Stella pressed her head against the cool reflective surface of the mirrored wall she was behind.<em>'Showtime...'</em>the 21 year old cancan dancer thought. She loved her job, but it was taxing physically and emotionally. Especially with Harry Zidler as a boss...the man could make rock cry, and a crow blush. She was done up tonight, as all nights, but tonight her costume of choice happened to be a bustier with a thick black lace lining the full top, and teal blue satin skirts, with matching garters and petticoats.<br/><br/>Her job was to put on a show, to be every man's fantasy. She was required to be beautiful, and expected to sell her beauty, in turn. Stella's "clients" were usually respectful, but some creeped her out. That was another fear of the job, that one night she would get one ballsy male, and he'd do something stupid. With all her fears though...came the satisfaction of knowing she brought the client to new sexual heights, to the reality of fantasy, and in all, complete contentment.<br/><br/>Stella could hear Zidler's booming voice, his opening. It was her cue to put on her performance attitude, and sell it. One of the girls whispered "showtime ladies..." just as the mirrors spun around. So it began, the steps, and motions she had rehearsed fourteen thousand times, and preformed almost the same number. But each performance for her was different, and that was the excitement of it. It brought a new thrill each time she looked into the lustful eyes of the men, each time her skirts flashed a garter...