Katy's New Job

Katy sighs as she stares down at her new work "uniform" laid out on her bed. After months of searching for some kind of job, any kind of job, that might ulitize the degree she spent so much time and money earning, her ever mounting debt had her swallowing any last bit of her pride and taking a 'waitressing' position down at one of the skeeviest bars in the resort city she calls home. Now she has to get ready for her first day on the job.

Katy picks up the thong first. She steps into it and pulls it up her long legs. She grimaces a bit at the strange feeling of the tiny scrap of material pressing against her freshly waxed cunt. Katy had always kept herself neat and trimmed, but she preferred having at least a little hair between her legs. The combination of the thong and the super high cut mini skirt she's been ordered to wear made keeping any kind of pubic hair an impossibility, though. It still feels odd, being completely smooth down there.

Next, Katy puts on her mini skirt, the hem of which barely covers her crotch. She knows she's going to be flashing her bare ass every time she moves, and she doesn't even want to think about what she's going to be flashing when she has to bend over. Maybe it is a good thing that she's waxed bare. She might have to worry about lip slippage, but at least she doesn't have to be concerned about stray hairs slipping out.

Half dressed, if you can call it that, Katy now surveys the last item on the bed, a white t-shirt. The bar's logo covers the entire back, but the front is plain. It looks smaller than the shirts Katy usually wears, and she knows that's by design.

Katy, like all of the other waitresses, is a healthy girl. So healthy, in fact, that most people assume she's had some work done. Her large, full breasts seem disproportionate to the rest of her slender frame, but they're all natural. And soon enough everyone is going to know they're all natural because the bar's dress code for staff has a very strict "no bra" policy. Katy can just imagine how much her poor, unsupported tits are going to ache by the end of each shift.

But there's no point in delaying the inevitable. So Katy picks up the shirt and starts to put it on. It takes a bit of effort to wrestle the tight material down over her head and arms. The shirt fits her like a glove. A very thin glove. She adjusts her breasts then turns and checks her reflection in her mirror.

Katy's tempted to quit before she even gets started. The shirt's isn't just thin, it's practically see through. The manager who interviewed Katy told her that sometimes the girls at the bar liked to get into water fights. At the time, she hadn't understood his leer and exaggerated wink, but she definitely gets it now.

"I might as well just be topless," Katy says, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest and cover her breasts.

She seriously thinks about calling in and quitting before she even starts. But she needs this job. And all the other girls at the bar seem happy to work there. Some of the ones she spoke with when she went in for her interview were almost ecstatic in their praise. They all claimed that the first few weeks were a bit tough, but everything eventually smoothed out, and that waitressing at the bar was the best job any of them had ever had. And, most importantly, no one, not even the owner, had ever forced any of them to do anything they didn't want to do.

One thing that struck Katy as kind of odd was that each of the girls used the same phrasing. And each of them also had a sort of distant, almost vacant look in their eyes. Like they were not quite all there.

Katy shakes her head and is mildly disappointed in her snobbery. So what if the bar girls maybe weren't that smart. Someone who's about to join their ranks really shouldn't cast stones.

Katy tells herself to suck it up and get over it. She puts on a light jacket, zips it up to her throat, tugs at the hem of her skirt, and drives to work.

The manager, Mr. Baker, meets her at the door. He takes her through the bar and into one of the back rooms. He assigns her a locker, and waits while she takes off her jacket. As soon as her protective covering's gone, Katy realizes how cold it is in the bar as her nipples suddenly try and poke through the thin material of her shirt.

"Oh, my," Mr. Baker says, his eyes focused on Katy's chest, "aren't you going to fit in nicely."

Katy wants to call him out on his blatant ogling, but it's just her first day, and she has to at least try to be good. She demurely follows Mr. Baker as he leads her out of the room with the lockers and into another room. In this room there's nothing but a desk, a single chair, and a laptop.

"It's time for your orientation video, Katy," Mr. Baker says. "Have a seat, please."

Katy does as she's told.

"Now, I want you to understand how important it is that you follow the rules of the bar. You understand that, don't you, Katy?"

"Of course, Mr. Baker."

"Good, good. This video will help you follow the rules. I'm going to insist that you watch it, all the way through, at least four or five times, and pay close attention. All right?"

Katy thinks that's a bit excessive, but she nods anyway. "Yes, sir."

"That's great, Katy. And while you watch the video, I want you to think about how much you want to work here. About how good of a job you want to do. About how important it is to you to follow every direction you see on that screen."

"Yes, sir, I will."

"Good girl, Katy. When you're done, come find me, and we'll go over the duties you'll be expected to perform here." Mr. Baker gives Katy one last leer, then leaves her alone in the room.

Katy shudders a little bit, and she doesn't think it's all due to the low temperatures. She reaches out and taps the touch pad to start the video. A rapid series of quick cuts of random things assaults her eyes. She thinks she sees words mixed in with the images. Somewhere deep in Katy's mind an alarm bell starts to ring, but Katy ignores it. She leans forward and watches the screen more intently.

What's the worst that could happen?