I ground against the metal, twisting around it to the beat of the song. The music drowned out the catcalls and noise. It was only me performing on stage.
Eating up the cheers.
Basking in the limelight.
I was Queen Dolly on Dirty Dick’s stage.
We had a packed house every night I worked. More so than the other girls. I was proof that curvy, voluptuous women were craved more than we knew. Too self-conscious to notice the looks men gave us. We were utterly oblivious because we focused on blending into our surroundings instead of taking center stage and owning our beauty… and sex appeal.
At work, I was a goddess under the spotlight. I could be a naughty girl, then go home after my show to be a mom.
Of course, outside of Dirty Dick’s, I was invisible.
My bootylicious ass, wide hips, thick thighs, and, not to forget, big breasts were only assets when I performed at the topless bar. They had paid my way through college and put food on the table for my baby girl.
But I was so fucking over it already.
I didn’t want to spend the next twenty years on Dirty Dick’s stage. My ultimate dream was to have an everyday, suburban life where I was a member of the PTA, a dance mom, and a career woman. I’d have real girlfriends I could depend on and trust. We’d go out to lunch or take in a movie. Celebrate each other’s wins and support each other during the lows.
Hold onto your dreams, Jaynee…
All I could do was hold on with a death grip. Otherwise, my heart’s desire might fade away.
Did I really believe I would be accepted into suburbia?
No.
As the song ended, I blew kisses to Dolly’s fans as I strutted off the stage with my hips whipping from side to side. I was dying to take off my high-waisted bikini bottoms. Cover my body and remove all the makeup from my face.