The body this whole experience left you with was definitely enough for you to land work at a strip club, but you soon learned a new appreciation for what these girls actually do on stage. The actual performers here were like, athletes. Whenever you weren't too exhausted, you were staying late to try and get a handle on the pole, with a couple of the more experienced girls giving you tips while waiting for their rides, and it really wasn't something you could just jump into after a whole life spent behind a desk. They had all this strength built up to a point where they could support all their weight with one arm, or grip the pole between their thighs and hang upside down. You, meanwhile, were still struggling to do that thing with your shoulders to really get your breasts shaking around. And of course while you were working on picking up the dance skills to really WORK at the place, you were learning the hard way that the whole idea of tipping the wait staff escaped most people when they're busy stuffing all their singles into G-strings.
For the next three months, this was your life. Sleep in, eat the cheapest meal you could find, clock in at the club, get manhandled by drunks all night for not even minimum wage, and then just sort of apprentice other professional strippers until you were too tired and sore to continue or they ducked out. It was exhausting enough that you probably would have lost all sense of time about it, except the whole period thing really made those monthly milestones pretty damn memorable.
That also meant that it'd been four months then since this whole mess started. Part of you was surprised in all that time nobody had worked out how this whole detaching dicks thing happened or how to get back to normal, but on the other hand, it was a bit ridiculous trying to imagine a bunch of guys in labcoats all staring intently at someone's crotch as he fell asleep with like, those little suction cups hooked to it or whatever. At least it was still a thing. Didn't seem like some mystical alignment of planets was going to end and you'd be stuck like this forever. In any case, you'd been at these stripping lessons for months, and you'd finally hit a point where they were letting you on stage.
The manager introduced you as Stormy, which you figured you'd either earned from your general attitude or maybe the other girls really had taught you how to get that real intense eye shadow look down. So, here you were. On stage. Stripping. It honestly wasn't as humiliating as you'd have figured. The waitressing, that was humiliating, but now that you were actually on stage, and had to work so hard for it, it was weirdly empowering, in a way? You were easily getting into the best shape of your life, even if that shape was entirely too curvy, it was kinda fun showing off new tricks you'd learned, and, honestly? There was a sort of weird thrill in having all these random guys cheering for you and just kinda shoving handfuls of cash up at you. It made you feel kinda powerful, like they were worshipping you for something, and really if you didn't think too hard about it, the rush kinda turned you on. You were starting to make a profit too. Well, OK, a lot of the extra money you were starting to make was going into hair and makup and such, but you'd be able to start saving up that change-back nest egg soon you were pretty sure.
Tonight though, you had off... and here you were at the club anyway. Where else did you have to go, really? You were too embarrassed by the whole lost dick issue to talk to any of your old friends or family. The other girls you'd been getting lessons now were about the only social group you had, and it was nice being able to cheer them on, and hey, you could drink here. The patrons were pretty loose about ordering for you if you flashed a smile so it wasn't hurting your savings, and you were on a first name basis with the bouncers, so it felt pretty safe. You just had to maintain a different look for 'civilian' mode so the regulars didn't get ideas about you.
"Hey, didn't I see you hear on stage the other night?" asked the sort of guy you were trying to camouflage yourself against as he slid you your third shot of... something that tasted more like bubblegum than you'd think for how much vodka was in it. You're pretty sure you said no, but you weren't sure he bought it. He didn't seem super threatening at least. Like, there were guys who went to strip clubs because it was the closest they could get to a woman with her top off without getting maced, and then there were guys who seemed to like to party and brought big wads of cash. This was definitely a party guy. He'd asked you something about partying even, you were pretty sure. You really had kind of a major buzz on at that point. It was nice of him to offer to drive because yeah you didn't belong behind the wheel tonight. You'd just have to come back for your car in the morning.
He ended up driving you to some hotel and just went and paid for a room. You figured that was for the best since hey you don't let some random creep from the strip club know where you live, right? So he walked you in, helped you out of your coat, snatched off the sunglasses you had for incognito mode and tossed them on the little table, and you talked a bit. He said his name was Antonio. Like Banderas, he said, and he did this thing with his stomach and flexing his pecs that was kinda hot... oh yeah, his shirt was off at that point. So was yours. And yeah... one thing sorta lead to another and...
Being honest with yourself after the fact, you just got absolutely railed by this guy. You'd love to have been able to claim you were just too drunk to know what was happening or it was all a big ruse to get his dick off so you could swipe it but... no. This guy with the rough five o'clock shadow and way too much weird musky cologne really did just charm the pants off you, take you to a hotel room, and just absolutely fucked your brains out. And now here you were lying in bed with him, with his arm all wrapped around you, after he came inside you, and that's the reality you had to make peace with.