Solo Girl

And we find ourselves representing a thousand people with varying interest in what we’re doing. You know it yourself: There are people out there that don’t give a shit if some newcomer has to survive on a thousand a month ... so long as they get to live in their big house and drive their fancy car. I’m not talking about the executives. I’m talking about the mainstream performers. Oh, sure, they’re OK with the little guy getting a bigger piece of the pie ... so long as it doesn’t come from their slice. And, I’d bet my eye teeth that a suggestion that the big names help to fund the newcomers would fall flat on its face.”Kim thought for a moment and then nodded.“Yeah,” she said again. “It would be hard to convince even somebody like Ben to cut his take to leave more for other people.”“I know it would,” I said with a conspiratorial wink. “I saw it firsthand.”“You suggested it to Liz?” Kim wondered.“Liz, Conny and Melissa,” I replied. “I couched it in PR terms. It would be a huge win with. Bringing me back to my feet we stop swaying… our eyes locked… souls exposed… recognized… reminded. Your face slowly nears mine… and our lips meet… finally… just barely brushing against each other… tongue tips just barely brushing here and there… tasting… tentative… wanting… needing… restrained. Your fingers find the single clasp behind my neck that holds my backless dress together and unfastens it… the soft silk sliding smoothly over the hills and valleys of my body… caressing… stroking… finally coming to rest around my feet in a puddle. Your fingers in my hair, finding and releasing the clip that sends my hair tumbling after my dress… stopping at the middle of my back… silky… your fingers drawn to it… tangling in it… tugging. You allow one hand to reluctantly leave my hair… the fingers brushing lightly over my skin… down my neck, over my shoulder, along my collarbone and down over the curve of my breasts and you lower me gently to the floor at the sharp intake of my breath as my.
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