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Lauren wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with the idea of a group photo, but she hurried with most of the rest of them out of the dressing room and to the shop. There she picked out what appeared to be a very short red dress with a hood on it. It came with a pair of red, 5” stilettos—how in the world she was supposed to dance in those she didn’t know—a lacy red thong that would barely cover her pubic hair, and a lacy red bra. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was supposed to be, but she was hoping that the hood might disguise her a little in the group photo. And most importantly, it was only $35—five dollars cheaper than the next cheapest outfit. Unfortunately, she hadn’t brought any cash and there was a five dollar fee for her to run a tab and pay for the outfit at the end of the night after she had all of her tips. She rolled her eyes and signed the necessary paperwork.
Back in the dressing room, she surreptitiously observed her competition as they changed. Amy and Tracy hadn’t shaved back their pubic hair much if at all, though they were neatly trimmed. Amy had a large butterfly tattoo on her lower back—a tramp stamp, Lauren supposed it was called. Becky had one, too, though it was some kind of cartoon character that Lauren didn’t recognize.
She was a little shocked to see that Becky had her pubic hair shaved into a “V”, and Sarah and Connie were completely bare. She was more shocked to see that Juliet, for all her protests of the nudity requirement, had a pencil-thin line of hair, and Emma was sporting a landing strip narrower than her own. The woman who claimed to be named Kelly joined Amy and Tracy in the unshaved-but-trimmed club—her pubic hair slightly darker than Lauren would have guessed based on the red hair on her head—and Amber had a landing strip maybe a touch narrower than Lauren’s own.
Once they were all dressed, they lined up outside the dressing room for the photo. Sarah was wearing a nurse outfit, Emma a schoolgirl outfit, and Amber a French maid outfit. All three of them had skirts that, like Lauren’s own dress, didn’t quite cover their scant panties depending on how they stood. Becky’s track star outfit was similarly revealing with the bottom of her cheeks peeking out from the teeny spandex shorts. Amy had chosen some sort of uber-patriotic red, white, and blue dress, though it was a little longer than some of the others. Connie had gone the stereotypical route in some sort of geisha get-up, Tracy looked like a stern school teacher—she even had a pair of fake glasses on with her hair pulled back—Kelly had a Jessica Rabbit thing going with a shimmering red dress, and Juliet was in a cheerleader’s outfit.
The photographer had them line up in a row, each with her arms over the shoulders of the contestants next to her. Lauren pulled her hood up before taking her spot. “Cute,” the photographer said, and let it stand.
He took a few pictures of them this way then barked, “Okay, everybody turn around. Girls on the left look back at the camera over your right shoulder. Girls on the right, look over your left shoulder. Reach back and flip those skirts up or pull those pants down to show those asses. And smile.”
As the dancers followed his directions, he moved along the line giving an arch your back a little here and a shift your hips to the left there. He also pulled Lauren’s hood down. She was mortified that there was going to be photographic evidence of this moment, but didn’t see much choice.
The photographer snapped a few photos this way, ordering minor adjustments between each snap. Then he dropped the bomb. “Okay, now I need everybody to take off everything but your footwear and garter. We’ll get one final shot from the front that way.”
This was greeted with immediate loud protests, but Mr. Lopez quickly stepped in. “Don’t worry, girls, it’s only for our wall. Nobody’s going to see it that wouldn’t be able to see you anyway.”
The protests quickly died to Lauren’s amazement, and the contestants began to disrobe. She knew she couldn’t refuse, but surely one of these other women could speak up for the rest of them? Instead, she saw reactions ranging from Sarah seeming to relish the moment to Emma looking uncertain to most of the women looking extremely reluctant, but every single one of them was complying without complaint.
She realized that this was it. For the first time ever she was about to be naked in front of a man with whom she wasn’t planning on having sex. And she was going to let him take pictures of her. She tried to tell herself that this was all part of a well-earned punishment for her long years of failing to give men their proper respect; it was truly a good way to remind her of her proper place.
She pulled the too-short hooded red dress over her head, folded it neatly, and put it on the floor, then realized that she was delaying when she looked around and saw the other contestants almost done disrobing. Tentatively, she unclasped her bra and dropped it on the before slowly easing the red thong panties down and awkwardly pulling them off over her high-heeled boots.
She and the other contestants milled—most with their arms crossed in front of themselves—as the photographer placed them. She ended up in the center of the row with Emma to her left and Sarah to her right, arms over one another’s shoulders. She really didn’t like the feeling of the outside of her butt cheeks pressed up against the outside of their butt cheeks, but she told herself it was to keep those cheeks from feeling a lot more discomfort later, plastered a fake smile to her face, and got through it.