The year was 1992. I honestly do not remember who was playing in the Super Bowl. I am sure I could Google it and provide you with those additional details…but that’s not what we want is it?
His name was Tim and we met at the gym (the same place I met Tony). He was a stockbroker by trade that took his workout regime very seriously. He was ripped. His arms. His torso. His legs. He was Adonis-like in form and had a baby face to go with that body…complete with dimples. It was almost too much to take in. His voice was deep and authoritative. He was outgoing and friendly.
And we had immediate chemistry. He was 37 and I was 20. He took the lead and helped me learn my way around the gym. We started a tumultuous relationship. On again. Off again. Hot sex. Bad arguments. More hot “make-up” sex. Off again. And we stayed off for a while. We would see each other at the gym, where we would exchange niceties as we went about our business. I’d begun using the aerobics room to work on dance routines as I belonged to a belly dance troupe. It gave me a quiet place to rehearse, with mirrors and little distractions.
One day, I felt someone watching me. It was Tim. He smiled that boyish smile and i found myself wet, thinking of how he would feel inside me. He motioned for me to come to him. I walked over as he brushed the sweaty hair from my face.
“You are an amazing dancer. I didn’t know you could move like that.”
I blushed and said, “Thank you. You’ve seen some of my other moves. Guess I was saving these for a different time.”
His tone was serious, “What are you doing Sunday?”
I had no plans, but didn’t want to seem too available. “I’m not sure. It’s Super Bowl Sunday. I may go to a party. How about you?”
He grinned, “I am having a party. Come to mine.”
I smiled at the thought, but then remembered how volatile things became when we were together. I hesitated. “Maybe, I will. I will let you know.”
He pulled me close to him and whispered in my ear, “I will pay you.”
Pay me? For what?
“I want you to be my halftime show. I want you to strip.”
I was a little taken aback. Not that I was offended. Not being prudish. Just surprised that he wanted to put me on display like that. But I was intrigued and flattered.
“What time do you want me there?”
“Be there around 7:00. Have about 30 minutes of dances ready. I will give you $200 for your time. I want you sexy, not dirty. Many of my co-workers and clients will be there. No women. Strictly a guy-thing.”
And at that, he turned and left. And I realized…it was Friday.
Holy shit! What do I do? Which songs? What do I wear? I was nervous and scared and I LOVED IT. I went to my car and pulled out all of my music. I needed to find the perfect songs for the occasion. Before I knew it, it was dark and the gym was closing for the night. I’d worked out searching for inspiration…for 3 additional hours and had lost all concept of time. But in the end, I felt prepared. I selected six songs. Everything from AC/DC, to Prince, to Van Halen to James Brown. It was a sexy playlist and I had special moves for every song.
On Saturday I spent most of the day shopping for stripper-wear. But came up with little more than some thigh high fishnet stockings, a black lace corset, long black gloves and a black cowboy hat. I had a little black dress and boots perfect for the occasion.
Sunday arrived and I was beyond nervous. I almost backed out. But the adrenaline junkie within me took over and I found myself on his doorstep at 7:05. He ushered me in a side door and had me wait in his bedroom while his guests watched the game. He brought me a strong cocktail, which was the liquid courage I needed. I tossed the drink back and waited for my cue. I’d already given him my “mix tape” and he had it poised and ready.
He opened the door and took my hand as he led me to his game room. There were about a dozen men there. All of them were surprised to see me. Tim turned the stereo on and introduced me as a “close friend” who came to entertain them.
“Tonight, you will remember this halftime show far more than the game itself. Feel free to tip this young beauty as you see fit. But no groping. She is a lady and I hope to have her back for future parties.”
At that point, I heard the first riff from Back in Black and I found myself in the zone. I’d brought a kitchen chair to the center of the room and straddled it as I began my routine. I had them in the palm of my gloved hand as I mixed belly dance with burlesque. By the third song, Prince’s Darling Nikki, I was down to the corset and cowboy hat. I closed out the routine with James Brown’s Man’s World, a slow and decadent song where I received the most tips, in nothing but my boots and a g-string. I felt like a goddess.
I received an additional $100 in tips and a roaring round of applause with lots of inquiries about my availability for other parties. I was not prepared for that type of reception. And Tim looked like the hero to all of his friends.
“You were amazing. I am so proud of you…and I am so turned on. Fuck me here. In front of them. I want them to watch us.”
I was not prepared for that. But at this point, I’d had another strong cocktail and I was game for the exhibition. I looked at him and pulled the chair over to the side of the room, where I motioned for him to sit down.
I knelt in front of him and unfastened his pants, pulling them down slowly. I could feel his hard cock beneath his boxers as I pulled them off. I provocatively pulled my g-string off as I mounted him on the chair. His friends were quiet as they watched us. I think they were shocked that we were so audacious to fuck right there…in front of them. He pulled me down on his cock hard as he rammed himself inside.
I gasped with delight as I rode him. He squeezed my breasts and kissed me as he pounded my hole. I remember how amazing it felt to come unglued and orgasm in front of a group of strangers. They were speechless. The game had been back on for over 30 minutes, and the TV was not even turned on.
But they were.
Best halftime show ever. I don’t know who won the game that year.
But I felt victorious.