The extraordinary prolongation of sound jerked Polly’s pretty head away from her work at the calibration machine. Today’s jobs had seen her at her thorough and meticulous best but as afternoon melted easily into evening, these latest reverberations meant she’d no longer be able to focus to the level required. Her boss had just dropped The Bomb.
As her ear drums filtered the noise, the technician’s bright mind was flooded with delight, her eyes no longer felt dry and tight with concentration; she was caught riding the crest of a massive wave of admiration.
Sitting her specs on the desk and pushing herself off the comfortable heat of her work stool, Miss Filla let the soundwaves pull her to her feet and carry her off to the main source of the captivating music.
In honour of Dixon Avenue Basement Jams spending four years at the forefront of the global electronic music scene a new release was planned to shake the foundation to the very core. Techno wizard Big Miz had been charged with delivering the goods and by the Gods, the Glaswegian had cracked it! He’d created, not just new tunes, but a whole new fucking genre. Polly could feel the vibrations pulsating through every part of her curvaceous body as she sashayed along to the seductive beat.
Undoing a hair clip with a swift, deft movement, a powerful shake of her neck had her long black shiny mane falling freely down to her shoulders. Her white lab coat fell to her ankles along with her pencil skirt and she stepped out of them ripping off her blouse as she did so. Off too came her lace bra and the clumsy constraints of her office stilettoes. Finally, she slipped off her white panties, and in a move worthy of a French cancan dancer, kicked them far across the room.
Polly’s black stocking soles left slight sweat marks on the stone floor of the laboratory as she padded nearly naked towards the master of ceremonies. She could barely contain herself as she gazed at Big Miz’s massive, throbbing pink 12 incher; the source of the magic.
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