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My name is ‘Show Girl.’ I’m 23 years old, 5’5″ tall, 115 pounds, and my measurements are 36C-21-34. I’m a natural blonde, with blue eyes and I’m into sexy talking and sexy ideas.

Actually, MY fantasy is to be on a stage with a lot of people watching me dance naked. In my fantasy, the guys hoot and holler, making very lewd and suggestive remarks about what they’d like to do to me in bed. I dance alone for a while, shaking my tits in their faces, or bending over in front of them close enough for them to try to lick my pussy. They all chicken out at the last minute though, and this makes be bolder and hotter the longer I dance.

I have in mind one of those semi-round stages, with a short, straight runway straight out from the stage. I start out dressed in a skirt and blouse, and quickly lose my clothes to stand completely nude before everyone.

While I’m dancing, my pussy gets wetter and wetter, and I feel my pussy cream mixing with the sweat that covers me from dancing under the hot lights. Faces are blurred beyond the edge of the stage, but the men are all intent on checking out my body. As I dance, I get more and more suggestive about what I want. I’ll lay on my back with my legs spread and rock my hips as though I was being fucked hard and fast. Then I roll over and spread my legs and thrust back, showing everyone my wet pussy and sexy ass. This I do with a nice looking guy of about 27 sitting at the edge of the stage. I shove my ass and cunt almost in his face several times. When I get up and dance by him, I can see a thick bulge in his lap, and I know he’s hot for me.

Finally, I see a pretty woman about my age sitting at the edge of the runway with her boyfriend across the table from her. I dance down towards her and lay on my stomach, pressing my large breasts against the floor. I look her in the eye and run my tongue across my lips sensuously, then flick my tongue up and down, showing her I’d like to eat her pussy too. To my surprise, she gives me an air-kiss, and runs her tongue around her lips too.

Excited, I sit up and spread my legs wide, with my ass at the edge of the stage, gyrating my hips lewdly right in front of her. I’m daring her to show me. Then she leans forward, and I hear the crowd hush. Her tongue lightly licks my soaking pussy, and she runs it over my clit, taking me closer to a climax. She leans back and fingers my vagina, and then licks my cream from her fingers, smiling up at me.

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Walking along the dark street, I thought for a moment to the almost daily occurrences that seemed to dominate the news. Numerous bodies had been found in the recent weeks. Bodies savaged physically, and sexually. Bodies of mostly women, but a male or two as well. Grinning to myself I walked on, shrugging my shoulders and pushing my hands deeper into the pockets of my overcoat. The tabloids were shouting about rampant [tag]vampires[/tag] and wolfmen. Right. Even though the reputable papers did mention, from time to time, the disturbing fact that the victims did seem to be a bit on the anemic side, the whole thing seemed pretty outrageous. Here at the beginning of the 21st century, old ghost stories were dominating the papers. Chuckling lightly to myself, I turned and started across the street, heading toward the little bar that I usually frequented.

As I walked in, swinging my coat off my shoulders and hanging it on ‘my’ coat hook, the bartender gave me a nod. As I reached my stool, I found a draft waiting for me, and I casually tossed back a swallow, looking around the bar. The TV was on, over the end of the bar, and the late news was on, more jabbering about yet another body found just after nightfall today. Pity, I thought to myself. “It’s your buddy at work again, Slade,” the bartender jibed toward me.

“Can’t you put some other trash on Tom? Don’t you get sick of this shit?” pushing my empty mug toward him, he picked it up, and soon, I found it back before me.

“You know I only put it on to annoy you, Slade,” he grinned broadly at me and went to the other end of the bar, taking a drink to an old man sitting there. He always bugged me about this shit, knowing how I felt about sensationalism. We had talked often of how these losers would pull some cheap stunt, grab some publicity, and get credit for being so strange. And a vampire impersonator certainly had the attention of the city now. “You know they found that gal,” he gestured toward the screen which showed a body being carted into a waiting ambulance, face covered, “about a mile from here?” He grinned at me, and I just shrugged. No sense feeding his mirth.

“Yeah? You’re hitting them close to home, eh?” He laughed as I ducked the wet bartowel that soared toward me. Eventually, thankfully, the news changed to more mundane matters, and I watched silently as one little tragedy after another was shown. Pity.

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She stumbled out of bed to answer the shrilling phone, still half asleep. She barked her shins on a pile of notebooks on the floor. Across the room, her roommate groaned and rolled over in her sleep. She hurried a bit more to get the phone before waking her roommate up.

“Hello?” she asked sleepily.

“Morning,” came the reply. She recognized the voice of her master immediately.

“Hello, sir,” she said, and her voice had a much more submissive tone. “Why did you call me?” She wished she was at his apartment. So much better, to lie with him and awake with her small hands bound in a bondage belt, with the warmth of his body nearby and having the excuse of fetters to allow her to lie in bed.

“I want you to come to the dining hall and have breakfast with me. Also, I want you to wear a skirt today. Above the knee, I think. And your stockings and garter belt.”

“Why?”

“You’ll find out after English. You can wear flats if you want, but bring your heels along in a bag. Oh, and if you wear underwear, it has to be something that comes off easily. Wear your silk ones with the bows.”

“OK, sir,” she said, wondering inside what he meant. She would be glad in an hour for having eaten, but right now she wanted more than anything to crawl back into bed and sleep. She had half an hour before class. But she obeyed, wondering why all the while.

He was no more tractable at breakfast. He allowed her to get three bowls of Captain Crunch, something he usually forbade on the grounds that it was junk, but anytime she asked why he wanted her dressed that way he only answered, “You’ll find out after English.”

English. Short Story Writing, specifically. The last class she had on Fridays, the only one she had with him. So many times, that had been the last thing she did before spending a weekend in erotic submission to him. The simple thought made her belly turn over.

The whole day she was unable to keep her mind off it. What did he have planned? A weekend of submission? Maybe. But that was hardly uncommon. So why all the secrecy? And why the costuming? In classes, she found herself writing his name and WHY? WHY? WHY? on her notes. She tapped her feet incessantly and waited for the class to end. She supposed people were looking at her. She didn’t care.

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Well, today is another gray and rainy day in this town. Kind of makes you think that life is nothing but a succession of shadows and gloom, dark clouds and chilly winds, interspersed with the promise of a little sunshine now and then to maintain enough of a fiction so everyone keeps going. Gray and cold. Old and gray. Wet and chilly. That’s how the day looks. That’s how I feel. That’s what this day makes me feel, as if I’m immersed in reality.

Good thing that I still can dream and fly. And it’s always harder not to wander away. To warmer places. To sunnier places. To places in which I can be whoever I dream of being. To places where I can meet the woman I want at will.

If I look through the window I can see her walking. Funny thing. I haven’t seen her face, ever, and yet here she is: smiling, saying nice things in a voice that’s caressing me, full of sweet overtones.

“Hi. How are you? You look as if you need a break. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me? Well, we can go to this coffee shop, close to my place. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go”

And all of a sudden, we are neither in this time, nor in this town. We’re somewhere in the middle of a dream, looking at each other, sipping cappuccino and talking of our lives. We’re frozen in time. Words coming and going without a finish line. Words coming and going, dancing with the music of our eyes, following the rhythm of a more intimate connection. Here we are: the first man and the first woman, repeated ad infinitum. The first blood and the first heartbeat. Always the same and yet always new.

Her face is changing with the slow movement of the moon. Her words are wrapping me with the laces of rainbow. Her eyelashes are hypnotic. Her mouth is more than tempting and this is not a coffee place, this is a forest and she’s casting her spell. I look but I want to see. I see but I want to dream. I dream but I want to have. Her words are falling and they sweep me.

I’ve played the game of seduction many times, but every new look, every promise of flesh anew, every new whisper of the garden of wantonness washes out my old sins. It’s me, fresh, again. It’s my skin without memories, without owners, without repeats. I’m a virgin one more time.

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Jackie’s mother greeted her with a smile and a letter when she returned home from high school in late January. It was Jackie’s sophomore year, and she had applied for a scholarship to study abroad. All through school, Jackie had studied Portuguese until it became her life. She hurriedly ripped the envelope and pulled out the letter. Sure enough! She’d been accepted in the exchange program study in France. She would be staying with a Brazilian family, named Macros outside of Salvador.

As she would be leaving June 23, Jackie prepared carefully for her trip, trying to remember the little things necessary in a foreign country. She also studied about Salvador, learning it was formerly the capitol Brazil and its people were extremely friendly.

At the airport when her mother hugged her goodbye, Jackie cried but looked forward eagerly to meet the new land. Her heart beat with anticipation of what would greet her.

The next morning, Jackie stepped out of the lumbering jet the welcome of a mild morning. The weather was a bit cloudy, but the air was extremely humid, causing her clothes to hug her body closely. Once through customs, she eagerly scanned the lobby for the Macros family. They had written and promised to meet her. A small dark-skinned lady approached her and said, “Jackie?” Jackie smiled and nodded her head in affirmation.

They met up with the rest of the family, and entered into a large Chevrolet. Soon they were home, and Jackie had met and talked with her new relatives. Her Portuguese was a bit choppy, but she found she could communicate well. She shared her room with her “sister,” Roselia. Roselia was also dark skinned, with shoulder-length hair. Her teeth were pearly white, always obvious because of her smile. They became close friends, talking about each other’s country.

As each week went by, Jackie became more acquainted and familiar with her surroundings. The people were extremely friendly. Jackie found the boys especially fun, and she and Roselia drew many whistles when shopping downtown.

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