Chapter 1

Anna lay on her couch scrolling through the "Now Playing" section of her TiVo. It wasn't the way she wanted to spend her Friday night, but she wasn't worried. Things would pick up, they almost always did. The machine had recorded "North by Northwest." Her cousin, the film student at NYU, raved and raved about this movie so she decided to give it a try.

Cary Grant had just been dropped off at the corn field when her cell began playing "Naughty Girl" by Destiny's Child. She didn't bother to look at the Caller ID. The phone was programmed to play that ring tone for only one person.

"Hey," Anna began.

"Hey," Robin answered. "You busy tonight?"

"Not at all." Robin had discovered her two and a half years ago when Anna was 16 and working as a lifeguard. Robin had been completely upfront about her business and why she wanted Anna to work for her. Anna had been flattered. Robin had checked in periodically over the intervening years, ending each conversation with the words...

"Call me the second you graduate from high school." Anna had literally done just that. After being handed her diploma she'd gone back to her seat and made the call.

That had been 10 short months ago. It was the best job she'd ever had, allowing her to not only move out of her parents place but also make a very comfortable living.

Mom and Dad had been upset she was putting off college, but they'd been mollified by her promise to go someday. College was definitely part of the plan; she'd do this two years, maybe three, make her pile then it was off to school.

It bothered her, more than a little, that she had to lie to her parents. They thought she was modeling. They would never have approved of what she was really doing. They were old fashioned... they'd think she was a slut. She told herself the trade off was when she went back to school, she'd be able to pay for it. All the cash Mom and Dad had set aside for her education? They'd be able to spend it on themselves. Everyone was a winner.

"Got a party for you tonight," Robin continued.

"Great."

"It's a college address," Robin warned. "You want someone to go with you?"

Anna considered. Sometimes the college guys got a little "touchy feely," and not in a sensitive, new age way. On the other hands, chaperones were murder on tips, and that's how she made the real money. Besides, she was proud of her reputation as one of the girls who didn't need babying.

"Nah, that's okay. If I don't like the looks of it, I won't go in."

"Fair enough," Robin agreed, then gave the address.

Anna hung up, switched off the TV and went into the bathroom to do her body and face make up. She took particular care with her eyes. The eyes were the key. Then she darted into her bedroom and put on her work cloths. She started with her sheerest pair of black panties and matching black bra. The panties had to be sheer, otherwise she wouldn't be able to wear the jeans she put on next. Normally she would have worn a skirt, but the jeans were new, she was dying to wear them and they made her ass look great. Her long sleeve, shoulderless black sweater was next, the one that formed perfectly around her tits and showed off her abs. She slipped on her favorite "fuck me" heels and finished with a thick, braided gold chain.

Anna's place was on the quiet side of town, which meant it was on the opposite side of town from the college. She found the address with ease... it wasn't the first time she'd had a job in this neighborhood. The ranch house was small and neatly kept, mostly dark but for a light in what she assumed was the living room. No one passed out on the front lawn, no blaring music. So far, so good.

She parked across the street, closed her eyes and took long, slow, deep breaths. This was part of her pre-job ritual, where she put Anna away for the night. After a few minutes, she snuck a look in the rear view mirror. Her eyes, her very being simmered with barely contained sexual energy. She was ready.

Her heels clicked authoritatively as she crossed the street and walked up the drive. The house was surprisingly quiet. She rang the door bell and almost immediately heard someone moving within. There was one last, fortifying breath, but she was surprised nonetheless when the door opened. She suppressed the emotion immediately.

"Hi," she purred. "I'm Mystère."

"Hi, I'm Madison."

Madison heard the 'je ne sais quoi' in the dancer's voice and matched it with some of her own. She was delighted with what she saw. Mystère stood half a head shorter than Madison with thick, long, shaggy brown hair and glowing, golden brown skin. Her face was beautiful, sharp featured and symmetrical. Her green eyes seemed to be connected to their very own power grid. And, Madison noticed immediately, she was built like a dancer should be, lean and mean with mediumish, perfectly shaped tits, graceful hips and an ass tight enough to bounce a quarter on. She was young and luscious and reeked of sex appeal and Madison couldn't help but lick her lips.

"Won't you come in?"

The first rule, Robin had told her back in the day, the very first rule of the business was if it felt weird, don't go in.

This felt a little weird.

It felt weird a woman of Madison's age would be hanging out on a Friday night in a college neighborhood of a college town. It felt weird the way Madison's eyes drank her in. Mystère knew some women looked at her sexually, it was something she'd dealt with since she hit puberty, it was something she was long since used to. But she'd never had a woman be so blatant about it, and never on a job.

And that, Mystère decided, was the thing that really wierded her. She'd never danced for other women. Some of the other girls had worked lesbian parties. They all agreed it was no big deal. A little strange at first, sure, but you got used to it quick, and then it was like any other job... a little better in some ways because women had a better understanding of where the boundaries were.

So when Madison stepped aside, Mystère stepped in.

Madison led the way and Mystère, despite her pangs of misgiving, marveled such a beautiful woman could be gay. She didn't believe, really, all lesbians wore flannel, short hair and comfortable shoes, but that was the stereotype... and that definitely wasn't Madison. The woman's feet were bare but she'd obviously had a recent pedicure. Her legs were long and slim, rising into a butt that was made for blue jeans. Madison wore a loose fitting, frilly white blouse with a plunging neck that glorified her round, full breasts. Mystère guessed her to be in her late to mid 40's. She hoped she looked that good when she was that age.

Madison guided her to the living room, where the weirdness rose another factor. A quick headcount revealed nine girls, all of them younger, which was to say, around Mystère's age. In fact, they all looked to be within a year or two of her... and one of them actually looked younger, like she was still in high school. She wracked her memory to see if Robin had ever said anything about performing in front of underage people but came up blank.

She almost walked out then and there when the weight of the math hit her. Nine women stuffing money into her panties, plus her cut of the fee... she was looking at $1500 easy. Robin paid her a $1000 bonus for each girl she recruited, and all these girls were really, really hot. A little bump and grind... maybe they like what they see... a little suggestion here... a little encouragement there... with a little luck, she'd make a year's worth of school for two or three hours of work. She decided to stay.

Madison flew through the introductions: Cindy, Dana, Elina, Krystal, Kate, Laurie, Grace and Holly, the young one. Mystère matched names to faces on the fly; learning names quickly was an important skill in her line of work. The crowd waved and called out greetings. They were arranged on and around a couch against the far wall. Mystère dropped her bag on a nearby chair.

"What sort of music do you all like? I have techno, hip hop, metal..."

"No music," Madison said. A ripple went through the rest of the girls like the older woman had said something funny.

That was a new one, "You're sure?"

"Positive," Madison insisted. The others nodded.

Mystère took a position ten feet from the couch, in the middle of the room and closed her eyes. Her mind sought out the beat denied her ears, and when she found it, she danced.

She began with legs together, hands to her sides, describing slow circles with her hips. Her hands crept up her sides, over her ribs, pausing momentarily at her breasts, then moving up to her face and through her hair. When her arms were extended over her head, she opened her eyes.

The audience watched her closely. Sometimes, there's be a guy in the crowd a little embarrassed by the whole thing who'd look away or at anything but her. There was none of that here. She commanded their attention totally.

She began to turn in place, still grinding out circles with her hips, her head beginning to roll slowly. Mystère slowed as she turned her back to them, so they could get a good look at her ass. Her hands drifted down and she undid two buttons on her sweater as well as the fly on her jeans. As she did so, she noticed a soft hiss in the room. She was sure it hadn't been there before, but she didn't mind. It was like white noise... relaxing.

As she came around again things had changed a bit with her audience. Most of the girls were leaning back, legs spread as much as space would allow. Some had their legs over those of one or the other of their neighbors. Nine pairs of eyes focused on her chest, or her unbuttoned jeans. This was the part she loved, when her sexuality began to take control of the room.

One of the girls, Grace, was gently caressing her breasts as she watched. Madison focused her gaze there, locking eyes with Grace as she unbuttoned her sweater the rest of the way and slipped it off. A soft gasp passed through the room. Mystère brought her hands to her chest and mimicked Grace. The Asian girls massaged her breasts more forcefully. Mystère smiled and matched her.