Joanna was still hanging out at the top of the pole upside down, now completely naked. She took her one free hand and used it to rub her pussy. People cheered, as much for the act as it was for the release they felt at finally seeing her body. Hooray for upside-down masturbating here at Dreamz!
The rock song winded down, and the third and final song came on the speakers: a sensual metal ballad. Joanna shimmied down the pole, and she stuck her hand in her mouth and drooled all over her tits. She looked over at me and I remembered that I was supposed to hand her the lotion. I grabbed the bottle and handed it up to her, making slight contact with her hand. She winked at me, then turned and went to the middle of the stage. She reached her arms up, like a conductor signaling the big crescendo. Then she dropped to the ground, put her whole fist in her mouth, felt herself up and down aggressively, and then she grabbed the bottle of lotion and squirted it all over herself. I get it now. In the dark lighting it looked a lot like a bucket of cum was raining down on her, a collective finishing visual for the masses.
She let the lotion linger on her body, moving her torso so the light illuminated the cream. She rubbed it into her body, spreading lotion all over her tits, her stomach, her thighs, her ass. She rubbed it in, apparent ecstasy on her face, and she even let a few select members from the crowd help, showing them how to use their full hand to uniformly spread the substance. Eventually, she shooed the rubbers away, and slowly lowered herself off the stage. Then she walked around, showing off her shiny nakedness and demonstrated to the crowd the scientific fact that if you stuck a dollar bill to her greasy body, it would stick. People surrounded her and stuck dollar bills to her. She cheered and smiled, parading around and enticing more and more dollars to be put on her skin; she quickly became an animal, with cash for fur. Once her body was completely covered, she walked over to the security guy and shook the dollars off into the collection bag that he held open for her. But she wasn’t done yet; there was still a bit of lotion in the bottle. She grabbed it, leaned forward against the stage, opened up her ass cheeks and squirted the remainder of the lotion directly into her asshole. A big fan—meaning, he was large in size and was also a very enthusiastic admirer of hers, it seemed—ran up and stuck a hundred-dollar bill right in there. She turned, a playful, shocked look on her face, then threw her arms around his neck and gave him a passionate, very wet kiss. The crowd went absolutely nuts, and it made sense—that was a whole lot of ass money!
The music faded out, leaving the room feeling a little empty, but the audience still cheered for Joanna. She took a large bow, droplets of lotion falling off her body, blew a kiss to everyone, and was rushed back to her makeshift dressing room by the heroic men in sweatpants.
I immediately took my laptop that literally had about one percent battery left in it and returned it to my backpack that was in the storage room of the store. My mind was still on the dancing; I can’t believe we pulled that off; I can’t believe I did! I couldn’t wait to see how much we made off the show. I imagined handing a cool bag full of cash to Sandy, saying, “Yeah, we had a porn star dance in here while you were gone; it’s no big deal, really.” In my mind she was thrilled about it; I hope real life was as kind. As my thoughts raced, I checked my phone. I suddenly snapped back to reality.
On my screen was a text notification from Amanda.
Wow. I hadn’t thought about her at all during the event chaos. Even though an event in the store was technically her idea, this one fell so suddenly into my lap that I didn’t even realize I was doing what she had suggested. That is, until now. I opened the text, half-excited to hear from her, half-annoyed that I’d done exactly what she wanted me to do without her even being here. I opened her text:
“Holy shit, is Joanna Angel at your fucking store right now? I just saw something on her Facebook page.”
“Yeah,” I answered. “You told me to do an event and I did.”
“I’m impressed! That was fast.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t do it for you ;)” I answered. I saw a bunch of blue dots appear and disappear in the little circular bar at the bottom of my phone. That implied that she was trying to think of what to say but didn’t know what to say. Holy shit! I couldn’t believe it. The ball was currently in my court and I was going to leave it there by playing the same game she played with me and not responding. Or maybe I would, in just a little bit. At the moment, I had some expensive panties to return to its rightful owner.
19
I signed up for a login for the “Tampa Lifestyles” message board and several minutes later I was approved. I officially gave myself a promotion and made myself the events coordinator of Dreamz. Events (plural) was probably a bit presumptuous because technically, I was only planning one event, but no one else needed to know that.
I picked a date, a few weeks from today, and made an official thread on the message board. “Dreamz Come True—April 23” I posted as the title.
“Come and play at Dreamz! Lingerie, toys, lube, XXX movies, private rooms, and more. Meet new people and have some fun! Drinks and refreshments will be provided, no entry fee. 9:00 P.M. - midnight.” With slight hesitation, I posted the note. I had no idea what the response would be. I could always delete the post if several days went by and no one replied; I could swipe this from the internet like it never existed with a click of a button.
Amanda are you proud of me? I did it! I did something. Now come and bend me over in my bed and put one of your various dildos inside me while you kiss my lips. Please? I did my homework. I think.
And just then, my phone buzzed. It was on the other side of my bed since I was legitimately engrossed in my own research instead of waiting for the phone to ring. My distraction led to an interaction. Did I successfully play hard to get by not texting? If so, great, but I couldn’t keep it up any longer. I dove across the bed to retrieve my prize.
My phone blared its notification: 1 New Text Message, from Amanda. I opened it.
“Just saying hi. ;)”
My stomach turned, and my hands shook. I wanted to scream. What did this mean? I felt so giddy. I—I had to respond. I had to tell her how much I missed her, how I could still feel her body on mine, how she quickly became the driving forces of my ultimate fantasies. Wait. No.
I had to tell her about the event.
I took a screenshot of my posting, and sent it to her as my response. I eagerly awaited for a reply. I saw those little dots appear and reappear on my iPhone screen. Was she just as nervous as I was? She seemed to be thinking carefully about what to say. I eagerly awaited for the dots to turn into words.
“Damn! You did it!!!!!!” Along with several “clap your hands” emojis. She was proud of me!
“You didn’t think I would?” I replied.
“Honestly? No. I didn’t,” along with the emoji that has its eyes staring up. You know, the one that looked like it just got away with murder.
“You said you would come help me! I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” I texted back.