Can you Dance？

Marigold confessed to Greywolf, "Sir, I know you paid to see something specific, like me performing a strip dance. Is that what you want?"

Greywolf pondered for a moment and asked in return, "Can you dance?"

Marigold shook her head, "I'm sorry, sir. If I had known that Fantasy was an adult-themed channel, I wouldn't have started my live stream here. I can't dance, and I won't become a stripper, never.

It's against my principles. Although I'm grateful for the props you tipped me with, I cannot fulfill your request. If you want to retract the props, I can refund the money to you."

Greywolf quickly intervened, "No, Mary, I don't want to demand such strict requirements from you. Indeed, the people who come here are looking for strippers, but if you genuinely can't do it, that's okay. No one says you have to dance provocatively here. You're adorable, Mary, just watching you sing is enough to make people happy."

A warm current surged into Marigold's heart. She didn't know how to describe this feeling in words—a long-lost sense of respect.

Even her fiancé, David, might not have shown her this level of respect in a long time. David was somewhat chauvinistic, believing that everything should be done his way, always disregarding Marigold's opinions and thoughts.

This kind of respect was now coming from the mouths of viewers in an adult livestream, which was quite ironic.

Greywolf insisted that Marigold should not refund the money, but in return, Marigold had to go live every day, albeit with simple singing and hand gestures for dancing.

Greywolf would occasionally reward her with substantial props, and whenever he started tipping the Noble Queen, Marigold knew it was time to open a private room and chat with him.

Greywolf was witty, humorous, and knowledgeable.

Marigold often found herself unable to resist discussing anthropology, history, or the current economic situation with him.

He would always engage in the conversation, even on topics he wasn't familiar with, patiently listening to Marigold as if he were an earnest elementary school student paying attention in class. Marigold, accustomed to giving museum tours, found it highly gratifying.

Of course, Greywolf would occasionally mention strip dancing.

However, he seemed to be more interested in the artistic aspect of dance than the explicit nature of it. Marigold guessed that he must have graduated from some art-related field.

He often introduced her to dance arts and music styles from around the world. When Marigold mentioned her military service and her familiarity with exercises involving heavy loads rather than graceful dance movements, he would laugh and then instruct her on how to dance, sing, and express her emotions...

Marigold was getting completely absorbed in it.

And on this day, when she invited Greywolf once again into the private livestream room, she naturally asked, "Sir, would you like to evaluate your teaching achievements?"

The microphone on the other end went silent for a moment, and Greywolf seemed caught off guard.

"Um... you mean, strip dancing?" he asked.

"That's right. If I only dance for you and no one else, it doesn't go against my principles." At least dancing for a friend doesn't count. She and Greywolf were friends by now, at least in her mind.

The Fantasy channel had strict rules, and private livestreams couldn't be recorded, so there was no need to worry about the video becoming a part of her dark history.

Greywolf sent a smiling emoji, indicating his agreement. Marigold changed into her carefully prepared butterfly-themed dance dress, sheer black stockings, and sparkling high heels with butterfly elements. She sat in front of the camera and began her performance.

She had even gone to the theater to watch an artistically expressive dance show, learning the movements and postures of a true dancer, learning how to coordinate her body even when it felt out of sync.

Though she couldn't achieve the same level of perfection, at least she was much more entertaining to watch than when she first started, looking as stiff as a zombie.

As the passionate and sensual samba dance came to an end, she paused in a seductive pose. Her shimmering butterfly dance skirt had been removed, revealing a black body-hugging halter top and semi-transparent lace hot pants. This was her limit.

"How did I do?" she asked, slightly out of breath. After all, she wasn't used to dancing and had underestimated the physical stamina required for a full dance routine.

A low chuckle came through the microphone on the other end. "You're quite captivating. Honestly, I made the right choice with the private room. I don't want anyone else seeing you like this."

Marigold felt gratified. Since the other person had paid, she was their customer. To satisfy such a skilled customer meant that her efforts over the past few days hadn't been in vain.

"Thank you, Mr. Greywolf," she replied.

"But, it would be even better if you could take off the stockings," the voice on the other end said, so smooth that she didn't realize the dangerous nature of the request. "Slowly, slowly roll them down, and then confidently take them off. Be quick."

Marigold took a deep breath, hesitating whether or not to comply. Greywolf added, "Of course, if you want to stop, it's okay too."

Maybe it's okay to give it a try. She thought with delight as her hand instinctively reached for the edge of the stockings, rubbing them between her palms and slowly rolling them down.

"That's it," Greywolf's voice continued to flow through the headphones, with the left and right channels intertwining. Suddenly, her whole body felt like it was being electrified, tingling and sensitive. Damn, his voice was too sexy.

"Feel the slight touch of your hand, stockings and skin, stick your fingers in, and then, quickly peel them off."

Marigold followed suit. The stockings are quickly stripped from her legs like a cicada slough. The whole process was so smooth as if Greywolf did it personally for her. Greywolf complimented her loudly, followed by voice instructions on how to take off the hot pants. Marigold was in a bit of a bind.

"I... I haven't done it before. I'm not very good at..."

" Inexperienced or inconvenient?"

"Both... I'm about to get married, Mr. Greywolf, and as you know, my fiancé might be angry with me doing this. That sounds like betraying him..."

"It's okay. I'm not forcing you to striptease. You can turn the camera around now. There's no need to film yourself."

"Don't you even want to see me?"

"I just want you to know that you're beautiful, but you're depressed. Whether you accept being a stripper or not, you need an outlet to express yourself."

Marigold swivels the camera around and points it at an orchid in the corner with half believing.

"Is that OK?"

"No problem. Now push your fingers slowly into the edge of the bra and try running a circle of your breasts through your finger belly."

Once again, Marigold followed suit. Now she felt relaxed a lot off camera. Her bra is very tight, and she deliberately bought the ill-fitting small-cup bra to show her cleavage.

David always complains about her small breast, and she doesn't have much money for breast augmentation. As soon as the fingers went in, the breast felt more pressure, and Greywolf's voice came over the earpiece like a dreamy talk.

"Gently, slowly stroke yourself. First to your left, then to your right. Finally take your front buckle off."

"Isn't it a bit tight? Don't wear underwear that doesn't fit you. Your breasts, when completely unbound, should be beautiful. Now run your fingers slowly over every inch of your body, let them breathe, and talk to them, gently and gently, as I taught you."

Marigold did all of that. Guided by Greywolf's seductive voice, she gets to know her body in such detail for the first time. Soon, she was following the teacher again and shedding her underwear.

"Your voice, good, a lot sluttier than when you're on the air everyday. Tell me, how do you feel right now?"

Greywolf's voice is like the edge of a dream, with the tide rolling up the beach in the pale moonlight, and the sea is filled with mist.

"As if... Like in a dream, comfortable..."

She breathed nervously and quickly, and for a long time neither of them spoke.

There was only silence. And Greywolf, matching her mood and experience, began to breathe slowly. His breathing was steady and forceful, as if it were a strong hand calming Marigold's strained nerves.

Marigold got aroused with pants all wet.

It had been a long time since she'd had sex with David. This time, the mere act of masturbation is more appealing to her than sex with David, especially under the guidance of such an amazing voice.

Like a summer breeze, Greywolf gently pounced on her naked body, as if it was he, not he, who was caressing it.

"Greywolf, I'm so comfortable. Would you come again?"