When Izzy has been younger and her parents had attempted to drill into her head that stripping was the last thing she wanted to do she had somehow come up with a reality that Strippers just lived in strip clubs, they just stayed their flinging their clothes to the side and never did anything else. The reality of her current existence pretty much eradicated any thought of that.
She rode the late bus home with a creepy guy ogling her breasts and people sneezing and wavering about drunk lay all around her until her stop arrived and she climbed off the bus and walked to the apartment building she called him with practically dead grass out front and the scent of supposedly banned dogs filling the air. She climbed the stairs to her apartment up on the fourth floor and tried to ignore the sound of her Chinese neighbour screaming at his wife about who knows what in Cantonese. She slammed her door shut and sighed with relief as she entered her apartment. A kitchen and living room melded together and two doors sat on the left wall separating her from her bathroom and bedroom respectively. A beat up sofa sat on the floor and despite how hard she tried to keep the place clean the ancient and questionable stains on the floor kept her from making the place look sightly.
She threw her heels off and let them fall in a messy pile near the door before she walked to her bedroom and dumped most of her tips from the night into a savings jar. A dog barked and she groaned in annoyance before putting her music on louder and slipping her clothes off letting them fall into a messy pile in the corner that had been deemed a suitable place for laundry. She slipped off all the uncomfortable garments off her body before slipping on the least flattering clothing she owned. A pair of camoflauge pajama pants and a teeshirt that depicted all the vowels of the alphabet and the letter Y eating paste that was two times too large for her body (It had been a joke gift at a Christmas party when she had worked in the kitchen at a restaurant two years prior.)
This was basically how her night ended. Nearly five in the morning and just falling asleep wrapped in her sheets while people got ready for ridiculously early shifts. The day passed with people getting in their cars for work, the sun coming up, and the heat of the day enveloping the world. It wasn’t until noon that the muggy heat of the day made Izzy groan and open her eyes groggily. She tried to sleep a little longer but so much sweat built up on her skin and in her sheets that it became nearly unbearable. She got up with a huff throwing some matted hair from her eyes and climbed into her tiny and dinky shower. She scrubbed her entire body down very loosely, a simply conditioning for her hair and a lather of soap applied to her body. The foam dripped off her curves under the hot water and once it was all done she forewent makeup, grabbed her purse, and walked outside to catch the bus. First stop was work mandated pole dancing class that she’d been enrolled in for free thanks to the strip club for a year and a half now. It was a normal day of swinging herself around on a pole, making sure she didn’t eat her hair, and leavening how to shake her rump and breasts. It was mostly for fitness but deep down all the ladies knew what it was really about.
Afterwards it was a strict two hours of working out, pumping iron, running on a treadmill, and eating a strict diet she was mandated to follow else lose her job. Kyle had been on a weird diet trend recently that involved a lot of kimwa, whatever the hell that was. It tasted like sandpaper but apparently it was good for her.
With most of her early afternoon robbed from her she proceeded to the grocery store under the same weird guise of a teacher. After she had collected tomatoes, bread, milk, eggs, and what had you she got in line and just like a teacher seeing a student out of school she happened to notice a massive black guy and a cute and energetic woman in line at one of the aisles. A couple she had been showing her titties to and blowing the night before. Safe to say she got out of their condom and random grocery line and waited until they left to re-enter it. That was the one downside to being objectified, people tended to remember you.
After this it was a slow bus ride home, everyone and their mother seemed to want to give up and she ended up having to give up her seat to a creepy old dude who she knew kept squeezing her ass every time she looked away, she never caught him in the act but his suspicious glances away and boney fingers matched the bad touch. She was thankful to get off and walk back home only to discover her neighbours had changed their wifi password again meaning she couldn’t just binge watch the medical drama Ambulence until work. It induced a lot of enraged roaring and the slamming of her laptop shut. She decided to read Pentictan Yard’s The Lily Lover only to have whomever lives above her start dribbling a basketball inducing more angered roaring.
The dribble of the basketball, the lack of anything entertaining to do, and the bad touches made her spend her afternoon questioning her life decisions. She kept this up when she got into the shower, when she picked her skin clean of body hair, when she let her hair loose and curly around her face, and when she applied makeup and slipped on a tight pair of jeans, a pair of black boots, and a red shirt before topping it all off with her jacket, simply and comfortable underwear sat under her clothing just waiting to be replaced by something sexier. Suddenly as she stepped out of the building a wave of intense excitement and pleasure washed over her as she finally got a happy moment, a reminder that she really enjoyed embracing her sexuality and ogled at and seen as sexy. She really enjoyed the horny feeling she got at her job as a stripper.