James swallowed nervously at the score Dwayne had achieved. Gawd he was good! Most guys couldn't dance like that, that's why James figured this would be a piece of cake. How was he, now she, to know that Dwayne was a dancer. Dwayne's score was a little better than 'her' best ever. There was no way 'she' could win.
Trish stood in quiet triumph. She, now he, knew that the score was fabulous This was so cool! Instead of feeling tired, 'he' felt invigorated. On top of that, Trish was well aware of what 'he' looked like standing there in a thin sheen of sweat, an occasional rivulet dribbling down 'his' abs, and a barely discernible mist of evaporation emphasizing the figurative and literal hot body of Dwayne. Trish just grinned at James' conflicting emotions apparent from 'her' wide eyed nervousness and 'her' unconscious licking of 'her' lips and rigid nipples. "I'll tell you what Jamie, I'll spot you 500 points for one article of clothing up front."
'Get hold of yourself and think', James silently admonished himself. "Uh, OK how about my shoes?"
"No, I don't think so. Your shoes are already off, but feel free to put them back on if you'd like. How about, um ... how about your bra? Yeah, in fact I'll spot you 500 points per cup."
James considered. 'She' had an excellent chance at winning with a thousand point advantage. At the same time, she'd still be fully dressed. "DEAL! Just a minute," James said as 'she' stepped around the corner to strip off the bra.
"Oh James, you have no idea how much bounce-to-the-ounce you are about to experience", Trish muttered to herself and grinned like a Cheshire cat.
