Chapter 2

I took Nette and Dawn to the corporate apartments and checked them into rooms. The kitchen was stocked, but they also had the option of ordering room service. I explained that because we were in the sports business, we didn’t encourage drinking, so the team would not pay for any alcoholic beverages they might order. I encouraged the two women to use their time researching topics where they weren’t confident and developing their strategies.

I got back to my office about 1:00 PM and started talking to dancers, looking for my lead dancer. She will be my right hand during the season, and I need her to put the fear of me - and then God - into the girls on the team. She would enforce team discipline, make sure the girls obey the rules, keep their weight and measurements within contractually agreed-on limits, and she will run the daily practices. She would need to breathe fire and shit lava, so that if one of the girls was causing a problem so big that my assistant sent her to see me, she better be shaking in her dance shoes.

I’m planning on twenty dancers who will work in two lines of ten during cheers, and blend into patterns for dance numbers. The PBO is letting me have three alternates. They will work out and practice with the team. If someone is not giving her best performance, an alternate will take her place. I don’t expect that to happen. The real reason for alternates is to have replacements if a girl gets sick or is injured. I plan to ferret out if a girl has period troubles during interviews, and hopefully I won’t hire anyone who has to go to bed for five to seven days, but girls know the game, and dancers lie very well, so we will see how I did when the team has been practicing for a month.

My lead dancer will pick an assistant who will be the lead for the second line. The lead dancer’s line performs facing the team benches and sky boxes for cheers during periods one and three. They perform facing the other side of the court during periods two and four. The second line performs facing the Owner’s box during periods two and four, while they are on the other side of the court during periods one and three.

My alternates will be dressed and ready for every game, because sometimes the owner gets worked up watching a particular girl, so she has to run up to his box to take care of his problem. I plan for an alternate to jump in and perform without a hitch. It could get tricky if both the team owner and the PBO get horny for the same girl at the same time. So far, that hasn’t happened but I need to figure out a procedure for the day it inevitably does.

I have been quite inflexible about limiting access to the girls to the owner and the PBO. They are not supposed to loan out girls to their guests. Typically, my girls will be very eager to service and please the owner and the PBO, but they know I will come down on them like an avenging angel if they start letting themselves be used for orgies in the sky boxes, so I expect them to cooperate and report abuses.

I talked to the owner about it, and suggested we just hire companions to be available on game days, so he wouldn’t be debilitate my dance team. He explained that he liked the idea that he could pick from any of the twenty girls on the floor, if one struck his fancy. He couldn’t stand the idea of the predictability of getting the same girl every time. I tried to suggest an alternate plan where a different girl would be on duty in his box each game, and then when he’d had each of the twenty-three girls, we would start the rotation again. He didn’t like that idea either, because he wanted to pick the girl that gave him the biggest boner the moment he was aware of it. It is what it is. I work for perverts and lechers. I’ll deal with it as it comes.

I finally got to talk to the woman I really wanted for my lead dancer. I explained all the extra duties, and she said fucking the team owner and the PBO was probably better than getting groped by the pig producers she had to put out for if she wanted to work on films. I explained about the uniforms being as close to pornographic as we could get them without getting fined by The League. Lisa didn’t care. She told me she would fuck in the jump circle at center court if she could choreograph the copulation, the male dancer was hung, and she was guaranteed more than three orgasms.

The Commissioner really didn’t give a flying fuck whether the dancers wore full length robes or danced naked. He just didn’t want a team to get fined by the FCC, because that might come back on The League and cost them money.

I booked Lisa a flight and made a reservation for her at the team apartments.

Just when I was thinking I might be able to go home I got a call from The Boz. “Kandy, baby, my favorite white girl in the entire world, I need help!” He gasped.

“Speak, and I obey!” I said.

“Nancy is not going to work out for me, Tiny Dancer. She is in love with my image, but all she wants to do is drain me dry. I know it sounds too demanding, but I have to be able to talk to a girl and do something else for five or ten minutes a day. I’m officially pushing the panic button. If I can’t keep up with the girl in the offseason, I’ll be draggin’ my ass around in training camp so bad the coach will think I didn’t work out at all over the summer,” The Boz said.

“OK, Kandy to the rescue. Do you want to have the night alone to recover and start fresh with Nette in the morning?” I asked.

“Well, I got a tantalizing glimpse of that girl having a brain when we had lunch yesterday. I’m invited to a party over at The Jet’s place. Can I take her with?” The Boz asked.

“Of course, Boz, do whatever you normally would. I can guaran-damn-tee you that Nette will never, ever make you look bad or embarrass you in any way. Do you want her in uniform when we get there? LBD for WAGs?” I asked. (LBD is Little Black Dress, and WAGs are Wives and Girlfriends)

“Ya, LBD, or the equivalent, and have her bring her bag of play clothes for when I recover. After the party I should be ready for action. If I think it isn’t fair to Dawn, I’ll give the young girl a second day too, if she is as sharp as I think she is,” Boz said.

So, then I’m on the phone. “Hey, Nette, you aren’t shitfaced, are you? Well good. Get squeaky clean and fresh as a daisy. Nancy crashed and burned. I am going to sweep up the pieces, and you are going to accompany The Boz to a team-ish party at The Jet’s house. The Uniform of the Day is Little Black Dress or the equivalent. I sense Boz would love to see some originality, so be ‘The Lady in Red’ if you dare. Anyway, there will be Wives and Girlfriends in attendance. Your cover story is that you came in for an audition for the dance team. I asked Boz in to give his opinion of your booty shaking ability, and there was a tremor in The Force.

“If you get surrounded, ask the WAGs if they like Comets or Shooting Stars better for the dance team name. Go ahead and take write-ins. Don’t get plastered. Take care of Boz and don’t let anyone shake a million out of his pockets, but be gentle until he gets to know you are sweet and only trying to take care of him. OK, so I’m getting myself non-stinky and presentable, and I’ll be on my way to you in 15 maximum. Remember, I’m a pixie and I don’t wear makeup, so shake a leg girl!”

Fourteen minutes and forty-five seconds later I was out my door and twenty-four minutes and seventeen seconds later, I was knocking on Nette’s apartment door.

Nette opened the door, and I gasped out loud, “I need oxygen girl! Oh, the WAGs’ tongues are going to be wagging about YOU tonight, honey child!”

“It is kind of a plunge neckline, but I’ve barely got bee stings, so what can really show? I probably can’t sit down all night. The skirt does cover my pussy and my ass under most circumstances, maybe not both at the same time ... but I definitely want The Boz to know that I ain’t boring!”

Nette was wearing a fire-engine red silk dress with a deep plunge neckline and a SHORT skirt. It was definitely custom made for her and clung to her every curve. You could describe it as a second skin, or as incredibly TIGHT, depending on the image you wanted to convey. She definitely wasn’t wearing a bra, and I couldn’t see a VPL. (Visible Panty Line) It’s Las Vegas, for goodness sake, and NO ONE wears briefs or hose anymore. If a girl feels the need for cuntal coverage, it’s almost always a thong so there are no bulges under a girl’s secret weapon, that perfect little dress.

Nette was dangling a thong, the same shade of red as the dress, from one finger. She looked at me and asked, “Panties, or commando?”

I thought I was never going to stop laughing. When I could breathe I said, “Panties for a first date, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea about you sweetie!”

Nette put on the red thong. I grabbed her bag, and we were out the door. The team car took us to Boz’s house. I collected the sobbing Nancy, took her to the car and told the driver he better be on suicide watch. I escorted Nette up to the door of Boz’s mansion.

Boz came toward the front door to meet her. She held him at arm’s length and looked him over. She giggled and said, “Men’s Fashion wasn’t one of your classes at that old, ivy-covered school you graduated from, was it Sugar? Don’t worry, I’ll help you avoid embarrassment among your peers. Let’s go peruse your closet.”

“Hey Boz, is my presence required, or has Nette got a handle on the situation?”

“Mama, it looks like Nette can handle anything that might come up,” Boz told me.

I left them, ran out to the car, took Nancy to the airport and put her on a plane back to Miami.

In the car she kept whimpering, “I thought all men just wanted sex twenty-four seven.”

I patted her arm and said, “The man’s a professional athlete. He has to have a little energy left when you get through with him, or his coach is bound to complain. The big bucks stop if he is too worn out to run up and down the court for 48 minutes. I guess I forgot to tell you he wasn’t just a baller, he is also a deep thinking, complex young gentleman. Didn’t I stress how complicated the job is? I thought I talked about all the stuff that was important and barely mentioned sex, because I figured you had that covered.”

Nancy blew her nose and blubbered, “It felt so damn good, I never wanted to stop. I blew my big chance by being too enthusiastic.”

Just before I pushed her through the gate, I said, “Men come in all types. Some actually care what you think and want to know what you have to say. You’ve got the sex part down, so maybe you need to work on the brain and conversation part of your game. I’ve got all the unmarried players to find an assistant for, so if I find one who says he can never get enough, I’ll know who to call. If I do bring you out again, just remember to talk to the guy before you try to dehydrate him, OK?”

Nancy was talking to herself about two-a-day work outs and upping her Kegels to four sets a day as she walked through the TSA machine.

I went home, peeled off my little black dress, and jilled myself off, imagining how crazy for Nette The Boz would be when he got her home from the party, but somehow in my imagination it was MY little pussy getting hammered by The Boz. The puny orgasm I gave myself hardly seemed worth the effort. I pulled the sheet over my naked body, and fell into a fitful sleep. I kept dreaming about finding the guy who really loves me AND not just gets me off, but satisfies my body, my mind, and my heart completely every single time, so I never even think about it. Then the dream changes and I’m running around in a Shakespeare type comedy, where the boy wants the wrong girl and the girl wants the wrong boy, and it takes something supernatural to get the right people coupled. I’m the pixie, of course, complete with all the angst related to playing God with other people’s lives.

I woke up totally worn out on Friday. I felt guilty for abandoning Dawn. I called her and invited her to go with me to visit Lola. Dawn said, “Thanks for calling, I’m bored out of my mind.”

The car picked me up and drove to the team apartments. Dawn ran down and jumped in the car with me before the driver could get out to open the door for her.

Dawn hugged me and bubbled, “Thank you SO much for inviting me. Like Joni Mitchell said, ‘Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you got ‘till it’s gone.’

“I thought Uncle Louie was worthless, but apparently having his horse dick shoved up my pussy must have done me some good. I swear I’m as hot as a bug on the sidewalk on the Fourth of July and as squirmy as the pit at a Rattle Snake Roundup! I must have been having orgasms and not even known it. When I was grunting I thought it was just from Uncle Louie being so fat he squished me.”

“Sweetheart, we definitely need to find you a strong, young man, or you’ll be a lethal weapon and destroy the first guy you get your hands on. I do have to warn you that after the first time with a man who knows how to press all of a girl’s magic buttons, the hot and squirmy comes back a lot faster. It can make a girl greedy. I’ve woken a guy up in the middle of the night before to get more of a good thing. Most young, strong guys love it when you do that, but it’s better to get to know him before you do. Some guys can be violent when you wake them up.

“I need to tell you that you are my sister in every way. People will call you a slut, and you can either ignore it or embrace it as your badge of honor. Your body is just built that way, like mine is. Uncle Louie started to turn the switch on, but he was stupid and selfish, so he only partially activated you. Once you feel what it’s like with a good man, the heat and squirming when you don’t get it regularly are going to amaze you. Let’s hope we find a player who’s a perfect fit for you, so you’ll be getting all you need,” I said.

We arrived at Lola’s studio and I got my first look at the new Dance Team “sexy” uniform. It was essentially a thong and pasties. The bright silver stars on a vibrant navy-blue background almost magnetically held the eyes on the stars and the imagination on the nipples under the pasties or the slit under the thong.

Dawn begged to try on the uniform, and I couldn’t say “No” to her. The thong was made for my slightly wider hips, so it looked like it was precariously clinging to Dawn’s slimmer body. I liked the illusion that it might slide down her sleek thighs and expose her slit. The pasties could be put on with slightly less glue so that they too looked about to fall off.

Dawns nipples were big, dark black, and fully erect. Lola laughed and said, “If your nipples are soft when you attach the pasties and you get excited, so your nipples engorge when you are performing, it will look like the pasties are about to pop off. Depending on what you want to accomplish, that can happen if you just use a different adhesive. Use type ‘A’ and no wardrobe malfunctions, use type ‘B’ and nip slips are a certainty. Now watch what happens when the spot light is focused on a star!”

I couldn’t believe it! When the light was focused on a star, it seemed to explode off of the girl’s breast and fly straight at you. Like a star shell firework, it broke into showers of different colored sparks as it flew. If you focused on the star on the thong, it seemed to explode in showers of silver shooting stars.

I told Lola, “That’s hella cool!”

“Just one thing dearie, all the girls have to be freshly shaved bare and smooth as a baby’s bottom for the thong to stay on and for the light magic to work,” Lola said.

I grinned and said, “That’s no problem. The PBO requires all the dancers to be freshly shaved or waxed before every game.

“Do any of the girls you know use IPL?[1] I was wondering if that might be more comfortable than shaving or waxing.”

“There’s a lot of differences in machines. If you use the right one, bye-bye pubic hair, shaving, irritation, and red, swollen labia. If you use the wrong one, it feels like you are getting burned, and it doesn’t work. The home use machines are all jokes, like something Ron Popeil would sell on late night television,” Lola said.

I grinned at Lola and said, “I’ll be the test subject. Tell me where to go to find the right machine, and we’ll see if it works on my curly blonde bush. I thought blondes are supposed to have sparse, thin, wispy pubic hair, but my thicket didn’t get the memo. I’ve been fighting razor burn, pussy lips so red it looks like I have a skin disease, and itchy stubble for years, just so I could wear gymnastics and dance costumes. If there is a solution, I want it.”

Lola laughed at me and said, “If it works for you, you’ll get silky smooth skin. Your mons will look just like a little girl who has never had pubic hair. The pores will get smaller and there won’t be that look of hair just below the surface of the skin or that scratchy stuff like a guy’s five o’clock shadow.”

“I need that. I’ve been crushing on a few guys with some silver at the temples lately, and some of them like bringing out the little girl in me. I think they’d appreciate that bald pussy look,” I said.

“You need to tell me about that. I’m so ignorant about sex and all the variations and possibilities. I thought you said you only liked young guys ... I’m confused,” Dawn said.

“People change. They can read a book or see a movie that gets them excited about an idea. Sometimes they go out and try it out in real life. Sometimes they really like it, and it sticks at least for a while. Sometimes they feel neutral about it, and sometimes they hate it. I happened to read a story online that helped me get off better than I usually do from jilling. I went out and found a business executive type at a hotel bar. While he was out of shape, I discovered that an older guy does not have to be repulsive. If you find the right one, he can be quite nice without some of the problems a young guy brings with him. Older guys sometimes have things they read or saw in a movie that they can’t get out of their heads. A lot of times they are embarrassed to tell a wife or long-term girlfriend about the idea they find arousing, but they will share with a girl they met at a bar. I’ve met quite a few who have a fascination with daddy-daughter relationships, and it surprised me how hard I cum when pretending to be the daughter, either seducing daddy, or having daddy seduce me.

“Sex can get complicated, because 90% goes on in your brain. You and I have the further complication of having our first experiences with really big guys. Now, only a really, really big guy touches us everyplace we need to be touched and makes us feel filled up. So, no matter what the magazine advice columns say, I don’t feel satisfied unless I’m with a big guy. I hope it isn’t that way for you, but I’m afraid it might be,” I said.

Dawn looked puzzled. She asked, “You never told me how you got started. I don’t think picking up guys at the mall wouldn’t lead to a preference for big guys.”

“I was branded a slut around age eleven when I got caught making out with the fourteen-year-boy we practiced lifts with in ballet class. I never could shake the label, so I started trying to get all the fun I could out of living up to my reputation.

“One of the high officials on the Federation Governing Board waited until I was fourteen, and then convinced me he could do more for me in bed than a young guy I found at the mall. He had access to me on a regular basis. I saw the logic of his argument. It hurt like hell the first time he stuck it in me, even though I was far from virginal. The second time he actually fucked me and I went crazy. It felt like I had never screwed before because I’d never been filled and stretched the way his big dick filled and stretched me. The feelings that big prick gave me were so good, I never wanted him to stop fucking me. By the time I decided to go to college, he’d been my regular lover for four years. I never considered myself molested. I wanted to fuck, and I wanted cock frequently. He was safe and clean and a lot less risky than some Sk8er Boi.[2]

“When I did it with a regular-size college guy, I felt empty. Even though I came, I didn’t feel completely satisfied.

“I think I’m a mess emotionally. I ask myself, ‘Am I permanently stretched out? Can I ever enjoy it with a regular guy? Am I a permanent size queen? Do I need to have surgery?’ I guess I’ll look into it when I’m done with this job and ready to move on to the next stage of my life,” I said.

Dawn frowned and asked, “I guess guys who are big like Uncle Louie are fairly rare?”

I smiled at her and said, “Well big, athletic guys do tend to have larger than average cocks, so it is kind of disconcerting to go to bed with a seven-foot center and find out he has a five-inch dick. Most players aren’t as big as The Boz, but of the ones I know well enough to know his size, most of them are packing enough to make me smile.”

Dawn smiled at Lola and said, “You are a magician, Lola. With all this sex talk, I normally would have pussy juice dripping down my thighs, my panties would be totally soaked with my cream, and I’d smell like a whore house on Saturday night. How in the world did you sew a thong that keeps all of my normally gushing pussy fluids contained and controlled?”

“Oh, just some costume designer magic,” Lola said, totally avoiding answering the question.

“By the way Kandy, with these thongs, you need to make sure the girl isn’t an anal sex junkie, or her stretched out sphincter will be on display for all the world to see,” Lola added.

Saturday morning, I took Dawn over to Boz’s house for breakfast. He looked like he had enjoyed Nette, and she was certainly glowing. She kissed him goodbye, and we left Dawn with him. I had the car take us to my office, and I showed Nette around the Operations building and the practice facility. She was impressed that we had our own dedicated space with dance floor, mirrors, ballet bars, cardio exercise equipment, and strength training equipment.

I said, “Nette, The Boz looked pretty happy and relaxed this morning. How did it go?”

“He’s the answer to a maiden’s most fervent prayers. He’s at least as big as my daddy was, and we fit together like our bodies were designed and built for each other. We had fun at the party. He enjoyed having the date all the WAGs were talking about and trashing. I acted a lot sluttier than I normally would on a first date. He loved that too.

“He didn’t go off with the guys and leave me to the tender mercies of the WAGs, he kept me sitting on his lap most of the time, and we talked a lot. He said he liked my attitude and intelligence.

“After the party we went straight back to his place. He stripped me and fucked my brains out. He told me there was something about how Nancy wanted to drain him that killed his usual desire to fuck a girl until she can’t walk. He told me I made that feeling come back. He fucked me all night, and we only slept from 4 AM, until we got up to clean up for breakfast. I thought he was charming and interesting. I don’t know that I’d ever fall for him or want to marry him, but I could certainly be his assistant for a year or two,” Nette said.

“Well, in case you don’t win that job, I want to give you a dance audition, while you are here. Strip, so I can see how your body moves. What music do you want to dance to?” I asked.

“Let’s do ‘Eye of the Tiger’ for the fast one, and ‘To Love Somebody’ for the slow ‘show off my body to the audience’ one.”

Nette launched into “Eye of the Tiger,” punching and kicking like she wanted to kill the visiting team.

Mr. S. Walked in and said, “Very nice.” In that irritating, supercilious way of his, that made it sound like he was saying, “Very nice dirt, not worthy to be under the diamonds on the soles of my shoes.”

He used his command voice that made me know his powers were turned on and he barked, “Up on the massage table, spread your legs!”

Nette looked at him like he was a crazy man. “You haven’t hired me, and you don’t own me. In any case, you won’t ever have me unless I want to give myself to you. Play with your powers all you want, little boy, but all it will give you is one hell of a headache,” Nette scoffed.

“Who are you?” Mr. S. demanded.

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Miss Keeter. My name is Antoinette Laveau, and I’m from New Orleans. I’m protected from your Mr. S. by power and magic that’s older and stronger than his.

“Now, Mr. Stoller, I could play with you and make you bark like a dog or walk like a chicken, or even lick my pussy until your jaw locked up, but I think we should be adults and not play childish games with our powers, don’t you?” Nette said.

Mr. S. frowned and said, “I’m not used to losing.”

I jumped in at this point and said, “We need to talk, Mr. S. Why in the name of God is Juliette marrying the owner? You know you love her. You worked with her for five years. She was your favorite. You only fucked me to show me you had power over me. I’m pretty sure Juliette loves you too, from how she couldn’t stop talking about you the whole time I worked for her.”

“It’s sort of like the relationship of the Emperor to his Sith Lord, in the ‘Star Wars’ stories. The owner is the Emperor. I only have a fraction of his power, and all my power comes from the owner. I guess he feels a need to show me he is my Master by taking Juliette for himself,” The PBO said.

“How did it feel when you tried to turn your power on me?” Nette asked.

“Like you had a wall, too high, too wide, and too thick for my powers to penetrate,” Mr. S. said.

“Did you feel any weakness?” Nette asked?

“No, solid as a rock, even around the edges,” Mr. Stoller said.

“What do you think wound happen if I attacked you?” Nette asked.

“Please don’t try. The owner would feel it. He might come by to enjoy watching me suffer; then he’d turn his power on you and fry your brain. You’d join his harem of beautiful dancers who wouldn’t bend to his will, so he burned out their cerebrums. They are alive, but they are like robotic sex dolls. He fucks a different one every day, but even he doesn’t really get anything out of it. I’m afraid that’s what he’ll do to Juliette the first time she tells him, ‘NO!’ but I don’t know how to protect her,” Mr. S. said.

“I think it would be safer if I got a little help. I’m going to call my Auntie Marie and Grandma Catherine. Between the three of us, and with you siphoning off some of his power by pissing him off, I imagine we can deal with whatever demon is possessing Mr. Polk’s body.” Nette said.

“How did you know his name? I never call him anything but, the owner,” Mr. S. said.

“You needed some proof I’m for real, Cher” Nette said.

I was standing there wide eyed, watching all this unfold. About that time Juliette walked in to the dance studio. She looked amazed and whispered, “Romeo, I told you shouldn’t go forcing girls to fuck you like some scumbag using Ruffies to knock girls out. It’s despicable and it’s unnecessary, since I’ll do anything you want, because I want you to fuck me.”

“Juliette, do you want this man free from the evil that possesses him? Do you want to avoid the clutches of the demon who possesses the owner’s body? Do you appeal to Auntie Antoinette for help?” Nette asked.

Juliette went over to Mr. Stoller and took his hand. She looked in his eyes and said, “This isn’t living Romeo. If he kills us, so what? We are better off dead than living as slaves or zombies.”

Mr. S. and Juliette turned to face Nette and together said, “Auntie, we appeal for your help.”

Nette grinned, and suddenly an old woman and an ancient crone appeared. The crone said, “I’m sure you could deal with this demon by yourself granddaughter, but if it will make you feel better my sister’s daughter and I will hold your hand - just like when you were a little girl and we walked you to school.”

Nette laughed and said, “Thank you. I didn’t mean to annoy you. This demon seems to have a lot of power. I didn’t want to risk lives by testing myself against it alone.”

“You never did recognize teasing when you heard it granddaughter. We are here for you,” The crone said with a laugh.

The old woman looked at Juliette and asked, “Has the demon put his foul organ inside you, child?”

“No Auntie, I have made excuses. He knows I love Romeo, and he wants me to look human at the wedding, so he hasn’t forced me yet. Mr. Stoller is under Mr. Polk’s power though, and I’m in love with Romeo, so I have had him inside me as often as I could get him there,” Juliette said.

The old woman grinned at Juliette and said, “The slave doesn’t matter child, only the master. It is good that you have no illusions. You know the demon will rape you, whether by compulsion or by force. You know this is a life and death battle. Now, will you follow our instructions?”

“Yes Auntie,” Juliette said.

The crone cackled and said, “This is my favorite kind of magic! Let’s do some sex-magic, children. Get naked everyone!”

Nette held up her hand and said, “Wait. We don’t have enough men who are uncompromised by the demon. We don’t have enough people to bring the circle to full power anyway.”

I grinned and said, “How many do you need, and do they need African blood?”