BAB’S BACKSTAGE CLUSTERFUCK
Part 1
By STARDOG CHAMPION (jprobx@webtv.net)
The music scene in 2001 was just as fickle and topsyturvy as it had
always been in the 30 or more years Barbara Streisand had been a major
player in the pop culture scene. Eventhough she hadn’t garnered a chart
hit in over two decades, her legions of dedicated fans still hung on
every move she made.
Why she was easing out the back of her long sleek limosuine and walking
up the red carpet of Los Angeles’s Staples Center, to attend this year’s
Grammy Awards, was more about her celebrity and need to promote an
upcoming
PayPerView special than it was about any contribution she had
made to the recording industry during the past year.
Even with the dozens of other younger and more hip artists assembled,
when Barbara strode up the walkway in her $5,000 custom made evening
gown, the blinding flash of the paparozzi focused on her put most of the
other ‘in’ celebrities to shame.
Strutting up the plush red carpet at a snail’s pace, waving and smiling
as if she was completly at home with the crush of attention, Barbara
thrusted her chest out with pride, realizing she had the world by the
tail. As night fell on Los Angeles and Bab’s and her entergage
disappeared inside the Staples Center, the 58 year old singer was on the
top of the world.
Shaking hands and making small talk with the litany of other celebrities
littering the hall, an hour and a half before show time, Mrs.
Streisand’s mood took a sudden downturn when she arrived at her dressing
room.
Looking at the door of the room Barbara’s agent told her was going to
be reserved especially for her, when Bab’s saw the star on the door, a
gnawing deepseeded bitterness billowed inside her belly.
“WHAT IS THIS!” Barbara yelled out, flailing her arms out in an
exaggerated show of disgust.
The glitter laden name of Jennifer Lopez, accentuated by a very large
and shiny star, stared Barbara Streisand directly in the face as she
stewed noticably.
Award shows were old hat for the aging crooner, so she totally
understood how mistakes and misunderstandings could come about. It
wouldn’t have been so bad for Barbara if it wasn’t for the internal
embarrassment she felt, getting mixed up with such a complete no-talent
like Jennifer Lopez.
“Look..wait..wait,” Barbara heard her agent stammer when he sensed his
client’s outrage. “Just wait right here Mrs. Striesand..I’ll be right
back..I’m going to straighten this right up,” he added, taking off in a
blazing dash.
All of the sudden alone in a sea of much younger, plastic people,
Barbara felt entirly out of place. Fuming, she tried plastering a fake
smile across her face, waiting for her agent to return after clearing up
the confusion.
Standing her ground, trying her damndest not to be run over by the
cattle like flow of people going in both directions, the opened sore of
Barabra’s insecurity was infected further when she realized the
surrounding clamor was not intended for her.
All Barbara kept hearing echo in her head was “Ms. Lopez…Jennifer..Hey
J. Lo…”
It hit Barbara Striesand like a club to the stomach that none of the
attention was for her, all she was to the passerbys hounding Jennifer
Lopez, was a well dressed lamppost standing in front of the younger
singer/actress’s door.
Feeling as if Mt. Vesuvious was about to erupt inside of her, Barbara
simply couldn’t bring herself to stand out in the hall any longer.
Wrapping her dainty hand around the knob to Jennifer Lopez’s dressing
room door, Barbara twisted it and was a little surprised when the door
opened for her. Before she could even gather her thoughts, the brutish
passerbys nudged Barbara through the unlocked entrance, into a situation
chalk full of severe uncertainty.
Once Barbara was able to stabilize herself and scan the room, she felt
as if she stumbled into some sort of giddy sorority house.
Three of Jennifer’s backup dancers were converged around the row of
makeup mirrors in various stages of undress, looking back at the older
singer in the doorway as if she were something that had just fallen from
outerspace.
“Who the fuck are you?” one of the dancers asked bluntly, causing the
Grammy veteren to visibly simmer.
Gazing quickly to her right, Barbara saw several of Jennifer’s male
dancers off to the side of the cramped room. Bab’s instinctively
clutched her purse to her chest when she saw them licking their lips
sarcastically as they sized up the immaculatly dressed, classy looking
visitor.
“Who the fuck am I?” Barbara muttered to herself.
“You should know who the fuck I am,” Bab’s hissed back at the twentyish
dancers. “I am the one that is supposed to be here..IN THIS dressing
room. Now all you..little..little..litle tramps..get your stuff
together…. AND GET OUT!”
A chorus of, “What?”, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”, “Shut up you
old Bitch!” ,rained down on Barbara from the male and female dancers as
she stoood her ground, disgusted by the lack of respect and dignity she
was being shown.
Guided by the power of knowing she was never wrong, Barbara angrily
strode up to the group of Latin girls that were mocking her, and stood
right in front of their faces, re-affirming her order to leave.
“I said this is my dressing room..GET UP AND GO…..NOW!!” Barbara
hissed in her rudest New York accent.
“Shut the Hell up you old Skunk,” one of the Latin girls immediatly
replied, burning a hole through the Jewish Diva’s frame with her fiery
midnight eyes.
Barbara felt her anger burn to the point of nuclear fusion as the girl,
that was over half her age, succiently put her in her place. When
Barbara’s internal restraint gave way under the deepest amount of
disrespect she had ever been subjected to at such an event, she rared
back with her well manicured right hand and prepared to slap the saucy
young dancer right across the face.
As Barbara Striesand rared back, looking strangly like Nolan Ryan
getting ready to throw a fastball, she could see the young girl’s
expression freeze from the sudden expectation of getting hit. Just as
Barbara allowed her right arm to spring forward, out of nowhere,
something grabbed her arm like a grappling hook, preventing her from
following through.
Barbara instinctivly pulled away from the clutches of what was holding
her from behind, preventing her from inflicting the damage she had
intended to do. Hyperly, Barbara spun around and confronted the asshole
that had stopped her.
What Bab’s saw was the same, all too familiar, face that had been on
every edition of Entertainment Tonight, MTV and news programming for
seemingly 6 months, the glaring face of Jennifer Lopez.
Mumbling as if she had marbles in her mouth, Barbara simply couldn’t
string the words together to enunciate her futile anger.
Keeping her vicelike grip clamped around Barbara’s upper arm, Jennifer
stood there staring straight back at the angrily blushing older woman,
wondering why she was in HER dressing room, trying to slap one of HER
dancers.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jennifer hissed in her own jagged
accent.
“Let go of me,” Barbara hollered, trying to twist herself free like an
animal held in a trap.
Unaccustomed to feeling like a caged rat, every nerve in Barbara’s being
quivered with vile wrath as she summoned all the strength in her aged
body to sqeeze away from Jennifer’s cinched fingers.
When Bab’s finally succeeded in ripping her arm free, for just an
instant, she felt vindicated. When everyone in the room froze in hushed
silence and fixated their eyes on her, Barbara felt a strange sensation
of vague uneasiness wash over her. Looking back at Jennifer behind her
and the wide eyed expression covering her face, Barbara felt as if time
had stopped. When the cool air-conditioned air filtering through the
dressing room gradullay felt too close to her skin, the Jewish diva
hesitantly looked down and discoverd why the room had suddenly come to a
hushed standstill.
Seeing the black and red sequened material of her dress sleeve still in
Jennifer’s hand, Barbara numbly looked down to see that elegant evening
gown had ripped like nothing more than cheap K-mart garment when she had
desperatly tugged herself free from Lopez’s clutches.
Realizing that her heavy, sagging tits were in clear view, tucked
tightly into a lacy black support bra for everyone in the room to see,
Barbara felt her eyes water with tears of shame as the young girls and
guys in Jennifer’s enterage looked at her half naked body with petrified
glee.
Barbara felt an overwhelming desire to run as fast as she could out of
the dressing room but cold, hard reality kept her feet planted right
where they were. Knowing if she did make that mad dash, all that would
be waiting on the other side of the door was every media outlet in the
free world, all the industry bigwigs, as well as too many life long
friends to count.
“So you really think this is YOUR dressing room…huh,” Bab’s heard a
male voice from behind her insinuate.
“Just how bad do you really want this room… Bitch?” Barbara heard
Jennifer’s familiar voice add.
Before she could even find the fortitude to formulate a response,
Barbara felt Jennifer’s hands dig into the remaining material of her
expensive party dress, and with one fell swoop, rip it all the way down
to her quivering ankles.
Clad in nothing now but her black bra, matching black panties and thigh
high hose covering her goosebumped legs, Barbara clasped her arms
loosely around her torso in an attempt to conceal her near nakedness.
“MMMHHHMMM..so you really think this room belongs to ya…Huh…you
washed up has been,” Barbara could hear Jennifer hoarsly whisper down,
her hot breath causing the hair on the back of Bab’s bare neck to stand
on end. “If you want this dressing room so bad Bitch..then you can have
it..just get down there….AND EARN IT!”
The words, ‘earn it’, echoed relentlessly inside of Barbara’s head.
“I have earned it you slutty little whore! I’ve been in the business
before you popped out of your Momma’s cunt …you…you…. little Latin
Slut,” Bab’s forcefully shot back.
“Is that so,” Jennifer replied soberly. “Well then..I guess you won’t be
staying here..you are welcome to take a walk anytime you want…like
right now,” She sarcastically offered, waving Barbara away.
Looking down at her tattered nakedness, Barbara realized there was no
way she could go back through that door and into that hallway in her
current state.
“Going once,” Jennifer slowed chimed in.
“Going twice,” A male voice added.
“GONE…Guess that means your staying… Skank!” The young Latin dancer
right in front of Barbara finished the thought.
“I’ll say it one ..more.. time…get down on your knees and lets see if
you can..EARN..this dressing room,” Jennifer ordered firmly.
Realizing she had no other option, Barbara felt her head start to spin
as she begrudgingly tried bending her rickety legs until her silk
covered knees landed hard on the plush maroon carpet below.
Hearing Jennifer loudly snap her fingers from behind, Barbara saw
several of the dancers start to scurry about the room out of the corner
of her eye.
It felt like a 2 by 4 to her gut when Bab’s thought she had figured out
what they intended to force her to do. Hearing the naughty way everyone
in the room was giggling, Barbara wallowed in the sick realization that
Jennifer was going to make her give all the young male dancers oral sex
while she was there on her knees.
After a few moments of confusion in the room however, when everyone
around her settled, suddenly a deep sense of uneasiness burrowed into
Barbara’s pysche. “What in the world are they getting ready to do?”
Bab’s ruefully asked herself on swaying knees.
Raising her seething brow up to investigate what Jennifer’s charges were
up to, Barbara coulnd’t help but wretch in horror when she grasped the
project they had planned for her. Looking at the surreal gleam in the
eyes of the sultry brown skinned girl that stood directly above her, an
unfathonable and debilitating anxiety swept through Barbara’s withering
body.
Completly losing touch with the presense of Jennifer and the male
dancers that were fanning out behind her, Barbara’s wide, glaring eyes
became glued on the young dancer above her as she gracefully rolled her
long, tanned fingers into the velvety material of her gold colored
dancing outfit.
While not gay herself, 19 year old Amelia Fuentez was strangly aroused
by the spectar of debasing the rich and famous white woman that had
rudely barged into the dressing room moments earlier. With her fingers
tightly curled in the fabric of her tight miniskirt and panties, Amelia
steadily peeled down the silky garment until her vulva became clearly
apparent, right in front of Barbara’s stunned face. Taking a well timed
and seductive step forward, Amelia rolled her hips suggestivly as she
lowered her skirt and panties all the way down her sinewy legs.
Beside Amelia, the other two female dancers lined up for thier impending
opportunity to follow suit, looking straight down at Barbara’s ashen
face as the shine of their partner’s puckering pink cunt reflected in
Bab’s glaring pupils.
Looking over the magnificantly perverse sight that she had created with
the simple snap of her fingers, Jennifer Lopez beamed like a proud
mother as Barbara Streisand knelt willingly at the feet of the young,
buxom dancers, forced to eat out each of the girls’ pussies for a chance
to have the dressing room she had so richly and rudely demanded.
Feeling a tap on her shoulder, Jennifer heard her publisist whisper into
her ear, reminding her of a couple of photo ops she had been scheduled
to attend before the start of the show. When she turned to acknowledge
him, Jennifer could clearly see the look of mortal shock etched across
his face from the scene he was witnessing. Eventhough Barbara’s face was
pointing in the other direction so that he had no clue who the half
stripped woman on her knees really was, Jennifer still put her index
finger up to her full lips and made a “SHHH’ gesture to keep him quiet.
As Jennifer turned to leave so she could fulfill her public relations
comittment , she took one long look at the faces of her dancers spread
out across the room, seeing that each and every one of them were game to
milk this rare opportunity for all it was worth.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Jennifer smiled wryly as she waved
goodbye for the moment.
Barbara’s eyes rolled dazedly in their sockets as she knelt there, the
surrealistic sight of the young lithesome dancer’s exposed crotch
filling Bab’s eyes as she swayed there at the girl’s feet.
When the brash and arrogant girl that had been the most vocally derisive
sauntered even closer to Barbara’s face, the 58 year old diva
instinctivly turned her cheek to the side as Amelia advanced. Out of the
corner of her eye however, Barbara still couldn’t help but steal a
fleeting glance of what the teenage girl’s razor smooth snatch looked
like as it damply expanded, no more than 4 inches from her cheek.
Amelia’s neon pink pussy lips seemed to bubble out from the mocha brown
folds of her pussy as she hovered over top of Barbara, taking special
joy in watching the rude and snobbish woman at her feet twitch with
apprehention.
“I bet you thought we were gonna make you suck some of those boys’
cocks..huh..is that what you thought,” Amelia snippily barked down into
Bab’s reddened, blushing face. ” We still might baby..if you’re good
maybe we will ..but right now you got to take a little mouthful of what
me and my girls are cookin’ up..I believe its girl’s night to EAT IN!”
When Barbara felt the girl above her slip her strong fingers into her
scalp, proceeding to palm Bab’s head like a basketball, swiveling it
back so that Barbara’s mouth was directly facing at her pussy, the older
diva realized she was helpless at the aroused dancer’s feet.
“OHH…NNN,” Barbara tried to beg, but all she succeeded in doing was
creating an opening with her mouth for Amelia to take advantage of.
Before she knew it, Bab’s found her whole face pushed into Amelia’s
smoothly shaven snatch, and for several moments the only way Mrs.
Streisand could breathe was through her ears. Feeling as if her head was
becoming a pressure cooker, Bab’s twisted and fought until Amelia
allowed her to surface momentarily for a breath of fresh oxygen before
forcing Barbara’s suddenly slimy face back into her swampy depths.
Being a dancer on Jennifer Lopez’s traveling road show, Amelia had been
party to a couple of really kinky moments. What was happening now, with
a world renound female giant in the music industry bowing before her, on
her knees, was totally off the charts however.
A tangible sense of power and control coursed through Amelia’s synapses
as she smeared her pussy like a wet rag all over Barbara Striesand’s
ashen face.
Looking around the room, Amelia couldn’t help but notice how visibly
aroused the male dancers had gotten from watching what was going on. A
young and ambitious girl that craved the spotlight, Amelia decided to
put on a real show for everyone involved.
Dropping her eyes back down to Barbara beneath her, Amelia was a little
surprised by just how much her pussy was tingling as she glazed its
greasy emmisons across the Jewish Crooner’s cold lips. Not able to
resist the power kick that came with forcing such an established
celebrity down to her knees for such an indecent act, Amelia savored
that golden moment, being one of thousands of girls in her position in
the industry, just fighting to get her foot in the door.
Amelia could tell from Barbara’s awkward oral movements that the older
woman wasn’t at all comfortable licking another woman’s privates.
Raising her right leg majestically into the air, using all the
flexability that God had given her, Amelia held it up in a Rockette-like
pose for several seconds as Barbara continued lapping at the young
dancer’s dripping
slit.
Finally bending her knee so that her right foot clamped around Barbara’s
bare, freckled back, Amelia cinched her heel into Bab’s shoulder blade,
effectivly sandwiching the kneeling woman’s upper torso against her
buzzing pubic area.
With adaquate friction now built up, there seemed to be a vaporlock
between the front of Barbara face and Amelia’s girlish cunt. Swirling
her pelvis in slow, sensuous and melodical motions, Amelia seemed to be
dancing along to a rythemic song inside her head as she used Bab’s
lipstick smeared lips and tongue to work herself to completion.
When Amelia’s orgasm finally tripped inside her head, the young Latin
beauty dug her tingling fingers into Barbara Streisand’s scalp, holding
the aging diva’s head tightly as her glistening pussy creamed all over
the front of the kneeling star’s mouth, nose and chin.
Selfishly allowing concussion after post orgasmic concussion to ripple
violently through her barely 100 pound frame, Amelia shot her mane of
coal black hair backwards, luridly savoring the feel of Barbara’s
tentative tongue darting back and forth against her nether regions.
Once Amelia was able to open her eyes again and focus her gaze on the
other onlookers in the room, she could clearly see the astonished wonder
etched across each and every face. It reminded her of the look everyone
had a few weeks earlier when two of the bisexual men in the group had
performed various sex acts with each other during a drunken game of
Truth or Dare.
“So…who’s next up?” Amelia breathlessly offered, as she elegantly
lifted her long right leg off Barbara’s back and returned it to the
ground.
Santana, the young dancer and backup singer standing right beside
Amelia, immediatly chimed in. “Let’s just go down the line Girl,” She
replied, meaning she would be next to get her pussy eaten to completion.
Grabbing Barbara firmly by the side of the head, Santana forced Bab’s
sloppy face closer towards her and looked down at the hapless singer
with disgusted amusement as she prepared to position her crotch over top
of Barbara’s now buttery mouth.
“Get that pussy lickin’ mouth of yours open Bitch and use it for what
God intended,” one of the men in the room yelled out when Santana eased
her slinky frame over top of Bab’s uplifted face.
As Amelia strutted away from her still kneeling conquest, she bacame
transfixed by one of the male dancers, Miguel, who was guiltily taking
in the whole carnal scene.
The newest addition to the dance team, fresh out of the dance acadamy in
Brooklyn, Miguel had a sheepish, innocent look splattered across his
face as a freshly fulfilled Amelia sauntered over to him.
Nearing the teenage stud, Amelia foamed at the mouth as she watched the
boy’s healthy erection strain the front of his trousers, which looked
like they had a painfully large lead pip concealed inside.
As Amelia shimmied up to Miguel’s chest, she cast the breathless boy a
matter of fact smile before dropping down to her knees, proceeding to
satisfy her revved up lust on the stunned kid’s fully gorged endowment.
Santana was the only female dancer there that didn’t have her pussy
completly shaven. Considering the fact that the outfits they generally
wore neccessitated a smoothly shaven pubic area, Santana still enjoyed
keeping a closely cropped, Chaplinesque mustachelike patch of curly hair
right above her clit.
Rolling her panties down to her ankles and anxiously stepping out of
them, Santana proceeded to spread her powerfully toned thighs, creating
a clear and unmistakable target for Barbara Striesand to aim her
cumcovered face.
As soon as the bent over woman was close enough for Santana to get a
firm grip of, she grabbed Barbara by the hair, imploring Ms. Streisand
to begin servicing her.
“Give it a kiss Bitch…..come on tease it a little…make it think you
like it..come on little lady..pucker that mouth open wide and plant a
smooch right there on my wet slippery lips Baby, “Santana cooed
viciously into Barbara’s stoic face.
“That’s right Honey…press those lips of yours against mine Slut…roll
that tongue around it and taste it all ..YEAHHHHH..let that shit drip
all the way down your throat Wench,” Santana whispered harshly,
relishing the feeling of Barbara complying with her lurid and ghastly
orders.
Jennifer Lopez worked through her press junket with dizzying speed, her
mind completly occupied by what was transpiring back in her dressing
room. Jennifer couldn’t help but giggle a little when she overheard
several reporters and other Grammy organizers wonder out loud where
Barbara Striesand had disappeared to.
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” Jennifer hummed coyly to
herself. “But trust me..you’d have the scoop of the century if I did.”
Briskly leaving her final photo-op, Jennifer forcefully pressed her
bodyguards forward, imploring them to clear her way so she could get
back to the privacy of her room.
Getting her hulking protectors to block the view inside the room when
they opened the door, Jennifer slipped her juicy body between the small
crack in the doorway and disappeared inside.
What she saw after she closed the door behind her, made very inch of her
smooth, flawless skin tingle with perverse excitement.
The first thing Jennifer was able to see, after her eyes re-focused in
the dim light, was Barbara Streisand’s lily white back as she continued
her kneeling posture on the floor in front of Jennifer’s female dancers.
Watching with outward laughter, Jennifer saw that Barbara’s head was now
tightly cinched in Santana’s Amazonlike grip, the nubile young dancer
forcing the older woman’s face against her bubbling quim with lascivious
intent.
Santana has scooted her round, bare ass up on top the makeup table and
had her knees flexed apart as far as she could, giving Barbara unhindred
access to facefuck the young beauty with everything she had.
Sneaking a peek to her right, Jennifer could see the first girl that
Barbara had serviced, Amelia, was now on her own knees, giving a blow
job to one of the male dancers that had obviously become aroused by the
blissfully carnal sight in the center of the room. From the size of the
shaft Amelia was hungrily forcing down her throat, Jennifer understood
why all the girls were so smitten with Miguel, the newest addition to
the group.
Taking three steps forward, so that she was about five feet behind
Barbara’s back, Jennifer felt the noticable signs of her own arousal
start to peak. She could feel her vagina begin to lather and her firm
tits heave up and down on her chest as the thought of going out and
grabbing one of the reporters passing by, out in the hall, crossed her
mind again.
“Imagine the cover of the Enquirer next week,” the Latin beauty thought
jovially.
The two male dancers that were standing around, just watching, casually
eased up to each side of Jennifer to take in the lurid scene with their
boss. All three looked down disbelievingly at Barbara in front of them
and the way she had her face wedged up between Santana’s crotch.
“You can’t even see her face its in there it’s so tight,” one of the
male dancers sighed.
“Yeah…she’s gonna need a squeege if she ever wants to clean of that
plastic surgery made mug of hers when she’s done,” the other guy
replied, bringing a smile to everyone within earshots face.
“It don’t look like her face is the only thing that’s getting soiled
guys…look,” Jennifer commented, pointing her long index finger at the
underside of Barbara Streisand’s panties. “Look at that wet spot down
there just keeps growin’ and growin’.”
Focusing closer, all three could clearly see the fury presense of
Barbara’s pubic hair through the drenched spot on the bottom of her
underwear.
“Either the Bitch peed herself or she’s really diggin’ it,” one of the
male dancers added as he nervously bit his knuckles.
Looking back up at Santana on top of the cluttered vanity table,
Jennifer beamed proudly, admiring the lithesome flexability of her
backup singer and dancer. Seeing the graceful way Santana’s legs flailed
out, bracketing Bab’s smothered face, when the young girl’s head shot
backwards and her luxurious mane of midnight black hair draped
seductivly across the front of the mirror supporting her weight, it was
clearly evident to everyone in the room, Santana was on the verge of a
crushing completion as well.
Watching the savage way the young dancer gripped each side Barbara’s
head, closing her palms tightly around the long time star’s ears,
goosebumps popped up all over Jennifer’s golden brown skin, mesmerized
by the sight of Santana complelty losing control.
From behind, Jennifer could also clearly see Barbara’s kneeling rear end
buck up and down helplessly with each forceful tug Santana made with her
spasming hands, her entire youthful and vibrant body writhing from her
splintering orgasm.
Admiring the crude and cocksure way Santana smeared Barbara’s entire
face through her greasy critch several more times before shoving the
older singer’s head away, it was clear to everyone there that the young
girl had used Barbara for everything she needed from her and was now
finished with the choked up singer.
Exhausted and needing a dose of fresh air, when Barbara’s face was
finally freed from the depths of Santana’s cunt, she tilted her face
upwards towards the ceiling to desperalty huff in several doses of clean
oxygen.
As Bab’s knelt there, half naked and gasping for air, the residue
covering her face caused everyone else in the room to take pause. Seeing
the murky stew of vaginal secretions, traces of Santana’s pubic hair,
smeared makeup, lipstick and eye liner that coated Bab’s previously
elegant face, from forehead to chin, prompted everyone to
voyueristically fixate for a few moments as Barbara clumsily tried
regaining her bearings.
“She think’s its over,” One of the male dancers whispered as he lewdly
tapped the throbbing cock in his pants.
“Not by a long shot,” Jennifer heard the other guy beside her reply,
watching as he playfully aimed his right foot out and let the wet spot
leaking out from Barbara’s panties grease the tip of his shoe.
When the two male dancers and Jennifer saw the way the third female in
line, Luci, was anxiously working her skirt and panties down to her feet
and purposefully stepping out of them, it was clear Barbara’s
Streisand’s price to earn the dressing room wasn’t even close to being
paid. Feeling her insides buzz and swoon like a witches cauldron,
Jennifer couldn’t imagine what else her dancers had in mind for the
legendary ice
princess….
Part Two ….coming soon
Thanks for reading