The Bus Stop

By JJ Argus

Electronic edition

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This story is a work of fiction. All characters are over eighteen

Kristin

It wasn't a very busy evening, Sundays rarely are at sports bars unless there's a big game on, especially this late. The bar was about a quarter full. The manager didn't like the staff congregating to chat, but there wasn't a lot of business left and he hadn't sent anyone home yet.

Sophie and I were just inside the door that led to the kitchen. The kitchen was closed now, and most of the lights were out. We kept the door open a crack to allow us to see into the bar. It would let us know if anyone was looking around for help or if anyone new came in. And hopefully, give us some warning if the manager was headed this way.

"I can't believe Netflix is raising its price again," she complained. How am I supposed to afford that?"

"Far be it from me to suggest you might be subscribing to too many streaming services," I said as I checked my look in the full-length mirror they had placed next to the door.

We were supposed to do that before going out into the bar to make sure we looked 'appropriately professional'. Of course, what that really meant was that we weren't showing too much above or below the tiny costumes we wore.

That meant a tight, tiny top with lots of cleavage and bare midriff, and a short tartan kilt that you had to be very careful not to bend over much in.

"Well, all the shows I like are on different services," she complained. "I think they arrange it that way."

I subscribed to zero streaming services because I never had any time to watch anything. Between school and work there was just nothing free for lounging back and watching hours of bad television. Something I did not much regret.

I sometimes envied Sophie. She was leading a relatively stress-free life, had time for TV, going on dates, going on trips to the mall or fairs or movies with her friends. I had no time for any of that. And I was still always feeling pressured, like it was always time for the next thing I had to do.

I combed my fingers through my hair and frowned at my image in the mirror. Really, if you worked in a bar that had a kitchen you should not have your hair hanging loose if it's long. You risk getting hair in the food, and your hair always winds up smelling of a mixture of beer and kitchen smells. I'd have to wash my hair when I got home or else do it first thing in the morning before classes.

But that was the way management wanted it here and that was the way the staff liked it, too. Most of the customers were male and they liked your hair hanging free. And the happier they were the better the tips.

I eyed the center of my breasts carefully. The tops were so thin and tight that I had to wear little round bandages over my nipples or they'd stick out against the tight fabric. Management didn't like that even if it did bring better tips.

No one had paid much attention to that until six months ago when Beverly was hired. She had very large brown nipples which became very obvious through the white top. Mine were small and pink and so hardly noticeable, but once the topic had been raised we knew he would be checking us out every evening and no one wanted to risk being lectured about her nipples by a balding forty-year-old man.

I brought my right foot up against my buttocks and held it there for long seconds then straightened it again, took my weight on my right foot and brought my left up. It was good to bend my knees, for I had hardly sat down since I'd arrived seven hours earlier.

"You know, my friend Angela is a stripper, and she has an outfit exactly like this for her routine."

"I don't think I'd like to be stripping in front of these people," I said with a nod to the bar.

"Don't kid yourself. These people tend to be a higher class than what you find in a strip club. Then again, you make a lot more at a strip club in a lot less time. She comes home with five or six hundred dollars most nights and she only does four-hour shifts."

I let my mind imagine making five or six hundred dollars a night for half a night's work, and the thought of dancing around naked on a stage wasn't unattractive. I mean, it would take some getting used to. I wasn't embarrassed about my body or anything. Why should I be? Everybody who saw it said it was great.

The idea of doing lap dances for a bunch of guys two or three times my age, though was definitely unappealing. Ick in a major way. Ick! Straddling some drunken, overweight fifty-year-old guy naked and grinding yourself against him was really not something I figured the Bar Association would respect in a future member.

"She's welcome to it," I said. "No way I would be touching some of those guys. Especially not naked."

"Yeah, me too. And you definitely don't want to eat food there."

She deepened her voice. "Waitress, there's a pubic hair in my soup!" she said.

"They probably charge extra for that," I said.

I saw one of the men at one of my tables looking around.

"I think this group is about to leave," I said, pushing through the door and going across the bar with a smile already plastered on my face.

I hated working on Sundays. I hated working on weekends, period. It was very difficult going to school full-time, putting in the hours necessary for my studies, taking part in the study groups where we put together projects and worked on cases together at law school, and then working long hours I needed to in order to pay for things like dorm room fees and books

Sundays, though, seemed to be the worst. You need to relax and prepare yourself for the start of the new week. For the Monday that looms just ahead. Having to work all day Sunday until late just left me emotionally exhausted. I had zero social life. I didn't even have time to read a book other than my schoolbooks.

As for dating, forget it. That was for people who had a lot more money than me and didn't have to work. They at least had some social life, some free time on their hands. But there really wasn't much choice for me if I wanted to continue.

My job wasn't exactly a great one, but was conveniently located not far from school and on major bus routes. I wasn't sure how pictures of me in my work uniform were going to go over if they ever turned up at law offices I would be applying for in the next couple of years, but right now this was the best I could do. Law firms don't hire students even as summer staff until they've had a couple of years at school. And I was in my first year.

Of course how they reacted probably depended on the gender of the person doing the hiring. Not to mention their sexual orientation. I looked awfully cute and sexy in the kilt. It emphasized my long legs while the top bared my flat midriff and was quite tight across my breasts.

Men tend to like me whereas women tend to be suspicious of me. That seems to be a near-universal response to girls who are seen as more attractive than normal. I really didn't have a lot of time for either group these days. And outside work, it wasn't like I dressed up much.