Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
My sexy outfit doesn’t stop me feeling like a goofy idiot as I put on some Christmas tunes and practice a strip show in front of my mirror. I have myself in stitches a few times as my skirt gets caught around my knees as I bend over, trying to be alluring as I bob my ass up and down. Nope, I’m definitely not made for twerking. I keep it simple instead, take it slow as I reveal all. That looks much better. By the end of the evening, I’ve got it down.
As down as I’m likely going to get it, anyway…
I head out next morning to buy a new coat – since my old, trusted favourite got trashed by cow shit. It feels insane to be looking in high-end shop windows, knowing I can afford the luxury of whichever coat I choose. I opt for another leather one, long and belted, but this one feels so much better as I try it on in the changing room. So heavy and thick. It smells glorious. And it should be, given the cost of it. It’s over £400.
No matter how prepared I am, I flinch as I see the price come up on the card reader, the memory of eating pasta on loop still lurking in the depths. I still feel almost guilty about buying it, having to remind myself that this is a coat for work, as well as for me. I’ll be wearing this bad boy for my strip show on Friday night. Just two more days to go.
I put in a load more hours of practice before then, viewing online tutorials to help me shake my butt like a pro. I manage a catwalk style totter, looking authentic in my heels, and even manage to twirl like a sexy ballerina, shooting a glance full of want in the mirror as I spin.
I’m buzzing when the cab arrives at mine on Friday evening. I’m ready to go, dressed up to the max in my gorgeous outfit, my hair slick and long, and my makeup fit for a showgirl. My beauty and skin products have definitely been worth the investment, and so has my growing wardrobe. I feel on top of the world as I step up to the doors of CR Corporate once the cab’s dropped me off. I look up at the office building, and it’s dark, besides one floor where the windows are flashing green, red and blue. Ok, so I guess I’m at the right location. I click arrived as I stand outside.
The instruction pings through in an instant.
Third floor, head on up.
There’s a solitary guy minding the reception desk. He’d be quite a beef of a boy in his dark uniform, if he wasn’t wearing a silly Christmas hat with a goofy smile.
“Party’s up there,” he says, and points to the stairs. “Half of them are probably passed out by now.”
I hope that’s not the case as I make my ascent. The more eyes on me the better, after all the work I’ve been putting into rehearsals. The more cocks ready to fuck me, bonus on top. I’m becoming such a horny cow I want to be on it 24/7. No joke.
I push through the double doors to their office with a shout of HEY, GUYS! and everyone in the place turns to face me. Some of them are wearing tinsel around their necks as ties, some of them in pom pom Christmas hats. One of them has Rudolph antlers on his head and his shirt already off, grooving to the beat of Merry Christmas, Everyone.
The office desks and chairs have been pushed away from the centre to allow for a makeshift dancefloor, but the sales score boards are still up on the walls. There we have it, in a nutshell.
This is a sales team’s office. And these guys are the team members. The whole room thumps with their demeanour. And natural competition.
It makes no odds who User 2155 is amongst the crowd right now. They all let out a cheer as I step up to the ‘dancefloor’ to join them, clearing out of the way to give me some space as I twirl.
There’s a Christmas tree in the corner. I head on over there and the guys gather before me, eight pairs of eyes giving me their full attention.
I feel like the hottest girl on the planet as I shrug my coat off and let it slip to the floor. I’ll be their gothic, Christmas disco queen tonight, no problem at all.
“Santa, baby!” one of the guys shouts, and dashes on over to change the track.
I cheer along with the guys as the song starts up, the tune drowning out the remnants of nerves in my stomach. Here we go… time for the grand strip performance. I’m ready, and it’s time to show it.