Chastity Belt by Shoshanna Evers Page B

handed her a single typed piece of paper. “Just sign this and give me your driver’s license to photocopy for our records.”
    Georgia signed the paper and dug into her little purse for her ID.
    A man walked into the office and gave Mary Ann a kiss on the cheek before turning to Georgia and nodding. “So this is Casey’s friend Georgia, I gather.”
    Georgia nodded and put her hand out to the man. “Hello, sir.”
    “I’m Vincent, Mary Ann’s husband. We run GC. Geez, you look like a teenager.” He turned to his wife. “Did you check her ID?” When Mary Ann nodded, Vincent turned his attention back to Georgia. “Are you ready?”
    “Yes.” Georgia hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. “What do I do?”
    “Just follow me.” Vincent walked back out the office door and Georgia did as he said and followed him to a different part of the club. There was a stage and a bunch of tables, like a dinner theater setup. On the stage was a chair.
    “You sit there, in that chair. When the gentlemen come in for the show, I’ll tell you to take off your clothes and you’ll strip onstage.”
    “I-I’m not a stripper. I mean, I can’t dance or anything.”
    “That’s fine, pretend you’re at home taking your clothes off for a lover. Just strip. Then I’ll ask you to sit down and I’ll get a volunteer from the audience to tie you up. You just have to follow directions. If at any point you are uncomfortable, say ‘umbrella’ and I’ll untie you and send you home. Of course, you wouldn’t have kept your half of the contract in that case, so you would forfeit your salary at that point.”
    “Okay.”
    “What’s the safeword? Say it.”
    “Umbrella.”
    “Good girl. Now just sit there and wait for a few minutes,” Vincent said. “We’ll be ready to start soon.”
    * * * * *
     
    Georgia sat on the chair trying to look out at the audience, but the spotlight on her practically blinded her. She could hear the men though, talking in deep voices, the ice clinking in their drinks, an occasional burst of laughter. She could smell cigar smoke. She thought smoking inside had been banned—apparently some laws didn’t apply here at GC.
    Vincent came onstage next to her and grabbed a microphone. “Gentlemen, your attention please.”
    Silence fell over the club. Georgia didn’t know what to do, she was so nervous. One hundred dollars for one hour. That’s what she needed to focus on. A hundred bucks plus tips. She smiled out at the audience even though she couldn’t see them past the bright spotlight.
    Vincent came up behind her and put one large hand on her shoulder as he held the microphone in the other hand. “It is my pleasure to introduce the lovely Georgia to the Gentlemen’s Club. Sweet Georgia, please show these fine men that gorgeous body you have under all those clothes!” He stepped aside and gave her a go on now look.
    Georgia stood on shaky knees and slowly pulled her low-cut V-neck blouse over her head, revealing her lacy black push-up bra. The men cheered and whistled. She blushed and grinned. No wonder Casey got off on stripping. She’d never had a man actually yell in delight and whistle when she undressed before.
    She reached around behind her waist and unzipped the miniskirt she had borrowed from Casey. It was leather and it was tight, so she had to shimmy a bit to lower and then step out of it. The men actually started clapping. “Thank you, you’re so kind,” she said, laughing.
    Vincent chuckled and spoke into the mic as she stood on the stage wearing nothing but her high heels, a black thong and her push-up bra. “Can I get a volunteer to cuff Sweet Georgia to the chair, gentlemen?”
    She didn’t know how Vincent could see past the spotlight that was so blinding to her, but maybe he was just used to it. He pointed to someone sitting at one of the tables. “Jonathan Syler, I do believe it’s your turn, sir.”
    Everyone clapped, which she assumed meant that Jonathan Syler