Immi's Assy Debut

"Five minutes to show!"

Two weeks later, Imogen Heap sat in front of a mirror, doing her makeup. It gave her time to think about what had happened since her ill-fated visit with John Doe.

Her departure from the music scene as a solo artist made hardly a blip in the news cycle. With some clever work from John Doe's office, Hide and Seek - her sampled song - went from a unique creation all her own to a piece owned and written by Derulo himself that Heap merely performed like an older Rebecca Black. The headache legalese and her lack of status deterred any real digging, ensuring any awkward questions about her fall from grace were laid to rest before her grand debut.

As a backup dancer.

The thought made her cringe. A whole eleven years older than Derulo, and here she was, applying lip gloss to look good for him. Foundation, shiny eyeshadow and black eyeliner prepared her face for the cameras. With impeccable timing, she placed the finishing touches and received her cue.

3... 2... 1...

The lights went up. The music kicked in. As Derulo and the other dancers got started, Imogen made her way to side stage. A smile **** itself as she entered to show herself at those familiar lines.

"Wha-wha-wha-wha-what did you say?"

She didn't sing it. The speakers did. She was too preoccupied with showing off her black bra, plainly visible with her bare belly thanks to the short light denim jacket. Her black shorts looked modest from the front, tied on the sides - for a reason. A reason soon to become clear. Just like her kneepads and gloves served a purpose.

She approached center stage. Spinning, rolling her arms and hips to the rhythm, matching her fellow backup dancers, until she reached the man himself. Grabbing, grinding on and rubbing Derulo's chest for only a moment, Imogen slipped to his front and got on her knees. Kissing his bright red shoes like an eager **** was part of the act. But it wasn't the worst. The worst part came when she heard...

"Mmm, whatcha say..."

Acting fast, she popped up from her knees and parted her legs. Wide. Hanging her ass high, nearly to Derulo's crotch level but facing the crowd. Fishnet and side ties kept the shorts in place while she strained every muscle in her body to keep the pose, propping her upper body up with her arms. Then, the next verse came.

"Mmm, that it's all fooooor the beeeeeest."

And she twerked. Madly. Shaking those cheeks in time with her own voice, she peered past them in horror at the adoring fans and rolling cameras there to capture every vivid second of her debut as a piece of ass to be ogled for thrills at a concert held by the man who made so much more of her own work than she ever did. Even upside down, she could see the leering, the arousal, of horny boys and girls who would remember her for this and only this. Confirmed by her own voice seconds later.

"Of course it is."