Jenny's Daring Streak

All characters are over 18 years old.

* * * * * *

Kemper & Kemper Imports in Portland where I was a financial analyst laid off half the staff and just when it looked like we'd be hired back, it folded. The meager weekly checks from unemployment weren't going to keep me in my apartment and buy food at the same time. My savings were shrinking, what little family I had couldn't help and my credit cards were maxed. Still, I figured something always turns up. I hoped. Okay, I was scared.

My best friend Linda Sommers stopped by on a pleasant spring afternoon, bubbly as always. She brought lasagna from Petro's and a bottle of excellent red wine. We had known each other since college, about twelve years and always shared our deepest secrets. I didn't whine about my job situation, but it was a hard topic to avoid.

"I thought studying business administration was a good idea," I lamented. "You seemed wasted working in a saloon."

"I took management classes," Linda protested. "But yes, operating a nightclub is more reliable than accounting. They aren't going to replace me with AI."

My name is Jenny MacKenzie, a twenty-nine-year-old brunette with nice tits, long legs and sparkling blue eyes. When I'm not so worried. Outside of work, I like old movies, 1980s pop music and can quote Shakespeare. Well, maybe a few lines of Shakespeare. Linda is shorter and a little thicker, with a cute bun of blonde hair and exciting green eyes.

"So, what's the occasion?" I asked as we washed the dishes.

"I'm here to collect on my dare," she answered.

"Dare?"

"Don't be coy. Last year, for my dare, you made me go to the Cindi Lauper festival wearing a white tank top, thin beige knickers and no underwear. And no umbrella. When it started raining, I looked naked."

"Yes, that was hilarious. But the year before, you made me pose nude for Mrs. Doubletree's art class at the college. And invited our old classmates to watch."

"Because you made me jump out of a cake at your brother-in-law's bachelor party the year before that," Linda recalled. "In a string bikini that kept sliding off when it got covered in icing. This year, it's your turn."

Of course, we had been doing this a long time, alternating dares from year to year. Though I hadn't expected to pay up again so soon. It had only been ten months.

"What is it you want me to do?" I conceded.

"It's been tough for you lately, so this will be an easy one," she replied.

She went to the door of my 2nd floor apartment. Below was the pool yard surrounded by four stories of walkways. About forty apartments. Going forward from the pool yard was the gate to the street. Down the stairs and towards the back was the parking lot. The apartment had strong security gates and rumors of security cameras, though I'd never seen any.

"You want me to go swimming?" I asked, standing next to her.

"No, I want you to streak the pool area. Do a full circle."

I looked down. Old Mr. Bedlow was lying in a beach chair. He'd been reading a book, but now seemed to be asleep. Bitchy seventy-year-old Mrs. Hagershawl was on the other side, sitting in a chair knitting. The pool was often busy in the afternoon and later in the evening, but was quiet at the moment.

"Topless?" I questioned.

"No, you have to streak stark naked," Linda said.

"Naked! I can't run around the complex naked," I insisted.

"That's the dare. If you're fast, you'll barely be noticed. You can always claim later that you were wearing sheer underwear."

"This is crazy."

"It will be fun," she persisted with a twinkle in her eyes. "Now let's do this. I need to be at work by seven."

I doubted that was a good excuse. Linda managed Sheena's Lair, a popular nightclub on Main Street and Jackson less than two miles away. Just a few blocks from her new condo, so getting to work would only take a few minutes. It was just past six o'clock. I looked down from the walkway. It would be okay if I was fast.

"Let's get this over with," I sighed, stepping back inside and starting to strip. Linda took out her phone with a giggle.

"No photos on the internet," I warned.

"We both know the rules," she said, taking a few snapshots. "I'll be at the top of the stairs keeping an eye out."

I slowly peeled off my Portland Blazers t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Then the bra.

"Shoes?" I asked.

"No shoes. Completely buck-naked," she demanded.

The shoes were kicked off and then my thumbs went into the waistband of my panties. This was getting very embarrassing. Linda was grinning from ear to ear, ready to take more photos. The panties dropped to my ankles and came off.

"Shaved?" she admired. "Were you looking for a hook-up?"

"Just because I haven't dated in a while doesn't mean I don't like being prepared," I defended, a hand over my ample breasts and another over my crotch.

"Very smooth," Linda inspected, giving me a gentle stroke. "You've still got a great body. Playing golf and tennis?"

"Not so much lately."

"Things will get better," my best friend assured me. "Now let's get going."

I moved to the door. Linda went first, checking to see if the walkway was clear. I reached for my house keys.

"You won't need those. No one is going to rob your apartment in the next five minutes," Linda lectured. "Just leave the door unlocked."

It made sense and I'd look silly running around with nothing but a set of keys. I set them on the table next to the door and stepped out. The pool yard staircase was to my left. I walked slowly past several apartments covering myself and Linda followed a few steps behind. We had done some streaking in college, eight years before, but always late at night through a quiet campus. Never when there was still light, even if the sun had almost set. Okay, maybe once or twice we streaked through malls and concerts.

I hesitated, studying the pool yard. Looking at the other apartments for movement and the two gates. No one was coming in the front and so far, no one from the parking lot in the back. They would need keys to get through the security gate, so no strangers were lurking around.

"You're looking good, kid," Linda said, stopping at the top of the stairs. "Get going." And then she gave my ass a hard slap for motivation.

I began creeping down, reaching the bottom step and took one last look before making my move, scurrying along below my own walkway. Mr. Bedlow stirred but didn't look up. At the far end of the pool, I saw Josh Andrews stop and stare at me as he emerged from the laundry room, his arms filled with clean clothes. He was a skinny college student with spiky red hair and big eyes. Startled at first, he offered a leering grin and stepped back as I ran past, making my loop around the far end of the pool.

"Slut," Mrs. Hagershawl muttered as I passed her.

"Sorry, ma'am," I apologized. "I lost a bet."

"You lose a lot of things," she sneered.

Suddenly, a whole group of young people, six or seven of them, came from the recreation room. Allison Peirce and her art club. Thank god they didn't see me. At first.

A whistle blew, so loud it could be heard all over the complex. I looked up to the second floor, seeing Linda laughing, her eyes dancing with evil delight. She blew the whistle again. Allison's entire group turned in my direction.

"Fuck!" I cursed, using my hands to cover myself. The kids weren't mean, only taking a few photos. For artistic purposes.

"You're looking good, Emm," Allison sarcastically remarked. "For an old lady."

I wasn't even 30 yet.

"At least I'm not still in diapers," I answered, getting in her face.

"Don't get huffy. We're not the ones running around the apartment naked," Allison cattily replied. "These pictures are going to look great on the bulletin board."

They walked off. I hoped she was kidding about the bulletin board. One thing for sure, I'd get even with Linda for this.

I continued forward, now seeing the stairs ahead. Linda had retreated, now standing next to my door and holding it open. I gratefully increased my pace, taking the stairs two steps at a time and rushed along the walkway. And then everything changed.

To my horror, I saw Linda reach inside, twist the knob and yank the door closed! I could hear it lock from twenty feet away.

"Linda! What the fuck!" I shouted, pulling on the handle. "What have you done?"

"Just a harmless prank, my dear," Linda chuckled.

"Open the door," I shrieked, looking around to see who was watching. Mrs. Hagershawl seemed to be taking an interest. Others were in the shadows, trying not to be obvious.

"I can't. I don't have the keys," Linda replied.

"Goddamn it, what am I supposed to do?"

"Well, if you remember, I have keys to your apartment at my place," Linda answered. "But I don't have time to get them for you. The key to my condo is under the flowerpot near the front door. Help yourself."

"Your condo is two miles away!" I exclaimed.

"Only one. Maybe a touch more," she snickered.

"At least give me a ride," I demanded.

"Oh, no. I can't have a nude woman in my new car. You'll soil the leather seats," she rejected.

"Linda--" I began to plead.

"Honey, I've got to get to work. If you don't want your keys, I'll be back after my shift to help."

"When does your shift end?" I asked.

"Not so late. About 2 a.m."

"Eight hours from now? I can't be naked for eight hours."

"Maybe your neighbors will help?" she mischievously suggested.

It didn't take long to dwell on that. My neighbors were jokesters, pervs and stuffy zealots who would see my nudity as divine punishment. They'd call the police before lending a hand.

"Please, Linda. Please don't do this," I begged.

"When I was virtually naked in the rain at the music festival, you said a dare is a dare. It goes both ways. Now I need to go. If you don't want your duplicate keys, I'll see you after work. Or maybe in the morning. I may need some sleep."

She boldly went down the stairs, skirted the pool and strolled out through the front gate where her car was parked on the street. I knelt down at the walkway railing, hoping too many couldn't see me. I wasn't sure what to do, locked out of my clothes, trying to hide on the walkway. I'd been naked in public before but not like this. Well, maybe a little.

"Having a bad day?" Mrs. Hagershawl asked, coming up the stairs from the pool.

"A friend has pulled a mean prank on me," I answered, hunched down trying to cover my nudity.

"I have extra clothes in my car," she offered.

"Can I come into your apartment?" I requested.

"I'm not letting a naked slut like you into my apartment. Do you want the clothes or not?"

"Yes, please."

I rose up slowly, seeing a dozen people now on their walkways watching from around the complex. It was so embarrassing. I used my hands to keep myself covered in case any of them were taking pictures.

Mrs. Hagershawl and I went down the backstairs, pausing in the alcove. Through the security gate, I saw at least forty cars, not sure which one belonged to my new benefactor. I hoped it wouldn't be a long walk, for the parking lot lights had just turned on.

"You are a very pretty girl, for a naked slut," Mrs. Hagershawl complimented. "Be thankful I'm helping you."

"Oh, I am. Thank you so much," I assured her.

She pushed the gate open and stood aside as I entered the parking lot. But she didn't follow me. I turned back, wondering. And then she shoved the gate closed with a loud clasp of the lock. I jumped back, pushing on the metal frame. It wouldn't budge. The witch laughed.

"Enjoy your evening, sweetie," Mrs. Hagershawl gloated with a nasty glare. And then she walked away.

I was locked out of my complex without a stitch to wear just as the sun finished setting. I doubted anyone would let me back in and even if they did, I couldn't get back in my apartment. It was so humiliating.

############################################################

I considered what to do. Certainly, walking bare ass to Linda's condo for my keys down a busy boulevard was out of the question, but there was a quiet suburban street a block away that ran in the same direction. I might be able to sneak by, pass through Mansfield Park and reach Main Street. From there it wouldn't be hard to go the rest of the way. Other than crossing a very busy street. I sighed. This wasn't going to be fun. But what choice did I have? At least I could steal some of Linda's clothes and get dressed.

I crept out onto the side street, mostly apartment buildings like mine. Dull and dreary. I couldn't afford to be in a hurry, hiding in bushes for five or ten minutes at a time as drivers returned from work. I was good at hiding. Like in my profession, I could be observant and patient. Then I'd move on, sometimes using my hands to cover myself. At other times, with a clear run, I'd just move along. My firm B-cup breasts weren't bouncing too badly, though I did need to restrain them on occasion. Thankfully, the temperature was good. Cool but not chilly.

Upon reaching the corner, the apartment buildings disappeared, replaced with suburban homes, tidy fourplexes and small bungalow courtyards. There were a lot of trees and broad lawns, but fewer hedges. Cars parked in driveways would provide some protection if I ducked low enough. It was kind of exciting, in a terrifying sort of way. And quite frankly, Linda and I had indulged in similar adventures.

I pushed on, block after block. Plucking bushes for cover was pointless. Leaves don't really hide very much and attract even more attention. A few people saw me. An old lady with her dog. A guy watering his lawn. There was a couple out for a stroll who would go home with a new story. Several drivers honked when they spotted my pink ass wiggling along the sidewalk. I knew from experience to keep going.

Each time I came to a corner, I would stop and look both ways, making sure not to get caught in anyone's headlights and then scamper across. One large intersection had a camera to catch motorists running red lights. Would it spot me? I waited for the green light.

Finally, I reached Mansfield Park. It was long, wide and dark except for the tennis courts, basketball courts and a late-night soccer game being played under bright lights surrounded by fifty cheering fans. Obviously, I avoided those areas, though I did briefly fantasize about streaking the soccer field, imagining the shocked expressions.

Sneaking along on the soft grass was fun and a little stimulating. Well, more than a little stimulating. The arousal was growing stronger, my nipples hard. I briefly considered finding a quiet spot to relieve my tension and then got smart about it. Getting caught by the cops in the park naked was a misdemeanor. Pleasuring myself might be a felony. I didn't need the legal fees.

I was most of the way through the park, seeing the ghostly streetlamps up ahead on Main Street, when there was a noise behind me. Footsteps. I had gotten a strange sensation of being followed a few times and who wouldn't follow a naked woman if they could? But this was more persistent. I ducked off the trail behind a tree and waited.

It was Frank Bessinger, a man who lived in my building. About 45-years old, tall and thick, with jowly red cheeks and a bald head. At 300 pounds, his shoulders always slumped and he walked like the Incredible Hulk. I jumped out, scaring the hell out of him.

"What are you doing here, you sick fuck? Trying to rape me?" I cursed. He jumped back, a hand over his heart, almost stumbling.

"Following you wasn't my idea," he stuttered in his gruff Jersey accent.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts. "Your friend Linda made me promise to watch out for you. I've been following since she locked you out of your apartment. Which was a sweet trick, by the way. If any creep tries to give you grief, I'll beat the shit out of him."

"Watching me run around naked isn't so bad, either. Is it?"

"Ain't complaining," he replied, attempting to smile.

"You've been watching me for a long time."

"You're really pretty."

"Are you expecting a reward?"

"No, I know you're way out of my league," he sadly answered. "But a guy can dream, can't he?"

Hell, this bloated slob was more frightened than I was. I turned to leave, hearing him sigh. I had no doubt he really was trying to protect me.

"Oh, what the heck," I decided, turning back.

I pushed him down on a park bench, opened his pants and went to work on his dick with both hands. It wasn't a bad size, though not so thick as the rest of him. He was stunned. Speechless. Not responding right away, but he didn't resist. He leaned back, trying not to fall off the bench, hardly able to breathe. I was completely naked, on a park pathway, giving my strange neighbor a hand job and I felt completely in control. Powerful. I doubled my efforts until he burst like a geyser, working him until there was nothing left.

Frank wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He was totally spent. I got up, pleased to have paid a debt. He gave me a handkerchief to wipe my hands.

"Do you want me to do something for you?" he hesitantly asked, looking at my wonderful tits and shaved womanhood. Perhaps a little wetter than it should be.

"No," I firmly answered. "But thank you for offering."

"Do you want my jacket?" he suggested, starting to take it off. I seriously considered that. Why wouldn't I? Naked in the city. Tricked by my best friend.

"No, but thanks," I replied.

"No?" he questioned.

"Linda and I have played these games since college," I explained. "She's getting the better of me this time, but next year, I'll get her worse."

I was already thinking of my revenge.

"You girls are crazy," Frank concluded.

"Yes, we already know that. I can go the rest of the way by myself," I decided.

"I'll give you some space, but I won't be far away," he warned. "A promise is a promise."

It was a few minutes past 8 o'clock when I reached Main Street. It was busier than I hoped. Linda's nightclub was to my right on the corner of Jackson Avenue, a block away. Her new condo was several hundred feet to my left. I stayed in the park walking parallel to the sidewalk, looking for traffic patterns. Cars went by and then more cars. A big truck. And then the traffic signals at each end were red at the same time. Drivers looking in their rearview mirrors would see me, but I wouldn't be in their headlights. I made a dash for it, hands covering my bits with the rough asphalt under my bare feet and rushed into a hedge, looking to see if anyone was taking an interest. The boulevard remained peaceful.

With a sigh of relief, I ran up the path to Linda's porch. It was a nice two-story condo painted light pink with red trim. She had bought it a year before after the previous structure, a broken-down auto garage, had been torn down. But then I saw a problem. There were plant stands all over the porch! At least twenty flowerpots! Which one had the key? Was the key under the pot, or in the pot? And the moment I got on the veranda, the motion sensor lit me up like a theater marquee! Goddamn!

I couldn't stay out there long being exposed like that. Anyone walking down the sidewalk could see me. Cars driving slowly had a clear view. My long hair covered most of my face, but I needed my hands to search for the key, so they weren't hiding anything.

There was nothing under the first pot closest to the door, or the second. I threw them out on the lawn. One broke. More were broken as I frantically went down the line, quickly inspecting each one. Wham! Bam! Crash! Pots were flying in every direction. I would have thrown a brick through Linda's window and climbed through the hole if not for the security bars.

"Hey, lady, what the hell are you doing?" a tall lanky lad called from the street. He was laughing and raising his phone to take pictures.

"You better move along, asshole," I shouted back."Or what?" he defiantly said.

I pointed to the park across the street. Frank was standing on the curb with a dark frown. And then he started rolling up his sleeves and stepping forward. The lanky pervert ran off like a yellow dog.

I got down to the last pot. There was potting soil and broken shards everywhere. No key. I wanted to scream. Only the doormat remained. I picked it up, finding a sheet of paper underneath. It had a smiley face in Marks-a-lot and a note saying, "Forgot to leave the key. Meet me at the nightclub."

Just great, I thought. But at least I had destroyed her fucking porch.

############################################################

With a thankful wave to Frank, I hustled down the boulevard toward the tavern on the corner. Cars honked at me. Pedestrians grinned as they jumped out of my way, cameras flashing. All they got was my butt. Using the elaborate front entry decorated with fake palm trees wasn't an option, too many people, so I crept through the back parking lot, seeing the neon sign for Sheena's Lair and knocking on the service door around the side of the building. And again. It was two minutes before I heard someone coming. Cars in the lot kept arriving, but patrons using the well-lit rear entrance couldn't see me hiding behind the trash bin. I don't think.

"Dear, you're still naked," Linda said with a smirk, finally opening the door.

"There was no key in your flowerpot. Not any of your flowerpots," I cursed. "I know, because I broke every goddam one of them looking."

"That was very impetuous of you," Linda scolded. "Though I can see why you're frustrated. Any trouble?"

"No, your spy kept an eye on me the whole way. A very close eye."

My friend laughed. "I wanted to make sure you were safe," she explained, standing aside so I could enter. I declined to mention how I had rewarded my guardian.

"I need to get dressed. I want my keys. I've been fucking naked for three hours!"

"You must be exhausted, honey," Linda consoled, taking my hand. The rear corridor was bustling with cooks, waitresses, bartenders and busboys. It was very embarrassing when they stopped to gape. I covered up the best I could, an arm over my tits and a hand cupping my shaved pussy. She led me into a side room where it was quiet.

"Just sit here for a few minutes. I'll find a drink for you," she encouraged.

It was a curtained alcove with a polished wood floor. I sat in the only chair, metal with a blue plastic seat.

"Find something for me to wear," I demanded, hunching over.

Linda disappeared back into the hallway. I tried to relax for the first time in hours, hearing the nightclub had a boisterous Friday night crowd. It was the usual talk. Sports. Business. Women. Glasses clinked as the waitresses were busy serving. I had been a waitress for several months during my freshman year at university, before getting a parttime accounting job.

Suddenly, the noise changed. The piped in pop music stopped to a steadier beat. Mostly drums. I heard Linda on the other side of the curtain.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we here at Sheena's Lair are proud to offer you a special treat. A new star making her very first appearance ever. My best friend, Cassandra!"

I heard clapping and then, to my astonishment, the curtains opened! What the fuck!

With a start, I jumped from the chair, frozen like a deer in the headlights. My hands were crossed in a classic ENF pose. There were fifty or sixty nicely dressed men and women at two dozen tables. And more standing at the bar. They were looking at me with expectation. Music started playing. It was "I'm a Slave for You" by Britney Spears. The audience waited for me to start dancing. And waited. I gazed back at them, unable to move, immobilized by terror and disbelief. The longer I delayed, the more the crowd began to react. Grinning. Laughing. They weren't taunting me. It wasn't mean. They seemed to understand I was out of my element and began an encouraging applause.

I moved a foot. And then another. Struggling to find my bearings. Why didn't I just run off the stage? Hell, I have no idea. I waved a hand halfheartedly, quickly returning it to cover my breasts and then waved the other one. And stood still for another minute, with big eyes and a delectable body that everybody wanted to see more of. I attempted a hesitant turn, stopped cold and turned back. After that, I didn't move at all. When the song ended, there was applause and money was thrown on the stage. A lot of money. $5 bills. $10s. Several $20s. And then more $20s. I wondered if there was enough to pay my auto insurance.

It seemed a good time to bail, but I saw Linda in the wings playing conductor. She signaled the disk jockey and another song started.

That goddamn bitch! It was "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper. My all-time favorite. Suddenly, I couldn't help myself. I began to sway. My hands waved, revealing my boobs. And they were very nice boobs, even if I do say so myself, that jiggled just right. I shifted left and right, a hand barely covering my pussy as I lifted my feet, caught up in the inspiring music. I looked out at the spectators, my big blue eyes betraying my excitement. I rose in a ballerina stance, both hands high above my head and spun around, flashing my ass.

The crowd was going crazy. I don't think it was because I was an extraordinary dancer. I certainly wasn't. Just a young woman caught up in the moment and that's what made it special. More money was thrown on the stage. $10s and $20s. A $50! Would I be able to pay rent?

Breathless, I fell to my knees as the song ended, having given it everything. I expected the men and women watching to be mocking me, but far from it. They seemed enthralled.

"One more!" Linda shouted.

I heard the first few notes, rising to my feet, only to be shocked again.

"Y.M.C.A.?' Are you fucking kidding me!" I shouted, stomping to the edge of the stage.

She wasn't. Everyone was laughing, thinking it was part of the act.

The show must go on. I began high stepping in quarter turns, hands thrusting at my side, then patting my butt before turning my back to the audience. And in unison with the song, I pressed my ankles together and raised my arms into a Y, tapping my shoulders for the M, cupping elbows wide for a C and raising my hands again, pressing my fingertips together to form the A as I spread my legs. There was a cheer.

I strutted through the next refrain, one hand covering my bits, the other pointing upward. Then I went into a switch, the other hand over my pussy and arm extended out. Seconds later, I switched back and spun around, wiggling my ass. I briefly noticed Linda in the wings, astonished, her eyes wide and hands clutched together in delight. When the letters came back, I spun around at the last second for a full-frontal view, leaping high while making my letters! Y! M! C! A! Everything was out there. Nothing hidden. My naked body on full display. My fans were screaming.

The song ended, somewhat to my disappointment. I had never felt so invigorated. After all the trials and stress since I lost my job, it was like saying, "Fuck you world, here I am! I don't give a damn what you think."

My act got a standing ovation. Tons of bills were thrown on the stage. I noticed machines on the tables blinking. Credit card readers? Was tipping by credit card a thing?

As assistants used a broom to scoop the money into plastic bags, Linda rushed forward to draw me off stage, stopping near the bar. She wrapped me in a long blue robe.

"Dear God, honey, I've never seen anything like that," she gushed. "You were incredible."

As I came down from the high, I felt shy but excited. I was trembling, but not from fear.

"Just so you know, you keep all the cash tips," my friend explained. "The house keeps 15% of the electronic tips. For a new girl, it looks like you've done great. Patrons reward a spirited performance."

"I get to keep all that money?" I asked.

"Of course. We aren't socialists. Can I get you a drink?"

"Vodka gimlet?"

"Coming right up," Linda smiled, heading for the bar.

A moment later, a tall older man with a thin face and white hair approached. He stopped at a respectful distance.

"Excuse me, miss," he said. "My name is Howard J. Worthington. I really enjoyed your show."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, not sure how this was supposed to work.

"If I may, most of the dancers come out in costume for their first performance, strip down to a bra and panties in their second. Or just panties. And don't completely strip until their third song. Coming out like that, nude, was very audacious. And very brave."

"To be honest, sir, it wasn't completely my idea," I explained.

He laughed. It wasn't creepy, just amused.

"Everyone here could see you're not a professional. The frightened deer look was enchanting. What do you do in real life?"

"I was working for Kemper & Kemper, but they went under."

"Brian Kemper never did know how to run a business," he observed.

"Which I found out too late," I lamented.

"What did you do there? Secretary?"

"Micro projections," I answered. He stepped back.

"Miss, that is a very specialized field," he mentioned.

"Yes, I know. It's made finding a new position difficult. Especially in this weak economy."

"Some are using AI for micro projections," he warned.

"AI only tells the programmers what they want to hear," I bitterly responded. "Some want optimistic projections, so that's what they get. Bears want a down market, so AI sees that."

"I've been looking at Kettleston Acquisitions," he hinted.

"Above 12%, that would be a mistake," I cautioned. "Their profits are artificially induced by underfunded bond trading and subject to undisclosed excise taxes. The projections promise unrealistic long-term growth."

"I already knew that. I was wondering if you did," he revealed with a soft grin. Suddenly, he wasn't looking at me like a naked dancer. "It seems you really know your stuff."

"I wish Mr. Kemper has listened," I sighed.

"I'm listening," Mr. Worthington said. He reached into his pocket, taking out a roll of hundred-dollar bills. He started to peel several off, thought for a moment and then handed me the entire bundle. It looked like $2,000. "This is for you. For that brave performance."

I looked up into those soft gray eyes wondering what he expected for so much money.

"Miss Cassandra, may I kiss you on the cheek?" he requested. He leaned forward, giving me a soft peck. There were no hands. No groping.

Linda returned with my drink.

"Howard, so glad you made it," she greeted, giving him a warm hug.

"Thank you for calling me. I wouldn't have missed this for the world," he responded.

"I see you met Jenny. Wasn't she terrific?"

"Grace under pressure," Howard agreed.

"Jenny is my best friend. I've known her forever. While I was getting a boring management degree, she was setting the finance department on fire with her amazing calculations. Unfortunately, she hasn't been able to find her niche yet."

"Maybe we can do something about that," Howard said, handing me his business card. "I own Vaster Imports. Give my office a call on Monday."

Mr. Worthington offered a nod and went to the bar. He and bartender Sam seemed on familiar terms. Linda turned to me with a big smile until she saw tears running down my cheeks.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked.

I couldn't answer. I couldn't talk. She took me to the far end of the bar, chased two clients out of their chairs and made me sip my drink.

"Jenny, I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I know I went too far, but ..."

"No, it's not that," I interrupted. "I'd have done the same to you. Someday, I will. It's just that I've been so scared. I couldn't pay my bills. Rent is coming due. Then people were throwing money on the stage. A lot of money."

"I was hoping you and Howard would meet. That's why I invited him. But he wouldn't have offered his card unless he saw something in you."

"He's a nice man. I haven't met many of those lately," I replied.

"I wasn't going to ask this after all you've been through, but each girl usually does two sets. I've kept a second slot open for you if you want it."

Again? I thought. No! No way. I can't. It's too humiliating. Out of the question.

"What time?" I answered.

* * * * * *

I began work for Vaster Imports a week later. Mr. Worthington was my boss, my friend and my mentor. I've never known a better man. We were never intimate, not that I didn't give it some thought. Within a year, I was making crazy money heading my own department and was soon traveling to offices around the country and all over the world. Very exciting stuff. From time to time, I still return to Sheena's Lair to remember that day. I dance naked on the stage to my favorite songs in front of co-workers, clients and associates who come to see my performances. Laughing and applauding. I don't care. It's me they see. All of me. And I love it.