The red-haired girl closed and locked the dressing room door, turned and faced Glen Fletcher.

"Okay, Ivy, what's it this time?" Glen demanded, finding it hard to keep his eyes off her wonderfully voluptuous figure. The green dress accented every sexy curve, cut deep at the neckline to reveal two large thrusting breasts. Ivy Turner grinned seductively, her light-green eyes sparkled.

"What you think, lover-boy?" she inquired, stepping forward in a rolling-hipped fashion that made her large breasts tremble against the tight fitting, deep neck lined dress.

"Oh, come on, Ivy ... we don't have time for anything like that!" Glen cried, running large fingers through his short-cropped blond hair.

"Fifteen minutes is long enough for me," Ivy laughed, coming to a stop in front of him. Her breasts just touched his chest. Her eyes flared hot. "I need it, Glen. You know that. You know how I am."

Her hips surged against his and rubbed back and forth.

The expression on Ivy's face was wanton heat.

"Come on, please!" She pleaded with her eyes, lips all but touching his, breasts yielding and supple where they pressed to him. He knew Ivy didn't wear a bra under the stage gown. She had told him many times it wasn't necessary to wear a bra. How right the woman was. Her plump breasts were kept in excellent condition by daily exercise. They were firm and fully packed, self-supporting.

"Please, we don't have much time!" she urged, sliding a hand around his neck in a thrillingly caressing motion. "You know how it is with me!"

"Sure, you need it like a hole in the head!" Glen laughed. They had screwed around a lot in the last months since Ivy had joined his combo. It had started the first day they met, when she'd come in for an interview. She wore a low cut sweater, casual looking, but the buttons on top unlatched to show off her breasts to a very nice advantage. It was sex at first sight as far as he was concerned; and she liked being with a man late at night--or any time of day!

Since then it was a fairly casual thing; if she needed it she'd come to him like this. Or when they were finished for the night and could go back to the hotel or motel where they'd have a "night-lunch" as she called it. Ivy had a good imagination and served up with some delectable dishes.

"Come on, lover," Ivy breathed against his lips. Then her tongue ran along the surface of his mouth, tingling the nerves.

The first time they had played around the fact that each wanted to leap into bed with the other; it had taken a full day to get to a bedroom. The interview first, then the audition, dinner and later, after the club had closed, a night-lunch at Ivy's apartment, which led to the more intimate relationship that had continued ever since.

Glen didn't fight any longer. It was useless to fight Ivy once she'd turned on the raw sex like that. They wouldn't even need fifteen minutes--and didn't have that much left.

They were between sets, and it was possible to keep the customers happy with silence and booze for only so long.

Ivy pulled up her dress, gathering the skirt around waist.

"See? No panties!" she announced in glee. She was five feet six inches of hot, passionate sex, offering itself for quick, frantic tumble.

Ivy knew the road to fast sex; she knew Glen well enough to drive his need to the point of no return. Her hands moved over him, playing hot teasing games until he felt the need burst full bloom.

There had been no lingering build up; no real foreplay.

He could feel the pressure building within himself; and then she suddenly moved, swift, skillfully, not waiting. Her whole body enveloped him.

"You're so good!" she sobbed, clutching to him.

And now their climax was slashing into reality.

All at once she strained, trembling all over and then held him tightly in place.

A sob uttered from Ivy's lips as she fell back.

"Oh, it was great. How I needed it!"