Images of Micah’s eyes fill my mind as unbelievable pleasure cascades through my body.. I don’t know how long it lasts but by the time it finally releases me, the water is only warm, not hot anymore. I gasp as I pull my fingers from my pussy and slowly reach down to get the angry showerhead. I give myself a final rinse and turn the water off. It takes me two tries to get the showerhead back up into its holder.
I feel pretty damned relaxed, wrecked even.
I hum happily as I dry off and put on some loose clothes. I spend the hours until my very first show just doing all I can to get rid of the nagging feeling the customers will be disappointed. Oh, I know I’m very good at what I do, and I know that I’ll put on a great show. But when Rollie sings, her style is bluesy and deeply soulful. Mine is more ethereal, with a different kind of depth.
I grow more and more nervous as showtime approaches, and then finally, the mask comes on. That’s what I call it, what happens when Vanessa the singer takes over. I have about thirty minutes, and I strip out of my clothes and put on my slinky cocktail dress and fix my hair. I put on blood red lipstick and touch up my nails. I’m ready to go.
I step through the apartment door and then, after another quick check in the mirror, through the dressing room door and into the club. I make my way to the back and stand at the bar. Rollie is singing and it highlights for me just how different we are.
Micah steps close and says, “You’re going to do a great job up there.”
I turn and look at him. How does he know I’m thinking about that?
“You think?” I ask.
“I’m sure of it,” he replies.”
“Well, I hope you’re right.”