Milk Jugs it is

Fuck it. Let's keep auteur Terrance happy.

"Well, I suppose there's no need to trouble PA Tyler. Especially if it'll interfere with your... artistic process."

Terrance clapped his hands together around the camera he's holding, which was actually just an Iphone. Probably his own personal one. Which will soon have my breasts saved into it for all time. Again, great. "Wonderful, my dear. I knew you would understand. Now, if you have no questions...?"

I shook my head.

"Perfect! Then we begin once again from the Dancing and Bouncing Phase. And when I move in for the close up, that shall be the sign that it is time for our reveal," he says, breathlessly, as if he's talking about shooting some self-important Oscar bait instead of thirst traps for gambling addicts.

"Good," he exclaims, readying his phone's camera. "And with the music. Action!"

The rhythmic EDM beats blare again, and I start dancing. Swaying my hips in time to the beat, flipping the tiny skirt, throwing my tits to and frow. Bending forward to offer lingering glimpses of my generous cleavage. Which will serve, I'm assured, as a launching pad for high quality VFX fireworks in the final cut, and, as i'm further assured, it's all very artistic indeed.

Then Terrance squares himself with me and closes in. The signal.