“The jeans you can rip off too,” Jimmy tells me proudly. “I had them specially made.”
That’s... nice?
“Put the shirt on. Let’s go,” Divan hurries me up.
I do as he says and then I go to put Jimmy’s pants on. “Hold up,” Divan stops me. He’s dangling a tiny see-through plastic bag. “You need to put this on first.” He tears open the bag and pulls out...Oh hell no!
“I’m not wearing one of those things.”
“You have to. You need to give the ladies something to look at.” He says this like it’s funny. I find no humor in it at all.
“I’ll strip down to my Speedo.”
“Not nearly enough skin.”
“I’m not fucking wearing those. The only way you’re getting them on my body is if you hold me down and force me.”
“That can be arranged.” Divan stalks toward me, and so do all the other men in the room. I’m caged in by four walls of muscle, and wouldn’t you know it...those motherfuckers actually hold me down!
I am now sulking and walking around like there is a thong stuck up my ass. Oh wait. There is.
“Don’t look so mopey.” Divan nudges me a little too hard.
I cross my arms. “I’m about to go shed my clothes with dental floss up my ass and tassels on my penis. Let me mope.”
Divan finds this hysterical.
“Eddie wants to know what song you want.” Daniel walks back into the staging room. Eddie, being the DJ.
“I have no fucking idea.”
“Well, figure it out. What do you want your performance to feel like?”
“Feel like?” I curl my lip.
“Yeah, fast, slow, hardcore? How do you fuck?”
“Ahhh...”
“You do know how to fuck, right?”
Now Daniel is just being an ass.
“Who exactly am I fucking?” I’m being obstinate.
Daniel grabs me by the nape of my neck and shoves my face up to the door. “Look through the peephole, kid.”
I close one eye and spy out into the crowd.
“See the blonde with the white shirt and white heels?”
“Yes.”
“Her.”
Of course, it just had to be a hot blonde who likes to wear white. She’s no goddess, but she is painfully close. It makes my chest ache just looking at her. How am I ever going to pull this off?
“Well?”