Yes, we had money and could afford the upfront costs of entry fees and all my clothes, my makeup artist that comes with me, and travel expenses, but to the judges, sponsors and donors told them you had community support. You were likable and marketable. And for even the wealthiest contestants, those were the key points to scoring high.
The tradeoff for obtaining sponsorship through boutiques and stores was usually becoming a walking billboard for them and blasting them every chance you could during the pageant and preseason. Which wasn’t the worst thing. I didn’t mind, especially since I loved my sponsors. Among my list, I always had my make-up artist Billie and my hairstylist, who happened to be Hollis’s sister, Callie. The ones I typically gained each season were boutiques who handled either one piece or all.
This year, though, I was hoping to pull a big name and custom pieces from O’ni for at least regional and of course nationals if I placed.
I just had to type the letter, and with it being so late in the season, I wasn’t hopeful. Securing top dollar names meant you had to be out early scouting, like at least six months in advance, not weeks like me.
“Ay, moans and groans, this isn’t like you. What’s going on?”
“Girl, the stress is real. There’s one sponsor I haven’t obtained yet. Mama Steph has been low-key nagging about it.But my focus has been on my talent portion. I added this new element to my talent and it’s taking a lot of my time, but it did get me a sponsor through the trainer.” I chuckled at that thought. Kimmie wanted to branch out and start offering pole dancing classes and convinced me that being a sponsor would help her idea come to life. I was all for it since the proof of her being good was in me killing it on the pole.
“Ooh what’s the element? That goofy looking smile tells me it’s something good as hell.” I laughed before I answered.
“Oh yeah, I added a pole to the silks.”
She gasped as a full blown smile spread and her eyes grew wide.
“Johnni Lourdè, I know you fucking lying! And Q is okay with that?”
I groaned, “Girl, yes and no. Yes, because it’s worse than it sounds, and no, because of my practice location. But he’ll be fine.”
“Okay, just be careful.”
“I will.”
My phone vibrating had me happy for the needed distraction to end this conversation.
“Oh, well duty calls. I love you. I promise the next time I stop by I’ll stay longer and even bring you another surprise.” I grabbed my purse right before I walked over to Mickey, placing a kiss on her cheek.
“I love you more. Thank you for coming to see me today.” I smiled as I headed out the door, going for my phone, seeing a text from Quincey.
Q: The car will be there shortly. Have fun and be safe. Love you Josie.
I shrieked as I got in my car, so I could speed home. It was time to relax.
Slap!
“They can’t hear you.” I looked down at the stage to see a female Dom, commanding all eyes on her as she sent the whip across her sub's ass. Even in the dim club lighting, I could see the spot was red and welting up fast. I crossed my legs tightly for dear life, doing my best to not cum from just being a fly on the wall. The Dom was only supposed to be teaching us the proper way to do a double knot around the balls but somehow ended up having to punish her sub who’d gotten mouthy.
I was turned the fuck on. I was at Seventh Heaven on the island, a popular sex club that was the greatest escape from reality for a freak like me. It had seven floors of fun. The first was just the lobby, but trust. Even if the people couldn’t play, it didn’t stop them from still putting on a show. The second was for playmates who loved to either put on a full movie or for those who loved to watch. The third was Toy Story, the store full of treats, tricks, and all the things needed to ensure you’d have a weekend worth remembering.
Now, from four on up was where the fun truly began. Four was for the couples who loved sharing and swingers. Five was the floor all about BDSM and bondage and the winner for my night. Six was for the poly crew; singles joining couples, singles enjoying other single parties.
This was Quincey’s best idea yet when it came to relieving my stress. I had to admit I had the best husband. And I knew how this looked. What was a married woman doing in a sex club without her husband? Quincey and I had a semi open relationship.
On weekends we got to come play on the island. Most of the time we came together, but on occasions like this, I came by myself. With the club requiring everything we both needed, like discretion and updated, regular testing, this was the best place for us to explore our personal kinks and desires without worry.
It had been a couple weeks since I had been able to make my way down and he must’ve known.
Of course he knew, Johnni, your husband knows your every move.
Which was true. Another wonderful detail about my marriage. The sub’s deep voice brought me back to my current situation as I put my gaze back on them.
“I’m my mistress’s bitch and I live to serve her!”
Crack!
Another slap had me jumping as if I could feel the impact that had the sub’s dick leaking cum.
