name="Show Time" by Ray Gregory

Show Time

Candy swayed this way then that as she studied her shiny new nipple rings in the dressing room mirror. Like sly, winking stars. Yes, stars for a star! She could see the wide eyes already, hear the whoops and hollers, feel the crisp bills from just cashed paychecks sliding under her G-string.

Mack poked his greasy, pompadoured head through the door to the hallway. “Show time, Candy. Move it!”

She flicked an errant tress over her shoulder, pursed her freshly glossed lips. “Let ‘em fester.”

“Get it in gear, girl. You might be a top maker, but we got a schedule here.” Then he paused, stared at her. “Hey, good idea, those nip rings.” He stepped into the dressing room, leaned against the wall. He looked like a low-rent Elvis impersonator in his ridiculous, shit-brown leisure suit. He gave her a twisted grin. “Pay day, big night tonight. Did I mention Professor Lube Job’s back? Waiting for his fave.”

She rolled her eyes halfway across the leak-stained drop ceiling. “Professor of what, boobology?”

“Well, you just keep him focused on his studies. And be nice to the old fool. He pays top dollar to study your tits.” Mack snickered. “Hey, what about your mom?

“Huh?”

“Why not bring her around sometime? Mother/daughter acts are all the rage.” He made the melon squeezing gesture with both hands. “You know, like mother, like daughter. Ain’t she where you got your tits from?”

“Go fuck yourself — Mack.” She bit his name out as if he were as loathsome as Professor Lube Job.

Mack just shrugged. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Don’t want no mother/daughter rivalries round here.” He snickered again. “Ol’ Lube could OD seeing that much tit.”
She flipped him the bird. In that shit-brown leisure suit, Mack reminded her of her big brother. Smart-ass Tom was always so proud of his stupid Boy Scout uniform. She felt like sticking her tongue out at Mack, calling him Mister Doo-doo Man — Tom always hated that. But why bother? Mack wasn’t that clever. He wasn’t worth the trouble.

Mack back kicked himself off the wall, then vanished back into the hallway.

“Good riddance,” she muttered. She turned back to the mirror, swayed, flashed her new nipple rings again. What was it with guys and boobs? Still longing for mommy, longing for her milk? Stealing a naughty peep at her undressing, her unbinding those precious boobs? And then what, dreams of fucking her? She shook her head.
After zipping up her satin bustier, everything tucked and squeezed in just right, she stared back at the mirror. Free or packaged, just sacks of fat, right. Boobs — for boobs. As Mack said, worth their weight in gold, better than brains. They kept her off the street anyway.

Back in the dressing room, naked after all the hooting and stomping, she counted the bills. Not a bad take, not bad at all. Some of the guys even rolled their bills tight so they could slide them in her lucky new rings when she dangled them over them. She turned toward the mirror, flashed another grin at the little gleaming wonders.
Mack peered in from the hallway. “Lube Job’s paid up for a special. He’s in the VIP lounge already. Get your ass on him, Candy.”

She shot her hands to her hips, pouted. “Why always me?”

“Why you? Really, Eye Candy?”

Shelly and Monica were passing behind Mack as they headed for the VIP lounge. They stopped, stuck their heads in the door too. “Better you than us,” Shelly chirped. “Hope you don’t have to do mouth-to-mouth on him,” Monica added. They giggled, then continued down the hallway.

Mack jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. He shook his head. “Silly bitches. Silly and jealous. They’d give ol’ Lube more than just a lap dance for what he pays, if he wanted them.” He stepped into the dressing room and leaned against the wall. He folded his arms over his chest, cocked his head. “Thought you wanted to go to college, be a shrink someday. So why not practice shrinking Lube Job’s head? He’d pay even more if you showed him your deep intellectual side. What, you got something against perverts?”

She flipped Mack off again.

He grinned, pushed himself off the wall. “Wait, I got a better idea. Forget about going to college. Shake ’em for him just right and ‘the professor’ will let you shack up with him in his ivory tower. Now get on him. He’s waiting. And leave those nip rings on. Ol’ Lube said he’s gotta have ‘em.” Mack gave her a thumbs up. “Great idea, Candy!” Then he disappeared back into the hallway before she could tell him to fuck off.

She took a long, tired breath before she slid her G-string back on, then started zipping back into her bustier. What was with the professor? An old guy like that? How turned on could he get? Weren’t the old ones supposed to be more thoughtful, even like, wise? So did he ever think about her, the real her inside, think about what she was thinking as she sat on his lap, as she watched him stare at her like that? Her so mechanical and aloof, him just sitting there as still as an old statue, not a twitch as he ogled every sway and jiggle. Did the old weirdo even think about anything? If he weren’t so ancient, were just another leering jerk, but... She shuddered at the thought of his deathlike stare. Eye Candy, even for his withered old eyes.

She glanced in the mirror one last time, whispered, “I — Candy, all right....”