Lapdancing Girlfriend Ch. 05

Instead of a direct answer, Mr. DeWight explained how it was not cost-efficient to fly the managers of each club to the corporate headquarters each week, so they held teleconferencing sessions most of the time unless major issues were being discussed. "Today will be an exception mind you," he said, "as me announcing your involvement in the management of the dancers is one of those types of major decisions. I'm sure it will come as a surprise to them, but if I am on board with it they have to agree," he said, matter-of-factly.

Getting up, he waved to a door Jen had missed earlier. "We have video conferencing enabled at all the clubs so this will be a chance for everybody to finally meet you," he told her as he opened the door, revealing a conference room with a dozen wall-mounted televisions all surrounding a meeting table in the center.

Jen was startled when Mr. DeWight turned around, blocking her entrance into the room as he told her, "Wait out here until I can introduce you, I'll enjoy the dramatic flair and it will also give you a chance to get ready," he said to her with a smile.

Confused, Jen looked up at him as she asked, "Get ready?"

The look of possession in Mr. DeWight's face as he smiled at her caused her to suddenly regret her earlier decision. He looked at her up and down, once again as an owned object than a human being as he said, "Yes, I will be announcing you being the DSA Spokesmodel and VP of Ecdysiast Services in more than name now. To the other managers you are now the person taking much of the control of their own dancers away from them. They're going to be upset enough at the news, so it is only fitting they meet you on their terms," he said.

Jen looked at with puzzlement as she asked, "Their own terms?"

Mr. DeWight smiled and shrugged as it his thoughts were obvious. "Why yes dear, they are strip club owners. Their job is to assess girls in the most flagrant and rawest way possible, not concerned with their IQ or anything else other than how they look on stage taking off their clothes. Up until now they have had complete dominion over those girls and I am about to take that power away. They need some sort of peace offering," he said, his grin getting bigger. "They need to see you not as a threat to their jobs as the Vice President of Ecdysiast Services, but as a stripper—albeit one that they may have to answer to, so we need to soften the news as much as possible. As such, I'd like you to take off your top and skirt before I introduce you," he said with a lecherous leer at her obvious shock.

Aghast, she spat, "I can't do that!"

Mr. DeWight's statement made her more embarrassed than ashamed about being naked. Once again Jen's mind thought of the distinction between stripping within a club setting and being naked within an actual office building, in what amounted to an actual board meeting.

Mr. DeWight's voice broke her thoughtful concern. "Presenting you in such a way will make them feel less intimidated at the power you will have controlling their girls' welfare. Seeing you in such a way will be at odds with what I will be telling them. You know as well as I a man distracted by a nice pair of tits will agree to almost anything," he told her laughing.

Seeing her grim face, the smile immediately left Mr. DeWight's face as he said, "Did you not agree to abide by your contract and not fight me when it came to your obligations?" he asked.

"My contract does not state that I have to strip for a board meeting," she told him adamantly.

"On the contrary my dear," Mr. DeWight told her to her surprise. "Your contract states you are to perform and strip as the primary role and function of your job. You are currently working are you not?" he asked, his look once again becoming stern. "I expect you to bare yourself as is expected of any stripper while working," he told her.

Jen realized with dismay this was exactly the type of twisted thing Mr. DeWight had in mind when he proposed his agreement with her. He would undoubtedly find every loophole he could within her contract and humiliate her with it, not merely satisfied she agreed to his proposition, but to prove his dominance over her. Again she thought how ultimately he would get his way in terms of her exploitation, whether she agreed to abide by her settlement or not. The main difference now was she only had a year to put up with his abuse, unlike before when her morality and self-esteem had been thrown into a bottomless pit.

Jen also realized Mr. DeWight may be also testing her resolve to abide by their deal, seeing if she would follow his commands.

In the back of her mind she also reluctantly knew Mr. DeWight was right. She was a stripper. The club managers—like all other managers she had dealt with in the past—had seen enough T&A to last a lifetime, so her going before them in nothing but her boots and thong was not the end of the world nor would it be a surprise to them. Hell, her tour would be visiting each club and they would be seeing her naked in person, whereas here Mr. DeWight would be the only one in the room. Although the prospect of being naked before him once again was frightening, a room of guys leering at her could be worse, given this was a business setting.

The psychology of her appearing as nothing but a stripper was a sound one, as much a business decision as lecherous suggestion. If the managers saw her as nothing but a stripper physically, Mr. DeWight's announcement of her taking on her roles with the other dancers might ease some of that pain.

"Fine," she told him as he smiled down at her before entering the room and leaving her standing outside the doorway.

Jen heard several 'dings' fill the room like computers turning on, and soon heard a couple men's voices over speakers greeting Mr. DeWight.

While she listened to the rest of the managers logging into the video conferencing session, Jen reluctantly took off her halter, freeing her breasts to the cool air of the office. Immediately her nipples hardened from the exposure, her mind once again trying to push out the thought of appearing naked before men in an office setting. As Velvet stated, she needed to be Diamond the stripper, not Jennifer Simmons.

Placing the halter on an end table Jen bent down and slid the skirt past her hips, stepping out of the material and placing it on the table with the halter.

Being practically naked in Mr. DeWight's office felt out of place, and again she thought about how environment could completely change one's attitude.

While waiting outside the room for Mr. DeWight's introduction of her, she felt a breeze through the conference room door, realizing the room was cooler than even the office. She wondered if Mr. DeWight had purposely turned up the air conditioning in the room in order to harden her nipples—something commonly done at the clubs.

A couple more late 'dings' came from the conference room, accompanied by a few more muffled welcomes to Mr. DeWight as his voice spoke up.

"Gentlemen, I think it's time to begin," she heard him state from outside the door. All the idle chatter quieted as he continued. "The first order of business is we have a couple of new faces, so I would like to introduce each of you," he said.

Jen got ready to step into the room as she listened for Mr. DeWight's introduction of her.

She almost walked into the room as Mr. DeWight said, "First I'd like to first welcome our newest manager," he said, causing Jen to stop short of entering the room. "Tim Baker is the new manager of the Wet Cherry, one of the clubs I recently purchased. Tim's been mentoring with Glen at the Garden of Eden here in LA to learn the ropes of managing a club," he said, causing Jen to be flabbergasted.

A thrill of humiliation and arousal flushed run through her body at the mention of Tim's name, recalling his violation of her in the airplane's bathroom. She obviously knew Tim had flown into LA, but what got her attention was the comment about him mentoring with another club owner.

With sudden clarity she cursed herself, comprehending Mr. DeWight had agreed to her stripper mentorship program because he was already doing the same thing with the managers!

Her boss' voice once again caught her attention as he continued. "Next I'd like to introduce an old friend of mine, Dan Jeffries, or Three D as I have called him for years," he said. "Dan will be taking the recent vacancy of the corporate property investor," she heard him say.

Jen's hand flew to her mouth to hold back the gasp she almost made.

Dan was on the video conference?

He was in the staff meeting!

As if in confirmation she heard her fiancé's voice telling everybody hello, the chorus of return replies from the other managers filling the room.

Jen's heart suddenly felt like it dropped into her stomach, understanding she was going to be introduced before him with all the other managers, walking in naked except for a silver thong and matching boots.

What was he going to think?

She had reconciled herself into being presented like a piece of meat before the other club managers, but she had not known Dan was also in the meeting.

Mr. DeWight did not know of her and Dan's relationship, so it was pure coincidence for her to be humiliated in front of him, but that did not calm her nerves any better.

Dan's presence also made it obvious he had accepted Mr. DeWight's offer of employment.

Once again Jen heard Dan's muffled voice thanking everybody for their welcomes as the room got quiet again.

"And finally," Mr. DeWight's voice came from inside the room, "the person I know most of you have been waiting to meet, Diamond, our DSA Spokesmodel!" he announced with aplomb.

Jen could not be concerned about Dan's presence in the meeting, so taking a deep breath and bracing herself like she did each night she worked at the club, Diamond turned and walked into the conference room.

She immediately noticed seven television monitors with men's faces filling the screens. The room actually had more televisions around it, but the ones turned on in the front of the room were the most noticeable.

Jen's body flushed with shame as she saw Dan on one of the screens, quickly looking away from his expressionless face. Unfortunately she turned to a screen showing Tim sitting next to small Caucasian man with a squirrely appearance. She assumed the other man was the manager of the Garden of Eden, but her focus was upon Tim's face as it broke into a knowing leer when her attention turned to him. She saw him lean towards the other man and whisper in his ear, watching as the man's eyes widened as he too grinned, slapping Tim on the back. Jen blushed in humiliation realizing Tim had undoubtedly whispered to the other man about his use of her on the plane.

Once again her gaze turned to Dan, recognizing him being in Mr. DeWight's office at the Satin Kitty before finally looking around at the other monitors. On each screen she saw a strange man leering out of the television sets, knowing they were looking at her.

As she reluctantly stepped further into the room the men on the screens began to applaud. Jen wanted to crawl somewhere and hide, feeling completely defiled parading practically naked before the screens of not just these strange men, but her own fiancé.

In an attempt to take her mind off her being shamefully on display, Jen walked over to the table and pulled out one of the leather chairs, glad she would be sitting down and at least her bottom half removed from their view.

However before she could sit down Mr. DeWight's voice suddenly said loudly over the applause, "No Diamond, no need to sit there. Come here and sit on my lap," he said to her in a slow drawl as she looked at him in both shock and disgrace.

Mr. DeWight was staring directly at her and Jen knew he was once again testing his boundaries with their agreement. She could argue, but she knew in the end he would have his way, so reluctantly turned and walked to where he was sitting as she broke into a large smile, his expression blatantly acknowledging his power over her.

"Nice ass!" she heard from one of the monitors as she continued to blush, walking towards Mr. DeWight who pulled back his chair and slapped his thigh.

Jen turned to sit down on Mr. DeWight's knee when suddenly let out a squeak of surprise, as the man grasped her bare waist and pulled her forcibly onto his lap, pulling her legs up and over the armrest of his chair as her back leaned against the other armrest. She was now shamefully draped over her lap, bare except for her thong!

She heard another strange voice say over the teleconference, "And titties!" as the mixed laughter of the strange men came across the speakers at her expense. Jen was mortified, laying across her boss' lap as he nonchalantly put one arm around her back, resting his other hand possessively on her lower thigh.

"Now that we're all comfortable," he said to the chuckles of several of the men, "let's get down to business."

Mr. DeWight called out one of the manager's names—Harry Keller, the manager of the Atlanta club, Twisters—who began talking about what was going on with his club.

Jen barely paid any attention to the man speaking, her attention instead on Mr. DeWight's hand, which began slowly sliding up and down her thigh. She was overwhelmed at her bizarre predicament—lying practically naked across her boss' lap in front of a group of men having a business meeting—to even pay attention to the what the men were talking about as they each took turns discussing their clubs.

The irony about her situation was she was actually comfortable, the soft leather armrests of the chair well-cushioned, and she was ashamed to admit Mr. DeWight's hand on her leg felt nice, the gentle sliding of his hand across the skin of her thigh actually soothing. Without even being aware of it, Jen felt her body relax, slowly getting accustomed to her position as she focused more upon the discussions around her than her bizarre circumstances.

Some of the talk concerned orders of alcohol, furniture, and such—both the topics and litany of the meeting dry and uninteresting. Much of the discussions centered on accounting, which had never been something Jen had an interest in—even Dan handled all their bills. As such her mind wandered, paying more attention on Mr. DeWight's hand as it moved up and down her leg.

His touch was light on her skin, his hand moving abstractedly up and down her thigh as he listened to the other men talk.

Unfortunately, now that her nerves and embarrassment had quieted, she realized her body was beginning to respond to the man's touch. Panicking from her body's betrayal, she refocused her attention to the conversations within the meeting in an attempt to curb her stimulation.

"And how are our other shipments going?" Mr. DeWight was asking.

"Distribution of last month's shipment is on track, although we're getting low on product," one of the managers—a large black man—said over the television. Jen recognized him as the Atlanta manager, Harry something-or-another. "We expect the next shipment the week after next, so once it is processed we should be back on track without any dip in revenue," he said over the television.

Jen wondered what product he was talking about, as they had already gone over alcohol, furniture, and other miscellaneous club supplies. Mr. DeWight had already introduced her idea concerning the vending machines and stripper essentials, telling the managers he would be investigating proper distribution machines but to expect them to be delivered and placed in dressing rooms by the end of next month.

Another dark-skinned man, Jen guessed him to be Arab or Mediterranean in origin, spoke up as well stating their product had also been delivered on time and were waiting for the next shipment from the Atlanta office.

Curiosity getting the better of her and no longer focusing on Mr. DeWight's hand on her, Jen focused more upon the conversations as her mind wondering if the 'product' they were discussing were actually drugs, knowing this was one of the crimes Mr. DeWight was involved in.

If her hunch was right, she was surprised they would discuss such illegal activities openly in the meeting, although they were particularly careful from mentioning anything illegal, using words like 'product' and 'shipment' and 'distribution' to discuss what she increasingly decided were drugs, possibly even the Ecstasy she had been given without her knowledge.

Thinking about drugs caused her to glance down at her navel piercing, hoping the FBI was listening and they could discover something to help out with their investigation when her attention was again drawn to Mr. DeWight's hand on her leg. Seeing his hand gliding up and down her thigh, feeling his hand moving slowly against her skin, while lying on his lap in nothing but a thong wedged into her ass she once again felt her body respond to his attention. Her breasts imperceptibly tightened and Jen took a deep breath, purposely turning her attention back to the monitors again in an attempt to ignore what her body was feeling.

A man with a thick Russian accent was speaking, stating something concerning overseas shipments being received and welcomed, the buyers stating interest in another shipment of similar quality soon.

Once again she wondered if they were talking about drugs.

"It remains to be seen if their involvement and information is worthwhile," Mr. DeWight told the Eastern European as his hand continued stroking Jen's thigh. "Tell them we can accommodate them next quarter, but do not promise anything. We still need to gather the resources, then train them, and then coordinate the shipping and handling. If they baulk at the time involved, tell them we have others just as interested and willing to wait for our services," he told the man.

Jen did not think they were discussing drugs, although she had no idea what they were talking about, instead her attention once again focused upon Mr. DeWight's hand, which had now slid further on the inside of her thigh as Mr. DeWight talked. She did not even think he was aware of his hand's movements, still continuing to slide his arm up and down, but because of his new position, his fingers now drifted closer to her crotch she realized with apprehension.

Jen was surprised at her reaction. She should be feeling shame and dread or even outrage at the indecent physical contact, but to her growing consternation she felt her skin heat up, her breasts tightening involuntarily, once again attempting to focus on the conversations within the meeting.

"Durante, how goes your personnel problems?" Mr. DeWight said.

The Mediterranean/Arab spoke up again, and based on his accent, Jen reassessed her thoughts, believing him to have an Italian heritage. "Once the two girls I sent up for their interviews get back I'll pull them into the rotation. One still has to pop her cherry, but she'll draw the kiddie lover crowd; the other is a pretty good looker," he stated as Jen realized he was talking about Sapphire and the other girl she had interviewed—Misti—as the other man continued. "She has the experience, so she'll probably be a headliner," he concluded.

With her attention focused on something more within her realm of understanding, Jen completely forgot about Mr. DeWight's hand upon her leg as she spoke up, feeling strange talking to the room in general, as well as being practically naked as she said loudly, "You'll have to make other arrangements for the time being because I didn't hire them."

The room went suddenly quiet as Jen felt every pair of virtual eyes upon her, only this time not in lust, but in shock.

"What did you say?" the decidedly Italian sounding voice—his accent more visible now that he was surprised and angered—asked her.