The next thing I knew, I was sitting at the bottom of the wheel, in amongst the numbered rows, looking sheepishly up at Beth. I was afraid she'd be angry, but instead, I found she was laughing at me. I felt my face turning a dark crimson.Beth walked over to a nearby door, motioning for me to follow. It took her about four steps to get there. For me, it was a much longer journey, especially in the heels. I was getting used to them quickly, though. Just keep walking on your toes, I told myself.
Beyond the door was a practice roulette table. "Go in the little door on the bottom," she told me, leaning down to point at it.
The door was only a foot high, proportioned just for me. I went through, and walked down a small corridor lit by a single white Christmas tree bulb. At the end was an open elevator. I got on it, pushed the only button, and waited as it carried me up to the top, stopping when I was sticking out about halfway. I climbed out, emerging onto the raised platform above the roulette wheel.
Beth was looking down at me, filling the sky. "It's very simple," she explained, indicating a hole in the platform near me. "This is where the ball comes out. Just pick it up and listen to what the gambler says he wants you to do. Smile all the time, and be sure you answer him when he speaks. If he puts a tip in your slot, thank him profusely. It doesn't matter if he gives you a dollar or a hundred dollars, but if they give you a lot, reward him with a special favor, do a dance, or something like that. Just remember, the objective is not to earn tips for yourself, but to get the gambler to spend his money on the wheel. The occasional dance is all right, but keep it short and keep the action flowing."
She pushed a switch on the table. The ball, which had been resting in one of the numbered slots, dropped down and disappeared. I heard a kind of whooshing sound, and the ball suddenly reappeared in the pneumatic tube. To me, it looked like it was about a foot and a half across, reminding me of a huge, metallic beach ball, with the "SW" logo emblazoned across it.
I picked it up. It was unusually light, obviously hollow, and I found that holding it was no trouble at all. Actually, it was almost too easy. I was afraid I'd drop it at the wrong moment.
"It's got a plastic interior," Beth explained. "The metal surface is just a coating. Now I need you to practice rolling it for a while. You'll also have to throw it, kick it, and do a lot of other things, so get used to that. And smile, all the time!"
I practiced, first just rolling or dropping it, and then heaving it over my shoulder like a giant shot-put. Then I started to get more elaborate, flinging it like a discus and throwing it like a bowling ball. This wasn't all that hard, I thought. In fact, I think I actually started to show off, trying some of the more difficult moves I'd seen Debbie working on, and that's where I got myself into trouble.
I was trying a bank shot, throwing it against the elevator platform so it would come back to me. The ball proved to have more momentum than I'd thought, though. When I went to catch it, its mass pulled me to the side, and I couldn't keep my balance in those damn heels. I started to fall, collapsing my legs to keep from twisting my ankles, and the ball carried me backwards, over the edge of the platform.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting at the bottom of the wheel, in amongst the numbered rows, looking sheepishly up at Beth. I was afraid she'd be angry, but instead, I found she was laughing at me. I felt my face turning a dark crimson.
"It's all right," she said after she stopped giggling. "I was wondering when you'd make a mistake. Everyone does. Now, if this had happened out on the floor, what would you do?"
"Look as embarrassed as I am now?" I offered.
"Well, yes, but you want to turn it into a positive," Beth told me. "Laugh at yourself. Get up and bow. Say something like, 'That's what I MEANT to do!' or 'Now for my NEXT trick...' Shit like this is going to happen, so just remember to keep smiling!"
I forced myself to smile and got back on my feet. The wheel and the platform seemed to rise into the sky above me. With some effort, I stepped over the slots, put my hands on the beveled surface, and pushed myself up. Standing on the slanted edge was impossible, so I crawled my way on hands and knees back up to the platform, feeling completely humiliated as I did so.
"You see why it's easier to just be carried back to that level," Beth told me. "But don't worry. The men like to watch you make that climb. Trust me on that."
Of course they would, I thought. My derriere, covered only by the dark hose and a thin slice of the high-cut leotard, had been sticking out the whole time. Anyone looking at me was sure to get a lovely view. I wasn't sure if that was worse than being picked up.
Beth made me practice throwing the ball for a bit longer, and this time I was much more conservative about it. Then she started pretending to be a gambler, asking me to do various things. She ran me through a lot of what I'd seen Debbie do, like pretending to talk to the ball, dancing around it, and kissing it for luck. It was mostly easy stuff, except for the dancing, which was tough in the heels. The toughest part was having to smile the whole time.
Finally, for my last exercise, she made me practice sliding down the platform and carry chips around, which were a lot larger and heavier than I'd expected. She explained the rules of the game, and what various requests meant, like corners and edges and whatnot. When she was certain I knew how to handle any chip placement, she had me climb back up onto the platform a couple of times until I was comfortable with it.
Finally, after my last slide, she said, "One last thing. Do you want me to show you what it's like to be lifted back to the platform?"
I looked up at her. With all the work I was doing, I'd managed to forget about that unpleasant possibility.
She put her hand down on the table in front of me, and I looked at it doubtfully. It was huge, over half as big as I was, and I knew she'd have no trouble picking me up, since right now I only weighed about half a pound. I didn't relish the thought of her lifting me into the air, but I knew I had to get used to it sometime. Besides, I thought, it hadn't been so bad when I did it online yesterday.
"O-okay," I replied, with as much courage as I could muster.
"Don't answer like that," she reminded me. "It has to be official!"
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I gave a thumbs up, then pointed at the platform.
At that, Beth swept her hand under me, wrapping her fingers around my tiny body firmly. I let out a yelp as she scooped me up, moved me over to the platform, and lowered me quickly to the surface. I stumbled, then dropped to one knee, panting and trembling from fright.
"Sorry to be so rough," she said, "but that's what you can expect out there. Sometimes they grab you even harder."
I stood back up, shaking, unable to even force myself to smile. "M-maybe I'd better not try that just yet," I sputtered weakly.
"Okay, like I said, it's up to you," she told me with a shrug. "Admit it, though. It wasn't all that bad, was it?"
"I-I guess not," I answered, but of course I was lying. It had been nothing at all like the experience online, which had been entirely visual. This time, I'd seen the hand coming, felt the giant fingers wrapping around me, and experienced really being lifted into the air. It was terrifying to be in someone else's power like that!
What was more, things were about to get a lot worse. "All right," Beth said. "It's time to start your shift. I think you're ready, Ashley. Report to table R6."
"All right," I replied, and I took the elevator down to floor level. I had to wait while Beth opened the door so I could get out, and then I was on my way.