Little Red Riding Hood:

Final segment:

The Big Reveal:

Ms J. Lo has her hands firmly on my top/bodysuit. I can feel her breath on my neck.

I feel a breeze on my left hip as my top is slowly but sensuously being shifted by her.

My face is as red as my top. Thank goodness the dim club lighting gives me some sort of shield from the endless blushes.

Oh goodness, now we are playing a type of peek-a-boo with my top. Ms J.Lo pulls one side up. I pull it down, and so we are "wrestling" to grab hold of the top.

The cheering increases around us as the men (silly buggers) think that my being coy is part of the "tease."

Tease? The only tease I learned was telling jokes to my siblings. Although, by now, if it came down to choice, I'd sooner do a "bad" comedy act than a strip.

Jeez, I didn't even KNOW what I looked like topless. The coins jingle in the tip jar as Ms J. Lo touches me.

Suddenly, there's a firm tug and, my top is now between my breasts and my stomach. Lord, help me.

"Take it off!" "Take it off!" The "men" surrounding the bar chant and start banging (goodnaturedly) on the bar.

Listen, do you know what happens when your mother tells you to change your underwear before going
out (just in case you are involved in an accident). A thought: which pervert will be looking at clean underwear while you are lying unconscious on the sidewalk? Imagine trying to resuscitate the patient or administer oxygen while checking for a pulse and decent underwear.

Anyway, back to my situation! Well, this morning, I never listened to my mom and wore the ugliest, most worn-out bra I have. (Don't judge me, the nicer ones were in the wash) This was a bra that looked as if my granny had chosen it. (Big "boobs," remember!) It had straps that looked like bandages. You know which ones I'm talking about. Oh, and it was beige!

"Hey, don't get carried away by thinking about your bra." My mind drags me back to my present dilemma. I want, no, I need the money (those tips) and good Catholic girl that I am, I am not showing my breasts to strangers.

Where is a fire when you need it? The DJ still has the spotlight on me, and the men are waiting, with bated breath, for my top to come off.

How am I getting out of this? Mom, where are you? I need an adult!

"You are an adult," the voice inside my head tells me. Oh, shut up!

Another inch and, my ribs are further exposed. Ms J. Lo is like an octopus; her hands feel as if they are all over my body.

I guess I have no choice but to strip. Either that or faint (I'm not the fainting type), I can't pretend. I am a lousy actress. Definitely no Oscar for me. I'm that bad that I would have to pay Hollywood to be in a movie. (Reminder, nuns, convent)

Strip it is then!

Stop...

Someone shouts above the music.

What now? I sigh.
I turn to the sound of the voice.

“I bought her for the night she belongs to me!"

WHAT???

This can't be happening. I would sooner strip!

As I turn, to see who claimed me, my heart jumped, and I nearly fell to my knees in gratitude.

It was Kevin *not his real name.

So when I was doing that bit of bar work when I just arrived in Johannesburg, Kevin used to frequent the bar. He was in his 40's, well dressed and looked as if he had money. He was always friendly and would chat for hours on end. Never tried anything, though. Thank goodness, but deep down, I knew he wanted to, so I was friendly but aloof.

I quickly pulled down my top and started walking towards him.

"I'm not for sale," I said indignantly.

He put his arm around me and smiled.

"I know you're not, but I paid to spend time with you."

"Get your things, and let's get out of here."

Later, he explained that he had walked in with some colleagues, saw me, and realized the predicament I was in! He approached the owner and paid for some "private time" with me. He knew I wasn't a stripper and figured I would need some help.

The relief I felt made my knees weak; He kindly dropped me off at home, and I promised to keep in touch.

I never did! Hey, don't judge me! I was grateful, but not THAT grateful.

What I did, though, was throw away the Red Riding Hood outfit, give the red lipstick back to my friend and continue with job hunting.

I found a telesales position, and my mom couldn't be more proud.

Thank you for reading my story.

The End