The Erotichronicles V 02: Ch. 04-05

(This is a novel in three volumes, published elsewhere in 2019, revised for publication here. This is the second volume, titled THE DANCE GAME. You may need to suspend disbelief to an extreme degree, and brace yourself for a steady barrage of fantasy-level sex. This includes presenting the life-and-work conditions of women in adult entertainment as much more favorable, and lucrative, than they are in reality. All sex acts involve only people who are at least 18 years old. The corporate designation 'Eroti Entertainment' used in this story, is not real.

(At this point in the story, TopHeavy has reopened from expansion work, and Doublevision has returned to the dancer corps. Gabe held his first meeting of TopHeavy's customer forum.

(The three volumes were originally published separately, and these starting chapters look back on the first book's events. The look-backs may seem redundant if you're reading this right after finishing the first volume, but I've chosen to keep them, in case there's a return to separate-volume publication in the future.

(Details are in the tags. This volume has 22 chapters, and will be posted here in ten parts. The third volume is about the same word length, and will also be posted in ten parts. The story began in Volume I, MEGA PLATINUM VIP, which has already been posted. Enjoy!)

***

Chapter 4: Desirable Women on Inept Men

***

More of that. Three sex scenes.

***

Monday, November 18. From Molly:

This has always been a really good dance corps, starting from when Bella showed that she could be artistic and athletic on the floor and the pole, even with implants that made her an H-cup. Every skilled, well-built dancer wanted to work here, and we formed a sisterhood that fought back against the assertion that women with large breasts couldn't dance, or do gymnastics, or (as earlier generations had been told) think. Even the ladies with implants (now) had natural breasts (then) that were seen as incompatible with these activities.

In the last few months, we've raised our game even more. I guess it started with my July dance. Then Hibiscus became consulting choreographer and gave us routines with themes and challenges. Then Doublevision made her comeback. Then Galaxia pushed a few envelopes (and got a reprimand for her boob flash during meet-and-greet, but with no other consequences). Now everyone was looking to make a splash. This kind of competition I like just fine: We encourage each other, make ourselves better, give the audience bigger thrills, and draw even more people into our much larger club.

Which doesn't mean there can't be a downside. Cuddles, trying to develop moves she'd never done previously, took a fall in the practice room and dislocated a shoulder, relegating her to hostessing and private rooms for a while. Jade turned an ankle during a step sequence in a short dance (which she still finished), and insisted it wasn't a sprain; x-rays showed otherwise, and she missed a week. Jessie, tiring of Galaxia's pushing for better slots, gave Jade's featured dance temporarily to Fury. While Fury put together a creditable long dance, her audience is limited to men who are into tattoos, piercings, spiked pink hair, and an attitude.

The new nutrition bar in the practice room offers many healthy (and almost tasty) protein shakes, and we're all stronger as a result. On meet-and-greets, we have plenty of energy left, which might scare some guys. Until we get respect, fear is okay.

Today I saw Donna Pendergast, the club's manager, in the break area just off the practice room. She was in workout gear, into which she had sweated substantially. She looked at a tablet and sipped a protein shake. Most of the time she did manager stuff in career-woman clothes from the building across the street. There was nothing unusual about a healthy woman of about thirty, taking the opportunity to fit an exercise routine into her day. Except.

"How's it going?" I asked, sitting at her table.

"This Vegas gig," she said, not looking up. "I'm trying to get corporate to commit to paying for the whole thing and not charge it to us. It's time for hardball. Can I tell them that you might not go?" Our third construction hiatus was timed to an adult entertainment expo in Las Vegas. Eroti's presence this time would include a temporary TopHeavy with several of our dancers, to push Eroti's effort to franchise the club in other cities.

I shook my head. "I think my new contract pre-commits me."

"Yeah, there's that," she said.

I was looking for fun. I had just finished a menstruation that hadn't been bad. I said, "You trying to do anything special in your workout?"

She shook her head. "Just the usual stuff."

"Like a twice-around pole spin with scissor kicks and a twist?"

She looked up. "So?"

I leaned across, though I didn't lower my voice enough to keep any of this out of the surveillance system. "Art Lourdis was in your office last week. Friday you toured PoleSitter with him."

"He's thinking of putting in a bigger snack bar. He showed me some spaces for it." She looked at the tablet again.

Of course she wanted to dance. Bad enough she wasn't tall. Her leg length could limit her both in appeal to the customer (although probably not much) and the ability to work them in pole moves. In this building, though, her perfectly lovely B-cups were an even bigger problem (smaller, really).

At PoleSitter, the dancers have a much greater variety of body types. I'm sure Artie wanted to see Donna in a full routine. On the last night before the club closed for the second construction halt, Donna had stripped to join us in our 'traditional' nude farewell from all dancers and waitresses, part of our support for Hibiscus and her choreography. Donna delivered some solid dance moves and a willingness to show off an extremely fine body.

I was going to let her off the hook, but as I started to stand, she looked up and said, "There's part of this that I really hate."

I sat. "Which is?"

"The assumption that all women are exhibitionists, and all men are voyeurs."

I'd been in this kind of discussion before. What I said next, is a way to streamline it.

"What did you think when you first started dancing?"

"That it was fun, and I was hot, and I grooved on the effect it had on guys," she said. "I was nineteen, and a boutique feminist, picking and choosing views that I found convenient."

"So you gravitated to the subsets of humanity where the women are exhibitionists, and the men are voyeurs." I admit this about myself. But I don't hope that leering losers will fill a void in my life. That's my story, anyway.

She nodded. "And when I became a suit, it was in a corporation that revels in that, and makes money off it."

I took a slightly different tack. "Any problems from having moved here? Have you met people to hang out with? People who don't work here?"

"I've been so busy," she said. "And I'm not the kind of person who opens up and gets to know people easily."

It was clear to me, and maybe to her, where this might go next. I didn't want to advise her to be friskier around men if she had good reasons not to do that, and I didn't want her to react to my open polyamory by thinking of me as a slut. I stood up. "We can revisit this some other time, or not," I said. "Sorry about yanking your chain."

She nodded, then looked again at the tablet.

***

Thursday, November 21. From Gabe:

Today, I went to see Bella. Until now, she had been the one who contacted--or summoned--me, over what was happening to her. There was a year and a half left in her five year-contract with Eroti, which had showered her with money for dance tours, and included vague possibilities for videos, ranging from plain nudies to porn. She had worried she was being discarded, but the success of Eroti's fully-featured sex doll with her exact likeness--and Darrendahl's decision to depend less on the internet--had brought her back into favor. She would go on a three-city tour (both to dance and to promote the sex doll, sales of which had tapered off) and then join the other dancers at the Las Vegas expo's temporary TopHeavy.

Her better outlook may have been why she'd ignored me. She had once thought that my 'career' could get her into porn video (but she insisted on only the most lucrative, 'classiest' level). She even confided in me, because (thanks to her being haughty and selfish) she has no friends. We had also had spectacular sex, so she could show her pornworthiness through her house's security cameras. I had looked into the security operator, to see where her 'audition' went.

We met in the afternoon, on the terrace behind the large house in which she lived alone, out of range of the security mics (as far as she knew; there were cams installed outside the house). She drew close her fur-collared coat, around which her lush dark-brown hair cascaded. "It's getting late in the year for outdoor meetings," she said.

"This shouldn't take long," I said, sitting on a chair across from the two-person swing rather than joining her on it. "I've learned that video of you, recorded in this house, has gone from the security contractor DRFG to the parent company Pervasor. It has moved on to various individuals, who have added it to video feed shown routinely in dark-web enclaves and disreputable clubs in places like Marseille, France, and Phuket, Thailand. Congratulations, you're already a pornstar. You just haven't been paid for it, and probably never will be."

Her plastered-on Mona Lisa smile brightened. "I'm satisfied with that. Eroti must be aware of it. That and the doll sales will get me what I want. They'll have to cast me now, and pay dearly for it." At no time did she even acknowledge that I was also in her videos.

I stood up. "Okay, now you know. And that can be the end of it." I started heading back to my car.

"Oh, don't be a sourpuss," she said with a tsk. "Since you came all the way out here, we might as well fuck."

When I turned back to her I was angrier than I'd realized. "If I do that, in your house, I'll be knowingly violating my contract." Which probably wasn't true, but it gave me a focus. "And I'd rather talk to Carol than fuck Bella." Which also wasn't really true.

She let the swing rock her back and forth. "Just because you're the only person I'll be Carol with," she said, "doesn't mean I'll be her any time you like."

It had been a stunning moment, on this terrace, a few months ago, when she gave me the bright, genuine smile of Carol Golubowski, which radiated in her first breasts-exposed photo shoot, before she had the implants and the nose job, and locked herself into the aloof visage of Bella. In a way she was the most beautiful woman I had ever encountered, and she so easily reverted to one of the least likeable.

"You were right when you said you didn't deserve my friendship," I said. "Too bad you didn't listen to yourself."

"Oh, stuff it, Morton!" Suddenly Carol was here in a less amiable form. "You're the luckiest damn sonofabitch on Earth! And now you've got your balls in a twist because a woman knows enough to look out for herself?" She launched into mockery. "How are you ever going to survive now that Molly has finished her weekend? Or is it just a coincidence that you come sniffing around for me, now that she's back to earning a living and tribbing her roomie?"

I felt, and probably looked, like I'd been hit with a shovel. She rose and walked up to me slowly. "I do want you as a friend. And, yes, I did listen to myself. Did you listen to me, those times I told you things I'd never say to anyone else?"

"Of course I did." She had unburdened about how the choices she made, after winning beauty pageants, left her with no route to fame and fortune other than adult entertainment. It mostly reeked of unfulfilled entitlement. She still had a ways to go in the self-knowledge department. But this wasn't a fight I was willing to start now.

"Bella is riding high again," she said. "Hundreds of men fuck my sex doll. Eroti is back in my corner. Bella has no enemies, and has no reason to be an enemy." She put a hand on my ugly cheek and gave me the Carol smile. "Carol, on the other hand, could be a very bad enemy. Is that what you want?"

I wanted to say, Carol is a real person and she can be good or bad like anyone else, but she had me sufficiently freaked out that I only said "No."

"It's cold, let's go inside."

Now that she knew how far her videos had gone, she was less frenetic in her sex and even wanted some of it to be under the covers. She still maintained the Bella persona while in the bedroom as we fucked and sucked, but she was more giving and sensitive. She said quietly in my ear, "I really like your body now. Just a little more off your saddle and I'll be pestering you all the time. And it's nice to relax and enjoy your fucking, instead of making a big production out of it."

I marveled at the feel of her body, the vast implants that seemed to belong on her big-boned frame. We were conjoined side-by-side. I shifted to slide out and in a couple inches, slowly. "Oh, please, keep doing that," she said, clutching a butt cheek to steer me. "I'll want you to visit me in Vegas."

Did this actually give me some leverage? "We'll see."

She nibbled my ear, not gently. "Yes. We will."

While we showered she said, "My doll is turning up in the damnedest places. On long-haul fishing boats. Oil drilling platforms. Anywhere men are stuck for too long without women. Even with some women working there. There's a rumor of one in Antarctica. My pussy, with its fifteen programmable modes, is a world traveler."

"Have you set aside any of the money?"

She chuckled, and hugged me. "See, there you go. Being my friend. You can't help yourself, can you? And you expect me to do something to deserve it? Your kindness flows as abundantly as your semen."

"Yeah, and that means I'd like an answer. I heard that you'd spent the advance before the doll went on the market. Are you in debt?"

She waved it off. "Who isn't? I'm doing fine."

"Want proof that I listen? I recall you lamenting about this house, and everything in it, as the style to which you're accustomed. So you couldn't go back to being a housegirl."

"Then just remember, if I don't like what's going on, I whine about it. I'm not whining now."

She stepped out of the shower and instantly wrapped one towel around her hair and another around her body. She was as quick to add fabric as she was to remove it.

"And now I'm going to kick you out," she said. "So you can have something to whine about."

I shrugged. "I can always go to the club. Maybe I'll pick up Molly."

She laughed. If Carol was a potential psychopath, I saw no evidence of it then. She kissed me, just plain affectionately. "I really do like you, Gabe. I just like myself more."

***

Saturday, November 23. Gabe and Molly on the phone:

G: We're coming up on family-oriented events. Do you want to do anything about Thanksgiving?

M: I'm not ready to fall off the wagon by stuffing myself. You probably don't want a setback either.

G: True enough. The clubs will be closed. What do you normally do?

M: Treat it like a day off. Jen visits her parents. Imagine that, a pole dancer who masturbates nude on a web cam and is on good terms with her relatives.

G: How about we show our gratitude to the world by giving back? We could do feed-the-homeless stuff. Plenty of places need volunteers.

M: Excellent idea. And we could do that again around Christmas. But let's try to find a charity that isn't preachy.

G: I'll work on that. It'll be tough, being around all that food and still needing to drop twenty-some pounds.

M: Being around people who actually need the food should take care of that.

***

Monday, November 25. From Molly:

It took a while to get everything pinned down, but we've finally been informed who's going to Las Vegas as the TopHeavy contingent, for dancing, open-space strolling, and party-hopping: Bella, me, Hollywood, Galaxia, Ginger X, Jade (healthy enough now), Kittykat, and Valindra. All of us were veteran dancers with substantial followings, and able to adjust what we do to the limited dance space. One of the poles in the practice room has been set aside for Vegas routines, with the floor space defined in glow tape. All eight of us would have travel and expenses covered by Eroti Entertainment, with no charge to the club.

More interesting were who wasn't going, and the speculations about why. Despite Doublevision's comeback, Jessie Corcoran was staying home in her suit role as talent coordinator, scheduling other TopHeavy dancers (including herself) to work at the other Eroti clubs. She would video-chat to Vegas if there were meetings she had to attend. Had she pushed too hard, and re-injured herself? She insisted she hadn't.

Hibiscus was also staying home, ostensibly to choreograph some of the dances to be done at the other clubs. This could be either Darrendahl's punishment for what her seduced-and-abandoned dance had forced him to do, or a way to keep her from drawing more of Darrendahl's ire. In fact, Sherry was guiding a surprising replacement: the dance I had done with Jen would be done at PoleSitter again, this time with Jen and Dakota. Hibiscus would also perform her seduced-and-abandoned dance at PoleSitter. That showed no fear, but with 'Figleaf 29' going on in Vegas, there likely wouldn't be a great deal of attention to what Hibiscus did in the smaller club.

Dakota, real name Nadia Spuzich, had probably the darkest attitude in the dance corps. Her appearance was not off-putting to the traditional male judgment (unlike Fury's, who in her own way was playful in her dancing), but her expression and dance choices hinted at danger and negative passions. As a dance persona, this is fine, and contrasts with the usually upbeat presentation of most of us. Even away from the stage, however, Nadia was cynical, distrustful, and remote, and appeared amused by the problems of others. She seemed uninvolved with anyone else, romantically or otherwise.

Sherry asked me to watch and make suggestions as Nadia and Jen rehearsed. I wasn't surprised that Nadia's take was to ditch what I had done (I gradually became more attracted to Jen, as she was to me). Nadia assumed dominance, with Jen in effect her submissive. I noted this, and Sherry said she was interested in exploring this. In theory, this was another valid thematic route for the dance (maybe 'butch-dominates-fem,' as opposed to the original label of 'dyke dance') and Jen didn't seem upset by it. So I stayed out of that part of the discussion.

After the rehearsal Nadia directed her usual superior smirk at me. "Does this make you uncomfortable?" she asked, untying her ponytail and letting the straight brown hair loose.

"It's Sherry's dance," I said, which was true. I didn't mention the three pole moves I had done, which were being made less challenging in this version, and the way that a spin with both dancers on the pole had to be simplified for both, so Wildfire (Jen) wouldn't kick Dakota in the head.

"This brings it closer to the real world," said Nadia, "where things don't end with everyone happy."

"So you think everything has to be zero-sum?" I asked. "Giver loses, taker wins?"

She laughed. "That's usually the best outcome! Most of the time, the sum is less than zero. Everyone leaves worse off than they began." She said this with no apparent bitterness. If anything, she liked the idea.

Clearly Nadia was not a likely advocate for a happy-sex movement. Although she might benefit from it more than most.

***

Saturday, November 30. From Gabe:

Wednesday I cut short my time with Molly on her weekend. We had her day off on Thanksgiving anyway. She also thought this porn shoot might be good for me, in a personal-growth-whether-you-like-it-or-not way.

Weinstock had prepped me for this, in a voice call on Monday. "I'm going to email you something. It's a real script, with speeches you have to deliver, convincingly."

"If you think I can handle it, I'll give it a try," I said, but I wasn't eager. I'd never thought of myself as an actor.

"This project will take you well out of your comfort zone," she said, sounding a bit concerned. "You'll be in a threesome--but with only one woman."

I hadn't yet done that in real life, but I knew that a partner might want that, so it wasn't a complete shock. "Okay," I said.

"He's black," she said.

Yeah, I'll admit it, that woke up my lizard brain. On balance, though, I wasn't bothered. "Am I a cuck, then?"

"Hell no. I could get any guy to be a cuckold. Why would I waste you? The woman will give and receive with both men."

In the script, both guys are former boyfriends of the woman. Both partings had been amicable. The guys are also acquainted, and not on bad terms.

We spent the whole first day on the opening scene, which has no sex. First we did a table read in the loft, where I met the other performers: a woman working under the name of Josie B., and my opposite number, Randall Cole. She was young, very pretty in face and strawberry-blond hair, and when she was fully dressed one couldn't see that she was carrying maybe more weight than was ideal. He sported corn rows and what might have been gangsta tats, but both in the script and in his own behavior he seemed calm and congenial (although maybe because nearly everyone in the cast and crew was white?).

It became clear from the notes they gave us during the table read that Nathan and Penny had written the script. We were told that we didn't have to try to get the exact words, but get the 'beats' of what each speech should include. There would be prompter cards to remind us of what beat should go next. Weinstock gave only a few notes on how we should interact. After the read we went to a good-sized restaurant where time and space had been arranged for the shoot. The tech had already been set up when we arrived, with two fixed-positions cameras and one to track motion.

The scene began with Cole and me arriving first. We knew we would meet Josie. Apart from our past relationships, we were connected as part of a gamer group (with our small talk based on gaming arcana), and Cole and I had been led to believe that Josie wanted to talk about that group. Instead, when she arrived she told us she had been dumped by Brad, yet another group member. He had taken up with a woman much thinner than Josie. At first Cole and I tried to comfort her, but she made it clear what she wanted done, to improve her mood.

We did, I think, eight takes of the whole scene, and loads of stretches of a couple-three speeches each. The booth was far enough inside the restaurant that it didn't matter that shooting began in the afternoon and continued past 9 p. m. Weinstock insisted that we were sufficiently believable (and coherent, I guess) by the time we were done.

On Thanksgiving Molly and I did the volunteering noted above, and had plenty of time for each other that night and the next morning. (A cowgirl on the living room weight bench, a side-by-side fuck, and a long sixty-nine into a doggystyle in which we came twice each.)

Saturday, the video cast and crew met again in a hotel room, to use the king-sized bed for the scene that probably mattered most.

Cole turned out to be as awkward at this as I was, and Weinstock said this gave the scene more believability. It wasn't just a standard fuck-and-suck by poised pros (which all three of us actually were). Most of the time Josie B. was sandwich meat, with each man spending most of his time on one side of her.

Josie had us undress her, showing her to be fairly busty (C- or D-cup) but also hefty in the gut and legs. She kept on dark patterned stockings and a garter belt. The men mostly undressed themselves, but Josie made a point of removing our skivvies and giving each set of junk some hello kisses and strokes. This put Cole and me on our knees and upright as she sat between us for her manual and oral activity.

While this shoot would count towards my Eroti contract (which gave me $1000 for each uploaded video), I wasn't going to do what I usually did, fucking several times and bouncing back quickly. Cole and I each fondled and sucked the nearest tit, and then sort of worked together on finger-fucking her pussy and stroking her clit. Then we alternated as Josie's mouth-kisser and tit-sucker. There was quite a lot of this, sometimes repeated, to allow for a variety of takes.

Then, before either Cole or I had fucked Josie, we did a second take of the sex scene up to that point. After that take, there was a break, during which Nathan and Penny talked us through the next scene.

In the hardcore, I spooned Josie, with her body revealed to the camera, as she sucked Cole's cock. This went on long enough for her to show an orgasm (real or fake). Then she lay on her back and Cole fucked her from standing on the floor while she sucked me, as I knelt behind her head. Through all this, we three kept up a sort of friendly banter guided by prompt cards (and Josie having to interrupt her fellating to get a few words in). Then Josie wanted Cole's fucking to get more serious, and I moved to the side to lean over and suck her tits. She showed orgasm, then he let loose, and pulled out to show a filled condom. I then shifted her body around and fucked her again, taking her higher. I came, pulled out, and let the camera get sight of the filled condom.

Josie then gestured for us to hug her on either side. Which we did--and, after an awkward moment, in the spirit of fellowship, Cole and I reached across to close the hug circle. Josie said, "If only Brad could see me now."

Cole smiled, reached out of frame, and brought in his phone. We smiled for the selfie, and the vid would end with the pic 'posted' on some unspecified social medium.

We cleaned up, waited an hour, then did a second take of the hardcore. I didn't bring up anything about me not needing the break. Nor did I glean whether Cole or Josie knew about my videos. I did what I could to be a good team player. The second take went fine, with no sign of strain or fatigue on the part of the other two performers.

It had not been difficult for Cole and I to make our limited body contact, but the familiarity only went so far. Each performer showered alone.

***

Sunday, December 1. From Molly:

For the first time in a while, I hooked up last night with Gwen Lowndes, who waits on tables, dances on tables, and dances on stage at TopHeavy under the name Paloma. Not only did I want to get some hot lady fun with this tall, short-haired blonde, but I wanted to hear about what seemed like a happy-sex campaign she developed on her own: She's taken home club patrons who had scant social skills or ability to appeal to women, and showed them how to become better at these things (with the incentive of getting to fuck a beautiful, voluptuous lady).

I persuaded her to come to my place after work, because with Jen out of town I had to make sure that Clammy wasn't suicidally depressed. Gwen, of course, had to bond with the cat before anything else could happen. Finally I got us undressed and into a nice long sixty-nine, relishing the feel and taste of clit and labia, as well as her tongue, lips, and fingers. Then we did some intense tribbing, always a big thrill with a dancer, and leading to a huge cum.

At last we kissy-hugged, sharing the warmth of our great big tits on a cold night. All to the aloof disapproval of Clammy, who watched from the bedroom doorway. One nice thing about lezzing: unless the action gets really sloppy, there's usually no need to shower or clean up the arena. If you're already comfy together when the action is done, you can stay that way.

The pillow talk of desirable women turned to the subject of inept men. "Is there any method to what you're doing?" I asked.

"I usually approach guys who are there alone. Groups of guys tend to revert to the behavior of the most crass one. I know a fair number of the regulars pretty well, from waitressing. Once I conclude that a certain guy won't ever become an asshole or a stalker, and that what's holding him back is shyness or low self-esteem, I chat him up a little."

"So you don't just drag him straight home."

"That would happen much later, if at all. I do tend to focus on guys who aren't good looking. I also exclude men who hold grudges against ex-partners, and haven't done any self-examination."

"Would Gabe, the way he was before, be someone you'd consider?"

Gwen smiled. "Yes, but first I would have encouraged him to take better care of himself. Be presentable. Do you remember what he was like?"

I nodded. "Clothes that weren't always clean. Sometimes true also of the rest of him."

"That's common for guys like that. They don't think they have to apply themselves just to watch strippers. In my early stages, I ask the guy to doll himself up next time, to set an example for others. The new, huge crowds we're getting now, mostly they're guys who have this figured out. It makes it even tougher for the less fortunate guys to get noticed favorably."

"So if the guy comes in next time looking better, what else has to happen?"

"At that point," she said, "I look to see if he's reverted to singles-bar behavior, because for some guys getting presentable equates to them going on the prowl. If the guy doesn't have that kind of competitive dating background, he might really be a babe in the woods."

"Up to that point, have you actually promised anything?"

"I don't even flirt. I watch and see what he does during meet-and-greets. If he's still so shy and self-doubting that he doesn't chat up dancers or ask for selfies, then I make him an offer, making it clear that this would be only once with me."

"And how would you assess your results?"

"As far as what it's done for the men, I think it's been good. I made sure that they had some kind of positive from the sex. They may not have become great lovers, but they seem to have become better people. A few times, it's even been good for me, physically."

I told her about what Gabe and I have discussed about a happy sex movement. I followed, "I don't think I'd try what you're doing, exactly. I made a move on Denny Yarborough, but that was as much for me as for him."

She smiled. "And thank you for that. By the time I got to him, he was a pretty good lover. He and Sherry seem to be settling in together, and I think they make a good, mutually supportive couple."

"Yeah, I'm happy for them, but I'll hate to lose him."

"They haven't completely closed themselves off, but it's pretty clear how they feel about each other. A month ago Chelsea and I gave him a three-way, and he was out with Sherry again the next night." Chelsea Sims, another waitress-turned-dancer, was more or less Gwen's significant other, although both were poly as well as bisexual.

I had to ask. "So was Denny up to the challenge?"

Gwen laughed. "Even he was surprised by what he could do. Three full erections, maintained for a good long time, with proper management by Chelsea and me."

"I've always treated him gently," I said. "I've been thinking of getting some farewell sex. If I do, I'll find out what his limit is."

Not enough sex for you? 'You' as in Gabe? In the morning we loved up our breasts and came very nicely.

From Gabe:

Since Molly has addressed me directly, I'll say that even that twelve-word sentence is better than no mention of sex at all. As it happened, that afternoon, the aforementioned Chelsea (whose dance handle is Superstorm) asked if she could take the edge off with me, so she wouldn't be too excited if she worked private rooms that night. Always eager to help a friend, I welcomed her to my place.

We sixty-nined, and both came. We doggystyled, which we hadn't done together before, and both came. She cowgirled me, wonderfully displaying her dark brown skin. I kissed and fondled her tits, and she got what she said was a boobasm along with a vaginal, while I came twice. Then in the shower I fucked her tits, and picked her up to fuck her off the floor. Once we were clean, she asked for cuddle time, which led to long kissing. As we got interested again, I asked if she had to save energy for the work night. She said she did, so we parted company. Hmm, I needed more than twelve words for that.

***

Chapter 5:

You Are Going to Dance, Motherfucker

***

Yet again. Gabe cums ten times with Molly and Sherry. Molly cums fourteen times with Gabe, Denny, and John.

***

Monday, December 2. From Molly:

Those of us going to Vegas would do our last dances at the club on Friday, so it was decided that December 6 would be the last day before the third construction halt. Days off were being rearranged, and this week I would have only Tuesday away from the club. Happily for me, I would have Gabe with me in Vegas. He was all-expenses-paid partly because of his pornos, but also scheduled for other events and meetings, not yet explained fully. Also going to Vegas, entirely on Eroti's dime, would be Hannah Weinstock (a porn star in her own right), and my sometime fuck buddies, Henry Wexler (TopHeavy's business manager) and Marge Catalano (the club's creative director).

Sherry Mozelius was in the club today. I asked if I could take her out to the kind of late lunch that dancers often fit in before the work night. She was free after she got Jen and Dakota through another rehearsal.

I took her to the diner where Gabe and I had met up in our very early going, and partly for the same reason: So we could talk without being monitored by the club's security system.

I started with, "You and Denny are looking happier all the time."

She jumped several exchanges, having figured out where I'd go with this. "We're not thinking about locking each other up," she said neutrally.

"Sherry, please, look me in the eye," I said. I waited until she did, then said, "Who do you want to be with in five years?"

"Denny. But he's not the only person I want to be with in the next few days. Next week we'll be here, and probably together the whole time, when I'm not really busy." With no makeup and no strong expression, Sherry didn't look like much facially, eyes a bit buggy, and with bags under them.

"Go on."

She smiled, which did wonders for the conventional appraisal of her looks. "I'm going to be real with you. I like it when we swap. I want to bang Gabe before you leave town. I know Denny wants you, and I keep telling him it's okay to admit it." She leaned in and lowered her voice. "And by being two couples in different places, Denny and I won't suffer by comparison." She put her hand up before I could say anything. "There's no arguing with physiology. Denny and I have a bond that we don't have with anyone else. When we swap, he can have fun with bigger boobs, and I'll have fun with a bigger dick, and then we'll be back to me teaching him how to dance and him helping me understand the legal system, and also us loving deeply and fucking spectacularly."

"So in that case--"

"Wednesday night, into Thursday morning, if that works for you and Gabe." Then, still smiling, she stuck her fork in her salad.

From Gabe:

My customer forum has had its first impact on TopHeavy. Every main stage dancer tonight, when done performing, stopped at a designated point on the runway (at the top of the stairs to the stage) to be available for nude selfies, before returning to the dressing room. The selfie-takers were no closer to the dancers than during the dances, but if framed properly, the shot includes a woman in fully-displayed nudity, plus the selfie-taker (fortunately, still clothed). In some divorce proceedings, this might count as evidence.

Because I had begged and pleaded for the ladies to do this, I staked out the location myself, the entire night, and took selfies (and I was not alone, and I had to go to great lengths to exclude other selfie-takers from my shots). The dancers agreed to wait fifteen seconds for this silliness, before getting on with their lives. Some may never speak to me again.

Wendy Trevanian, the club's webmaster, encouraged submission of selfies for posting on the web site. Donna Pendergast liked this selfie-taking (in addition to the availability during meet-and-greets), while Jessie Corcoran and Marge Catalano, at least, didn't mind it.

When Molly arrived at my place tonight for her one-day weekend, she avoided me as she entered, looking at her phone. When fifteen seconds of her avoidance had elapsed, she looked at me and said, "Good evening, Sweetheart. I'll never get my fifteen seconds back, and now you won't either." Then she kissed me hello. POINT MADE, OKAY?

***

Wednesday, December 4. From Gabe:

Here's a whole lot of yadda, but it's about sex, at least.

Bella seems not to care now, and she's off on her pre-Vegas tour. My poking around on DRFG and Pervasor mostly is for my own curiosity. Some of the bigger issues that interest me, like prostitution and human trafficking, seem to be at the edge of what Pervasor's investors are doing.

The last stop on Molly's strip club tour was San Jose, where Eroti is headquartered. We were invited to a dinner party at Mark Darrendahl's mansion, which ended in a conversation of the two of us with the man himself. He gave us good news (no release of my video that could get TopHeavy closed, plus expansion of the club) but also nasty stuff. He said that Eroti is a silent partner in a Thailand strip club where patrons openly masturbate during dances and might be allowed to fuck dancers on stage, without gaining consent.

Darrendahl said this club is in Phuket. This is a place of interest to Pervasor investors and company officials. No surprise. Tourism in Phuket is tied to an impression of easy, no-strings sex, frowned upon in the tourists' home countries. If you're going to start a venture that pushes envelopes, Phuket would be a likely spot.

Unlike places with legal, regulated red-light districts (like Amsterdam and Hamburg), in Thailand sex workers may have scant safety, or control of their lives. The economic facts on the ground put prostitutes in a weak position with regard to well-heeled tourists. Darrendahl never brought this up, but it seems likely that in the club with an Eroti stake, dancers would double as prostitutes for full penetration, and maybe even more dangerous sex.

I know, where you stand depends on where you sit. I'm prosperous and have no obligation to support a family, so the thought of spending money to get laid, without risk of arrest, strikes me as an unalloyed good. Also, based on Brenda's perspective, I'm a prostitute myself. Molly has openly stated in these writings that she once took money to receive penetrative sex, apart from what she had done more recently in TopHeavy's private rooms.

So I'm pro-prostie on both sides of the issue. But I also seek to be a decent human being, and I don't want to enable the seamier side of this enterprise: Any treatment of women as property or commodity. 'Mail order bride' operations, to bring compliant women from eastern Europe to be controlled by American men. The devaluing of female children in China, or anywhere else where this has become engrained in culture. Severe imposition of Islamic sharia.

This should be something that libertines and moralists can agree on. But too often, the former look the other way. The latter paint bad things as adherence to traditional roles (such as support for Christian sects in which men are allowed to make all decisions and control women's lives).

Anyway. What came out of my most recent dredging of the internet were the following:

DRFG is the surveillance contractor for both the event in Vegas (called Figleaf 29) and the hotel where all Eroti personnel are staying. Eroti's surveillance will be done by its own security and video people.

Two high-ranking employees of Pervasor's containership port in Macao are listed as investors in 'a floating entertainment facility' in international waters in the South China Sea. China's idea of 'international waters' differs from that of other countries, and many small islands in the vicinity have been claimed by China (but with the claim not yet pressed). Developers of this facility are involved in semi-legal escort services in various countries. To put it bluntly, the facility would probably offer prostitution and gambling in addition to conventional entertainment. These two people, however, are not those previously connected with investments in Phuket.

Four of those semi-legal escort services would have displays at Figleaf 29, and jointly hold serious-seeming presentations on decriminalizing 'commercial sex for business purposes.'

So far I've yadda'd right by our mini-weekend. Molly might approve of the fact that I've given priority to important subjects related to our happy sex campaign (whatever that is). I will nonetheless note that on Monday night I gave her a long massage (which put her to sleep). We woke up to pillow talk about what's about to happen (the Wednesday night swap, the Vegas trip), followed with a nice, easygoing missionary.

At the end of the workout I gave her a stand-and-hold fuck followed by a lady lift, during which at my urging she put her thighs over my shoulders so I could give her a very long eat-out. Then I rolled her down into my arms and bride-carried her to the shower. (I have no problem thinking of this in those terms. It's the idea of moving from marriage to parenthood that I haven't worked through yet.)

Today the scale had shown me as sixteen pounds above goal weight. In the shower, Molly said as she soaped me down, "If I saw this body on somebody else, I'd really think about jumping it. The musculature makes it easy to overlook what's left of the saddle."

"Does that mean I can pig out at breakfast?"

"No more than I can," she said. Then she gave me a titfuck while sucking the head of the cock, which of course meant showering (and mouth-rinsing) all over again. Life is so damn tough.

We did some writing, and I showed her what I'd found on DRFG/Pervasor. On the 'entertainment facility,' she observed, "There's probably no way for prosties marooned in international waters to defend their lives, let alone their rights."

We went out to dinner, I think mostly so I could be her dress-up doll. When we got back, she undressed me and confiscated my shirt. She has so much fun with this whole routine that I've stopped snarking about it. I asked, "Any way you can work a boyfriend shirt into a dance?"

That made her knit her brow. "Yeah, maybe. A short dance. On stage I'll put it on over undies, then strip the undies but keep the shirt till the end, and out pops Miss Nudie Boobs."

"That'll make a great runway selfie."

This actually made her take the shirt off, so she could stuff it in my mouth.

Wednesday morning we cowgirled, and after the workout I gave her another lady lift. She got a little choked up after that and needed to hug for a long time, saying, "Sometimes I can't believe we're this happy."

And for some reason there blasted into my head, Maybe it's time to settle issues with our relatives. I didn't mention it to her. Maybe after Vegas.

We ate (sorta kinda) and showered. She left pretty soon after that, to get things squared away in her apartment and do some packing.

The easiest way to set things up for the swap was for me to go to the club. It was the night for Jessie's featured dance, and she was every bit as good at it as before, and I was only slightly less affected. I felt compelled to do runway selfies again, although the crowd for that was much bigger this time. Jessie leaned down over me, putting her nipples within about three inches of my head. Somehow, with an erection in progress, I got a decent shot that included my head, and her head and out-thrust upper torso.

A while later Valindra came out on a meet-and-greet, resplendent in what amounted to a multi-colored sari, with a bandeau above a bare midriff and a long flowing skirt, with extra fabric over one shoulder. There were a few concessions to this being a strip club, with a long slit in the skirt to show leg, and a mesh patch on the bandeau to show cleavage. She carries maybe a little more weight than would be ideal, but it's evenly distributed on her body. The extra on her exposed tummy and arms didn't look out of place.

"Hi, Amina," I said, and then brought up the main topic among the dancers. "What do you have worked out for Vegas?"

"Mostly the usual phony belly dance," she said. "It makes me seem exotic, that's probably why I got the gig." As always I marveled at her combination of dusky skin and blue eyes, unique to South Asia.

"It isn't phony if you do it that well."

She was looking me over, smiling. "Take off your jacket."

I did, and didn't bother to strike a pose. She ran a hand over my shoulders and chest. "Nice," she said. "Too bad you've stopped doing private rooms."

"You know why," I said, chiding a bit. Valindra (Amina Gupta) had been one of the first to make a point of getting an orgasm for herself while getting me off. "We could always make other arrangements, where we wouldn't have any restrictions."

Her smile got a bit sad, or maybe impatient. "Yes, Gabe, I definitely want to have complete and total sex with you. Once. After you lose the rest of the weight. And then never again."

The Gabe of six months ago would have said "Uh... what?" The Gabe of now said "Why is that?" but was in no better command of the situation.

"Because I don't go in for this poly shit. You and Molly are absolutely locked in to each other. There'd be no way for me to change that, and I wouldn't want to. So I could see, yeah, fucking once for fun, and when you're a total hunk. And then maybe once in a while, stealing a moment in a private room. But my time would be better spent finding someone who's trying to find me."

The chat was less freighted after that, and she got a kick out of my selfie with Jessie, and in time she moved on. From a distance I watched one of Moira's table dances. I almost didn't notice Jessie, now meeting and greeting, moving my way.

She was in her gold lamé gown. "Let's see it," she said.

I showed her the selfie. "Welllll," she purred, "that's the closest you've been to them in a long time."

"And I didn't even realize it," I lamented.

"May I grab your butt, Mr. Mega Platinum VIP?"

"Of course, and I won't even request the same." I turned so that she could put a hand there without making it obvious to everyone else.

"Really nice," she said. She nodded at the selfie. "There's your motivation for finishing the job."

"So you're not going to string me along forever?"

"Only until I decide to stop," she said, having immense fun.

"Every other patron could get motivated too," I said, having a little fun of my own, "I've already uploaded it."

"Oh Christ," she said, only now envisioning the TopHeavy web site showing her boob-bombing a customer. "The caption will be something about coordinating talent."

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

"You win this time, Morton," she said, aggrieved. But then she smiled and tongued my ear. "Except you don't, where it matters." And off she went, leaving behind an unrequited boner.

With Bella on tour, the 10 p. m. featured slot went to Kittykat, and she debuted a new dance worked up jointly with Hibiscus. It was in essence a history of African-American popular dance, with each new step or sequence involving a costume change which, well duh, had her wearing less each time. Kittykat (Marquesa Richards) threw down the latest in a string of challenging, athletic dances that drove the crowd wild even before she revealed the entire surface of her smooth brown skin, close-set D-cup breasts, and curvy bottom. The selfie I got with her followed several shots of the dance itself.

When Marquesa emerged for her meet-and-greet, she was as mobbed as any of the club's superstars. 'Mobbed' to the extent bouncers allow it, with three in her vicinity, thinning out the crowd in a contact-free but effective way. A number of her acolytes were the relatively recent, well-heeled (or at least free-spending) fans of the club, and for the first time ever I saw whites and blacks competing for her attention. One of the whites, John Alvarez, tried to stay above all this.

In her glittery dark-blue gown, she patiently posed for selfie after selfie, clearly lapping up the attention. A few months earlier she had gone through a bad breakup, compounded by ongoing issues with getting her ex-husband to provide child support on time. Spending her offtime as Mom for two young kids, she might need this reminder of her broad-spectrum desirability.

As so many of the dancers are, she is skilled at gradually working this kind of group down to smaller numbers, targeting a specific few for attention. In time she settled at a table with Alvarez. I was all Marry her, John, then backed off as I considered how it would be for black children to grow up with a white stepfather. And then I realized that I should let them work that out, if it ever arises. They're both smart, thoughtful people, and right now there was probably nothing more going on than a hookup.

Presently they stood, kissed, and parted. Marquesa worked her way to the bar where I leaned. "Hi Gabe," she said, still blissed out. We hugged, at first lightly, but then she grabbed a bit more firmly. "Yeah, muscles, whatevs," she said, then in my ear, "Not free tonight."

"Me neither," I said in her ear.

"Cool," she said, and pulled back. I began praising her new dance effusively, and finally let her get a word in by asking, "How did you come up with this?"

"I've had it in mind for a while, and I asked Sherry to help. She suggested how to make the pole moves seem like part of each dance style, showed how she'd do the transitions, and mixed the music. She left it to me to decide how sexy I wanted each segment to be."

Then Sherry joined us, her gown silver with green trim. I reflected that standing next to these dazzling women came close to being worth the price of Mega Platinum VIP status (which I would soon have to renew for 2025). Mock-hangdog, Sherry said, "All right, what did I do wrong?"

Which of course set me off on a new round of praise for the dance. Both ladies had more to say on the choreography and execution. Soon, though, Marquesa said "I have to go let my public pant over me some more," and took her leave.

It was getting late, but Sherry would still have to meet and greet some more. After a little more banter, we would part, and I'd head home to be ready, and she'd join me when she was free.

"That's the biggest response I've ever seen her get," I said. "You're a starmaker."

Her smile was calm and easy. She had matured a lot since her seduced-and-abandoned dance, and its aftermath. "There's so much talent here, and sometimes more of it declares itself if you push to find it."

"Sounds like you're a taskmaster."

"I'm the easiest person in the world to get along with," she said, all wide-eyed innocence. "If you create something beyond what I asked for, I let you own it."

"I'll see what I can do," I said, easing into our prelims.

She smirked. Leaning in, she said, "I have some plans for your morning workout." Which was probably literal as well as suggestive. With that, she moved on.

***

Thursday, December 5. From Molly:

Last night was a lot of flirty fun, along with the thrill of Kittykat's new dance. Lately John Alvarez has taken to holding court in a pavilion with his buds, and I barged in long enough to tell them they'd want to see the featured dance from the main space. After the dance, John found me and said, "You were right, as always."

I gave him a you-poor-thing look and said, "I'm already spoken for tonight. But there are other worthy targets for your legendary charm."

I'm familiar with his moods and their subjects. In that moment, faced with an either/or of me and Marquesa, he'd leave me as the one in an empty bed. "You're the finest brush-off artist who ever lived," he said, and strolled away.

I was in the green gown that I call my Mankiller. I have two new gowns I like a lot, but I wore the Mankiller the night I first got Denny to take me home, which was also the night I revived my dance career and started the craziness the club is riding now.

The hookup was already set, so meeting in the club wasn't strictly necessary, but I wanted us to gather in this public space. Let the world see how I feel about him. Let him see that I wanted the world to see. (And, thanks to the surveillance, some of the world would see it.)

He had already spent some time with Sherry, and before that he'd had plenty of ego-stroking from Moira (in her less-busy moments) and Ginger X (I think just platonically). When I saw Sherry join Marquesa and Gabe, I sauntered over to Denny.

He smiled and said, "Hi Babydoll," his pet name for me that I've decided not to find annoying.

I smiled back and said, "Just what I need on a cold winter's night." I took his head in both hands and kissed him, then moved in for a hug that went well into PDA-land. He kept his hands on my back. For all of the poise he's developed as a lover, he remains respectful in public (maybe a bit on the fearful side, but that's okay).

We bantered a little more, then I moved on, in my meet-and-greet obligation. About an hour later we began the same hug in his apartment, and this time his hands went where they didn't before. I gasped when he stroked a butt cheek. He kissed my neck, continued to my ear, then behind it, holding my hair out of the way and then rubbing it against his face. My most intimate lovers know this is a huge turn-on for me. I lubed so fast I almost squirted.

I've reached another stage in polyamory, from having many lovers to having many loves. I love Denny. Not the way I love Gabe, or Jen, but I want everything to be good for Denny and I'll do what I can for that good. I think Gabe already reached that point, loving many, inclusively. When we first started going together, I worried that Gabe might eventually be drawn away by someone else. He was even more worried of that happening to me (something about him being homely and me being a fox). Now, it's hard to see how that can happen, and our bodies and even our hearts can go where they like.

Denny wore a nice blue shirt and I didn't want to strain his clothing budget, so I focused on his belt, pants button, and zipper while he bared his chest. Then he grabbed the hem of my gown and hauled it over my head. In the next motion he pulled down my panties. He's now very skilled at this.

I still hadn't been able to drop his drawers, and we wound up lying on the floor. I remembered what Gwen had said about his threesome, so I had no qualms about gulping on his prick as soon as it was freed. "This first," I said, and dutifully he grabbed around my legs and stuck his head into my groin. His tongue and fingers started me on a long, steady flight of ecstasy, during which I still managed to hard-suck his cock and then lick his balls while spiral-stroking the shaft.

It had seemed like I was already cumming, but then an even bigger thrill shuddered through me, and I spazzed against his head several times, wailing. As soon as I could, I deepthroated him, something I can do for Denny with no discomfort to me. I clutched his butt, trying to keep the nails from doing damage.

He tried to hold back. I stopped long enough to say "Do it, Sweetie!" Then I resumed the suck, fingering his balls. Finally he let go, and happily I swallowed it all.

I stood and headed for the bathroom, strutting over his body (my heels were still on). "A certain blonde dancer told me that you're actually quite the stallion," I said in my low-breathy-seductress voice. "I look forward to confirming this."

After a rinseout for me and a wet-wipe for him, we moved to the bed, first for a side-by-side whole-body cuddle, so I could kiss a man who was still sweet and kind but had lately become more knowing and playful. Then I got him on his back and got on top of his lower half, to slowly roll my tits over his upturned shaft. This got us both going, and I made a point of rubbing my huge, hard nipples against his balls and the underside of his prick. Soon he was erect, I think bigger and harder than before, and I welcomed him into my pussy.

I raised my upper body for cowgirl, slowly rotating my trunk, grinding against his pubic bone. He reached up to fondle my tits. I murmured appreciatively. Knowing what he really wanted, I said, "Pretty soon. Let's enjoy this for a while."

He was a stallion indeed, keeping that fine erection going, to give me another shivery cum. I rewarded him by leaning down and letting him bring my breasts into his mouth. He shivered, and sped up his pistoning, but didn't cut loose. He fondled my butt, and flirted the anus with both index fingers. "You can do that," I said, breathy but this time not put-on, "a little bit."

Around my tits, I thought I saw a little smugness in his look. Why, that little devil! Pillow talk gets around, I suppose. His head then twitched back and he pumped faster, and he came, hot and long, and I did again too. I gloried in the loss of muscle tension, and slothed against him.

Denny had to work the next day, so we called a halt. In the shower we planned for a finish early enough in the morning. He also said, "I'll just say this. I've said it to Sherry too. I don't like her letting Dakota dance with Jen. I hope it doesn't go bad."

He said this based only on his opinion of Dakota. He wouldn't have seen the practices.

I said, "I'm not thrilled either, but I trust Sherry to put a dance together. I might not always agree with her decisions." The dance was scheduled three times at PoleSitter in the next week and a half. Art Lourdis knew what a draw it was.

"I'm not just waving your flag," he said. "There are better options than Dakota. It could be a big step up for Electra."

Rather than state flat out that his dance expertise remained that of an observer, I started playing around, soaping his balls more than necessary, nuzzling his ear, sliding my boobs along his torso. "Watch the performances for me, and don't worry. Jen's a big girl. As you've probably noticed."

That shut him up. I knew that he'd never banged Jen. In response to what I was doing, he said, "I really need to get some sleep."

"So do I. In your arms."

We had a nice wake-up missionary and a titfuck in the shower. And then I was off to the apartment, to look in on my soon-to-have-only-one-lap cat.

From Gabe:

Sherry hugged me so forcefully when she entered that I couldn't close the door right away. "Strip! Now!" she said. I got past her long enough to secure the door and spare the neighbors some unwanted imagery.

"I want to be clear about this," she said, pulling off her blue sweater. "This isn't good-bye sex. I have no intention of letting you go or putting Denny in a chastity belt. If Molly said otherwise, she's wrong." She dragged down the skinny jeans she insisted on wearing over dancer-muscled legs. She may have left her calm reserve back at the club with her evening gown.

I finished disrobing. She said "Oh God!" She stepped up to hug with one arm while she explored muscle groups with the other. "I am serious. You are going to dance, motherfucker." She wasn't prone to this kind of language, and the fact that it seemed to come naturally to her was a bit scary. I put a hand on her most-easily-reached breast, which gave me some comfort, especially as she gasped in breath and hugged harder.

We got to the bed. The events of the past couple months, the praise for her work and the anger at Eroti HQ, made her less shy and more tough-minded--and a more determined lover. She got me on my back and we sixty-nined, only for a few minutes. I had swelled pretty close to full size, and she moved down to mount me. She had to do that slowly, and with each passage along her vaginal muscles I got hotter. Once she had me in all the way, she stopped, breathed, and ran her hands along my torso. "Can every fat guy do this?" she whispered (referring to the weight loss and muscling).

"I never should have been fat," I said. "I didn't respect my body." And then I thought of the years I'd wasted, resigned to affluent nebbishness. My face had made any such effort seem pointless.

She nodded, leaning down to run her hands over my shoulders. "Such a strong frame." She drew in a shuddering breath. "I'm about to cum. Please hold my breasts."

I did and, nearly holding still, she quivered, mouth open, eyes closed. After several seconds she said, "I wanted that one just like that. There'll be more. Thank you for your kind indulgence, and now you may give me a good Gabe Morton fucking."

Which I did, for quite a while, getting me to a very loud orgasm, and then her to a louder one, after which I wheezed, "May I please suck on those good Sherry Mozelius tits?"

She laughed and leaned them down. They were a bit sweaty now, but rich enough to nourish my boner to throbbing. She yowled, but kept her nipples in range of my mouth. I clamped both hands on her butt and drove in maybe a little roughly to someone who could just barely get me inserted fully, but she said "Oh yeah oooohhhhhYEAHHHHH!" I felt her spasms start about the same time that mine did. I'm not really sure when they stopped. What I was fully aware of next was her drooled-on tits slumped against my chest.

"This is what dance is for," she said. "Getting people to more and better fucking."

This went into my brain's happy-sex folder.

Despite the lateness of the hour and the love we had made, we got really grabass in the shower, laughing and whooping.

The pillow talk was mostly light and forgettable, although she mentioned how she had taken to bed two of the mostly-loser club patrons that Gwen Lowndes had declared to be 'improved,' and said she was satisfied. The guys were respectful, and at this stage still floored by the opportunity. "I keep telling Denny that it's easy for him, he has all these beautiful hot women to choose from. A straight woman doesn't have such obvious options in the club, although a couple of the new guys have been nice." She probably meant what I think of as the Alvarez crowd, but I didn't seek further details. This underscored that she wasn't thinking of swearing off men other than Denny.

The next morning, it was worse than I thought. She got up, dug through her purse for exercise clothes, and said, "Where do you work out?"

She waited until I finished my morning routine, during which she also used the gear. She had me go through some yoga postures, then she put on music and led me through rudimentary dance aerobics. I thought about klutzing around on purpose, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

After about half an hour of this, she declared herself to be satisfied. "Do those moves every day. You have no mind-body conflict. You will be a dancer."

I tried not to take that as a threat.

For the first time that morning, she smiled. "May I have a lady lift?"

Of course she could. I fucked her slowly at first, building up her response and my girth. I mouth-kissed her the whole time, letting her boobs rub against my torso, feeling her nipples stiffen. Her powerful thighs flexed into my remaining problem area, the saddle. We came separately by a few minutes, but smoothly. Her pussy squeezed my putz as the lift began, getting me another spasm, but I held steady. I licked her quim lavishly, as semen drained from her into my mouth. She gripped my head at first, but then let go, and from what I could feel she raised her arms. She quivered, then spazzed several times.

"Thank you," she whispered. I brought her back to the floor, where she kissed my slopped-on mouth.

"As I recall," she said in the shower, "you really like my blowjobs."

She got her answer from my knees, which buckled.

She had me sit on the end of the bed, with my feet on the floor. Kneeling on the floor between my legs, she alternated between blowing and titfucking, moving me far beyond rational thought. She finished with the shaft warmly engulfed between her boobs (which she rapidly alternated) and the head strongly sucked, and I made a complete mess of both of us, requiring yet another shower. Yes, I have a large water bill, and I don't mind at all.

As she started to dress, I said, "You might want to do the twerks now."

She gave me a quizzical look.

"In case you can't pull the jeans down."

"I should slap your face! Are you saying these jeans make me look fat?"

"If your signature move is three naked twerks, and you do it in the parking lot like last time, you probably want to finish it before too many bystanders can take pictures."

"I like twerking to the world. But now it's December. I intend to twerk you right here."

"I can't wait."

It probably took her longer than usual to expose her butt. She twerked while looking over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. "And in case you're wondering," she said, "I would never try to get your prick up my ass."

***

Friday, December 6. From Molly:

Thursday night, stoked after my short dances, I landed John Alvarez for the night. He's a very nice fuck, and he's really great to look at. Yes, as with Denny, I get some of my cute-guy jollies with him (although I don't yet 'love' him at the Denny level). This is part of what polyamory is for: I can enjoy lovers who have what Gabe doesn't, so I can give my fully committed love to Gabe.

In our first few hookups, John felt the need to give me diversion. While I was dieting I had to forgo any kind of late supper, and I enjoyed him taking me to a jazz club (once) and a comedy club (once). But I got through to him that it was already really late, and if we wanted to have any fun, we should go straight to his place. I wanted to focus on him, from my dance endorphins, and not sleep, from the replacement of those endorphins with fatigue poisons. Framed in terms of chemistry, he got the drift.

This time, John and I sixty-nined for foreplay, so I was really primed when he started to fuck. Missionary shows him at his sculpted best. I grabbed his rock-hard buns and he got in good and deep and I came pretty fast. He kept going for quite a while, and I rode the buzz. He kept his torso upright, watching the roll and jounce of my boobs, and he got bigger inside. His cum sent me into another one.

Once we calmed down, I asked him, "How do I compare with Jessie?"

"Any man with a brain knows better than to acknowledge the existence of a question like that. By the way, you don't look fat in anything."

I laughed and nuzzled his ear. "What did she demand from you?"

"I managed three erections. I wasn't sure I could still do that. Ten years ago, sure."

"And?"

"If I can judge the reactions of a woman I had never made love to before, I think she had four orgasms. The first one may have been one she was on the brink of already, after maybe two minutes of fucking. I felt spasms when I ate her out, maybe that was the second. Then there was a lot of strenuous lovemaking in several positions. Should I be telling you this?"

"Of course. I nailed you first. Also she's my boss, so anything I learn about her works in my favor."

"I'm amazed by what you women can do. Everyone keeps putting on these incredible dances. I feel useless by comparison."

I twitched my hips. He started to enlarge. "I think you're becoming less useless. Don't worry, I won't make you cum more than twice. Until the morning."

I cowgirled him, and got my third orgasm. He was relieved, and spewed.

After we showered, we got into some nice pillow talk about tech, and then he recalled how I brought him in to Gabe's social media frenzy after Hibiscus's seduced-and-abandoned dance. John had complied with Gabe's request to have a hack of the TopHeavy video bank be vaguely attributed to him. The hack had in fact been faked, to make it possible for video of the dance to be spread far and wide, and prevent Eroti from suppressing it.

"Gabe was a hero that night," he said, a bit enviously. "I should have thought of it myself, but he and Denny led the charge."

"Your contribution was vital."

"I wonder sometimes about the alternative universe where I got to you first."

I gave him a warning look. "In that universe, I'd still have a wandering eye. Otherwise I wouldn't be me. John, please let me know if this ever stops being lighthearted fun."

"It never will," he said, smiling. "I think you and Gabe are great together. More than anything else, I want you to be happy, and dance that way."

"Right answer, for now," I said. And so we slept. And doggy-styled in the morning.

A turnaway crowd for our last night before the construction halt. People who didn't have reservations hung around outside, hoping people would leave (a few did, so the lucky ones only had to pay a jacked-up cover charge). In the featured dance, I threw in a new wrinkle: A forward flip at the end, instead of a backflip. The result of two weeks in the practice room.

There was no extra meaning in the nude walk at the end (unlike last time and our defense of Hibiscus). Donna didn't join us, and Jessie was with us instead of making a separate entrance. We did, however, get in one shtick, of course worked out in advance.

As we were leaving the stage, we gathered at the top of the stairs for a group nude selfie--in which we glared down at Gabe, arms folded, or hands on hips, or in other postures of displeasure. Gabe has a very worried expression, eyes almost seeing us sidelong. The giveaway that this is a setup, if anyone paid attention, is that Gabe positioned the phone to shoot in landscape mode, fitting in all or some of eleven naked ladies, with other faces showing further back. The pic was above the fold on the TopHeavy homepage through the entire hiatus.

After I brought my suitcases over to his place, we had a very nice fuck, and I expect we'll have another one tomorrow before we go to the airport. (We're in bed right now, and both writing. Weird.) On the plane, no. It may be possible in one of those bathrooms, but enjoyable? I think not.

(To be continued)