Back in 1995, the Railway Hotel in inner Melbourne was one of those terrific old Australian pubs that sadly seem to have all but disappeared. Built in the 1920s, it was a true working man’s pub.Certainly, there were rough, even criminal elements who drank there. Many of these men came with dangerous reputations that you didn’t question.There were also some professional types who would come in after work. Teachers, architects, accountants etc.But mostly the patrons were tradies and older men. The old men were in their seventies and eighties and they had lived their entire lives in this suburb. They had gone to school here, met local girls and bought houses here. Some of them saw active service during WW2. But otherwise, their world began and ended in this suburb.The tradies were down-to-earth, simple men who enjoyed a few beers and a couple of smokes after work. Their conversation consisted of footy, work, footy, more footy, politics occasionally, footy, horse racing, footy, and, when they’d had a few beers, women they fancied.I was twenty and just two years out of high school when I started working there.Painfully shy and unsure of myself, I’d only taken the job because there was nothing else around.I also thought by working in a job where I was forced to deal with the public it may help me to overcome my shyness and insecurity.In high school, I had never been one of the “cool kids.” Occasionally some guy would ask me out on a date, but I had always assumed they were only asking me because they felt sorry for me or because they couldn’t find anyone else.So, once I started working at the pub, if a patron made a suggestive comment to me over the bar or asked me out, I’d just laugh and brush it off as some joke.My boyfriend, Daniel, was a little worried when I first started working there because he knew the pub could be pretty rough. But the old men were very respectful and actually had the ability to keep the younger men under control. If any of the young blokes became a little crass towards me or the other girls, one of the older blokes would tell them to “Pull up!”I worked around thirty-five hours a week there. Mostly day shifts but also a few nights. This included Thursday nights when the pub employed topless barmaids.I thought the girls who did this were incredibly brave. How can they expose their bodies to complete strangers like that? I used to wonder. I’d look at their sexy bodies and wish I looked like them. They were slim and fit and toned.Looking back, so was I. But I didn’t think so at the time.These girls brought in a lot of patrons who didn’t normally drink there. These men came purely to leer at the topless girls and make highly sexualised comments towards them. But whilst they were focusing on the topless girls, they were leaving me alone so that suited me just fine.Occasionally some dill would suggest I should also take my top off, but the regulars would soon say something like, “No, Rebecca’s a lady. She wouldn’t do that.”I’m not sure how that made the topless girls feel, but they never said anything. They were probably too busy thinking about how much money they were making compared to me for doing the same job, only with their breasts exposed.And these girls were not stupid. Fikirtepe escort bayan They knew exactly what they were doing.Often, they’d pass an empty beer jug around and gather a collection. If the money in the jug got to $100, they’d agree to take their pants and knickers off too, working completely naked. In this way, the girls could earn some seriously good money in one, three-hour shift.Despite this, I never even considered for one moment doing a similar thing. It simply never entered my mind that anyone would want to see me naked! Did I ever secretly fantasize about stripping off in public like that? Perhaps. Occasionally.These girls could also be very annoying to work with.They worked for an agency and so you rarely had the same girl show up more than once. They never knew how the till operated or the cost of anything or where any stock was kept. What’s more, they didn’t care. They were there to show their bodies, not to be efficient staff.Every Thursday night was the same. In between helping out the “hired tits” and fixing their mistakes I would chat with the older men. Obviously, they watched the topless girls too, but they weren’t as obvious as the younger men.The old blokes always said they saw me as a granddaughter, and I believed it. The way I saw it, there weren’t any men my own age interested in me, so why would the old men be any different.I had been working at the Railway Hotel for about ten months when I walked in to start my shift on the first Thursday in September. Peter, the Hotel Manager looked worried as I passed him. “Is everything OK?” I asked.“The bloody agency girl has called in sick.”“Can’t they just get someone else?” I asked.“You’d think so, wouldn’t you,” he said. “Because it’s the first week of the footy finals they’re really busy. They reckon they’ve got no one to spare.”“Oh well,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, “It’s not the end of the world.”“I’ll have a fucking riot on my hands in there if I can’t find somebody,” he said, motioning to the front bar.“Can you think of any other agencies?” I asked. Peter shook his head. Then he looked at me. “You might have to do it,” he said matter-of-factly.“Do what?” I asked. It was a genuine question.“I’ll pay you what I pay them,” he said flatly. “Except there’ll be no agency fees so you’ll get the lot.”Finally, the penny dropped. “Me?” I asked incredulously. I couldn’t believe that he’d even ask such a thing. I wasn’t sexy. I was just the girl next door.Assuming he was only joking, I laughed and said, “Yeah, right,” before I pushed past him and went to start my shift.When I saw the eager crowd in the bar I immediately worried for Peter.The local AFL team was in the finals for the first time in many years, so the bar was much busier than usual. And there was no doubt that a good portion of the heaving crowd was keen to celebrate with a few drinks and an eyeful of naked female flesh.“Has he found anyone?” asked Matt, the young Bar Supervisor. Normally he’d be finishing his shift now and would move to the other side of the bar to have a few drinks with the regulars. Kindly he had continued working to keep up with the rush.“No,” I said, immediately taking drinks orders.“You Escort Sancaktepe might have to do it,” he said, giving me a quick look. I wasn’t sure if he was serious either.Why do people keep saying that? I thought to myself. But I said nothing.“When’s the tittie girl getting’ ‘ere?” some uncouth dickhead called out.Both Matt and I ignored that. But over the next fifteen minutes, those same sorts of comments started to come more frequently from others in the bar.It was obvious that they were keen for some female nudity.“You’d better get your top off, Bec,” growled one of the rougher men, “blokes are getting restless!”Naively, I still didn’t take it seriously.Peter appeared from the back area and started to serve drinks. We could hear a few of the rougher men saying to each other things like, “Yeah, he’s full of shit, this cunt. Advertises topless birds and then doesn’t fuckin’ deliver! We should fuckin’ smash the place!”A dangerous atmosphere was building in the bar. I could feel it. Even the normally unflappable older blokes looked nervous.“Rebecca!” It was a command. Almost a bark. I looked around and saw it was Peter, the manager. He motioned with his head to the room behind the bar. I followed him in.As soon as the door shut behind us, he said, “I need you to do this for me. I need you to take your top off!”I just looked at him. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.“Rebecca?” he said again.“I can’t do that,” I said, almost pleadingly. I honestly wasn’t sure if he was being serious. But the look on his face told me he was.“Rebecca.” His tone was exactly like I had heard from my parents when I was a child and I’d done something wrong. “I’m asking you to do something for me and I expect you to do it.”Inexplicably, just for an instant, my pussy tingled. Then I felt tears welling in my eyes. “I can’t do that,” I said again.Peter’s gaze was the most intense I had ever seen from him.“Sweetheart, do want to keep working here?”I didn’t like where this was going.“Of course I do,” I said meekly.“Then I need you to do this for me. Now. I’ll pay you well for it. But if you don’t get out there now with your top off, I’m going to have a fucking blood bath on my hands. These fellas don’t muck around. Now either get your shirt and bra off and get out there or you can grab your stuff and go home. But if you do, don’t bother showing up to work tomorrow.”I had never been spoken to like this before. Was Peter seriously threatening me with my job?My parents had instilled it in me to be grateful to have a job and to do as you are asked. How could I tell them I’d been sacked? Obviously, I could never tell them why. They’d assume it was because I was lazy or unreliable.But then, there was no way I could expose my breasts to a bar full of strangers. And what about Daniel? He was jealous enough as it was. He’d never forgive me.Peter just stared angrily at me. I had no choice.“Ok,” I said meekly.“Ok!” Peter said dismissively. “You’ve got five minutes. Then I want you out there!”With that, he was gone.I absolutely didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t take my top off in public. I rarely even showed my breasts to Daniel. In fact, it was a point of annoyance with him üsküdar escort that I was so shy about him seeing me naked. I was extremely modest.There was a mirror in this back room. I stood in front of it and slowly unbuttoned my shirt. Even as I did, I couldn’t believe what I was doing. I had to wipe the tears from my eyes to see properly.As I undid the last button to reveal my white lacy bra, the door flung open and there was Peter. I instinctively wrapped the shirt around myself. In an impatient tone, he called, “Rebecca! Come on!” And left again.The enormity of what I was about to do hit me and the tears which had been welling in my eyes sprang forward and ran down my cheeks.I was somewhere between afraid of him and angry with him. But I did as I was told. I removed my shirt and undid my bra. My breasts felt cold in that public space. My nipples quickly puckered. Even though I was alone it was not the sanctuary of my bedroom.My breasts were average size and firm. I wondered if I looked sexy to men. I thought I looked ridiculous. Nothing like the sexy girls who usually worked here on a Thursday night. The men would laugh at me, and I’d be humiliated in front of everybody.I could hear the jeers and anger from the bar. I could hear Peter and Matt calling my name. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and walked towards the door.I felt numb. As if I was on auto pilot. I kept saying to myself, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. But I had no choice.I opened the door.There was an enormous cheer as I entered the bar. AII I could think of was footage I’d seen of the Beatles and the screams that accompanied their appearance. It was overwhelming. Were they seriously cheering at me? I still don’t know how I did it, but with tears spilling from my eyes and running down my cheeks I just walked out and started serving beers.Peter and Matt looked at me as if I was an alien who had just landed. They struggled to keep doing their job of serving customers whilst apparently not wanting to take their eyes off me. Despite the tears, I couldn’t help but giggle nervously at all the attention.The old men were also looking at me with opened mouthed shock. It was like something out of a bad movie. Seeing my tears, one of them called out over the noise, “You alright, love?”“I’m ok,” I said, still wiping tears from my eyes.“He’s a bloody bastard, making you do this,” one of the other old blokes said bitterly, motioning towards Peter. I loved these old men. They looked after me. Now I was forced to stand in front of them virtually naked.My whole body was shivering and my nipples so tight, but it wasn’t because I was cold. It was the sheer humiliation of all these men staring at me.As I walked up and down the bar area serving drinks, I could hear the younger men openly appraising my body, talking about my breasts, the size and colour of my nipples, the size of my waist, what they wanted to do to me, etc.I was worried Daniel might come in. He normally didn’t, but what if today was different? And how could I ever look Peter, Matt and the regulars in the eye after they’d seen me naked?I started wondering how I could possibly return to work tomorrow.Slowly my embarrassment and shame changed to anger. I felt utterly violated. Degraded. I’d had no say in the matter; no control over this. The decision for me to take my clothes off in public was made by an angry man and not by me.I continued working, but with a slightly surly demeanour.Gradually the noise and excitement – and novelty factor – died down. As did my anger.