Gotta dance

Sunshine Eclipsers. How had he never heard of her? The DJ listed claims: that she had crushed several beer cans in a row with the thumping of her breasts on live TV, that during an action movie she had accidentally hospitalized a man with a blow to the head by turning too quickly, that she needed to be chauffeured to keep from constantly honking the horn. Sunshine came out, and he believed all those claims and more. It was not just her bust that was a cartoon come true, it was all of her: her deliciously tanned skin, her long soft wild white-blonde mane of hair, her soothing cocoanut scent, her flared hips, wiggly waist, high legs and perfect ass. Her body was gloriously impossible, and her athletic agility with it, throwing herself high up a pole and twirling her way down, was impossiblity squared.

Eventually she made her way to him, and then seemed momentarily stunned out of performance mode, doing a bit of a double take to get a good look at him. She shimmied over and happily crouched down.

"Hi! I'm Sunshine! What's YOUR name?"

"Gunnar."

She looked confused, evidently expecting something more like Bill, but she played to him. It was a bit of a relief: for once, this was a woman who did not seem to know him as "Mr. Hart" from some prior experience he could not remember. She looked fully attracted to him, instantaneously and genuinely.

She got around the stage, but returned to him as she was wrapping up and spoke with him. "I want you!" she confessed. "I want to dance for you!"

"I want that too."

A few minutes later, Sunshine was in a barely adequate semi-modest costume dress, greeting fans and urgently winding her way to him. She took his arm in hers, looked up at him with big eyes and gigantically bigger knockers, and said "My helper is setting up my merchandise -- so let's go dance right now!"

He happily followed her lead, and they walked to the curtained booths.