Selma plopped down on her couch and twirled her signature black hair. She had just finished her biggest North American tour and finally had time for some rest and relaxation. Her social media was full of the usual videos and posts: cats doing funny things, wanna-be stars doing make-up tutorials, men injuring themselves for laughs. Advertisements were predominately layered in between every second post, but Selma paid no attention to them. She knew they were designed for the consumer mindset. As she scrolled, a mesmerizing video caught her attention. Become a back-up dancer for the hot new Pop Star Roland Hills.
Roland Hills managed to shroud himself in secrecy while building a lucrative brand that was in-demand everywhere. His concerts sold out. His merchandise was selling like crazy and other artists were clamoring to work with him. She tried to reach out to him, but to no avail. To her, he was a total mystery.
The advertisement went full screen. The moving pictures and flashy imagery captured her attention. She stared and stared, taking in the rare opportunity before her. Slightly amused at the thought of being someone else’s back-up dancer, she checked the time. The auditions were at 5pm and she had a celebration party for her tour at 9pm. So much for resting, she thought.
Selma wore jean shorts that barely covered her ass and a tight white t-shirt that propped up plenty of cleavage. She arrived and found a line-up of girls trailing out the building and around the corner. As she made her way to the registration table, she noticed everyone was wearing the same outfit and a sticker on their forehead.
“Hi I’m Selma, I wanted to audition for Roland Hill’s back-up dancer position.” Selma said confidently.
The lady wrote her name down and gave her a number. Selma put the sticker labeled 250 on her shirt.
“It goes up here.” The lady said pointing to her forehead.
Selma didn’t argue and put the sticker on her forehead. She knew there were rules for a reason and arguing only left a bad impression.
“Listen, I have a party to go to tonight, so do you think I could audition right away? Tell Roland, Selma is here.” Selma said with a smile.
“You wait in line like everyone else. Next.” The lady said ignoring her question.
Selma’s smile faded and she reluctantly walked to the back of the line. To pass the time, Selma took selfies of herself and posted them on her social media saying she was excited to potentially be a back-up dancer for Roland Hills. It was a humbling experience to be waiting in line with a flock of fans, as usually she was at the end of it. It started to plant the idea that Roland was better than her and it would be an honor and a privilege to be his back-up dancer. Once the line made it inside the building, everyone was told to hand over their phone for privacy reasons. Despite many concerning texts and ignored calls by her people, friends and fans, Selma gladly turned her phone off and handed it over. For the rest of the wait the participants stood single file, in their white shirts and jean shorts with stickers on their head with only one thought in mind, I need to become a back-up dancer for Roland Hills.
Finally it was Selma’s turn and she was brought into the small audition room which had various women posed in a sexual manner around the outside of the wall. She recognized a few as other contestants. She moved gracefully to the center of the room where all eyes were on her.
“Hi, I’m Selma as you probably know. I thought it would be fun to try out as a back-up dancer.” Selma said smiling.
One of the producer put his hands up to signal her to stop talking.
“First off, you are number 250. If we decide to pick you, we will give you a name. Second, do not speak unless we ask you a question. We are here to look at you, not hear you.” The producer said in a stern voice.
Selma understood the importance of following audition rules, so she did as she was told.
“Now we are going to inspect what we’re working with. Stand still and let our stagehands examine you,” the producer instructed.
Several stage hands began feeling Selma up. They groped her, felt her hair, played with her pussy and ass. Every area of her body was touched, rubbed or groped as she stood staring blankly ahead. She knew the importance of finding out the strengths and weaknesses of a potential dancer. They explored her body to ensured she had all the necessities to perform the physically demanding task of dancing. The stagehands were satisfied and gave the thumbs up.
“Okay number 250, turn around and twerk”
Selma turned around and spread her legs. She twerked and danced, impressing the judges with her control and tempo as her ass cheeks bounced in rhythm with the music.
“Stop.” The producer said.
Selma stopped mid-twerk. The producers discussed, occasionally glancing at the frozen beauty. Selma didn’t usually twerk as it wasn’t a very energy efficient dance. However she did find time at home to practice in case she ever wanted to. She held her legs spread apart with her ass barely being contained by her jean shorts, giving the producers a wonderful view. There was silence at the producers table as they reached a consensus.
“We will keep you for the next round,” said the main producer.
Selma wanted to ask when the next round was, but she knew the rules.
“Number 250, please take a position around the room and let our stage hands pose you.”
Selma walked over to an empty spot next to a gorgeous blond posing like Wonder Woman. She stepped on her own platform and stood still. The stagehands played around until they settled on a hand on hip, hand on head pose with a sexual gaze. She held the pose as she was instructed. It was now 9:30pm and she knew she was going to miss her own party. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was becoming a back-up dancer for Roland Hills. She made it pass the first round over hundreds of girls and wasn’t going to quit now. She remained posed on display with the rest of the hopeful girls.
The remainder of the audition went on for another two hours before the final spots were decided. The producers left the room to break for an hour leaving all the girls posed along the side. Despite being left alone, none of the girls moved. They had been instructed not to and they all knew how important audition rules were. For now, they were all just decorations inside the audition room frozen in various sexual poses and positions.
The producers finally returned, this time with Roland Hills himself. Selma felt a surge of excitement as she saw Roland in person for the first time. He was everything she thought he would be. Roland was wearing a white suit, complete with white tie. His signature blond hair was gelled back, but left a wavy natural appearance instead of the usual slicked oil most guys end up with. He wore gold trimmed glasses which blended well with his tanned skin.
Roland lead the producers around the room and gave the final say on each girl. His goal was 15 girls out of the 50 girls posed. If a girl was selected, he’d give them a new name and once they were all selected, they would be driven to the dance studio to start the process of officially becoming a back-up dancer for Roland Hills. If a girl wasn’t selected, she was sent out of the room immediately.
It felt like ages as Selma watched Roland make his way around the room. Despite already being at the audition for almost eight hours, waiting for Roland to make it to her seemed like an eternity. With three spots left, Roland stepped in front of Selma. She was nervous and held her pose as perfectly as she could, keeping her breathing to a minimum. Roland watched her in silence. He never thought the advertisements would work, but here was one of the biggest Pop Stars in the world trying to gain his approval. He recalled the memory of going to one of Selma’s concerts with his sister and all the waiting they had to do before and after. It was satisfying knowing she went through the same ordeal.
“All right she’s in. We’ll call her Diamond.” Roland said casually, giving Selma the impression that she barely made the cut.
Selma maintained her pose as Roland and the producers moved on. She was mentally screaming with joy having been chosen as a back-up dancer for Roland Hills. She couldn’t understand why, but she felt more excitement now than when she released her first album. It was an absolute honor and she promised herself she would work her ass off to keep it.
After all the girls were selected, they were driven by bus to the dance studio and ushered into a small auditorium for an introduction. Roland was noticeably absent. He probably has more important things to do, Selma thought.
“Congratulations young ladies, you have all been selected as back-up dancers for Roland. This includes concert performances and music videos,” the producer said proudly.
The girls all smiled at the opportunity ahead. Selma still couldn’t believe she had been chosen as she looked around at the other back-up dancers. She had worked with some of them before on her own videos and concerts. To be able to compete with them meant Roland saw something special in her.
“Now here are the rules. First you will sign a contract indicating you are possessions of Roland Hills. Standard contract stuff. Since you’re basically objects on the stage, we need to ensure we have ownership rights. By signing this, you and everything you own will become property of Roland Hills.” The producer explained.
Selma knew the hassles of ownership issues when it came to shows and videos. She understood the lengths the artist needed to go to protect themselves and their work. It made sense that Roland wanted ownership of his back-up dancers to ensure they couldn’t sign with anyone else.
“Second, we will tattoo Roland’s Bitch on your ass cheeks as a sort of group unity. You’re a family now and we want to mark that occasion.”
Selma smiled. She liked when cast members or band members did something to form a bond and have something to remember.
“Third, you will all be living at Roland’s house in a separate area. If you are not chosen for a particular project, you will remain at the house and practice dancing. Is everything clear?”
The girls nodded and smiled. A wave of excitement washed over them.
“Great lets get those contracts and asses signed,” the producer yelled.
Selma was fifth to go. She sat down across from the lawyer with the contract in front of her.
“Okay Selma, this contract states that you, Selma Lopez, give Roland Hills all rights and legal ownership of your name and everything associated with your brand. You will then legally change your name to Diamond Bimbo, and by doing so become property of Roland Hills to do with as he sees fit. Is that understood?” the lawyer asked as he offered her his pen.
Selma grabbed the pen and skimmed through the contract. She would be giving up everything she worked so hard to build. Her name, her brand, everything would belong to him. But she knew this was an opportunity of a life time. To back-up dance for Roland Hills, was a dream come true. She signed her name on the contract and handed it back.
Selma waited lying down with the other girls as her tattoo dried. She pondered her new name Diamond and how she could stand out from the other girls. She knew she had to work hard at dancing, but most importantly she knew she must always follow the rules.
Tomorrow her life would start as a back-up dancer for Rolland Hills.
To be continued.