Be careful what you wish for

Lately, I've been complaining about my ho-hum life. Then comes this magazine, asking me if I was willing to do a challenge for them. "How would you like to train to become an exotic dancer?" asked one of the staffers. I was laughing along with her until I realized she was serious. "I thought you were kidding!" I yelped. She wasn't. It sounded interesting enough. I figured it'd be a lot like the cardio striptease class at the gym. Then she told me about the grand finale: "In the end, you'll be performing at Air Force One."

I may be bored, but that ain't exactly the kind of adventure I was looking for! Fine, call me a Stepford Wife, call me Charlotte, whatever you wish, but I do have certain limits. Sure, Bree did this whole S&M thing--but bondage is one thing, and performing an "exotic dance" in front of a crowd of manyak men is a different thing altogether! (I'm left to wonder why they thought I'd say yes in the first place.)

On that note, if anyone's interested in taking on the challenge, let me know. They're still on the lookout for a willing victim, er, participant.