Read Putting the Madge in Danna for Free Online

know, arms
bending slowly up and down at the elbows while legs do a sort of
moonwalk. Zeus likes that dance when we role-play Sci-Fi. Then he
sticks it to me from behind and I regenerate to the tune of his
massive pricker.
    Should I abort the mission, I wondered?
There was an awkward silence in the garage studio as I digested his
words. I looked down and noticed he had added a green shag rug
remnant to the floor. I thought it was grass at first but that
would have been weird.
    “ So,” he said finally, “do
you want to try that song? I have the instrumental track set up.
It’s in the same key as Madonna’s version. It’s in E . Does that work? All
you have to do is put on the headphones then sing into the
microphone.”
    I shrugged my shoulders. “Okay,” I said.
    I entered the recording booth and popped on
the headphones. Then I was all “Test, test,” into the
microphone.
    “ I can hear you fine,”
Chad Mavis said into his desk lamp style mic on the other side of
the glass.
    It was difficult to climb onto the stool he
had there wearing my tiny mini dress. There was no way to remain
demure as I hoisted myself up. Felt like that Lily Tomlin lady when
she plays that baby in an oversized high chair – saw it on TV Land
just last week. I hiked up the dress so that my bare booty-boot
cheeks landed on the hard wood of the stool (he, he, hard wood,
which is what I was expecting shortly in my hoo-ha).
    When I heard the music, I felt more at ease.
I can do this, I thought. I sang the whole song, hitting every note
as Chad Mavis sat on the other side of the console adjusting the
bass and treble levels.
    “ That was great Miss
Elinin..in….”
    “ Elinopoulous,” I said.
“Call me Danna. It’s like Madonna except without the Ma and with an
A. D-A-N-N-A.” I flashed him a big toothy smile like a Miss America
contestant. I have great teeth thanks to several years of braces
and a barrel of whitener strips.
    “ Okay, Danna. That was
aces,” he said. “But I want to try something else. Can you take it
from the top?”
    “ Something else?” I asked
trying to sound seductive-like. “What did you have in
mind?”
    “ I want to do another
take, just to make sure we got it,” he replied. Wow, I thought.
Should I quit my day job and become a lounge lizard? Am I that
good? Maybe I should try out for American Idol! “We can do a splice
and have you harmonized with yourself. Madonna does it all the
time.”
    Do it
again . Hmm, I thought. That’s the one
thing that I don’t really like about singing. It’s like you give it your all
then you have to do the same thing assembly line style just like a
factory worker - over and over.
    And then what, I wondered?
Thirdzies and fouthzies? I must admit, it seemed kind of boring to
be so repetitive. I would have much rather sung a different song. I
thought, why would anyone want to sing in rerun all the time?
Madonna’s been doing it for thirty years or so, longer than I have
been alive. Wow. She’s a real trouper, isn’t she? This actually
made me appreciate her even more. It was work , I realized, not just fun and (in my case) sexy
games.
    I watched Chad manipulate the gadgets on the
recording equipment as I sang the song again. I couldn’t really
tell if he liked my singing or not. He seemed so serious. Perhaps
he’d created a poker face from years of pretending that he liked
his client’s singing. I didn’t want to do it anymore. I had to make
my checkmate move.
    I said, “You know, I bet I
could hit the high note a little better if you came over here and
tweaked my clit. I heard that was part of Madonna’s regimen when
she trained her voice for her role in Evita .”
    Gee, I thought, he seemed so easily
persuaded. I was obviously making that up. He nearly hit his head
on that light fixture dangling from the ceiling. I’m not even sure
he set the record button because he dashed over lickity-split. But,
fucky-doodles, I wasn’t really there to sing, so I didn’t