Chapter One

 

"You have lovely breasts."

Dale felt a red flush creeping up her throat and into her cheeks as the blonde girl examined her bared breasts, and braced herself as she saw the woman's hands rise to touch them. She felt slightly light-headed as the woman's fingers stroked lightly along the undersides of her breasts, lifting them lightly, as though weighing them.

Dale's breasts were a good size for her slender body, full, and very nicely rounded, yet deliciously firm due to her unrelenting exercise which gave her a toned, athletic body.

"They're a good size, but they're terrifically firm," the woman who called herself Crystal said.

Her hands continued to stroke the undersides of Dale's beasts, squeezing up a little. Then her fingers rose and she seized the by-now swelling little pebbles of her nipples and grinned at Dale as she rolled them between the tips of her fingers.

"Nice nipples, too. The areolas aren't too big or brown, and these nipples are tiny, but I can see they get nice and long. The customers will really love the sight of you, girl."

Dale fought to hold still, squirming on the inside as the woman fondled her breasts. It was very weird to have a near stranger discussing her breasts like this, much less groping them, but she had suspected she might be required to suffer this sort of attention if she wanted to attain her goal of becoming a chorus girl here among the glittering lights of Las Vegas.

She was not a virgin, nor exactly shy, though it made her mind a bit numb to think of prancing around on a brightly lit stage topless. She knew that the girls in the chorus were there as much for their attractive bodies and faces as dancing skill, though. And she knew her full, firm breasts would be her best attention getter.

Both great bodies and dancing skills were required, of course, and she thought she had them both. She was a willowy young girl of twenty. Her deep brown hair was full and rich and silken, parted at the centre of her forehead to spill down along her slim, oval face and past her shoulders, almost covering her pert breasts before Crystal had pushed it aside.

She had soft brown eyes, a slender nose, and full, sensuous lips. Her legs were long and lithesome, and her bottom firm and taut and round. She had been in dance classes since she'd been able to walk, and had once dreamed of being a ballerina. But she'd come to Vegas a couple of years ago with her parents, snuck into a show, and from the moment she'd seen the chorus girls in their fantastic costumes she'd been enthralled.

It was not simply their beauty, their skill, their sensuous movements, but the amazing costumes, the music, the lights, and, she admitted to herself, the brazen sense of sexuality they exuded as they moved about with their breasts and bottoms exposed. They were not strippers, but were respected, even admired. And the thought of being so exposed without being condemned as a whore had caught at her mind. It wasn't that she was an exhibitionist - exactly - at least, not much more than most beautiful young girls. Yet still, the thought of doing the forbidden, without being condemned for it, of having so many men and women staring at her virtually naked, well, it did make her quite excited.

And being a Las Vegas chorus girl would be such an incredible experience! Let her friends go on to their dull, boring jobs as secretaries and clerks while she was dancing beneath the great lights. And, of course, making far more money than them in the bargain.

But it was a daunting task to get on with one of the bigger shows. So many girls came to Vegas with the same hopes that the competition was ferocious. Many of those girls were willing to do whatever it took to gain an advantage. She had already turned down several obvious suggestions from producers or those associated with the shows that her chances would be enhanced if she slept with them.

But as the weeks went by it was growing more difficult to keep her sense of moral certainty. She went to a number of the auditions, saw a lot of the girls, and knew in her heart she was as good if not better than most. She was also extremely attractive. She wondered if she would already have found a place if she'd let her pride go, but her mind still squirmed away from the thought of giving her body to some lecherous middle aged man just on the hint that he might help her.

She'd met Crystal the other night when the beautiful blonde had walked into the restaurant where she was working as a waitress. Dallas was in the chorus line of one of the bigger shows, and had looked her up and down and almost immediately asked her if she'd ever thought of trying out.

Of course, Dale had been suspicious. She was young, and had grown up fairly innocent in suburban Denver. But she'd lost her virginity fairly early and taken quite excitedly to sex and sex play. And after two months in Vegas she was starting to become jaded and cynical enough to satisfy anyone.

So many male customers, some two or three times her age, had propositioned her, often offering money, that her initial shock and embarrassment had no given way to a strange sense of almost-pride. All those men wanting her could not but help affect her ego. Clearly they thought she was pretty hot.

That was reassuring, given how many of the showgirls were big, sophisticated looking blondes.

Her face, though, was sweet, young, and innocent. She looked like a girl barely out of high school, if that. And while she was not entirely innocent she had not yet clued in to why that would be particularly enticing to so many older men. She well understood their desire for big, busty blondes like, for example, Crystal. But her? Skinny, brown haired Dale? She could only be flattered, if sometimes embarrassed by their attention.

"Get those pants off, darling, and we'll try you in a costume," Crystal said.