Exton

My eyes widen when Patti prances onto the stage to the tune of Tiptoe Through the Tulips. Damned if I know where she found it - it sounds like it's being sung by Betty Boop. She's wearing a variation of her naughty schoolgirl outfit - a skirt that's decent by half an inch, ankle socks and saddle shoes, and a skintight t-shirt that's been cut off just below her breasts.

She bounces around like Harley Quinn on steroids, then dances her way to the kiddie pool, where Jeb grins and dumps a gallon of ice water down her front. She squeals and jiggles up and down, then dances her way out of the pool.

Holy shit.

I don't know who her dance instructor was, but Patti has the moves of a gymnast or a Rockette. She does kicks that look like something out of a martial arts movie, all the while keeping those succulent boobies in motion. Her nipples stick out nearly an inch through the thin t-shirt fabric - almost transparent now from the water - and she does bumps and grinds and bows to the audience, flipping up her skirt to show off her new pink panties.

I can't speak for Patti, but I'm breathing hard when she finishes her routine to thunderous applause, and I'm not the only one standing at attention....