This goth boi owned a loft, with a home theatre. He wanted me to decorate the floor. What I did was paint it all glossy black, then I took a thick gold metallic marker and wrote things all over it in cursive. Some random phrases and words, some math formulas, sometimes writing backwards, and in one spot I wrote "Pamela Anderson Lee." Then I applied varathane over the whole floor, so it was shiny but you could still read it.
Pamela and a friend appeared. I told them what I'd done, and that her name was on the floor, and they wanted to see it. So I took them to the loft. The boi was sitting on a couch watching the big screen TV. I was wearing tight black PVC pants and platform boots, and a black jacket. I was thin again. Pamela wore a red PVC miniskirt and slutty heels, and her friend was dressed similarly. When I showed her the floor we all crouched down to read stuff; she was fascinated by it. I tried to find her name to show her and we ended up all writhing around on the floor, crawling and rolling around and examining the words. I was just about to pat her butt to ask her to move over because I thought she was sitting where her name was written, when I looked up and saw the boi on the couch. He had muted the volume of the TV and was watching us with a look that was half-bemused, half-horny, like he couldn't believe his luck.
