My passion for dancing found inimitable expression in the nightlife. Young, urbane and inclined to the entertaining, my nimble and graceful twists and gyrations to hip hop was unparalleled. As early as my undergraduate years, I had identified and utilized my dancing skills to the very fullest. Through dancing, I got the very profession and life ambition I was ready to deploy all of my life energies to.
So, when i was notified of a vacancy indicating a nightlife dancer at the Oasis nightclub, I grabbed the opportunity without hesitation.
Heading the dance team of the oasis nightclub was a rewarding business. Asides the occasional headache of overzealous nightlife voyeurs slapping my butts ; the long, hazy chain of club managers soliciting sex In contractual terms; the social tag of the wayward during the daytime and the energy-sapping, sleep-depriving hours of dancing to please an unending throng of party lovers, the nightlife art offered me generous financial compensations, even outside of the six-figure salary I earned at the end of each month.
The Oasis club was known for organising high octane shows. In such shows, top artistes were invited to perform. This was an image-boosting and market-moving tactic that made Oasis tower above her rivals. So, when our head of operations announced that Mr. B was to be invited for our next show, I was over the moon with excitement.
My excitement was not for no reason. After all, I have been party to the biggest entertainers storming and performing at the Oasis. Mr B was my very superstar crush. Tall, dark and embroidered with a rastafarian look, Mr. B’s rapping skills, coupled with his preference for big, busty ass-twerking video vixens attracted me to him. I was so awed by his personality that I was always looking for ways to reach him through his social media platforms. All of my attempts at auditioning for video performances had hit the rocks. My chance had come. And it was not to pass me by.
I coordinated the dancers and ensured that I had my solo dance incorporated in the order of events for the day.
Eventually, it was the D-day. Mr. B sashayed into the Oasis nightclub with the pomp and panache of roving superstars. He wore a trademark black top customised in front with a “Mr. B” inscription. His black, curly, flowing dreads did not mask his thick, pinkish lips that I had fantasised kissing for several years. Quickly, his army of bouncers and bootlickers formed a wall of Jericho around him. But when it was time for his performance, he needed the dancers, of whom I was chief. The wall of Jericho had crumbled. At that point, I found myself sharing the stage with my very sex idol, crush and eventually, nemesis.
As Mr. B serenaded the raucous crowd to his rousing rendition of his hit thriller, race track, my dance team offered choreographical spectacles just behind the popstar. As the music reached its frenetic, fast paced credo, we formed a close circle around the popstar. We sensuously gyrated our massive asses around his slender frame.
It was not until my personal bad ass twerk moment that I caught the attention of Mr. B. I mounted centre stage and made energetic, crowd triggering steps to his hit songs. The crowd rented the air with its shouts of ‘spray her Mr B.! Spray her Mr B!” Suddenly, Mr B. moved forward and came to me. I increased the rapidity of my twirling ass as Mr B sprayed me with wads of dollars. As a dose of appreciation mixed with infatuation, I pushed my ass close to his groins, and twerked my ass on his groins repeatedly. As the crowd went beserk in excitement, I focused on the reaction on Mr. B’s face. It was that of pleasure and undisguised lust.
After hours of dance, smoke, twerk and alcoholism, the party was over. We were making efforts to close for the day when Jacob, Mr B’s manager walked up to me. I had identified him while he introduced Mr B to the stage.
“Hi Jacob”, wondering if I was wanted by the boss or his manager
“Mr B. wants to see you at his hotel room. He asked me to bring you along.”
My smile broadened as I received the news. Aside the dollars, this was the best gift of the day.
I delegated administrative duties to one of my subordinates as I walked alongside Jacob to a tinted black Lexus GX 570 awaiting us outside.
After some fifteen minutes drive, we were at the exclusive suite of the Harvard hotel. We took the elevator and reached the uppermost room 207, where Mr.B had retired to after the party.
“Have a great time”, Jacob said as he flashed me a smile and disappeared through another route.
As I stood in front of the electronic door, it came open. I gently strolled in. The door shut then I heard a clink. After years in the wilderness, I finally had a private moment with my eternal crush.
I sought for words but found none. My emotions took over as I crashed into Mr.B who had stood off the bed to receive me. I placed my lips on his firmly and initiated the most passionate kiss I ever had. We twirled our tongues in titillating troughs of ecstasy . His hands pound my waist. As he rested them on my waist, I pushed his right hand on my ass. He sunk his right hands into my ass, kneading and squeezing. I moaned and groaned in excitement. Gently, Mr B. undressed me, exposing my heaving breasts and dripping pussy . My body shook and my temperature rose as he found my boobs with his right hand. He squeezed and mauled . He then alternated between my two nipples, sucking, biting and licking. He placed me on the bed and fucked me hard. I enjoyed his caresses, kisses and touches. Soon, he requested I gyrated on his penis. I climbed him and fucked him hard, swaying my ass with his thrust.
After hours of intense lovemaking, he was about to cum. As he tried to withdraw his penis, I demurred. I grabbed his butts and firmly positioned his dick back into my hole. He came inside my pussy, unprotected.
“I love you Mr. B”, I said, grinning sheepishly
“Thanks baby”, he responded. It was our first ever exchange of words.
I got closer to Mr B. and became a member of his entertainment team. We started a professional and sexual relationship I was sure was leading somewhere. We fucked unprotected on several occasions.
Months after our first encounter, my pregnancy test had come out positive
I told Mr. B.
“Impossible!, he thundered, “ That is just impossible. I am a music superstar. At 26, I am not interested in being a father.”
Mr B. changed towards me dramatically. He openly cheated, had threesomes at shows. In a matter of days, I was sacked from his team.
After much bickering, he said he was ready to part ways with 10 million naira for me to abort the child and cut away from him totally. I love Mr B dearly and would do anything humanly possible to keep his baby and be his wife. This is my dilemma.