I woke up on my back, with no idea where I was. I felt the heat of the sun on my face before I even opened my eyes, and when I finally did, I wished I hadn't. My head pounded, my nose was both stuffy and runny. My body felt battered without even moving a muscle, and I felt what must be depression for the first time in my life.

I was naked and cold, even in the warmth of focused sunlight. Dried semen flaked from my skin like sugar from a glazed donut as I ran my hands down my front, though I wouldn't realize that's what it was for a few more moments. I winced at the soreness between my legs when I shifted my weight onto my side. Everything down there was sore, on the verge of throbbing. I could feel the redness without seeing it, it was like sandpaper against raw nerves. What had happened the night before? I couldn't think clearly through the white haze of a splitting headache, but slowly it would come back to me.

I was here for a job. I knew that much, that there was money owed to me, but how did it end this way? I couldn't imagine agreeing to something that would leave me in this kind of shape when it was all over, but I guess I did. Lately, I'd done a few things I didn't think I was capable of, maybe this was another. I grew up suspicious of everyone around me and not taking many chances, but starting with the decision to leave home nine months ago, that all was changing now. I was a high school dropout working two jobs just to help my Dad keep the roof over our heads, my boyfriend Jon arranged through a relative for a well-paying job far away from where we lived. I didn't question how he made that happen, I was just happy that he'd found a way out. A day after he got the news, we sat outside and talked about the promise of his new opportunity.

"Baby, It's our opportunity," he said, fixing me with a rare eye-to-eye gaze. I recognized it as my chance to escape: from a run-down neighborhood of a run-down city, from two low-pay jobs and a thankless Dad and roommate, from my life as I understood it, nearly devoid of real hope. Suddenly I had hope. Jon was my fire escape, and I took it right out of town.

My suspicion of all things truly good was well-founded this time: the great job that we traveled three states for turned out to be a mirage. The pay was half of what he was promised, and further promises of quick promotion turned out to be empty ones. Our nice apartment, the symbol of our new beginning, was like a weight around our necks now, taunting us for bothering to hope for something better. I had a job as a restaurant hostess, earning slightly more than minimum wage, and together we were making just enough to land us out on the street within another month unless we figured something else out.

Jon started mentioning the possibility of me auditioning as an exotic dancer about two months after we moved, when the reality of our cash-poverty first started to hit home.

"Baby, you'll be great! You know how good of a dancer you are, and how much you like it. That's what this will be. The only difference is that you'll be flirting with guys while you do it, and earning money for it," he told me, spinning it as well as he possibly could, which is not very.

"And taking my clothes off and getting groped in the process," I added. I certainly didn't want anything to do with skeevy guys in dark clubs, no matter how good the cash was. How good could it possibly be, anyways? But faced with our imminent eviction, Jon getting laid off of his shitty job, and having burned the bridges back home that would've given us a place to stay, I gave in. My audition at "Treasures: A Gentleman's Club" went better than I could've imagined: they immediately gave me some evening shifts, and I was officially an exotic dancer. I got used to it, and some days it was even fun.

Unfortunately, for all the trouble of having fat guys sweat on me, socially inept men awkwardly flirt with me, and slimy guys leering at me until it's their turn to get a lap dance, the money wasn't as good as either of us hoped it would be. Jon's temper flared more often: he blamed me for our problems, saying I spent too much, or didn't make myself sexy enough to make good money for us at the club. The economy was getting just as bad where we were as it was back home, and our plan to save money quickly became our plan to use coupons and hope nothing goes wrong. When the car needed a new alternator, there went that hope too. Rent was due, and we we had no money to pay it. For a couple of weeks we lived our lives and avoided the landlord the best we could.

Then one day, a lifeline was offered: a pal of Jon's from his former place of work was going to be the best man in a wedding, and was in charge of finding bachelor party entertainment. As much as I was hesitant to work as a stripper months earlier, I was just as hesitant now to work a private party. I worked with girls do took these kinds of gigs, and more often than not, in ended with them doing a lot more than just dancing. Still, I knew how bad of a spot we were in, and since I didn't kiss the right asses at the club, another offer probably wouldn't be around the corner if I turned this one down.

"This is the only chance we have, baby," Jon pleaded. "If you don't take this gig, then we'll never catch up on the rent. It's a matter of time before we're out, and then what? Besides, Victor's gonna be there, he's my boy, and he'll look out for you. All the money you make, and he says it will be plenty...that catches us all the way up, then you can forget about all this and we move on."

I talked to Victor and told him I really preferred a dancing-only gig, touching only where I said it was okay, and no guys undressing or sex of any kind.

"No worries, Nina. I've got 20 guys ready to have some fun, but most of them have girlfriends anyway, they'll behave. We've been looking forward to this for a good while, just a bunch of guys sending off our good buddy in style. When you get there we'll probably be playing cards or something. If you could serve us drinks, shit like that...that would be nice. For your trouble, and for shaking your fine ass in our faces all night, each of us will chip in $60. Some of those boys are well connected too, so who knows, that $1,200 may end up being a lot more if you shake your body just right."

All I had to do was play the part, and our little money problem would go away- for now at least.

***

On the night of the party I followed the directions he gave me to a house on a lake, just outside the city, surrounded by nothing but woods and water. The sun was just going down when I got there, wearing a bikini with heels, covered around the waist by a sarong.

I walked into what felt more like a small casino in a living room than somebody's house. Two poker-style tables were full of card players, four slot machines were lined up against one wall, and they even brought in paid dealers for the event. When a player would buy in for more chips, Victor would open a small hidden vault in the wall and put his money there before giving him a predetermined number of chips. The money getting thrown around didn't seem all that small either, from the bets they were announcing. No wonder Jon wasn't invited, I thought to myself.

I shuttled drinks to the tables from the bar and slowly met everyone, including Chris, the bachelor himself, who got the first dances while the guys slowly drifted from the poker tables to the living area. I had my own playlist, so Victor hooked up my iphone to the sound system.

"Nina, get some party favors," I heard Victor say from behind me while I was straddling a sheepish Chris to a heavy dance beat. A few more guys cheered and I heard the slap of a high five before I turned around to see a small plastic bag full of white powder being opened on a glass coffee table. I assumed correctly that it was not baking soda.

"Come get some, girl- this is on the house," he said while subdividing a small pile of cocaine into thin parallel rows.

"No, you guys go ahead," I said through a chuckle, continuing to dance. "It's best I stay away from that stuff. I've learned my lesson."

"Aww, serious?" he said, looking genuinely disappointed. "It's some pure shit, I bet you never had any this good. Besides, I'm not taking any if it makes you feel better. I'll watch out for you." I watched a few of the guys suck the fine powder through their nose in a ritual that I was all too familiar with, making me feel the closest thing to a craving that I'd ever had. For the past year, I'd had neither the money nor the desire to come unhinged like I usually do on coke, and here it sat, free for the taking. Before I could talk myself out of it I grabbed a cut straw and soon felt the familiar burn filling the cavities of my sinuses, serenaded by the cheers of the guys around me.

Goddamn, I'd missed this, I thought to myself while resuming the same striptease routine I'd done hundreds of times at the club. Little by little, my nervousness calmed, replaced by confidence; I felt all doubts and fears slip away. I could do this- I could dance for the money we needed, and it wouldn't even be hard! Maybe Jon was right- maybe I was missing something when I was dancing at the club. I certainly had been missing the coke high, and the reaction I was getting from all these guys was different now too. The lights went dim, and I moved between the shadows, giving my attention to one guy after another. I didn't bother to learn their names, I didn't care what they were.

"Let us see what you got, Nina", I heard Victor shout over the music. Eager to oblige I slowly let my bikini top fall to the floor to a rousing applause. My full breasts felt the cool air and swayed as I turned from one side to the other, met at each turn with outstretched hands and horny smiles. I was reaching the height of my coke rush- I was irresistible and bulletproof. Allowing some hands to touch me while playfully swatting others away. They moved ever closer to me, and I was relishing the attention. For the first time, I wasn't stripping for money, I was a sexy fucking Stripper!

"I think it's time to give the bachelor something special, Nina...what do you say, fellas?" one of them said while I playfully ground my ass into his crotch to the beat of the music. They all cheered as I made my way back over to Chris, this time rubbing my breasts roughly into his face while grinding my crotch into his, feeling his hardness press against his jeans the longer I stayed there.

"Give him head, Nina! Make it count!" another shouted over the noise, followed quickly by a unanimous chant.

"Give him head! Give him head! Give him head!"

I laughed and shook my head, giving the most physical lap dance I'd ever given, but the chant would not stop. All senses heightened and feeling adventurous, I backed down onto my knees so I could reach for his belt buckle before my senses attempted to return to me. This wasn't me- I wasn't going to start handing out sexual favors, even it if I was high, and it was for the bachelor, as nice as he was. But how would I back out now? I looked for Victor but he was nowhere to be found. The chant got even louder, as if to counteract my obvious hesitation.

"Give him head! Give him head!"

There was no backing out- fuck! The fact was, through the tingly high I didn't have the will to try anyway.

"Okay," I said, shouting at the guys over my shoulder. "But tell Victor this is gonna cost him!"

"We'll take care of you, hun, don't worry about it," one of them replied. Chris was taking a long draw from a bottle of beer, so I took out my frustration by going for the element of surprise and tore into his belt buckle quickly, making him jump in his seat and nearly spew a mouthful of pilsner. The guys cheered as I freed his half-erect penis from the confines of his pants, clutching it gently with one fist before lowering my mouth over the head.

The whooping continued as I swirled my tongue around his growing shaft each time I took more of him into my mouth. I could smell and taste the salty musk of his cock, feeling the veins protruding from the shaft, taking him deeper and deeper. I'd never deep-throated anyone but Jon, but Chris was about to become my second. I gagged slightly before opening my throat and tilting my head just right. I gasped for breath around his shaft as I fucked him with my whole mouth and throat.

Chris' hands ran through my hair, but I felt another pair of hands on my ass, then pushing the my bikini bottoms to the side and caressing my bare pussy. My eyes opened wide and I wanted to shout back at them but wasn't able to take my mouth off of Chris' dick. Another hand reached in from the side and felt my bare breast, fingers tracing down to the nipple before grasping it between thumb and forefinger. My body wanted to gasp, my hand wanted to swat his away- but again, I could do neither.

The hand on my ass pressed directly onto my mound, then caressed it firmly. More alarms rang silently in my head, blocked by the narcotic high and what could only be sheer shock at what was swirling around me, closing in.

The one hand on my breast became two, as both hands caressed my back, around my sides, and kneaded my tits before repeating. The hand on my mound slipped the middle finger between the folds, sending a shiver through me. With every advance on my body and personal space, my arousal was keeping pace with my sense of alarm. Maybe the helplessness turned me on. Maybe being desired by so many men, for the greater good of my household and lifestyle, was turning me on. Or maybe I was taking cocaine and losing control, just like the last time I took cocaine.

"Ungh....I'm gonna cum...." Chris muttered within earshot of the closest circle, prompting more cheers, and as I stopped deep-throating him and bobbed on his shaft while I stroked him with one hand, a new chant started and grew instantly loud.

"Swallow It! Swallow It! Swallow It!"

I sucked and stroked harder, tongue pressing into the sensitive spot on the back of the head, until finally I felt his hand tense as it gripped my shoulder. He exhaled, and his hot salty fluid filled my mouth while I continued to stroke him. I held it briefly, my instinct being to spit it out, but the chant demanded that I not, and somehow I gulped it down, continuing to suck and lick him as he pulsed in my mouth, then swallowed again.

My head remained in Chris' lap, hands gripping his thighs as the finger in my pussy started to move deeper, then in and out in a slow rhythm. The softening cock rested in front of my mouth, and I tried to cut through the mental static and gain control of the situation. My heart was beating so hard, and I knew I was fighting a battle, I just couldn't figure out what it was for. My hips moved in response to the finger, now two, probing my pussy.

"Nina, looks like you're in the spirit of things now, baby," Victor said, leaning down into one ear. I wanted to scream at him, and ask him how much more money I was going to get for giving oral sex to the bachelor, and where he got such good coke, and what about the hands all over me....oh, and who is this guy fingering the fuck out of my pussy? But all of those thoughts got jammed together before any one of them made it out, and all I could do was look at him.

"How about another bump, baby doll. Don't breathe and scatter it now, just inhale", he said, carefully approaching my nose with a dab of coke on the end of a spoon. One hand immediately blocked the other nostril and I eagerly sniffed it up. "Good girl, good girl."

My bikini bottoms were pulled off my hips and down to my knees. I felt the hot skin of a bare cock against my thigh, and I lifted my head. The cock pressed against the...