I peered behind the heavy curtain that divided the stage from the sweaty dressing room. The seats in the converted cinema were all taken. The music crawled around the hall, the heavy, almost lazy bass contrasting with the visible air of excitement in the audience. My audience. A crowd of grown men, bigshots by day, reduced to their most basic natures at night, waiting for me. I had the power to turn these corporate semi-gods into impatient schoolboys. The thought made me shiver with excitement.

Tonight was going to be a special performance. For the first time in ages I was going to perform with another girl. Celia. This was planned by our boss, Ruby, as a special surprise. I was surprised, as I’d become used to planning and giving my own performances. Duets were for the new girls, who needed an extra pair of tits onstage, to make up for their poor dancing. Celia was new here, and foreign. I wasn’t sure where she came from, but there was something mediterranean about her looks. She was exceptionally tall, with large breasts and luscious, waist-long hair. In the three weeks of practice I had not heard her say a single word, but she was such a good dancer that it didn’t matter. She always followed my instructions perfectly, but had recently started adding moves of her own.

During our last practice session, halfway through the routine, I was sitting with my back arched against the back of the chair and my legs apart. The music boomed, and I could feel the chair vibrate to the rhythm. Celia’s perfect body moving in front of me put me in a trance. The truth was, she was much better than me, and I was bitterly jealous.