Tina blew the barflies back against the wall with that one. Then she pulled out a slow a capella "Private Dancer" that had the whole room holding its breath like it was the solemn consecration at Our Lady of High Gloss Latex.Finally, she switched denominations to Holy Paint Rollers and the girl from Nutbush wailed about her hometown and how you better keep an eye for the police. By the end the crowd was stomping on the linoleum and hollering like a revival. Somebody scratched enough paint off one of the bulbs to make a 60-watt baby spotlight and Tina shook her tailfeather, with her leather coat flapping around her like a flag. Underneath she wore a spangly tube top and skintight leather pants; you could see the sweat glistening on her chocolate flesh.By the end of the song the whole crowd was on their feet. Tina punched her fist in the air once, twice, three times as the drummer hammered the beat. The keyboard player drove his hands down and the guitar man twisted three notes over and. It hit with a small sound, enticing Sams gaze to flick to the whip. His Mistress stopped hitting her hand and Sam looked up obediently, his wants apparent. She smiled at him. Though, not a nice smile. Sam opened his mouth to speak and received a hard slap against his cheek. He took it, hardly wincing. The red mark slowly faded, leaving a pink remnant. Take off your clothes. She said, turning on her heel. She walked barefoot, wearing only a black bra and black boyshorts. Black fishnet stockings clipped to the bottom of her boyshorts, making her legs appear longer. Sam watched her hungrily, stripping himself of the wife beater and basketball shorts he had been wearing. He tossed them to the side, knowing hed be picking them up later. His dirty blonde hair fell into his eyes and he tried to shake it out before giving up and brushing them aside. His Mistress stepped up from behind him and yanked his hair back quick, making him gasp out in surprise and pain. I did not say you could.
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