Chapter Six The Perfect Collab
The Perfect Collab
Melody sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through the analytics page of her OnlyFans with a critical pout.
The numbers were undeniably good for a girl who had just graduated high school and was funding her upcoming college life entirely on "donations" and subscription fees.
But looking at the engagement graph, she noticed a worrying trend.
Her subscriber count had spiked massively after her "accidental" nude slip during the deep squat video, and again after she posted the teaser clips that bordered on softcore porn.
However, the retention rate for her actual workout advice was dropping.
"They just want to see me naked," she muttered, tossing her phone onto the duvet.
She thrived on the attention, so she wasn’t shy about showing off her body, but she needed to maintain the veneer of being a legitimate fitness influencer.
If the site became nothing but her flashing her tits and ass, she’d get flagged by the payment processors, or worse, her mom would find out.
She needed "wholesome" content. High-quality, legitimate fitness advice that would give her cover to keep posting the raunchy stuff behind the paywall.
She needed a collaborator. Someone who looked the part, someone who screamed "legitimate fitness expert," but who was hot enough to keep the gooners watching even when everyone was fully clothed.
Someone like… Dorothy.
Dorothy! Of course!
The gym employee with the rock-hard abs and the perfect ass in her leotard. The same girl who had eaten Melody out in the showers with a hunger that rivaled Red’s. Dorothy was perfect. She was credible, she was hot, and they already had chemistry.
Melody found Dorothy re-racking weights in the free-weight section of Fitness World. It was mid-afternoon, a "safe" time when Red wouldn't be lurking, and the gym was filled with the usual mix of serious lifters, cardio bunnies, and sweaty weight loss scrubs.
Dorothy was wearing her signature look: the baggy black sweatshirt over a high-cut leotard, this one a shimmering teal. She looked up as Melody approached, her eyes widening slightly. A flush crept up her neck, no doubt remembering the last time they were in the same room together, naked and wet.
"Hey, Melody," Dorothy said, her voice dropping an octave. She glanced around nervously. "You’re here early. Everything okay?"
"Everything’s great," Melody said, beaming her best influencer smile. She leaned against the weight rack, popping her hip to accentuate the curve in her peach pink yoga pants. "Actually, I have a business proposition for you."
Dorothy blinked. "Business?"
"I’m planning a new series for my channel.
'Core Crushers.' Real, high-intensity ab work.
And let's be honest, you have the best abs in this entire building. Probably the whole zip code." Melody reached out, boldly tapping a manicured finger against Dorothy’s stomach through the sweatshirt. Even through the fabric, the muscle was solid. "I want to do a collab. You and me. We video a grocery run for clean eating, then hit the gym for a partner workout. I’ll tag you, shout you out. It’ll be great exposure. "
Dorothy bit her lip, looking torn between professional caution and obvious intrigue. "I don't know if management would like me making videos on the clock..."
"We'll do it on your off time," Melody countered smoothly. "Plus, it’s not just about the exposure. It’s fun. And..." She lowered her voice, leaning in until her lips were inches from Dorothy's ear. "We had such steamy rhythm last time. I bet we’d look amazing on camera together."
Dorothy shivered. The mention of their shower encounter clearly overcame any professional resistance she had left. She met Melody’s blue eyes, a spark of hunger reigniting there.
"Okay," Dorothy breathed. "I’m off tomorrow morning."
"Perfect," Melody grinned. "Wear something tight. The camera loves definition."
The next morning, the vlog started in the produce aisle of Whole Grocery. Melody had her camera set up on the cart handle, shooting in high-definition selfie mode.
"Hey guys! Welcome back to the channel!" Melody chirped, waving at the lens with exaggerated enthusiasm. "I am here today with a special guest, the ab-queen herself, Dorothy!"
She panned the camera to Dorothy, who offered a shy but charming wave. Dorothy had taken Melody’s advice to heart. Gone was the baggy sweatshirt. She was wearing a matching crop top and short set in slate gray that left her entire midriff exposed. Her abs were, as promised, spectacular.
"So, Dorothy," Melody said, moving the camera back to capture both, “what is the number one mistake people make when shopping for abs?"
"Buying processed sugar," Dorothy said, her voice gaining confidence as she fell into her trainer persona. She reached out, grabbing a stalk of celery and brandishing it playfully. "You want crunch? Get this. Don't get chips."
"Ugh, you’re so disciplined," Melody laughed, leaning into Dorothy’s shoulder. "I have a weakness for Doritos. My stepdad buys them, and they just call to me."
"Bad Melody," Dorothy teased, lightly swatting Melody’s arm with the celery.
The chemistry was electric. As they moved through the aisles, Melody made sure to keep the framing tight, forcing them to stand close together.
They brushed arms constantly. When Melody reached for a carton of almond milk on a high shelf, the camera angle "accidentally" caught the perfect curve of her ass in her shorts, and caught Dorothy looking at it.
"Caught you staring," Melody whispered off camera as they moved to the checkout.
"Can you blame me?" Dorothy murmured back, her eyes hot with lust.
The video continued at the gym. This was the meat of the content. Melody set up her tripod and ring light in the empty aerobics studio, ensuring the lighting highlighted the sheen of sweat on their skin. They even did a little pre-workout spritz with a water bottle to add a photogenic glisten.
"Okay, partner crunches!" Melody announced to the camera. "This is great for building stability and... bonding."
She lay on her back on the yoga mat, knees bent. Dorothy lay opposite her, their ankles interlocking.
"Ready? Up!"
They crunched up simultaneously, their faces coming within inches of each other at the top of the movement.
"And down," Melody instructed. "Up!"
On the fifth rep, Melody held the top position a second extra.
Her exhalation ghosted over Dorothy’s lips and blew a lock of Dorothy’s brown hair from her face.
The camera caught the flush in their cheeks, the heavy rise and fall of their chests, the way Dorothy’s eyes flickered down to Melody’s lips before darting away.
"Great form," Melody panted, staring right into the lens. "See how Dorothy keeps her core engaged? You want to feel the burn right here."
She placed her hand flat on Dorothy’s stomach, her palm sliding over the slick, hard ridges of muscle. She didn’t pull away immediately. She let her hand linger, her thumb tracing the line of Dorothy’s obliques, dipping slightly toward the waistband of her shorts.
Dorothy’s breath hitched, audible on the microphone.
"Okay!" Melody said brightly, pulling her hand back and clapping. "That’s a wrap on the workout segment! But don’t go anywhere, guys. We’re heading back to my home studio to break down the macros of that grocery haul and show you some exclusive behind-the-scenes content."
She cut the recording.
"That was..." Dorothy exhaled, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Intense."
"It was perfect," Melody corrected. She began breaking down the tripod. "You have no idea how much the fans are going to love this. You’re a natural."
"Ideally, I prefer working out without a camera in my face," Dorothy admitted, helping Melody coil a cable. "But doing it with you... it’s different. Exciting."
"Just wait until we get to my place," Melody promised with a wink.
Melody’s parent’s house was a typical suburban two-story, manicured and quiet in the mid-afternoon sun. She pulled her car into the driveway, and Dorothy followed her up the walk, carrying the bags of "healthy" groceries they likely wouldn’t eat.
"Mom’s at work, so it’s pretty quiet," Melody explained, unlocking the front door. "Dean might be here, but he’s harmless."
“Dean?” asked Dorothy.
As if summoned by his name, Dean wandered into the hallway from the living room. He was wearing cargo shorts and a faded polo shirt, holding a half-eaten sandwich. He looked sweaty from mowing the lawn. He stopped, blinking at the sight of the two fit, scantily clad women standing in his foyer.
"Oh, hey Melody," Dean said, swallowing a bite of his sandwich. "Didn't know you were bringing company."
"Hey, uh, dad. This is Dorothy. We’re recording a collab for the channel," Melody said briskly, kicking off her sneakers.
"Hi, Mr... Dad," Dorothy said politely, shifting the grocery bags.
Dean’s eyes drifted vaguely over Dorothy’s exposed midriff, then quickly snapped up to the ceiling as he remembered his previous scoldings. "Right. Recording. Exercise stuff. Good, good. Healthy lifestyle." He gestured vaguely with his sandwich. "I’ll just... be in the garage. Fixing the... thing."
"Thanks, Dad. Don't come in my room, okay? We’re going to be recording audio and need total silence," Melody lied effortlessly.
"Understood. Silence. Zip. Nada." Dean mimed zipping his lips and retreated hastily toward the kitchen, clearly terrified of saying something that would earn him another glare from his stepdaughter.
Melody rolled her eyes affectionately. "He tries. Come on, upstairs."
Melody’s bedroom was a shrine to pink that had been converted over the past few months into an amateur video studio. One corner was dominated by her bed, covered in a plush white duvet and piled high with pillows. The other half of the room was a dedicated studio.
"Whoa," Dorothy said, looking around. "You really take this seriously."