The first guitar riffs of 'Runaround Sue' begin playing, "Here's my story it's sad but true, it's about a girl that I once knew, she took my love and ran around with every guy in town!"
"Ladies, and you so-called gentleman, please give a big Jiggly Room welcome to our feature dancer, DAISY DUWELL!"
The notes kick in, as the five-foot-five, petite blonde bursts through the curtain with a wild raw sexual charisma that seems to radiate off the triple-D bimbo, named Daisy. Her slutty makeup applied expertly to draw attention to her plump lips and pale-blue eyes.
"Hey, hey. Whoa (bum de hey, de hey, de hey, hey) Whoa (bum de hey, de hey, de hey, hey) Whoa (bum de hey, de hey, de hey) La, la, la, la. Whoa (hey, hey, bum de hey, de hey, de hey, hey) (Bum de hey, de hey, de hey, hey) (Bum de hey, de hey, de hey) (Ah)" *song lyrics*
Dressed like a '50s housewife, the Donna Reed inspired dress is obscenely shorter than anything Donna Reid ever wore, Daisy's mincing-like steps and exaggerated hip-sways show that the old adage about being built for sex is true, and that Daisy's a Formula One car of being built for sex. The white dress with vibrant black polka dots swirls around the pretty blonde, flashing her black panties that are framed by her white garter belt attached to her black stockings and white six-inch heels.
Playing to the crowd, Daisy can't help but hate her current position in life being reduced to a stripper and part-time porn star to make a living. Her '50s-inspired routine has the crowd going ballistic, raining all denominations of bills down upon her, pulling her top down in a manner reserved for the seduction of one's lover; Daisy lets her natural abilities do their thing, revealing her black lacy bra to the fever-pitched crowd. Shaking her massive triple-D tits to the drunken crowd, all cheering her artistically provocative routine.
"Yeah, I should have known it from the very start
This girl'll leave me with a broken heart
Ah, listen people what I'm telling you
A keep away from a Runaround Sue, yeah" *song lyrics*
The routine for Daisy holds neither challenge nor artistic freedom anymore. She could close her eyes and do the whole routine blind-- doing a spin, making the mid-thigh skirt rise to show off her black thong splitting her apple bottom butt. That's perfectly framed by the white straps of her garter, holding the black silk stockings that wrap the sexiest legs this side of heaven, anyone's ever seen.
Reaching behind her, using exaggerated movements, she shows herself unclasping her bra. Swaying her wide ample hips and ass on her small waist, she teases the crowd to the beat of the song, tossing her bra to the side, knowing all her stuff will be brought back when she's done; along with all the money that's covering the stage. Still facing away from the crowd, Daisy uses her hands to pull her hair straight up, letting it fall like a golden waterfall. It's such a simple trick, but every man and woman now wants to be behind this blonde bimbo-- railing her-- making that golden hair cascade, like waves hitting the salty, sandy shores.
"I might miss her lips and the smile on her face
The touch of our hand and this girl's warm embrace
So if you don't want to cry like I do,
A keep away from a Runaround Sue." *song lyrics*
Daisy slowly, painfully slowly to the almost groan of pain, turns to the waiting mob, and faces the crowd, baring her magnificent chest to an almost orgasmic cheer. Even Daisy finds basking in adulation addictive. She'd never want to admit it, but if asked, she would be unable to keep it a secret really; anything, it seems, she's told, she can't keep it a secret. Catching the eye of a rather clean-cut young professional sitting at the end of the stage, Daisy doing a pop-step-pop move making her chest sway and bounce, approaches the almost-bug-eyed man waving money at her.
Daisy, sitting subjectively with the man's head between her glorious thighs, motions for the young man to remove her thong. Few dancers do this move, but it's a simple one and the crowd really gets into it. Daisy feels the sweaty palms caress her ass, reaching for the waistband of the thing, as they pull it free. Daisy raises her legs, showing her wet pussy, and kicks the panties off in the general direction of her bra.
"Whoa (hey, hey, bum de hey, de hey, de hey, hey)
Whoa (bum de hey, de hey, de hey, hey)
Whoa (bum de hey, de hey, de hey)
(Ah)."*song lyrics*
Daisy sees that same look she's seen so many times, it's not every girl who has a pussy tattoo of a succubus cures heart with the word slut hidden in the design. Rolling her legs to be on all fours, her pussy is now facing the crowd as she spreads her cheeks, letting the collected wetness shine on display to the crowd, the tell-tale signs she's sexually excited, it brings a new level of energy, almost like wild animals and a female-in-heat-kind-of energy.
Catching sight of a TV playing one of the many twenty-four-hour sports channels. The closed captioning lets her know they are talking about her, or more specifically, who she used to be-- Dangerous Dany Thomas. The closed captions say Dany is still missing, and that no new leads have come in, or witnesses have come forward.
The sportscaster goes into a split screen and a smoking-hot redhead holding an adorable six-year-old brunette girl makes a heartfelt plea to the viewers. "Please if anyone knows anything about my husband Dany Thomas' disappearance, please come forward; we just want him home safe with us!"
Reading the woman's pleas on a small TV, with her head on the stage and her pussy spread open for the bar of horny drunk men, isn't a new level of low for Daisy; knowing the irreparable pain she's causing her family isn't helping, and that's when the aching in her pussy begins, like an insatiable desire, a fire in her pussy to get fucked. She knows better than to think about her past life, but sometimes it's hard not to. Daisy wasn't born Daisy Duwell; she was actually born Dangerous Dany Thomas.
*************
And she wasn't always Daisy. It happened on the best worst night of her life. Absentmindedly, Daisy continues her routine, yanking her dress free, adding adding it to the pile of growing discarded garments.
Lost in the night she became Daisy DuWell, was the night Dangerous Dany Thomas won the world heavyweight title from Bruno "El Murcielago" Diaz. Dany never really partied, he was a soak-in-the-tub-extra-deep-dish-kinda celebrator. But how many times do you win the world title? So after much begging and pleading from the DDT crew, the waiters brought an assortment of drinks, all different colors and flavors.
She proudly proclaimed that the first round was in the house to Dany and his crew, enlisting a powerful and exuberant cheer. Breaking into conversations, Dany was talking to his manager, asking who they had lined up for his first title defense. Out of the corner of his eye, Dany caught sight of the most exotic-looking woman Dany had ever seen, who tried working her way into Dany's conversation. Her long, raven hair was done in a very Roman or Greek-inspired braid, and her blue eyes matched the dress.
"Why, hello there." The woman's voice was husky, almost a smoldering whisper, "My name's Megaera."
"Errr... Hi." Danny managed a tentative wave, "I'm Danny... The Champ."
"Oh, I know aaaaall about you." Megaera moaned, as she stepped into his personal space, "The youngest prizefighter to get the title ever... Women must be hanging off of you."
"Not... really." He was sweating, as the woman's aggressive movements put him on the back foot.
"Well, they really should be..." Megaera cooed, with an almost malicious glint in her eye. There was no denying that this woman was trouble-- trouble with a capital T.
If this kept up, Danny could easily see her running away with this meeting to... God knows where. Best to just snip it in the bud before it got out of hand. Danny took a visible step back, as he kept the woman at arm's length.
"Look, I'm flattered," Danny began earnestly, "but I've already got a wife, and I don't plan on cheating on her anytime soon."