It was demeaning to have to dress as a bimbo in order to
keep her job, but Sue had few options in the matter. So here she was on the
evening shift, wearing her “uniform” – a t-shirt that was about three sizes too
small and clung to her firm round breasts in a way that left little to the
imagination. The rules said no bra, and her nipples were clearly visible
through the skintight fabric. A tiny pair of denim short shorts completed the outfit,
and they clung to her toned ass like a second skin.
She was all too well aware of the lustful looks she got from
the customers as she moved around the bar, and couldn’t help feeling a
little pleased about the fact that she was still one of the most desirable women
in the place. Her old lifestyle as a superherioine had certainly been good for keeping
in shape, and no doubt her cosmically enhanced physiology had a part to play.
Of course, that was all in the past now. She had to get used
to her new life and try to make the most of it. She certainly got good tips,
and even better ones if she flirted a little with the customers, and gave them
the best views of her fine tits and ass.
One customer in particular seemed to be giving her more
attention than usual. He was looking her over like a second hand car he was
thinking of buying. Once again, she felt the mixture of loathing at being assessed
like a piece of meat, and pride that she looked good enough to warrant such
attention. Well, at least she should get another big tip out of it. She put on
her best bimbo act, winked at the sleazeball and gave him her sexiest smile,
then turned away and bent over slowly as she picked up some empty glasses from
a table nearby. She knew all too well that his eyes would be drinking in the
glorious sight of her taut ass as it threatened to burst out of the skintight
hotpants.
“Oh baby,” she heard him say in a throaty voice behind her. “You
are wasted in this joint. Have you ever done any dancing?”
Sue straightened up and turned to face him, with one eyebrow
raised quizzically. “What kind of line is this?”, she asked with a sneer.
“No line, sugar. I run a strip club nearby and I’m always on
the lookout for hot new talent. And baby, you are hotter than a Supernova. You
could make a helluvalot more change at my place than you’ll ever make in here.”
The mention of a Supernova reminded her of her brother the
Human Torch, and again she felt a wash of shame at her situation. But this WAS
her situation, and she was pretty sure he was telling the truth about the money
she could make as a stripper…