Sharon Goes Back to School 16

Chapter 16: Who Says What Happens in Vegas…

Sharon rolled to her left… or tried to roll; the heavy blanket kept her from moving very much. She smiled, enjoying the warm bed, and the full, heavy pillow. She settled back, reveling in that semi-lucid lucky time when you can control your dreams, if only for a moment. What was it that Lisa had called it… becoming one with the blankets.

The sleepy housewife giggled at that memory, from the last time she had been able to sleep in, after enjoying a prolonged lesbian threesome with Kelly and the shapely blonde ZB Sister who had started working with them at Go’s. It had started their first day back after the eventful Christmas vacation.

They had not been back a day from Christmas break when Dave had sauntered in during the first of ‘Fallen Angels’ practice sessions before the lunch crowd began to trickle in. He had a pretty, still shy younger woman in tow. The pair had paused to watch Sharon and Kelly before visiting with Go. Sharon had been sure she could hear her fellow ZB Bitch’s cries of pleasure before they came out and Go had explained that they wanted to add Lisa to she and Kelly’s duo. Kelly had immediately pointed out that they were doing pretty well as a pair. Dave had answered that there weren’t many trios working that he knew of. And Go had agreed, adding that having three women would allow them all more ‘flexibility.’ Sharon had wondered what that meant, but the men’s tone had left no doubt the ladies were not being asked for their opinions or given a vote.

So Lisa had started to work with them. Fortunately, though shy, she was a ZB Bitch; she had done enough dancing someplace that she fit in faster than Sharon or Kelly had expected. And the men had been right… Having a girl on each pole with a third working the rail, not to mention having all three pawing at one another had really driven the men wild; they had made Friday night money on Monday night when they did their first set as a trio. Even though Lisa was still obviously less experienced, there had been no complaints; only the dancers seemed to know that their routines had not been perfect.

Having the extra body had also made Sharon’s shifts in the champagne room a little less frantic. Go’s decision had been that she and Kelly would do a set, she and Lisa did a set, and Kelly and Lisa did a set, as well as one or two sets of all three working it for the crowd.

As she was cleaning up after ‘entertaining’ her fifth fan of the night on Tuesday night, Sharon had begun to agree with something she had heard Go say to Dave earlier that night when the men had not known she was nearby: she might need to go back on the testosterone cream. Dave had snorted, asking if Go had enjoyed having her being one cross word from hulking out into a raging bitch, and the big club owner had chuckled, assuring Dave that he had seen bigger prima donnas with less upside.

Go had continued, telling Dave the more dominant ‘Sharon on T’ had been a better draw than the ‘new year’s Sharon’ on stage. They had moved out of her hearing at that point, but Sharon wished Dave would listen to Go. She wanted it, though, for a different reason; the trapped white housewife had been more able to dominate the men who were enjoying her when she had been using the cream. That meant they had gotten off faster, and she had spent less time with her legs spread, cheating on Chris. Not to mention that she had orgasmed like a wild woman fucking on the cream.

Such thoughts brought a ready flush of pleasure between Sharon’s legs, and she absently fingered herself, or thought she did, anyway… maybe she was just masturbating in her dreams, she thought with a broader smile. It was a good thing she was so easily excited, she knew…

From the morning of their first day back, the third day of the new year, Sharon’s life had been a blur. Before Dave’s appearance the first morning at practice, Go had angrily pushed them, complaining that clearly they had not been ‘working on shit’ while they were ‘visiting home.’ He had insisted they do a set at lunch, and she and Kelly had each done a solo set, which of course had turned into time in the blue room.

Sharon had been surprised that the first ‘guest’ had not been her usual admirer at all, but a foreigner with white skin so tanned it looked like leather. The man had been so gaunt Sharon had wondered if he had cancer or something, but he had been anything but frail. She had gasped in real surprise, impressed at the size of his cock, and at the fervor he had shown in using it, pounding into her on the cushion in missionary position until she had cum twice and had asked him in a panting breath if he wanted to try a different position, mostly so she could get a break. He had shrugged, backing out, and Sharon had used the opportunity to roll onto her stomach. The stranger with the clipped guttural accent had taken his cue, spearing into her from behind, fucking her doggy style to his climax a few minutes later.

By then she had remembered where she had heard the accent… several of the men visiting her apartment before Christmas break had spoken that way. What had one called it? Afrikaners. The skinny man had buttoned his pants-- clearly not American clothing-- and she had thanked him reflexively, trying to ignore the protest in muscles and joints as she had stood to escort him out of the room.

That’s when he had asked her if he wasn’t better than her kaffirs. Puzzled, Sharon had assured him he was great. It had not been what he wanted to hear, she could tell, the way his brows had moved close. That suddenly, though, Raoul had been beside them, asking the man if he was trying to make trouble. Smiling blandly, the man had held a hand up as a dismissive answer to Raoul’s question. Sharon was struggling to understand what had happened, including why the strange man had kept the condom he had been using. The gaunt older man had removed a battered wallet, stripping from a thick wad of foreign currency two bills before reaching into his pocket and adding a shiny gold coin, which he had set on Sharon’s dress where it had come to rest on the cushion sometime before. He had winked at the puzzled housewife, then let the big bouncer guide him out of the mostly empty champagne room.

Sharon had picked up the notes, red and orange paper much different than American dollars, the orange marked 200 with a Jaguar on one side and a familiar black face on the other, the red bill marked 50 with a lion on one side and with the same figure on the other. There were words at the edges of the bills, but in the dim light of the champagne room she had not been able to read them. The coin was heavy for it’s size, with an antelope of some sort on one side.

She had shrugged into her dress and padded to the changing room, but had only had time to put the strange money in her purse before Geoff had been in the doorway, calling her name and motioning for her to join him. It had been less of a surprise when her second ‘guest’ was an almost carbon copy of the first man. He had been less endowed, but had been more intent on pleasuring her, which was not the usual practice for men spending time with her at Go’s. Sharon had climaxed repeatedly before he had stiffened, filling his condom as she rode him cowgirl style on the broad cushions.

He had also been more profuse in his thanks, though the words had sounded odd with his clipped accent. Like the man Sharon had assumed was his friend, this admirer had kept his condom. Sharon had hugged his arm, leading him out and had thanked him honestly for being such an attentive lover. The man had blushed, obviously pleased at the compliment, and his flustered response had delighted Sharon, the mood broken only when he had paused at the exit, slipping her a single shiny gold coin. It had looked nearly identical to Sharon in the dim light, but was larger and was noticeably heavier. It had been a truly busy night for the by then dragging housewife. She had serviced ten men between her sets. Two had been ‘regulars’ she had come to enjoy fucking for knowing how to get them off and how to get them to tip her well. One had been a new soldier who had panted to her afterwards that his buddy had insisted he should wait and save his money to enjoy her, adding that she had been worth every penny. While wondering just how much she had cost the men, Sharon had hugged him, thanking him for making is so special for her, too. It always amazed her how much the men wanted to hear that… how easily they believed she meant it. And that because they believed her that they would be back to use her again.

The other five had been like the first pair… that clipped foreign accent. Sadly, all but the second seemed intent only on getting off with her by fucking into her as hard and fast as they could. And all had seemed to have some need to have her assure them they were better than the men who were usually between her legs. She had collected tips in the form of the unusual bills like the first, including another 200, two 100’s, which were green with a bull or a buffalo of some sort on them, and three more 50’s. And she had been gifted by each with another of the strange gold coins, three of the four the smaller coin, barely larger than a nickel. Go had personally shooed her out of the club at 2:30, warning her not to fall asleep yet, his not so subtle way of alerting Sharon that she would be servicing still more men.

Sharon had not had time to consider the men’s gifts, much less eat, because a lanky middle aged man with dyed black hair had followed her up the walk when she parked out front of her condo. He had been polite but insistent, and Sharon had not had to ask how he had learned about her, given that almost sexy clipped accent. He had elected to take her leaning over the back of the sofa in the front room as they watched a tape of her ‘performance’ during the award show from before Christmas break. It had been on a commercial grade disc that he had brought, asking her to sign it and then pose-- naked, after they had completed the act-- while holding for a photo with his cell phone.

He had been squarely in the ‘average’ equipment department, and while he had not been overly imaginative or intent on her pleasure he had slipped a callused hand around her hip, teasing her clit as he had fucked into her, which had been enough for Sharon to get off a minute or two before he had finished. He had declined the bathroom, buttoning up and then leaving after setting the increasingly familiar small gold colored coin and two of the 50 bills on the end table and thanking her for letting him ‘enjoy himself.‘ so thoroughly.

She had ‘entertained’ four additional guests without real pause, once meeting her next suitor as she saw the last out, skin still slick with the heat of their coupling. Instead of being upset, the new man had simply nodded at the other, as if they had met that way before. Panting, wondering if she was done, after closing the door behind the fifth foreigner, Sharon had groaned upon seeing that it was nearly 5AM on Tuesday morning.

She had cleaned up and fixed a cup of easy Mac cheese and pasta, washing it down with a mimosa she had made from the orange juice and champagne ’pop’ bottles that were nearly the only things in her fridge except for beer. Glancing out the window at the lightening sky, she had seen the early risers jogging along the tree lined street between her small place and the campus. Aware that she would soon be working again, Sharon had collapsed on the sofa after setting both the alarm clock by the bed and the alarm on her phone just in case. The phone was back in the front room, and after she had sat down, getting up to stagger back to the bed had been just too big an effort to attempt.

She had jerked awake at the blaring of both alarms just before nine on Tuesday morning. Sitting up, she had glanced out the open front window, absently wondering if that had been open the entire time she had been ‘entertaining‘ the night before, Sharon saw several of the other people that she knew lived in the complex were headed toward the campus, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

Gasping in anxiety, Sharon grabbed the phone, calling the frat in a panic… She knew she had not enrolled, and it seemed as if classes had resumed, even though a little voice at the back of her head was chiding her that the new semester did not start until the twenty first. The voice on the other end had laughed, assuring her she had ‘been taken care of,’ and adding that he was looking forward to seeing her at the back to school party when school had started. The innuendo in his voice had been enough to spark arousal despite the aches pervading the housewife’s body after the extended performances she had put on the night before.



Tuesday had been a repetition of the day before… the girls spent the day at the club working on, then practicing ‘live’ their routines. Sharon had spent more time in the champagne room, servicing the seemingly unending string of foreigners and the odd regular guest through lunch and without pause until their first group set at eight that evening. That night she had serviced four regulars and three new local ‘fans’ before the end of her shift, as well as putting out for another six of her ‘overseas admirers’ as one of the other dancers termed them. Her purse had been noticeably heaver as she finally dragged herself out to the car after 3AM on Wednesday morning.

She had found a stack of books on her table when she went inside, never wondering how the ZB members had gotten them there. There had been a print out of her schedule, as well as the breakdown showing what class on what day. Before she could pore through the schedule, though, there had been a knock on the door.

The exhausted white housewife had been kept busy for another two hours servicing four additional ‘fans’ Go or Dave had sent to her condo. After the last, an older almost skeletal man, had left-- the requisite coin shining where it had landed on the carpet after he had casually flipped it at her from the open door-- Sharon had paused to scoop it up, resolving to learn about the coins the next day… or later that day, she scolded herself, blinking in diminishing interest and focus at the books and paperwork on the table. She had stared at the shiny coin in her hand, then at the door, reminding herself to lock up. She had blinked, aware she had been standing for some time without doing anything… and that she was supposed to be doing something… shower? Eat? Sleep. She had forgotten about the door as she staggered into her bedroom and flopped onto the tousled sheets, wondering how she had ever been able to handle so many men in twenty four hours… or for that matter, in a single night.

Lisa and Kelly had noticed Sharon was dragging during practice on Wednesday. The young blonde had offered Sharon a packet of Spark, laughing when Sharon had insisted she did not want any drugs. Both girls had explained it was like those five hour energy shots that the guys were taking. And Sharon had admitted to herself that it had kept her going through their practice that morning, after which the… activity that was continuing at an unheard of pace had been more than enough to keep her up and running.

Wednesday night, though, Dave had been in Go’s office when Sharon had arrived after their second set, responding to one of the new dancers saying ‘see the boss,’ when the new trio got back stage. There had been a young woman and an older man with them. Sharon had blinked in surprise when Dave had told her that the woman needed to collect some blood from the blonde housewife. Sharon had been horrified, wondering what was wrong, and how she had been exposed, since Shaun and Dave had assured her the frat was careful about that. Even so, she had been distracted by Go, whose glower had held her attention where the big club owner was sitting in his overstuffed desk chair. She had tried to get them to explain what was happening, but at a look from Dave, Sharon had settled into the corner seat of the sofa, letting the mousy woman position her arm. She had looked too young to be a nurse, Sharon had thought idly, but the young woman had been skilled; Sharon had barely felt the needle slip in. For a moment she had wondered if they might have something they could give her to help her make it through the night, but had quickly pushed such thoughts away; she was not going to become some junkie.

“This really fucks up my business,” Go had growled when the woman was done, having handed Sharon a cotton ball that she was to hold with her elbow bent for five minutes.

“You should’ve cleared it with Shaun and I first,” Dave had answered without any sympathy for the older man.

“I told you,” Go had countered, “I didn’t advertise… The damn Afrikaners just started showing up… I had guys asking for our pet housewife before Christmas… some weren’t very happy to find she was on vacation,” he arched an eyebrow and glared at Dave, who rolled his eyes. “And they won’t be happy that they don’t get a taste.”

“Seriously?” Dave snorted, “Let them enjoy any of our other girls… They’ll never get better trim.”

“What can I say, sex tourism is all the rage there and in Australia,” Go shrugged, “And You started it, when you put her on television.”

“They should have made sure she would be here before they bought their tickets,” Dave answered, “Tell them to come back, or stay a week, or offer her partner…” Sharon had wondered if Dave meant Kelly or Lisa. “Hell, send them West,” Dave continued mysteriously. Go snorted, and Dave laughed, “I’ll make sure that you get a finder’s fee.”

“Fuck you, Dave,” Go’s voice had been dangerously quiet, “I’m not pimpin’ for anyone else.”

“Sure you are,” Dave laughed again, “The minute you started using ZB merchandise you were pimping for us.” Sharon had not stayed to listen to more, not wanting to have either of the obviously angry men take their anger out on her. Even though she had come to terms with what she was, the idea that Go saw himself as her pimp… she had shuddered, in part because despite her unease at hearing her reality discussed so frankly, her body had responded to the big man’s presence and the memory of what Go could do to her, which had been more powerful than her shame at being made to fuck strangers for the big club owner’s profit.

She had been puzzled when the bouncer at the pass from the back stage to the main room refused to let her out to work the customers but had also denied that she had an appointment in the champagne room. Instead, he had told her to just sit in the dressing room until her next set. It had proven harder than she expected. She had tried distracting herself by watching the various camera feeds, but that had quickly proved more arousing than distracting, and she did not want the other girls to find her masturbating in the dressing room. She had also quickly tired of deflecting questions from the other dances… what was wrong with her, was she all right, had something happened… She had no answers, and worse, it seemed like some of the other dancers were angry that she was not helping on the floor.

So she had retraced her steps to Go’s office, knocking after a long pause, during which she had twice started to leave. The electric lock on the door had clicked, and she had stepped into Go’s office, suddenly feeling very shy.

“That was amusing,” the club owner had leered at her, “I was thinking you were going to chicken out.” Sharon had frowned, puzzled, until Go pointed at his screen, “I was watching you standing in the hall. She had relaxed and smiled sheepishly. He cocked his head, asking, “What’s going on?” He had leaned back, obviously relaxed, in his element. For a moment Sharon had wondered if there was a dancer under the table with his big cock in her mouth, and a fierce pang of arousal mixed with jealousy had swept through her.

“I…” she had shifted nervously out of the budding need she felt, “I don’t understand what’s happening.” Go had chewed his lip, staring at the beautiful trapped housewife.

“I’m not sure that it maters,” he had answered honestly, and paused, “But Dave has plans for you this weekend, so you’re not allowed to play with any of my customers until you get back.” Sharon had blinked in surprise, wondering why Dave had not mentioned anything, then accepting that he seldom told her what he had planned; she did not have any choice, after all.

“And will I have to… will I have guests at home?” Go snorted.

“If you can’t entertain here you damn sure better not be working at home or I’ll wring Dave’s skinny neck.” The flare of anger had made Sharon flinch, and Go nodded, immediately getting himself back under control. “The arrogant little fuck doesn’t care that I got to deal with people who spent big money to spend some time with you… Fuckers who don’t really like black people at all.” Sharon had nodded, and Go’s eyebrow had lifted again. Sharon had scrambled to explain herself,

“I wondered why there are so many South Africans… uhm, visiting me. I remember a little about the problems there with apartheid.” Go had shrugged, relaxing again.

“Yeah… It’s still a problem. And some of these assholes just want to hear that you like taking their cock as much as mine,” he had snorted at the obvious humor in that comparison. “They’re willing to pay for tickets across an ocean and to the armpit of this country for 20 minutes between your legs.” Sharon had blushed, but Go had wagged a finger at her, “That’s real power,” he admonished, “The President cannot get other world leaders to fly to DC or New York for a meeting as easily.” Sharon had blushed, amazed and proud that she could get men to behave like that.

“I’m sorry it’s a problem,” Sharon told him, “Though to be honest, I enjoy the regulars more.” Go had laughed, and Sharon blushed, horrified that she had admitted that… and that it was true.

“Oh, it’s not that big a problem, little bitch,” the club owner was still chuckling, “And believe me these racist assholes pay through the nose for a turn with our best girl.” Sharon’s blush deepened, her need blossoming. “Don’t’ you worry about it. Just do what Dave tells you and get back here to tease me with that impossibly hot body.” Sharon had smiled at that, automatically assuming a pose she knew was provocative. She wanted to ask about the blood, but sensed Go would not tell her, even if he knew.

“Well,” she bit her lip enticingly, “I haven’t been able to enjoy myself today…” Go snorted, not reminding her that she had been in the champagne room for several hours before Dave had called a stop to things, “And if I can’t work the floor, I thought…” She stopped, unbuttoning the front of the top she had donned in preparing to circulate among the customers. Go smiled, letting the aroused white housewife continue her impromptu striptease. Sharon swayed and moved instinctively, muscle memory from hours and hours on stage syncing with the muted sound of the music playing out in the club. She had closed the distance from where she had stopped until she was leaning over Go’s broad desk, her bare breasts swaying enticingly. The club owner’s eyes followed her every move, and when she climbed up onto the deep mahogany desktop, he pushed farther away from the desk, provocatively lowering his fly.

Sharon’s breath had increased at the partial sight of his big cock, curled inside his trousers. She felt the flow of her juices as if a spigot had been turned. She deftly stripped her panties off, leaving the micro miniskirt in place before executing a graceful somersault across the tabletop dropping smoothly onto the plush carpet in front of Go’s chair, even as her hands eagerly fished the club owner’s cock out of his open fly. She did not bother with teasing, sucking him into her throat and bobbing her head eagerly.

“Mmmm,” Go’s big hand had come to rest in her hair, “That tongue stud does make a difference,” he admitted, and she giggled around his rising erection, fondling his heavy balls with one hand while frigging her dripping slit with the other. He let her continue until he was fully hard, and then caught hold of her hair, lifting her free. Eyes tearing, Sharon whined, trying to reach him with her tongue, her entire focus having shrunk to getting him off… and getting off herself. “You know we shouldn’t be doing this,” he had taunted her, “You’re supposed to be off limits until you’re wherever Dave is taking you.”

“I don’t care,” Sharon had whined, “I want it… Please fuck me, daddy… Please?!” Almost before she knew it, Go had pulled her fully up still by the hair, deftly spinning her so that she found herself face down on his desk. The violence and discomfort did not matter, though, because by then he had stepped up, sliding fully into Sharon’s wanting sex, and the aroused white housewife was thrashing in an obvious orgasm, hips bucking up and back against him, welcoming his thrusts.

He set a languid pace, reaching down to tweak her clit as he relentlessly poled her with his full length. Sharon panted and moaned and climaxed again within a couple minutes. The buzzer rang. Sharon looked over at the monitor by her head. She and Go saw Dave standing in the hallway, staring pointedly up at the camera Sharon had never noticed before. The club owner chuckled, catching Sharon’s hips and picking up the pace.

“Can’t have that little killjoy ruin this, can way?” he grunted. Sharon could not formulate the words to respond, her only awareness that she was about to cum, and her fear that Dave would hear if she cried out the way she wanted. The struggle to keep quiet seemed to increase the power of her climax. And then she felt Go cutting loose deep inside of her. She shuddered, trying to remember if he had done that before. “Don’t worry, little bitch,” he taunted, “I know you’re safe now… This is the way it’s supposed to happen,” he taunted, slapping her ass, still pulsing within her twitching box, “& I have to make you completely mine after all,” he added pointedly. Keeping her impaled on his impressive cock, Go pulled Sharon back until she slipped off of his desk top, almost hitting her head as he settled into his chair. Sharon fell below the desk top, bracing on her hands, and then he was rolling forward, pushing her underneath into the unusually large space beneath his desk. Her body was still trembling from her climax and the sensation of his having filled her up… his big cock still buried inside of her. Go had reached down, tweaking her clit and warned, “Better not make a sound,” and then had buzzed Dave into the room.

“Did you send her home?” Dave had asked without preamble.

“Did I send who home?” Go asked, selecting a page from his in box and lifting the heavy Mont Blanc pen off of the blotter.

“Sharon. I told Daniel to have her cool her heels in the dressing room, but she wasn’t in there.”

“You told Daniel…” Go echoed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know Daniel was your employee.”

“Cut the shit,” Dave said impatiently, “Where is she?”

“How should I know?” Go shifted in his chair, which made Sharon arch her back, biting her knuckles to keep from moaning. Just staying balanced was difficult, her head below her hips, which were anchored in place by Go’s still semi-hard cock. “You told me she was off limits for my customers. I didn’t know I was supposed to keep an eye on her,” He hit a button on his desk and pointed to the bank of monitors which began to scroll through the various cameras, “Here, look for her…” Of course, neither of them saw her. Go rocked in his seat, enjoying having the helpless white wife at his mercy. He also enjoyed Dave being none the wiser, but he did not want to spoil the ZB schemer’s plans; there was a definite upside to having a famous porn star dancing at your club. The combination of pleasant stimuli was quickly bringing him back for more.

“Is her car still out in the lot?” Go asked and Dave shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’ll check.” Dave started for the door, then paused and turned back, “Can you see if Daniel and the others can find her?”

“You’re worried about her?” Go cocked his head. Dave shrugged, then nodded.

“Like you said, you’ll have some unhappy customers. We can’t have someone stealing our girl now, can we?” Go nodded, and given what Dave had said, he wondered if somehow the ZB member had a tap on the club’s cameras. The cameras in his office he had thought were shielded and safe from prying eyes, but he would have to have that checked. He had expected Dave would say something that would anger his best dancer, pushing her more into his own orbit. Go smiled, wondering how much closer Sharon could get to his orbit as he leaned forward on the desk, pretending to respond to Dave’s request, but in reality pushing his resurgent cock fully back into Sharon’s still hot sex. There was a muted moan beneath him that he masked by clearing his throat.

“I’ll do that,” he agreed, flipping a switch and telling the security team to keep an eye out for Sharon, adding that when they saw her they should bring her to his office. Dave nodded his thanks and reached he door, but before he could leave Go said, “So if she’s off limits to our customers, does that mean you aren’t going to get some tonight?” The frat boy barked a laugh.

“Fuck no!” Dave snickered, “I know I’m clean. And she’s my bitch.” Go just nodded, having scored what he wanted, he could tell by the way Sharon had shifted on his gently thrusting cock. Aware that Dave might still know Sharon was there and was playing along, he waited when the other man left until the light on the desk indicated the door had not only closed, but the lock had engaged. Then he rolled back, dragging Sharon, still impaled, out from under the desk. She caught hold of the edge, rising off of her knees and pressing back, taking him to the root, and arched her back, shimmying her hips in a wonderfully erotic manner while holing him buried.

“Not fair,” she managed, but pumped back at him in earnest. Go laughed, spanking her bare ass on three repeated thrusts before he stood up out of his chair, lifting the smaller woman’s feet off of the floor as she gasped, struggling to brace herself on the edge of her desk, her pelvis held suspended in the air by his jutting erection. Chuckling, aware that the rumble would be transmitted through his cock into the helpless housewife’s sex, Go stepped forward, fully burying himself in her delightful heat. He continued forward, and a moment later Sharon was again prone on his desk, their mingled fluids dripping onto the blotter and the carpet in front of her chair.

Go pulled out, pushing a thumb easily into Sharon’s empty pussy and pinching down, his curled fingers applying pressure to her clit as his thumb worked her G-spot in the manner he had seen them practice on one of the recent Sharon DVD’s being screened in the men’s room at the club. Sharon gasped, her back arching. He chuckled again, watching her muscles go taut. He waited a second, then pushed himself into her ass, ignoring the way her breath caught, working his hand in small circles, never releasing the pressure on her sex as he worked half of his big bent shaft into her in once stroke. He backed out to the crown of his cock head, then pushed forward again, seating three fourths of his length.

He spanked her bare ass with his free hand as he backed out, and that seemed to trigger Sharon’s release; she literally flooded the desktop and blotter. Go was surprised, but he did not stop, driving into her more eagerly, seating himself fully, and then immediately set a rapid pace, hammering into her ass in full strokes. Her release ebbed only after almost twenty seconds, and by then Go was ready to finish as well. True, he could have held off, the benefit of years using beautiful women and ‘edging’ when he was alone, but he knew Dave would be back soon if the beautiful white wife did not reappear in the club. It was time to take his own pleasure.

Go shouted as he thrust into Sharon a final time, holding himself tight against her still trembling ass cheeks as he tweaked her clit repeatedly and emptied himself inside of her. Scooping her thong off of the desk with his free hand, he smiled, thinking it had been there while Dave had been in the room. Go wadded the cotton fabric up and used it to dam his cum in Sharon’s loose ass when he pulled out. He flipped her skirt down as if he was concerned about her modesty and swatted her ass through the fabric.

“Better get back to the dressing room so Dave can find you,” he taunted the panting wife and flopped into his seat. Sharon nodded jerkily, leaning down to peck him on the cheek, except that Go turned his head at the last moment and instead Sharon willingly shared a long passionate French kiss. When he backed off, Sharon looked for her top, which had slipped into the seat beside Go. He held it out to her, adding, “You’re lucky,” he glanced pointedly at the wet mess that was his desktop, “If you didn’t have someone looking for you I’d have you cleaning this mess up.” Sharon blushed as she fixed her top.

“It isn’t pee, I promise,” she began. Go laughed.

“Oh I know that,” he had never seen a woman squirt like Sharon… oh, on videos, yes, but over more than a decade breaking dancers in he had never had a woman squirt. Considering the maneuver was so easy, he planned to have lots of girls soiling his blotter going forward. It never paid to let the girls know they had shown him something new, though. “But it’s still a mess. Sexy as hell, but who’s gonna clean this up?” Sharon giggled at the mock severity of his expression. She kissed is cheek, “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she promised and then left, never considering that she had just spoken to the club owner as she would her husband. Then again, she had been so busy since coming back to school that she had not really thought about her ******.

Sharon was still so buzzed from her orgasms and the thrill of Go’s fucking her right in front of Dave without the ZB’s knowledge that she barely remembered the trip back into the dressing room. She petted Daniel’s muscled bicep, smiling blissfully at the bouncer’s surprised reaction and nodding as he stammered that she was supposed to go see Go. She stood on her tiptoes, pecking the blushing man’s cheek, and telling him she hoped he was still working when she got back in a few days so she could see how good he was in the champagne room. The other girls who had witnessed the exchange laughed quietly about the young man’s obvious embarrassment and as obvious arousal. They assumed she was merely taunting the young man, but Sharon’s move guaranteed that the housewife would not be the first dancer to have sampled his charms by the time her chance arrived.

The housewife grabbed her things then dutifully reversed her course, heading back toward Go’s office. Dave intercepted Sharon before she reached it, but with a hand on her elbow he led her to the club owner’s door. Dave knocked and after a moment it clicked open. Sharon was a little surprised to find Naomi on her back with Go humping into her steadily when they walked in. She blinked, aware that it had not been ten minutes since she had been there… with Go fucking her ass.

“Can’t you see I’m a little busy?” the club owner groused, as Dave smirked and Sharon blushed, trying not to feel jealous about another dancer enjoying Go’s attention. For her part, Naomi was clearly enjoying the screwing the club owner was giving her. She did not bother trying to cover up, watching curiously form her upside down vantage point as Sharon shifted beside Dave.

“Glad you have your priorities in order,” Dave smirked, leaving the older man convinced ZB had their eyes plugged into the club’s entire surveillance system. He had to hand it to Dave, though, the young man had kept him in the dark, even making a statement that Go would never have made, because he was sure Sharon would bring up later. Both men were too experienced, though, to have betrayed anything, recorders or not. And more importantly to Go, Dave had not been upset that the big club owner had ignored the ‘off limits’ rule that had been placed on their prize ZB Bitch and budding porn star. He had mostly called Naomi into the office to be an adequate explanation if the ZB had been suspicious but not certain and was worried about the ‘off limit’ order-- Go would have had a valid answer as to who was the blonde he had been fucking.

It had made Go wonder if the ‘erase all’ button that was designed to ‘fry’ the security system in the event of something happening he did not want to have to explain to the police would affect the ZB collection. He knew it would not touch his back up system, because he had been confident no one else knew about the piggy backed redundancy which transmitted all feeds to an off site system that he owned through a shell corporation. The club owner had learned long before to always have contingencies. He wondered if Shaun and Dave were that smart, knowing at a glance that poor Sharon Sobel was not… the woman was book smart, but look what that had gotten her.

Of course, Sharon had had no way of knowing any of that as she stood beside Dave, her attention mostly diverted to the trickle of the club owner’s jism as it was oozing from her pussy. She had her inner thighs pressed tightly together. His second load remained stoppered in her ass by her panties.

“I’m gonna take Sharon now, if that’s OK,” Dave explained, surprising both Go and Sharon.

“She still has a set,” Go pointed out unnecessarily.

“But you’ve got Lisa. I watched them last set; she’ll do fine,” Dave was not really asking, and to Sharon’s surprise Go just nodded. Again she found herself feeling jealous, this time at how easily she could be replaced in Fallen Angels. And she was anxious about whatever it was that Dave had planned. As Dave caught her elbow and led her out, Go shouted after them.

“Bring our girl back ready to work, Dave…” Dave had just waved his free hand, but Sharon had felt a perverse swelling of gratitude that both men thought of her in a protective way. The possessive component was no longer something she dwelled on.

Though she had her things, Sharon asked Dave to let her change. She was wearing only a halter top and a thin minidress, nothing she would usually wear out of the club. Dave shook his head, telling her they did not have time. Puzzled, since he had to have expected she would dance the third set, the blonde white housewife nevertheless obediently followed her lover and handler out to her Range Rover. She did not wonder that Dave had a remote and key for it, simply climbing into the passenger seat. And she never even considered asking where they were heading.

She would have recognized when Dave took a different exit than what she usually used to get home, except that the big frat member opened his pants and had the white wife bobbing her head on his cock before they had even pulled out of the club’s parking lot. He stopped to get the ticket from the automated machine, pleased when Sharon never slowed or stopped to see what was going on, even when he lowered the window. He selected a stall in the more expensive covered parking area before he killed the engine, leaving the radio blaring as he reclined the driver’s seat and let Sharon finish him off. He did not bothered trying to delay it; she was really a skilled cocksucker, after all, so she did not need the practice, and they really did have a deadline. He smiled, admitting silently that the new tongue stud was a neat trick. In fact, it had been an effort of sorts already not to cut loose, and he had been doing the three beat breathing for the last couple minutes looking for a parking stall to hold off cumming until they had arrived.

When she had finished swallowing his load, Sharon sat up, wiping unnecessarily at her mouth. She blinked, surprised to find they were not out front of her place, but under a harsh mercury vapor lamp at the regional airport. Unbidden, the memory of her last flight with Shaun to the football game… which had turned into a team gang bang flashed into life behind her eyes. She remembered getting the supposed salve that had gotten her into trouble that night, as well.

“Dave?” He just winked at her question and got out of the car. Sharon got out, acutely conscious of the way she was dressed… a skimpy halter top and a tiny miniskirt without any bra or panties… well any visible panties, anyway. She looked around, skin prickling already because of the winter air. Dave had tossed her the purse she had brought to the club, and then pulled her small suitcase out of the back, along with a duffel she assumed was his. She accepted the case without question, trying to review what was in her purse, not wanting to get in trouble at security as she followed the younger man along the sidewalk leading to the concourse. By the time they were inside, she was embarrassed to realize her nipples, hard from the cold, were clearly visible against the bra top’s thin fabric.

“There’s a jacket in your suitcase,” Dave said casually, after they had walked the length of the concourse, Sharon collecting varied stares from everyone they had passed. He laughed as Sharon scrambled to get the bolero style jeans jacket she had never seen out and on. The jacket was too small to button, but it covered enough. She searched as well for panties, grabbing a pair of bikini bottoms when she saw them. She tucked them into her purse, relieved when Dave said nothing. In fact, when she looked up, she was surprised to find he had not waited, but was standing three people ahead of her in the ticket line. She somehow realized he was pretending he did not know her, and stopped trying to keep up, even though she had no idea where it was they were headed.

When she got to the kiosk, she knew she appeared every bit the bubble headed blonde when the too masculine middle aged woman with a Beatles’ mop of hair and Harry Potter glasses asked her where she was flying. Some corner of her mind scolded that she deserved the almost sneer of derision with which the frumpy woman examined her. Sharon pawed through her purse, relieved when she found a ticket tucked into her passport. She blinked, surprised about her passport-- it had been at home the last she remembered-- but handed both to the woman, realizing too late that she should have looked at the ticket. For an awful moment she had imagined they were boarding a flight to South Africa, but Sharon had told herself that was impossible… there was no airline providing service from the small Midwestern airport to international destinations. Somehow the thought of connecting flights did not occur.

“Of course,” the snippy woman frowned, unsurprised at whatever she was seeing on the ticket. “Checking a bag?” Sharon was suddenly at a loss. She was not sure if she was supposed to check it or not. At the thought of what Dave might have left in her bag, though, she was determined not to have the TSA screeners pawing through it.

“Yes,” she nodded, lifting the case onto the scale. The woman pursed her lips, seeming disappointed when the small bag was easily within the weight limit. She slapped a white tag on the handle, then focused on the noisy keyboard hidden from view, typing for far longer than Sharon thought could be necessary or helpful. She managed to offer the biddy a saccharine smile; if the bitch put her down for a strip search at least she would not have much to put back on.

“You board soon.” the woman handed Sharon the ubiquitous open sided envelope with her various papers, “Give the bag to the team over there. It’s gate two.” She did not smile or offer a thank you or a have a nice trip, shouting, “Next!” as if somehow that would speed Sharon’s departure from ticketing. Sharon paused before putting the bag under the expanda-line barrier scooping out any make up products in her purse and putting them in the front pocket of the suit case. The clerk, an overweight balding man waited patiently, which surprised Sharon, until she realized he had taken the opportunity to stare down her top. She smiled at him reflexively, thinking as she hurried toward the gate and security that if he had been good looking or helpful she might have really given him a show.

Dave was not in sight, and abruptly Sharon wondered if he would even be on the flight, shivering at the thought that she was winging off to parts unknown to do God knew what. She considered ducking into the women’s room but remembering what the woman at the ticket counter had said, she opted to go through security. She tried to remember if there were bathrooms inside the secure area, guessing that there would be.

The male TSA agent checking tickets was barely less obvious than the guy collecting bags had been . The first time he shone his special light on her ID the light was three inches to the right, and Sharon looked up to catch him eyeing her cleavage. She smiled at him, as if she expected no less, and thanked him when he winked while wishing her a good time. Not a good flight, she noticed, moving forward in the line. She grimaced when they selected her to go through the new ‘nude scanner.’ Smiling ruefully, she reasoned that it was not like the agents ogling her would see much more than anyone else in the little airport. She left her purse on the conveyor, belatedly remembering that she had left the little bullet vibrator and the heavier silicone dildo that Dave had insisted she buy at the Lion’s Den in her purse. She shrugged, certain that the agents had seen such before.

“Stand on the footprints,” the obese black woman manning the scanner said as if Sharon could not have guessed what she was supposed to do from the myriad marking and printed instructions. The agent raised her arms demonstrating what Sharon was to do, and the blonde housewife nearly laughed aloud at how comical the agent’s dress shirt looked, buttons straining to contain her rolls of fat. Sharon stepped into the scanner, wondering idly if it would pick up her piercings… or her IUD. There was a low whine and a bar of light spun around her. She started to leave.

“Hold it,” a male agent on the other side of the scanner stepped to the door marked ‘exit.’ Sharon rolled her eyes, having expected that if she was going to be patted down at least they would not radiate her, too. “I need your jacket,” the man said, his eyes never getting above her chest as he held out his hand. Sharon shrugged out of the jacket, aware that she was probably going to be the high point of the security guard’s shift. He stepped out, ostensibly checking the sewn closed pockets and the buttons as the bar spun around her once more. She stepped out, calmly holding out a hand for the jacket and ignoring the pointing and whispering going on at the monitor to the side.

Sharon shrugged back into the jacket, amazed that the agents at the monitor were more interested in what they were seeing on the screen than in watching her… every other male eye in the room seemed glued to her, but after dancing that was nothing Sharon was not used to having happen. When she went to collect her purse, an over muscled Hispanic female TSA agent was hovering over it.

“Is there a problem?” Sharon asked, careful not to just reach for the bag. The clerk just offered what on a man would seem very much a leer.

“Nope,” she maintained eye contact with the blonde housewife as well, “Though I’ll say you seem to be ready to take care of yourself.” Sharon was shocked that the agent would be so blatant about it. She wanted to look to see if the other agent in the x-ray line was watching them.

“A girl has to be able to do that,” Sharon answered coolly.

“Not if she knows the right other girls, if you know what I’m saying,” the agent raised an eyebrow. Sharon giggled, amazed that this woman was the one hitting on her.

“I do know some women like that,” Sharon answered, tilting her head ‘just so,’ hoping to seem every part the dizzy blonde. “Why, were you going to volunteer to help me?” She wondered if having contacts in the TSA was something the ZB would want to nurture. She knew better than to not at least make it an option. The agent smiled broadly, and Sharon could almost see the predatory woman’s imagining what she would do to Sharon given the chance. It was embarrassing to her married sense of self that the thought left her more than a little aroused. She took the card the agent offered,

“Just call me if you need any… help,” the woman smirked. Sharon tucked the card into the front pocket of her bag, extracting one of the gilt Fallen Angel cards that had somehow found their way into her purse after she got back from vacation. She had seen them that morning, and wondered why they were there.

“And if you get that itch, come visit me, and my friends,” she said, batting her eyes at the ‘roided out lesbian before breezing out of the security checkpoint, searching for Dave or the women’s room.

Sharon glanced at the gate, which said the next departure was for Las Vegas. She blinked at that in surprise. She did not know anyone in Las Vegas. She wondered if there was a game there… football was done, but basketball was in full swing, and she thought there was a team in Vegas, as ridiculous as that sounded even to a woman who had never gambled in her life.

Dave was nowhere to be found, and before she could consider crossing the long rows of waiting passengers, a petite brunette stepped up to the microphone by the gate and began to announce that they would be boarding soon. Sharon was pleasantly surprised to find that she was in group A for boarding, then frowned, guessing she would not be able to use the tiny lavatory until they were in the air.

Despite the unknowns, Sharon was excited at the prospect of visiting Las Vegas. Most of her friends had been, some frequently, and they raved about the shopping and the shows. She wondered if it would be warm enough during the day to lay out at the pool. While considering what they might be doing, Sharon got into line with the other passengers in her group and soon enough boarded, choosing to put her purse under the seat so she could get to it when she went to the bathroom. She slid across to the window seat, buckled her belt, and laid her head back, the frenetic pace of the half week since she had gotten back abruptly catching up to her.



She jerked awake with a small cry when the plane bumped, backing away from the gate. Sharon looked around wildly, recognizing she was on a plane, then remembering the hurried trip from Go’s in the wee hours of the morning… was it Thursday morning now? The sun still was still not up. She looked to her left, aware that there was someone in the seat right beside her, encroaching on her space.

Sharon started again. It was not Dave beside her, but a heavy middle aged man… a few years older, she guessed. He was decked out in business casual, but had an ample gut stretching the lavender Polo he was wearing. His flabby forearm took the entire armrest to Sharon’s left. She was not surprised to find him staring down her top. He flushed and glanced away when she caught him, but not ten seconds later, it happened again. Sharon rolled her eyes.

They listened to the flight attendant go through their spiel, Sharon using the opportunity to look for Dave. He just leered at her from where he was sitting beside a gorgeous woman four rows farther back on the opposite side of the plane. Abruptly the white housewife remembered the flight to the game just a couple months before, and visiting the lavatory became the last thing she wanted to do. She self-consciously pressed her hands against her skirt, glad that in the tight space of the plane no one would be looking up her skirt. Shifting in her seat, she was embarrassed to realize that she had left a wet spot on the seat beneath her… another reason not to get up.

Soon enough they were in the air. Sharon weighed her need to empty her bladder and her desire to get panties on, versus having to squeeze past her seatmate, who kept talking to her while staring at her breasts or legs, and her concern over what might happen when she got to the bathroom. Twice her seatmate pulled his carry out from the seat in front of him, both times his elbow ‘accidentally’ rubbing against her chest. He seemed to think he might somehow convince Sharon to climb onto his lap and ride him right there in their seats.

When the drink cart came by he insisted on buying Sharon a drink, and then made it a double, ordering vodkas and sprite for her without asking. Sharon drank them, amused that he thought two drinks would suffice. She had been deflecting questions about why she was flying out alone, and asked after his ******, considering he was wearing a wedding ring, which made her acutely aware that he should have seen that she was, too. When he asked if she went out to work, it took her a minute to realize what he was asking; he had assumed she was a prostitute, Sharon guessed it was because of her clothing. She angrily answered that she was not a ‘pro’ even as she realized that actually she was exactly that.

She barely heard what he said in his hasty attempt to apologize, because the question had left Sharon wondering if that was indeed what Dave was planning… why else would he be having her blood drawn and be taking such steps to make sure she was ‘clean.’ The bastard knew she was clean; he and Shaun had both repeatedly assured her the ZB took regular tests so that they didn’t ruin the girls or each others’ lives.

She hoped that the drinks had been his weak effort to make amends for his earlier assumption. At least it did help Sharon to relax… flying was not something she enjoyed. Unfortunately it made her need to pee more pressing, until she scrabbled at her seatbelt, grabbed the bottoms she had tucked into her purse, and murmuring ‘scuse me,’ to her seatmate, literally climbed over his lap, not caring that she wound up offering the already flustered passenger a close up view of her laser scaped bare sex. No one else seemed to notice by the time she was standing in the aisle. She blinked as she passed the row where she had seen Dave before… Both his and the woman beside his seats were empty.

There was of course a single stall at the back, and though she knew she was not supposed to stand in the aisle, the fact that she was willing to do so dressed as she was, and the shifting of her weight and clenched knees left the flight attendants in the back jump seat eyeing her sympathetically instead of scolding her. Sharon later realized she should have known who would come out of the stall, considering the empty seats. But when the door opened and the striking brunette who had been sitting beside Dave spilled out, still trying to button her jeans and giggling at something, Sharon tried to dive into the lav, only to find Dave coming out behind the pretty woman. Sharon’s eyes blazed… She did not believe it was a ZB Bitch, the woman was too old to be in college. So Dave freelancing, which was completely contrary to what he had assured her the ZB did.

“Whoa, lady!” Dave caught her shoulders, keeping her away and pretending he did not know her, “I mean, I’m flattered and all, but I already got taken care of, so…” The brunette giggled at his joke, further angering Sharon.

“Sir!” one of the flight crew said sharply, “Only one person in the lavatory at a time.” Dave just snorted and followed the smaller woman back to their seats. Sharon hesitated at the doorway, nose wrinkled at the certainty of what had just happened inside. “Here, ma’am,” the other flight attendant had offered Sharon several wipes, “I’d be cautious about that too, after seeing that,” she said, then seemed to realize how Sharon was dressed. Sharon found herself blushing, and hurried inside. As she closed the door she hear the second stewardess say to the first, ‘It’s amazing who takes these out to Vegas.’ The other snorted, ‘Yep, but you know what they say…’ and the women had laughed. Sharon emptied her bladder over the next thirty or forty seconds, then gingerly removed the panties from her ass, embarrassed at how much fluid proceeded to pour out of her bottom into the tiny commode. She wiped the best that she could, wishing there was a place to simply discard the panties Go had put inside of her, and ultimately, after rinsing them in the tiny sink and wringing them out, Sharon left them tucked between her ass cheeks, pinned in place by the swim suit bottoms. She took a deep breath, glad she would no longer be flashing people, and exited the stall to find her seatmate standing there, as if he had somehow decided she might invite him along to join the mile high club.

At least it had distracted the flight attendants, and it made getting back into her seat easy. He had seemed more distracted but more distant when he got back, and she found herself wondering if he had fapped to mental images of her. The thought threatened to become arousal and she forced it away, trying to understand how even that could be exciting to a married mother. She shut her eyes, pretending to sleep, and then managing to nap, waking when they touched down, shortly ahead of the sunrise.

Sharon had waited alone for her bag, trying not to glare at where Dave was flirting with the woman he had banged in the plane’s lavatory. At least there had not been someone with a ‘Mrs. Sharon Sobel’ placard waiting to take her somewhere when she exited the jet way into the hustle of McCarren airport. Signs everywhere advertised an endless variety of shows, several of them obviously very racy and with ‘18 and over’ warnings. Clusters of slot machines were scattered through the airport, as well. Sharon found herself wondering what souvenirs she should get for the ****** then abruptly realized she could not tell them where she had been… She doubted Chris would be happy to hear she had jetted west to a city they had never visited with friends from school. And if she had to elaborate… that just she and Dave had flown out..? The thought made the white housewife shiver.

As before Dave was nowhere to be found when she collected her bag. It was a nervous handful of minutes before she remembered that her phone was off. She turned it on and seconds later a list of texts began to drop in. Dave was supposedly looking for her, was upset he could not find her and she was not responding to her texts. His final text was that she could just get herself a cab. Sharon scrolled through the texts, looking for the destination. She repeated the search while standing in the queue for taxis, surprised at how long the line was, and at how cold it was outside in the desert in the morning. The sun was peeking over the horizon when she slid into a cab, ignoring for the tenth time the guys trying to pick her up, ‘Hey, lady, you can share my cab… you can share my room!’ ‘Hey chica, you comin’ our way?’ ‘Damn, come with me and I’ll have already hit the jackpot.’ The cab pulled away from the curb before the driver looked up, asking where she was headed. Sharon looked down from the deep black skin of the Somali cabbie to her phone,

“Uhm,” dammit, there had to be a message telling her where to go. She started to text Dave, wondering why she had not done that first.

“I know, lady,” the man’s clipped English accent was strange, “You here for AVN.” Sharon vaguely remembered that… She nodded without really thinking about it. “No problem, pretty lady, I get you there.” He had been driving… and looking back at her, that whole time. Sharon cried out and he looked back out the windshield, barely missing a woman in the crosswalk. He turned through an orange light, heading not toward the city, but lopping up onto the highway. He looked back at her, offering a broad smile, “See, you safe. I get you there.” They had been driving for a few minutes when his head suddenly snapped around, eyes locking on her face, as opposed to what she had gotten used to from every other man that night.

“I know you!” the man clapped his hands, the cab rocking and veering across half of it’s lane. Sharon smiled, nodding for the man to keep his eye on the road. “Mrs. Sharon,” he continued, but did keep his attention on the road, “Right here in my cab.” He shook his head, and Sharon wondered if he was going to produce a DVD for her to sign or something worse. She wondered if Dave had set this up, but could not understand how he would manage that. The cabs lined up in a row and were not allowed to pick and choose who they picked up. She shivered, wondering if every black man in the country had seen her having sex. The thought triggered arousal as well as embarrassment and more than a little anxiety.

The cabbie was happily playing the tour guide, pointing out the backs of the hotels they were driving past. “This is the exit for Bellagio,” he said, exiting the highway, but then turning left away from the Strip. “You are over here,” he shrugged, “An easy walk to the strip,” he laughed, then, she guessed at the word ‘strip,’ but could not be sure.

A moment later, the cab squealed to a stop, and finally Sharon relaxed slightly… there were women… and men, she realized, in more revealing clothing than she was wearing, and women who could get away with wearing next to nothing, too; not the flabby women she saw in the mall or the grocery store, wearing clothes that they should have known better than to ever consider trying on. Abruptly the oversexed white wife felt frumpy and plain.

She reached for her wallet.

“No, lovely woman,” the man smiled at her, “This one is on me if I can ask a small favor.” Sharon felt her stomach drop. But she smiled and tilted her head, encouraging the stranger to proceed. He held out a card. “My name,” she glanced down, reading it as he said it, “Is Korfa Egal. I have been here for four years,” he went on in a rush, “And have always wanted to enjoy this particular event,” he paused, as if assessing her for judgment. He smiled more broadly, “If you would leave my name at the convention door…” Sharon smiled more broadly.

“I can do that,” she assured him, “Thank you for getting me here so quickly, Korfa,” she tried his name and the man beamed.

“Would it be too much to ask for a photograph with you, too, Mrs. Sharon?” Sharon’s smile remained in place. She opened the door as the diminutive cabbie leapt out, waving and calling over one of the bellhops. Watching him approach, Sharon saw an attractive red head pause at the door to her limousine, posing with the limo driver. As the bell hop prepared to snap the photo, the woman bared a breast, never batting an eye to indicateas whether she worried about the police or if passing visitors might be offended.

Korfa was standing beside her, his cellphone in the other man’s hand. He looked at her, and Sharon smiled, pleased to have fans when more beautiful and nearly naked women were prancing around.

“Are you a ZB, Korfa?” she asked, pressing herself against the man, whose head barely reached the level of her breasts. He shook his head,

“I am saving money to go to school,” he said, “But then I will join.” She smiled.

“That’s good. Look at your camera,” she urged, and then as the man was taking the photo, smiling sexily, the white housewife lifted her shirt, baring both breasts for the image. Korfa did not notice until the picture had been taken and Sharon had almost completely covered her unfettered chest once again. His jaw dropped, but then he smiled more broadly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Sharon,” he said again and again, “Oh I hope I see you at the convention.”

“Me, too, Korfa,” and Sharon bent, kissing the younger man on the cheek, “My new hero.” The cabbie was so flustered he could barely get into his car as Sharon sauntered toward the casino’s lavish entrance with her bag.

By the time she reached the desk, pleased to find no line, Sharon had lost count of the number of semi-nude men and women she had passed. Some looked vaguely familiar, and she was sure she had seen photos of them… even videos, while she had been in the frat. She was worried about what they would say when she went to check in, though.

“May I help you?” Though clean cut and giving off only heterosexual signals, the clerk seemed unaffected by the barely repressed air of sexual excitement in the lobby. He looked Sharon in the eye as she approached, and it was the housewife who found herself having trouble maintaining eye contact.

“Uhm, Sharon Sobel checking in,” she said. The man went to work on his keyboard, typing for a few seconds as opposed to the woman back at the airport.

“We have you right here,” he smiled up at her. Sharon was prepared to argue about giving up her credit card. “Do you have your ID?” She giggled at the tone of his question… did guests come without their ID? A totally naked brunette dashed by, giggling, chased by a shirtless midget. Maybe some had no place to carry their ID, she thought as she handed it to the clerk. If he was surprised at the ‘Mrs.’ he did not give any indication. “We’ve got you right here,” he repeated, and clicked and clacked, nodding as if impressed, “A pool view suite,” he glanced up at her, “I know it looks like the pool is right there, but please don’t try to jump in from your balcony.” Sharon blinked, then realized he was kidding and giggled.

“I won’t,” she promised. The clerk smiled. “Uhm, I’d rather not leave my card…” The clerk frowned for a second, then waved away her concern.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” he assured her, “That’s already been taken care of by your manager.” Sharon blinked again, then assumed… hoped? he meant Dave. “Things should really get rocking here tonight,” the clerk beamed at her, “But I hope you’ll enjoy the pool and the casino before the awards tonight.” Sharon thanked him and assured him she would, then repeated her room number back to him, listened to his directions, and headed off, head swimming at the over the top gratuity of the décor and the people acting like children all through the complex.

She was amazed at the piles of cash and chips she saw on the various tables in the casino, and that the dealers and security team seemed as unconcerned about nude women calmly playing blackjack as if it happened every day. She giggled, wondering if it did happen every day in Vegas. Though tempted to sit down to learn more about what was happening, she was also dragging, she knew. And if there was some award ceremony Dave wanted her to attend that night, she resolved to get some sleep before she did anything else.



Sharon smiled, deciding she must be back in her hotel room, in the crisp, cool white linens on the round California King bed that somehow seemed so much bigger than the same sized bed at home. The lighting was right, which meant she was glad she had the pillow over her head.

That first morning she had been amazed at the view from her fifth floor suite of the pool and cabanas. The water had been pink and blue in the rising sun and though it had been gorgeous for a moment she had been dismayed, thinking she might not be able to get a wink of sleep. Fortunately, there were black out curtains that actually worked, and she had enjoyed a solid five hour nap, waking when there was a knock on the door. Dressed as she had been when she arrived, except for the panties, which she had stripped off, Sharon had padded to the door, opening it without checking who was there, having expected it would be Dave, and wondering why the ZB brother did not have a key of his own.

Instead, it had been a Hispanic waiter, who had pushed a cart into the room, then waited while Sharon signed the tab, adding a generous tip. She found oatmeal and eggs and bagels under one warmer, and a Caesar salad with chicken and a club sandwich under the second. There was a mimosa, with an open pop champagne bottle and a small carafe of orange juice, as well as a six pack of beer. Sharon realized she was likely about to have a guest, but remembering that there were different rules in place, the wife retrieved her phone and texted Dave asking what she was supposed to do, then plugged the phone in so there would be a full charge when she had to leave.

Instead of texting back, the big ZB member had come through the door a few minutes later, carrying a tray full of chips, and with a wad of twenties clutched in one of his hands, as well.

“I’m telling’ ya, Shar,” he smiled, pausing to look her admiringly up and down, “You are my lucky charm.” Sharon dimpled. “I was winning and winning and winning, and then you called so I cashed out except for a last hand at the minimum,” he waved his hand, “Dealer got blackjack. You saved me a few hundred, babe.”

“Good,” Sharon said, suddenly self conscious about being in the same clothes she had worn at the club the night before. Dave had obviously showered and shaved, and was in fresh clothes. “I’ll have to try that later,” she paused, embarrassed, “I’ve never gambled before?”

“You’re shitting me!” Dave was honestly amazed, “Hubby never brought you here?” Sharon laughed at the thought of that.

“Chris says we should just pour our money down the toilet.” She realized she was starving. When had she last eaten? “Can we eat?”

“Sure,” Dave pointed to the trays, “It’s all yours… I did not know if you would want breakfast or lunch.” Sharon nodded, trying not to think about how expensive the food she was not going to eat must have been. “It’s a lot,” she answered nebulously. But Dave knew what she was worrying about.

“Shar,” he smiled, “Remember I said we’d keep track of your money for you?” She nodded. “Well, that’s how this,” he waved his arms, “Is getting paid for. And you could go crazy and not run out of money,” he winked, “In fact we may just try that later.” Sharon nodded, relieved that she was not going to have to give the casino her credit card. If Chris found out…

The oatmeal was great with the brown sugar and honey that were served with it, but Sharon stopped at half a bowl. She was still hungry, but wanted to try the salad and sandwich, as well. Dave just laughed, scooping up the oatmeal bowl and finishing it off before poaching a three quarters of her sandwich, as well. Even so, Sharon had more food than she had eaten all together since she had been back to school.



The day had been a whirlwind. Sharon had showered, getting some ‘help’ from Dave, who got her off with his fingers and the hand held shower wand, after which he had enjoyed a sloppy blowjob from the married student before they toweled off. Sharon donned the pink bikini he had packed, along with a filmy black cover up and matching pink and black pumps. He had her don a red and white lanyard with a white four by six card with her picture and name. The letters AVN were repeated on the lanyard and were in bold black letters on the pass. There were additional codes beside her photo, and there was a smaller three by five version that hung against her back, as well. Before Sharon could pay attention to them or ask, Dave had led her down to the casino floor.

Instead of going out to the pool, though, he had stopped at the craps table, and for the next thirty minutes they had watched and played, Sharon getting more than her share of attention, despite the abundance of other scantily clad women. She was pleased and relieved that the men and women she was talking to seemed to have no idea who she was, and that the oversexed attitude seemed to be the norm in the city of Sin. Several of the men throwing the dice insisted she ‘blow on them’ for good luck, and though she doubted she would remember the various options and combinations Dave told her, craps was a lot of fun, and they left with more chips than they had arrived with.

They rotated to the blackjack table where she managed to win two hundred dollars before Dave had her cash out and showed her the roulette tables. He warned her that was not his game, though he teased the housewife that she should ‘always bet black.’ They played Texas hold ‘em and he showed her how the progressive slots worked, and how she could drink for free as long as she was gambling, adding that it was one of the ways Vegas was better than the casinos on the reservations at home: free booze. Sharon never considered that it was not yet noon as she drank whatever Dave had brought to her. That was not unusual, though; the little single serving champagne bottles had become a staple for the housewife coed.

She giggled when the passing men would pat her ass, and soon enough, even the especially bold gamblers who instead cupped one breast or the other in their hand as they passed were no longer a surprise. When she asked Dave if it was because she was in a bikini, the ZB chuckled, answering that they saw her ‘creds’ and pointing at her lanyard. Sharon was not sure what he meant, but she noticed that while there were lots of women dressed in revealing outfits, only a few had the lanyards like she wore.

Dave let her choose, and Sharon returned to the craps table, where she managed to lose the money she had won before going on another winning streak. They left the casino at 1PM, Sharon beaming at the stack of chips they had cashed out. Dave told her they had started with $500 and she walked out carrying $1200 in cash, with another $300 in chips ‘for later.’

They visited the shops inside the casino before Sharon asked if they could go out to the pool. There had been more women with the lanyards at poolside, and in talking to them, Sharon quickly understood that AVN was a sex trade magazine, and that they were all there for the yearly convention. She never considered the awards that some of the women mentioned, since there was no way she planned to do anything like that while they were there. She fully expected Dave would whisk her to a ZB suite and she would work her ass off for the evening, and so she was surprised when the sun dipped below the edge of the casino roof and her escort insisted they go up to the room ‘to get ready.’

Sharon’s dress had been so skimpy the bikini felt like it had been a three piece suit to the pleasantly buzzed white housewife. The shimmering green matched her eyes, but it was little more than a scarf that gathered well below her navel. An eighteen inch loin cloth hung straight down, stopping slightly above her knees. There was a tiny belt that encircled her waist, supporting a shorter but wider triangular panel at the back which almost covered her ass. There was no bra, and Sharon knew just from moving around the room that if she was not careful she would be on full display wherever they were going. At least there was a matching green thong. The five inch spike heels she donned were also a matching green. She giggled, because there was no place for her wallet, or even her driver’s license or the room key.

Dave took the opportunity to light up the bong that had appeared while they had been enjoying the pool, toking while Sharon dressed, or at least seeming to… most of the potent smoke was saved for their pet ZB Bitch, and Sharon did several hits without hesitation. She mentioned that she was a little hungry, but Dave had her take a final shot before he snuffed the bell and apologetically explained there was not time to eat, assuring her she would be full later.

He stopped at the door, smacking his forehead and went to the case he had left on the bed, returning with a big packet of papers and a pen. Sharon asked what it was, and the ZB waved a hand dismissively, telling her it was just the release so they could enjoy the expo and the awards ceremony. She nodded, and let him set up the camera and explain that they were signing her contract before having her initial and initial again, repeating the process until they reached the last page where she had scrawled her name and at his instruction the date.

There was a second set that she had repeated the signatures, after which he slipped it into a heavy plastic sleeve, telling her it was her copy and leaving in her bag. There was also a final two page form that she had signed without reading, and then they were off, headed for the casino’s ostentatious elevators. He led her through the casino and to the AVN expo. Sharon paused long enough to leave Korfa’s name with the people at the check in desk, pleased that she had remembered. Dave waited impatiently, then led her in to expo to see what was being offered. .

They wandered the enormous convention hall for more than an hour, and Sharon lost track of the number of men and women she met. Unlike the casino and pool, many of the other women wearing lanyards seemed to know who Sharon was. She was groped and petted, even fingered by one woman who sauntered up like they were childhood friends, kissing Sharon passionately and deftly working her fingers down the front of Sharon’s dress to curl a finger into the housewife’s sex before Dave stepped in. Breathless and more than a little aroused, Sharon managed to glance at the woman’s lanyard when she finally stepped back.

Jessica Dragon laughed, telling Sharon her movies were ‘so hot she could get off just watching,’ and wishing her good luck before winking and assuring her they would ‘see each other later,’ moving on to another knot of convention goers. Sharon was left wondering what the other woman had meant, but almost immediately there was someone new introducing themselves and claiming they were ‘a fan.’ She lost count of the number of people who wanted autographs, and was surprised and puzzled that an almost tasteful if overly suggestive picture of her was printed inside the convention flyer that everyone was carrying around.

She smiled and chatted and agreed to the autographs and photos, relieved that as forward and openly casual about sex as the convention goers were, no one was groping her or pulling her clothes off or asking for her to show any skin for the photos.

Along the way, Dave insisted she visit booths that offered ‘replicas’ of any cock or pussy, and other manufacturers that advertised the latest and greatest in dildos or vibrators or piercings. He stopped at a kiosk selling tongue stud vibrators, but Sharon was distracted by the big camera crew following a pair of women around. She recognized them as the emcees she had spoken to while having sex back in the frat, that night she had won the amateur contest. The memory brought a flush of embarrassment and arousal in equal parts.

She was tempted to see what was happening that the cameras were following the women, but was leery of who would see whatever the big commercial cameras recorded. She glanced back at Dave, who was in an animated discussion with the clerk, and so she was shocked when she turned back and the women were barely five steps away, barreling towards her.

“Sharon Synn” the smaller pert bottle blonde beamed, “I told Sasha we had to be sure to see you.” she caught hold of Sharon’s elbow, pulling her close, even though her head was at the level of Sharon’s chest, “You have to promise to call me if you’re doing one of those amazing videos here.” Sharon smiled shyly, trying not to stare directly into the square unblinking eye of the big camera pointed right at them. She told herself with the make up and the stage name, not even Chris would think it was her. “I’m serious,” Jess went on , “I got so hot watching you during the show.”

“She’s not lying,” Sasha added with her characteristic laconic delivery, almost dead pan, “I kept slipping walking behind her backstage.” The small blonde giggled. Without warning, she reached out, pulling Sharon close, her hands gripping the surprised wife’s ass firmly.

“Damn, but she’s got a fine ass,” Jess giggled, cuddling her head between Sharon’s breasts, “I mean, I thought the brothers like these to be bigger.” She nipped at Sharon’s pierced nipple through the fabric, “But you don’t seem to have any problems getting them off.” Sharon tried to think of something to say, “Although I can’t believe you haven’t gotten these tightened up,” the smaller woman pushed back abruptly, shoulders thrown back to emphasize her augmented cleavage, “I never get complaints with these. Go big or go home, I say.”

Sasha stepped up, somehow insinuating herself between Sharon and the aggressive blonde. Sharon swore she could feel the heat of the brunette’s sex where she was straddling the housewife’s right thigh. She rubbed just a hint, nothing Sharon ‘just imagined,’ but not enough to be obscene. “I think she’s delectable just like this,” Sasha’s hand came up, cupping the unpierced breast that Jess was not still nipping at playfully. Sharon almost said ‘Of course you do… You’re the flattest porn star I’ve ever seen,’ but she managed to remain silent, glad that she had not had more to drink. Sasha was still talking, “Call us and we’ll have a party… just us girls.” Sharon felt an undeniable quiver of arousal at that. Again she wondered if some part of her had always been attracted to women.

“Poo,” Jess pouted, “Riley’s right, you’re no fun… A big hard cock is always a better way to play, right Sharon?” she looked up, batting her eyes too prettily. Without really wanting to, Sharon found herself nodding.

“Well if you ask me,” the lithe brunette had caught Sharon’s left hand, and she lifted it before the entwined women, “This,” she emphasized Sharon’s ring, “Is why they really enjoy giving it to our new star.” Sharon sniffed angrily.

“Maybe at first,” she argued, glad that she was taller than the snotty younger brunette, “But if that’s all there wouldn’t be any reason for them to keep coming back for more, would there?” Sasha opened her mouth as if she was going to argue, then abruptly smiled, rubbing more obviously against Sharon and Jess both. Sharon realized it was a show the girl was putting on for the camera. She was pissed at the judgmental attitude. “And they know that I’m not faking it when we’re having sex,” she added pointedly, vaguely remembering one of the frat members complaining when seeing Sasha on a television show that the ‘bitch was a tease who didn’t even like cock.’ The brunette tossed her too long hair dismissively, then leaned up and in, planting a kiss on Sharon’s half open mouth.

“You’re right, J,” Sasha said, drawing her tongue down to Sharon’s neck, making the housewife shiver openly in arousal, “She’s got spirit.” She leaned back, capturing Sharon’s eyes with her own pale blue gaze, “Don’t let them break you.” Sharon blinked and nodded, barely aware that Jess had given her crotch a parting grope as the pair smoothly moved away toward the next cubicle, talking to each other with the smooth patter of salesmen already on to the next show they wanted to put on for the cameras.

“Damn, girl,” Dave had been leaning against a support beam watching it all. “You showed that little bitch who’s who.” Sharon smiled, though she had the distinct impression the younger woman had been the won making a point. She nervously fingered her ring.

“Dave,” she murmured, “This makes me nervous.”

“What, the sex stars?” he snorted, “They can’t do a thing you can’t do, my bitch.”

“No,” she rolled her eyes, embarrassed that part of her had thought ‘damn right’ at his words, “All these cameras… Where does the footage go?” The frat member shrugged.’

“Most of it goes nowhere,” he said honestly, “They’ll do bits for some TV shows… I think the awards on the main stage are on Skinemax or Sluttime… some cable show.”

“Will we be at the awards?” He stopped, giving her an ‘are you serious’ stare.

“That’s why you’re here, girl,” he lied… It had been a convenient reason to get her to Vegas, “Won the amateur series, remember?” Sharon nodded. And she remembered what she had been doing when they gave her the award. Suddenly she needed to have Dave take her back to her room. “Well, this is the big leagues,” he said, “We won’t be where the cameras are recording the big stars,” he paused, grinning at Sharon wolfishly, “Maybe that’s next year.” And some competitive sexy part of the white housewife agreed with the suggestion, “But this year we’ll be next door, seeing if you won vs. the other amateur nominees.” Sharon started to ask what she had been nominated for, then reminded herself it was all because of sex… sex with the frat members and strangers… not sex with her husband. Not something she should be proud of.

She could not reconcile that thought with the arousal she was feeling. And Dave was obviously uninterested in doing anything about it, even when she rubbed against him suggestively. Instead, he caught her hand and led her to another long aisle of displays where she resumed rubbing elbows with various men and women working… like her… in the sex trades. They purused videos and costumes and sex toys and games for another couple hours.



Sharon shifted, smiling at the blur of the day touring the expansive sex expo. She had purchased outfits and props and music for Fallen Angels. She had decided to just go with it, purchasing a skin tight AEE/ AVN T-shirt that she began having all the stars sign, Sasha and Jess, their pal and fellow crossover star Riley, among them. She also had the various stars sign her program. It was amazing how many knew who she was, and asked for her autograph in return, and assured her they hoped to be able to ‘have fun with her’ some time.

Dave insisted she not drink anything, but several times they had ducked into a ‘****** restroom’ and a couple times he had just taken her into the men’s room where they had blazed up, so that the white housewife was pleasantly buzzed throughout the afternoon.

He had lured her out of the expo with the promise of a four course meal at the hotel, insisting that she needed to change, which Sharon had readily agreed to. She was surprised to find a shimmering off the shoulder tummy bearing purple dress had appeared in her closet, with matching 5” heels and her ‘demoness’ mask reproduced in the deep bold color. Of course there had been no bra, but Sharon did not really even think about that. The bling on the tiny accompanying thong had tickled, keeping her persistently aroused. When she had pouted to Dave in the afternoon before dinner that he had not fucked her all day, he had just laughed, assuring her she would be getting off, and refusing to say more. He had loaded the bong again, and Sharon had been thoroughly baked when they left the room.

She never considered that they did not bother with dinner. Instead, Dave led her down to the craps table where she ‘helped him’ by blowing on the dice for twenty minutes during which he won again and again, barely distracting the housewife from the scene she was creating, with every passer by doing a double take and those at the table and surrounding it at the word of the big roller with the hot arm candy ogled her. Laughing that she was making him rich, Dave flipped the people working the table fifty dollar chips and then tucked a $100 chip into each of the cups of Sharon’s dress, laughing with the crowd as she managed barely to catch them before they fell through the dress. She tucked them into her small clutch and followed the ZB to their next stop, one of the casino’s auditoriums.

There was a palpable anticipation in the big theater style room where the awards were being held… Dave somehow disappeared as they stepped onto the red carpet, but there were chaperones and organizers who had recognized her and guided her to where she was supposed to be. She found herself seated beside Anna Colter, who was a bubbly, friendly, stick thin blonde who confessed she was glad that she bore at least some resemblance to the Conservative pundit, because it had made having sex much more profitable. Sharon was glad that they all wore name tags; she knew she had seen the porn star, but had not remembered her name.

To her dismay, her mask had disappeared. She was sure she had brought it along from the room, and wondered if Dave had somehow managed to slip it out of the clutch purse into which she had tucked it. She reasoned she was safe enough in the large crowd, and was glad she had not entered wearing the mask, considering no one else was in costume. And looking around, she had to admit that her outfit was not out of place… There were women sitting casually in what looked like a few strips of electrician’s tape.

The man to her other side did not have a name tag that Sharon could see, but he had introduced himself as ’Rick’ and had spent every moment he was not trying to look down Sharon’s dress trying to convince her he could really get her off like no one else, and that she should ‘let him direct her and be her manager.’ When she glanced at Anna after the sixth time she had politely declined, the taller woman had laughed, saying sotto voice, ‘Some men just don’t get the hint.’ She leaned closer, whispering that the poser beside Sharon was somehow related to someone at the casino and had spent the entire day trying to talk one starlet or another out of her pants.

“Guess he thinks that’s all that goes on at this,” she finished, leaning away as she added, “But that’s just how we celebrate after the awards tonight.” Sharon’s surprise and arousal at that thought were interrupted by the overhead lights dimming and the spots and ’special’ lights going on… The show was starting. And when the laser and LED light show stopped, Sharon realized Rick’s hand had come to rest high on her thigh. Before it had been there a second he was sliding it higher. She caught it, bending his ring finger back pointedly and forcefully shoving it away to his lap, growling ‘Quit it!’ loudly enough to attract some attention.

Rick flushed, eyes flashing angrily at her, but Sharon ignored him, looking instead for Dave or anyone else who might help. Anna apologized, then, and when Sharon looked at her in question, the younger blonde explained that she had asked them to seat Sharon with her.

“You looked like you were really enjoying the sex,” the young starlet shrugged, “And I decided you would be the perfect person to ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Well,” Anna looked around, “I’ve had several offers to do some features that involve,” she looked around and dropped her voice, “Sex with black guys.” Sharon’s brow furrowed as she thought ‘so what.’ Anna giggled and blushed, “Well, I haven’t had sex with a black guy before,” she shrugged, “They’re… well, even for porn stars they’re… bigger.” Sharon nodded her understanding.

“If you like sex,” she said, patting the younger woman’s knee, “You’ll have no problem.”

“Really?” Sharon nodded.

“Trust me… I did not even expect to have sex with one black guy, and now,” she was watching the women she had met that day take the stage to open the show, “Now I can’t imagine not having sex with them.” Anna nodded, seemingly relieved, and not noticing Sharon’s inner conflict at what she had just admitted. Then the show was on, and Sharon did not have a chance to tell her new friend that there were lots of black guys who were not that much bigger than anyone else.



Sitting live at the awards show was an experience for the white housewife. She was glad for the pretty women carrying trays of champagne and taking drink orders when she saw that for every category, they were playing some footage of then nominees; there were at least a couple minutes of explicit video playing on the enormous screen each time there was a new award. The crowd would go quiet except for some hoots and cat calls, and then there would be applause to recognize specific tricks or feats being shown on the giant screen behind Sasha and Jess. It was enough to have Sharon dripping in her seat, but as arousing as watching the scenes was, Sharon was kept partially distracted by her other seatmate; Rick seemed bound and determined to feel her up every time a new reel started to play. She stopped trying to be polite, growling and eventually nearly shouting ‘cut it out,’ and forcing his hand back into his lap.

There was a procession of men and women to the stage, hugging the women, waving a very phallic award and thanking a variety of people. One man wearing thin slacks waggled his hips suggestively, an obviously impressive cock shifting noticeably to the delight of the crowd. Several of the women were wearing gowns that left nothing to the imagination, sheer material leaving one or both breasts visible. One starlet caught Jess and the two enjoyed a passionate kiss for long enough that Sasha was clearing her throat and the crowd’s shouts of encouragement had quieted.

By the time they had seen ten awards handed out, it embarrassed Sharon that part of her was nearly to the point she would have welcomed Rick’s fingering her, she was so hot from the endless stream of quality porn being played for the room. She had emptied three tumblers in the last four awards, and almost giggled drunkenly at the thought she might the waitress if they knew how to make a ‘Mind Eraser.’ Telling herself not to get too *****, Sharon nursed her next, a flute of champagne, part of her ready to dump it on Rick if he tried to grope her again.

She also knew that at least it was not just her own libido reacting to the videos and the stereophonic moans and urgings filling the big auditorium; Anna was shifting in her seat like she had ants in her pants, and after a particularly hot scene during the introductions for the ‘Male performer of the year,’ she had actually slipped her hands inside her skirt for a moment before smiling self-consciously and looking around. When Sharon met her eyes, the housewife had winked,

“I feel the same way,” she said, making sure Rick did not hear. Anna smiled.

“It’s like this every year,” she told Sharon, “Can you feel it? The whole room is buzzing with sexual energy.” And it was.

“You said we get to work it off afterwards?” Sharon asked with barely noticed eagerness. Anna nodded. Anything she might have said was pre-empted by Rick’s next pass, which was finally too much for Sharon. She stood up, hissing ‘Get away from me, creep!’ loudly enough that people around them noticed. Anna pulled her back down and both women glared at the poser, who still seemed unfazed.

“Cut it out, man,” the guy seated behind them, a muscular man with short cropped hair and heavy Slavic accent warned. Sharon and Rick both looked back, Sharon’s eyes tracing the heavy tribal ink curling up the man’s muscular upper arm. Rick sniffed as if the man was no concern,

“She’s my date,” he lied without hesitation, “Can’t have the bitches thinking they get to call the shots…” and reached out to grab Sharon’s arm. Sharon knocked his hand away.

“I said, “the bigger man leaned forward, an almost smile lighting his face, “Cut shit out. Or I show you what else I am good at.” Sharon looked to the icy blonde woman seated with him. The girl was much younger, painfully thin, and immaculately made up. Sharon had the sense she had seen her somewhere, and wondered just how much pornography she had seen at the frat and in her condo since the start of school. She caught the eye of the younger woman who raised one shoulder a millimeter, clear indication she was not worried who would win if this turned into something more than chest beating.

“Is there a problem here?” the smooth bass voice made Sharon shiver. She looked to the aisle to see a monstrous black man looking down at Rick, who was half out of his seat, trying to intimidate the bigger man behind them. Even standing, the new arrival was most of a foot taller than Rick.

“Naw, man,” Rick insisted, “My date’s just looking to slip out for a little,” he waggled his unibrow, “You know…”

“No,” the man shook his head, not smiling. “I don’t know. But I do know that Sharon is not your date.” Sharon’s growing alarm melted into her persistent arousal, and she found herself wondering how it would feel to have the big man inside of her. She bit her lip, certain it would be amazing. “I do know that you are actually in my seat.”

“Bullshit,” Rick growled, “I paid… The owner knows me. This is my seat,” he insisted. The big man shook his head.

“Do you even know me?” Rick snorted derisively, at the man’s calm question, amazing Sharon, considering Rick would not stand a chance between them.

“Relax, man,” Rick tried to change tack, “She’s a pro… You can have her when I’m done with her.” The black man exhaled through his nostrils and pursed his lips.

“I’m tired of this,” he shook his bald head fractionally, “You used the fact that your father owns this casino to try to get a seat near a porn star you want to fuck. I respect that. But she is clearly not interested,” he paused and glanced at her, “Are you, Sharon?” Sharon shook her head, trying to quell the growing desire to simply throw herself at the big black man. He seemed familiar, too… nearly everyone around her seemed familiar, but there was something about him… “So leave now with your dignity intact, or my people will remove you.”

“My ***’s security won’t-”

“I did not say anything about his security,” the big man snapped a finger at his side and an instant later there were additional black men, along with the Eastern European man seated behind them, all standing, or rather looming over Rick, “We are devoted to the safety of our stars,” the black man went on calmly, sounding like a CEO on a television show to Sharon, rather than a porn star, “And she is most definitely one of our rising stars, as is Ms. Colter.” He offered the pretty blonde beside Sharon a brief smile, and Sharon felt the woman vibrate in response… something she could completely understand.

“Oh my God,” Anna breathed beside her.

“So are you going to walk out or be carried out?” Rick’s lip curled, but any insolent retort he had intended was lost as the big Slav’s fist lashed out in a short hook tapping the heavy poser just in front of the ear. He dropped like a pole axed ox, and the other three easily hoisted him from the narrow row and began to drag him up the aisle. To anyone who had not witnessed the exchange, it looked like guys helping a friend who had had too much to drink.

Sharon looked around in shock, seeing only supportive looks from the few still paying them any attention… most were watching whatever was happening on screen.

“I apologize,” the big man said, slipping into the seat with some difficulty due merely to his size, “I did not realize he had switched my seat until I went to speak to the poor woman beside me and realized she was most definitely not Sharon Sobel.” Sharon nodded, though her eyes went wide.

“I’m sure you mean Sharon Synn,” she managed, looking about to see if anyone had heard. He smiled.

“Of course,” his hand came to rest on Sharon’s knee, and the housewife never considered telling him to stop. It was a struggle not to spread her legs and raise her hips.

“I thought you would remember,” he smiled, “We’ve met once before.” Sharon started to shake her head, certain she would remember that. Unbidden an image of the night in the warehouse, when she had dressed up in the bikini and had given herself to the group of black strangers came to mind. She blushed.

“Oh, I’m so embarrassed,” she stopped, not telling him she barely remembered that night.

“Don’t be,” he chuckled, “You were… busy that night.” His hand was still resting on her knee, and she saw Anna’s jealous gaze out of the corner of her eye. “But I’m hoping we have time tonight for you to spend a little more time with me.” Sharon just nodded, the arousal she had been feeling in the sexually charged room threatening to catch fire.

“Sharon!” Anna nudged her, “You’re on.” Sharon had followed the other woman’s gaze. Larger than life, it showed her, no mask on, humping avidly at a black cock, and then eagerly pulling another to her mouth, slurping at it hungrily. Sharon shivered, torn between seeing if others were watching her on screen or watching her, and aware of the heat and wetness of her sex, even though she could not remember exactly when she had done what everyone was watching. She looked down, eyes focusing on the man’s dark skin where his hand still rested on her bare knee. Her arousal spiked. To keep from masturbating then and there, she grabbed her drink, downing the rest as she focused on the women announcing the candidates. Both women were watching her, Sasha with a sly smile, and Jess with a look of open admiration.

The overly perky blonde waved, and Sharon returned the gesture just as the camera cut to a ‘live’ shot of her. She saw herself waving over the shoulder of the women. The crowd laughed, and Sharon managed to smile.

Sharon realized the people throughout the room were clapping… cheering her ‘performance.’ Embarrassed that she had no idea what was being announced, she sat back and refocused on the presenters. Her mind threatened to run away fantasizing about taking Anna and Jess to the big hot tub in her suite.

“And the winner of the best interracial group scene,” Jess looked out to Sharon and winked as Sasha opened the envelope. The white housewife paled, shocked that there would be an award for that… and that she was a finalist.

“Helen Cozadd,” Sasha said, seemingly surprised, as was the crowd, which applauded after a beat. A polished brunette strode up the steps from the opposite side of the auditorium, hugging both presenters and thanking her label, her co-stars, her fans, and promising more in the next year.” There was more applause, but everywhere Sharon looked she saw eyes watching her.

“They know that was a… politically correct vote,” the big man squeezed her knee gently, “Don’t feel bad.” Sharon nodded, even as she kept from answering that she was relieved… the idea of going on stage before this room full of people to accept an award for her having sex with various men was horrifying to the white wife. “The production she was in cost her studio more than a million,” the man went on, “And it was very good… just not as real or passionate as your work. She is hardly an amateur, as well, but…”

Sharon just nodded, having blushed at his obvious compliment. She wanted to ask the man his name; the card on his lanyard was turned so that she could not read it. Anna caught her hand, and Sharon squeezed it gratefully. They sat like that as more awards were handed out… Best double penetration. Best ‘new cock.’ Best foreign film. Best audio effects. Best editing. A posthumous award was presented, naming a young woman whose boyfriend had killed her when he had realized she was about to make it on her own and would leave him behind. The image of the sweet Midwestern face in pigtails left the crowd somber.



The highest grossing independent followed, and once again Sharon was a nominee. She offered an almost coy smile and waved her fingers alone at the cameraman who was getting footage of her from the aisle while more footage from her various ‘feature films’ played on the big screen behind the presenters. One of the roving servers had just provided fresh champagne flutes to Sharon and her friends. Anna giggled at Sharon’s obvious relief when the name Sasha read was not hers. On the other side of the wide room a bottle blonde with shaved sidewalls jumped up, beaming, and strutted to the stage, her enhanced breasts barely contained by the belly dancer themed bra she wore, with genie pants to complete the look. The crowd was polite, but once again Sharon thought many were looking at her as if she should be surprised or angry.

She looked to her new seatmate as she clapped, not wanting anyone to say she was jealous; the idea of some ‘spat’ between she and another performer making the AVN news and maybe that national news played through her mind. She tried to remember if she had ever heard about such things watching E television with the kids before she had gone to school.

“That’s not a surprise,” the big man said, leaning over and speaking so she and Anna could hear, “If it is a bit… misleading. Misty Shake is already signed by one of the big labels,” he shrugged, “She is going to be a big star, and many were angry she was even nominated as an amateur.”

“Were you?” Anna seemed glad to be included in the conversation. The big man chuckled.

“The more beautiful women take their clothes off and have sex on camera, the more beautiful women I can make money by performing with,” he shrugged, “So no. I don’t think these awards are that important.” Anna nodded as if she was hearing the gospel from the source. Sharon giggled at how obviously aroused her new friend was, nipples proudly tenting the front of her blouse. Noticing that spiked her own arousal, as Sharon wondered how the pretty young woman would taste… how it would feel making her moan and writhe from the touch of her own tongue. “But if you counted only film releases, Sharon would have been the winner once again,” he continued, “Misty was in more than twice as many films, and they were more expensive, but she was at least 10% behind Sharon. It was the closest I can remember, and Misty won with only a few thousand more, and most of that was because of her faf shows.” Sharon blinked.

“Faf?” she guessed it was an acronym, but had never heard of it.

“Fuck a fan,” the big man chuckled at Sharon’s obvious shock, “Previous years they did not include anything except movie sales. This year they also counted merchandise sales, and you led in that,” he added, leaving the housewife wondering what merchandise she was selling, “But the totals from live performances put her over the top.”

“I’ve been doing… Uhm I’ve danced regularly for a packed house!” Sharon argued, barely managing not to tell them she had essentially been working as Go’s prostitute.

“Oh, I’ve seen,” the big man smiled knowingly, “But you work as a team, at a home club, so they divide the revenue by the number of performers.” He clapped politely at the end of Misty’s speech, and the women followed his lead, “If you did even one FAF set in a weekend here or out in California it wouldn’t have been close.” He looked at her, “And that has the big distributors nervous,” he said with a smile, “I’m sure David has emphasized you should not sign any paperwork that someone offers with some too good to be true story.” Sharon nodded, though he had not. She guessed it was because of whatever she had signed for him in the room. She made a mental note to read it, remembering that he had left a copy in her bag.

“I don’t see how that can be safe,” she said quietly, instead, “I mean, the ZB are all tested.” The big man seemed ready to argue, and Sharon had a momentary flash of Dave exiting the bathroom on the plane. She was horrified to think that what they had told her was a lie.

“It’s for everyone’s protection,” the man agreed, “But it’s rare in the amateur industry. And some fans are willing to bring proof to such events, just for the chance to…” Sharon nodded, having already realized that Go was using her in the same way. He had assured her that her ‘guests’ had been tested, though, and she did not doubt the big club owner for a moment. She wondered if that was because Shaun and Dave were still so young they likely thought they were invincible, but the big club owner would know otherwise.

Anna asked the big porn star how he knew so much, and then teased, asking if he knew all of the winners in advance. He waggled his eyebrows, assuring the young woman he had ‘known’ almost every woman who had been on stage so far. He admitted he only knew about the awards that were for things that could be quantified.

“The rest… the ones about popularity,” he shrugged, “I usually have a good guess, but like the best interracial award Sharon was nominated for… I had her pegged as the easy winner.” Anna asked about his favorite movie of the year, but Sharon did not hear his answer, as she wondered if she was being advertised as performing ‘FAF’ routines, as many people as had been her guest for an hour around the holiday. It was yet another possible way Chris could find out what a slut she had become, and yet the thought seemed to build the baseline arousal she had been feeling from the moment they had left the suite in the terribly revealing outfit.

The final award of the night was for the best new amateur. Sharon was shocked when her name was read off as the last nominee. She had already begun to wonder what they would do after the awards were over, considering she had two obviously interested parties sitting right beside her. The images from her performances playing over Sasha and Jess’ heads she recognized from the Halloween party. The crowd cheered and clapped, and her new friend gently squeezed her thigh where his hand still rested. Anna squeezed her hand.

She blinked, shocked, when the overhead spot lights swung down on her seconds after Jess announced her name… or rather ‘Sharon Synn.’ She looked to her left to see the big man smiling broadly and clapping, musing that she wished his hand was still on her thigh. Anna was clapping too, and when she looked to the younger blonde, the woman leaned over and hugged her, gently urging her out of her seat.

“Get up there,” she urged, adding, “We’ll see you after.” Sharon nodded, pausing for a moment to look at the crowd. People seemed amused at the shocked expression still on her face. Everyone was clapping. She saw the shaved side woman who had won for total earnings stand up, still clapping, and shout her name. Other people were standing up.

Sharon stepped into the aisle, walking as quickly as she could manage in the tall heels and the risqué outfit to the steps. She slipped two steps from the stage and felt a breast fall free of the thin fabric. Blushing, she put herself back together, hearing the crowd react positively, and made it across the broad glossy black stage to the narrow glass podium. Sasha and Jess hugged her, the taller brunette handing her the award. It was heavy, a black base with a small clear leaded glass obelisk that too late Sharon realized magnified her cleavage for the cameras arrayed before the women the way she held it.

The other women stepped aside, and suddenly Sharon was standing alone in front of the crowd. The podium was transparent, hiding none of the too revealing outfit as the still shocked white housewife looked around the room. The clapping quieted.

“Oh my God,” she managed and blushed visibly, which made everyone laugh. “I didn’t… I had no idea this would happen,” she started. For a second she wondered what would happen if she said ‘You can’t tell my husband, I didn’t want to do this, I can’t believe I’ve done this… someone help me to make it stop.’

“I, uhm… I never knew how much I liked sex,” she paused, eyes going wide at that admission and the way the crowd laughed. “I just… Well, I hope that all of the other performers have had as much fun as I have this year.” She shifted, aware that her breasts… her entire body was on nearly full display. “I should thank Shaun and David and Go,” she blinked, “I should thank Kelly and all of the ZB members who have gotten me off,” there were chuckles, “My fellow ZB Bitches, this is yours, too!” she waved the phallic looking award, “I couldn’t have done it without you.” She bit her lip, “And I should thank my ******, too, but don’t tell them what I’ve been doing or I won’t be able to keep doing it,” she said, meaning it sincerely, though the crowd laughed as if it was another joke. “I think people thank God at these things,” she paused, and everyone was quiet, “And I think God likes sexuality of he wouldn’t have made it feel so good.” There were renewed cheers. “And I want to say a special thanks to all the fans who’ve watched me… and visited when I dance… and who bought my videos. I hope you’ve enjoyed yourselves watching me,” she finished and winked suggestively, running a hand up under the band of her ‘dress’ to finger her aroused nipple there on stage, “Just imagining all of you doing that has me dripping wet.”

The music began, and Jess and Sasha were beside her again, and with a final wave the white housewife and sex star sauntered away from the podium and the crowd to the wing opposite the side where she had been seated. Near the curtain, Jess reached out, cupping Sharon’s nearly bare ass and Sharon turned, dipping her head to kiss the buxom porn star, her hand slipping without thought into the shorter woman’s dress, cupping her augmented breast provocatively as the kiss became passionate, in full view of the crowd. Sasha paused, tapping her foot as if awaiting the pair to quit, and then Sharon reached out blindly, looping her arm around the slimmer brunette and pulling her in close, pausing to kiss her, then returning to Jess’ pouting lips.

The lights flickered around them, and two of the stage hands had to come out and guide the entangled women off of the stage as the crowd cheered and clapped the show’s surprising end.

Sharon found herself standing before a cream backdrop upon which ‘AVN’ was printed endlessly in alternating fonts, smiling and posing and answering questions. No, she had not planned to become an adult star. No, of course she had not been sexually abused as a child. Yes she enjoyed performing with black men. No she was not bisexual, but she did enjoy having sex with women. Yes, she expected there would be more movies. Yes, it was true she was dancing-- visit Snake Eyes to see. Yes, Kelly was a hottie. No, she did not plan to shoot with her husband. Yes, she was married. No she did not fake orgasms. Anal had been uncomfortable at first, but now… Now she almost always got off…

The questions had seemed endless. The flashes left her dazzled. At first Jess had been hanging on her, and for a moment Sharon had imagined they might do a 69 there just behind the curtains. She realized she would not hesitate, considering what everyone in the auditorium had already seen her doing. But just when she had decided to tear Jess’ flimsy dress apart to feast on the smaller woman’s pointy nipples, the blonde had pinched Sharon’s ass, whispered, ‘see you around,’ and had sauntered off.

Sharon fended off questions about what she was doing next, telling them to talk to Shaun or Dave. She let the handlers lead her to another room, with a different AVN background… this time white with the letters in red and a surrounding red circle. She posed for more pictures, even baring a breast when asked, and striking some more provocative poses without touching the blinged out thong.

Thankfully another starlet came up for her photos in front of the display. Sharon thanked the people who had been snapping away, and the swirl of people carried her along into a long corridor lined with tables, with eager people on the other side as Sharon moved along. There were fancy sunglasses that a pert red head handed her, insisting they were hers, and asking if she would pose for a photo wearing them and say something positive. Sharon obliged, saying she could not believe what a great deal the glasses were.

The next table was stacked with supplements, and the woman handed her a heavy satchel, and said under her breath, ‘I think you’ll find these are most beneficial… I think you already know what to be doing. Sharon was puzzled but smiled for the camera and babbled that the supplement helped her to dance until close and then keep going, adding a suggestive wink that the woman loved. There were boas and sex toys and ipods. There was a point and shoot camera, a rental agency from Vegas that specialized in exotic cars. There was booze, and a vacation site for ‘the sexually adventurous.’ There was a guy who insisted he could create a ‘virtual vagina’ model of her own sex that would be a hit with her fans.

A muscular guy wearing a red shirt emblazoned with ‘the Gun Store’ handed her a heavy rifle with a scope and other various devices affixed along the barrel, and she dutifully held it up and hugged him while his assistant snapped photos. As she left, he slipped a package into the over sized and increasingly stuffed embroidered canvas AVN bag she realized she was carrying. The last tables included a man who asked her to sign a petition to legalize weed. She laughed, signing without a second thought, and then letting them record her as she said, ‘Nobody ever died of weed. But it can make a dull date almost orgasmic,’ and licked her lips as she eyed the chromed mini-bong they had handed her. It went into the bag with the other swag.

She was almost through the long corridor when the man at the opposite table touched her elbow. He represented a company called the Gold Exchange, and handed her a coin barely the size of a dime and asked if she knew what it was. She shook her head, and he explained it was a tenth of an ounce of gold… worth more than one hundred dollars. Feeling its weight, the housewife blinked as she considered how heavy the coins she had been receiving back home were… they were the same bright color… some of them must have been an ounce. She had just left thousands of dollars in gold laying around at the club and in her condo. She nodded that she would let him record her doing his pitch to keep the tiny coin and another nine like it. She read through his sell sheet, and when the light went on, the ZB Bitch smiled seductively, ‘When my lovers show me how much they appreciate me, I make sure I get it in gold… It’s a hedge against inflation and it keeps my hubby from wondering how I can keep buying things at the mall.’ The man seemed shocked but assured her it was perfect.

Finally Sharon exited into a much larger room that was teaming with people. Immediately there were total strangers shaking her hand, hugging her, offering congratulations, insisting she should see them for her next film or that she had to work with them or someone they knew. She looked for Dave but he was nowhere to be found. She was relieved when a hand caught hers and she turned to find Anna, with the big man who had been her other seatmate in trail. His nametag had turned and she read it, Rex Iron. It rang a bell, but she still could not remember meeting him, really.

“You were great,” Anna enthused, “So sexy… Is Jess a good kisser?” Sharon smiled, and without thinking about it, without warning, leaned forward, kissing her new friend. Though obviously shocked, Anna did not back off, instead pressing herself against Sharon, as their tongues danced, each groping the other, heedless of the other people. Sharon backed off after a minute, aware of the strobes of photos being taken. The big black man was watching them in amusement.

“Mmm,” she smiled, “Not as good as you are,” she said seriously. “I’d kiss you, too, but you’re too tall to do that to right now,” Sharon told their chaperone, putting a hand on her hip, “Can I take you back to my room and really show you how grateful I am that you saved me from that asshole?” Rex smiled and nodded.

“I’ll have to film it, though,” he sounded almost apologetic, and Sharon shrugged.

“I don’t know what to do if there isn’t a camera rolling,” she answered, catching Anna’s hand and leading them toward the lighted exit sign on the far wall.

Even so, it had taken longer than Sharon expected to get there. There were drinks and food, and Rex paused repeatedly to talk to people who came up to him, most eyeing the blondes and offering him a knowing wink. He or someone else repeatedly provided the women with fresh drinks as their trip across the room became a meet and greet, but Sharon never managed to get anything to eat. One guy shook his head, ‘Rex scores again,’ he said as if he had hoped to manage to be the women’s companion, instead. Rex just patted his shoulder while smiling at the top heavy brunette who was holding the man’s arm

“Looks like you’re doing fine tonight.” The man had brightened at that, and the couple had moved on, Sharon watching, trying to guess if the woman was older than Lisa, or if she just looked young. She decided no 18 year old would have breast implants like that, but even so, she had to have been 20 years younger than the man.

“Who was that?” she asked, wondering then if the man had recognized her. She blushed, wondering when she had become such a slut she wanted strange men to recognize her. Rex looked where the man had gone.

“Dan O’Toole,” he replied, “He’s a mover and a shaker in California… Has several labels that sign new talent and get them polished up for the big leagues.” Sharon nodded as if she understood. Rex laughed. “Have you heard of Femvid?” Sharon nodded… it was a porn company run by women that insisted it was the best way for women in the business to go. It had been mentioned on the Today Show and E television. “Think of him as their talent scout.”

“So that brunette will wind up with a Femvid contract?” Anna asked, sounding more than a little jealous. Rex shrugged.

“Her?” he considered for a moment, “I doubt it. Most girls don’t rate that sort of contract. But she can make herself and Dan some money and if she’s good enough he’ll find her a label.” Sharon wrinkled her nose. She wondered how long the woman would be able to make money in the sex game, aware that they had already passed a dozen brunettes who were at least as attractive. She never stopped to consider how long she would have loyal fans.

Though the food looked good, they never stopped where she could get anything to eat. Anna somehow snagged a finger sandwich, and the housewife watched her new friend eat it with a bit of jealousy. She smiled through several additional introductions, none of the names registering or sticking longer than it took to meet someone new. The men seemed barely able to keep from staring at her tits, and the women seemed unable to concentrate enough to take part in the conversations. Through it all, Sharon kept watching for Dave.

Just before they reached the fire doors leading to the casino, Jess caught Sharon’s arm.

“I wasn’t kidding,” the blonde husked, “I have to have sex with you while you’re here,” she said, pressing herself against Sharon.

“Join us,” the housewife threw one arm around the porn star and the other around Anna, “I think he’s man enough to satisfy us all.” Jesse threw Rex a look and the big man winked at Sharon and cocked his head, watching the established star squirm.

“I… well, I’ll think about it,” Sharon giggled as Jess’ eyes dropped to Rex’s groin. She bit her lip.

“I’m telling you,” Sharon murmured, “You’ll still enjoy others, but there’s nothing like a big black cock.” Anna seemed to shiver at her other side, but Jess shrugged.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re right,” she said, “I mean, I can tell you love it.” It was Sharon’s turn to be at a loss for words. “But right now that’s not where my career is, you know?” Rex just shrugged, and Jess hugged him, “You really are a gentleman. Now go show these ladies a good time.” She looped an arm around Sharon’s waist, “But leave enough for little ol’ me.” And then she was gone. Sharon did not stop to consider what had happened. The night’s endless titillation and raw sexuality had almost eroded any remaining self control. If Dave was going to be out partying she was going to take advantage of the professional cock that was available at the expo.

She practically dragged the others to her room, pleased when Rex as well as Anna were impressed by the suite. Anna went to the floor to ceiling windows looking toward the strip.

“I haven’t even seen a room like this,” she gushed, then spun around and fell into Sharon’s arms. The women kissed passionately, fondling one another, and the younger blonde offered no resistance when Sharon released the back of her dress. Moments later, she was standing naked in front of Sharon and Rex. The big man cleared his throat, removing papers folded neatly down the middle from the inside pocket of his suit coat.

“I’m sorry ladies,” he began, “But I’m sure you can understand, before we continue I have to have you sign these releases.”

“I thought you said not to sign anything,” Sharon teased, rubbing her bared leg provocatively against Anna’s from behind. The younger woman’s head dropped back onto her shoulder and she moaned theatrically, then looked up at the big man through heavy lidded eyes.

“Yeah,” she drawled, the ‘Anna Colter’ voice replaced by a vaguely Texan drawl, “What are you, Sheldon?” Rex was at a loss to understand Anna’s reference. “Bazinga!” she added, the word sounding incredibly sexy coming from the skinny blonde’s throat. Rex blinked in delayed recognition..

“Did you seriously just compare me to a skinny white asexual nerd?” Sharon giggled.

“I guess it doesn’t really fit,” Anna admitted with a giggle of her own, “But you have to admit… who walks around with releases like that?”

“Black men,” the big black porn star answered with almost a glare, “Have to so that a couple of sexed up blonde white women don’t get cold feet after they get blacked and cry ****.” Sharon rolled her eyes and Rex smiled, “Yeah, I know you both have… histories. But it’s for your protection, too. And it’s for your profit.” Sharon arched a tweezed eyebrow, her fingers strumming one of Anna’s nipples while her other hand teased the younger woman’s clit, dipping repeatedly into her heated sex. Rex continued as if both women had protested, “It divides the profits from the sale of our video equally,” he paused, “Seriously… no greater percentage for me just because I’m the producer. The only thing you give up is the rights to control advertising and distribution.” Sharon pursed her lips. “Look,” Rex continued as if Sharon had argued, “You don’t want to hassle with where it can be advertised, and what images are acceptable… I already have that taken care of. You could make enough on this to not work again until next year.”

“Next year?” Sharon was skeptical. Rex shrugged.

“Seriously… you just won new amateur of the year. Every guy who watches porn will hear your name.” Sharon blinked, remembering that Chris had been viewing porn on the computer at home. “Your fan base is going to explode.” Sharon winced, wondering if her husband might just do exactly that. “I already have Dave’s OK,” he indicated a signature on the forms, “He told me to scold you if you did not insist on his being included, but I don’t want to play games… I guess I can just watch if you don’t want cock tonight…” Sharon held out her hand, and grabbing a coffee table book , Rex held it for each woman to sign.

Anna’s signature wavered, because she signed with three of Sharon’s fingers pumping steadily into her box. Sharon spun the young woman back to the window, pressing Anna’s bare nipples against the cool glass. Anna groaned, her ass pushing back against Sharon’s left thigh. Rex moved away from them into the room, and when he approached again, he deftly released Sharon’s dress as well. The blondes hugged, then resumed kissing and caressing in front of the window as the big actor used a hand held camcorder to catch the scene.

Sharon was a little surprised when she came up for air a few minutes later to find two more big black men were in the room. Each had an expensive camera on his shoulder, filming the action, and Rex was between them and the bed, checking on two additional cameras that sat on tripods.

“Aren’t you going to join us?” Sharon teased, and Anna preened and posed for Rex, obviously not worried about their new guests. The women’s fingers were wet with each other’s honey, and Sharon led the way to the big bed as the tall black porn star began to strip out of his tailored suit. Anna watched, transfixed, and as he got down to the tight lycra boxers that somehow emphasized his size, she was suddenly visibly nervous. Sharon kissed her neck, gently fingering the younger woman’s pert nipples, then dipping the fingers of one hand into her wet and ready sex.

“You really haven’t been with a black guy before?” Anna shook her head, moaning softly at Sharon’s knowing touch. “You’re gonna love it,” Sharon assured Ann, “I thought I was ruined at first,” she paused, remembering the halting way she had started to leave the frat the morning after she had first fucked Shaun. By that afternoon, she had called her husband with Shaun’s amazing cock filling her ass. “I was terrified my husband would know the moment we fucked… I was worried I wouldn’t be able to enjoy sex with him again.” One of the cameramen snorted, but said nothing at Rex’s glare. Anna’s body undulated against Sharon. “But sex with Chris is still great,” she murmured, kissing Anna’s neck, lightly rubbing the younger woman’s lust swollen nipples. “And he doesn’t know,” she giggled, “He still enjoyed sex after I’d pushed two kids out, so a big cock won’t ruin you.” She kissed the other nipple, “It’s just some really great sex…”

They were at the edge of the bed, and Anna gave no resistance when the older blonde pushed her back onto the pillowed comforter. Sharon moved up between Anna’s spread legs. The younger woman was shaved bare, a hint of razor burn betraying her recent clean up. Sharon let her tongue circle Anna’s hooded clit, and the stick thin woman moaned, body going rigid, her clit immediately poking out of the delicate shroud. Sharon dipped her tongue low… almost touched it, then pressed into the top of Anna’s sex, sweeping down, pushing deep, reveling in the scent and taste of the young woman’s nectar.

“Oh God,” Anna groaned, hands catching Sharon’s head, “Eat me!” Sharon ignored her demand, resisted the pull of the younger woman’s hands, and went on teasing, circling the swollen bead without touching it, then dipping her tongue through Anna’s sex top to bottom, and returning, collecting her flowing cream. After the fourth such lingering stroke, Sharon tilted her head, nipping gently at the paper thin left inner lip. Anna whined, pelvis humping up at Sharon’s face. The experienced wife kept her distance and teased the other inner labia, then began to lap inside and out of each, still pausing between strokes to circle Anna’s begging clit.

She was so lost in pleasuring the younger woman… In truly getting her off, that it was a surprise to Sharon when a tongue pressed into her own aroused sex from behind. She murmured encouragement into Anna’s sex, shivering at the pressure of Rex’s nose against her ass. He worked her sex with at least as much skill, and within another minute the white wife was pressing back, hungry for more.

Anna was ready, too… She was humping at Sharon’s face, and when the older woman finally stopped avoiding the contact, flattening her tongue to envelop Ann’s clit completely, curling down to tease into the top of her dripping tunnel, Anna arched her back, crying out that she was cumming. Sharon sucked hungrily at the other woman’s clit, even as Rex rose, easily seating the head of his cock in her own dripping cunt. He caught her hips and Sharon’s head rocked as he began an easy pace, each stroke pushing deeper, stretching her delightfully.

“Don’t you want,” Sharon panted a moment later as Rex’s hips smacked steadily against the backs of her thighs, “To take Anna?” Rex chuckled,

“Oh I will,” he assured both women, “But I thought you might remember me this way…” Sharon blinked, her body twitching in pleasure with each thrust. She was embarrassed to admit lots of men had made her feel that way. And when she thought about it, she knew it was not really true… Rex really was huge… she had very seldom been fucked as deeply. The thought threatened to overcome her weakening control. She shook her head,

“Sorry… but I know that I love… what you’re doing,” her voice caught as a climax threatened to erupt. She hollowed her back, tilting her pelvis to feel him thrusting into her at a different angle and tried to remember. “You’ve been in me before?” Rex chuckled, a rumble tickling deep inside of Sharon.

“Oh yes,” he told her, “Shaun had me bring some of my boys early on… when they’d first realized what a find they had in you.” Sharon frowned, body twitching in a small climax as she went on eating Anna’s sex and willing Rex to fuck her harder. She gasped.

“You were there that night in the warehouse.” The big man chuckled again.

“Oh yes,” he acknowledged. Sharon frowned.

“But I… I don’t remember you… And in the video?” That video had played repeatedly in her condo in the months since.

“I’m always in my productions,” he explained, “But if I’m not listed as a headliner… which usually means I’m fucking a headliner,” he paused, slowly pushing balls deep into Sharon and holding himself there, “Like I am now… Well if I’m not, I get a taste, but I remain anonymous.” Sharon nodded. Her body twitching so steadily that she did not trust her voice… But she remembered… that first cock, the man who had begun fucking her while she was eating Gina’s pussy.” She shivered wishing she could remember that night better before realizing that she was cumming again already. She laughed, because she did not have to wonder how it had felt, Rex Iron was getting her off better than she usually experienced, fucking her right there and then.

“God that’s so good,” she moaned a moment later, looking up at Anna’s pleasure suffused expression, “Are you ready for it?” Anna nodded, but Rex did not back out of Sharon’s spasming box. He held a thick black glass dildo out, instead.

“Here,” he said, “Start her with that…” Sharon did as he had instructed, wetting the big dildo with her mouth as Anna watched before gently pushing it into the younger blonde’s bare shaved sex. Anna moaned, humping up against it as Sharon deftly held the glass shaft up against Anna’s clit while sawing in and out. She took it easily as deeply as Sharon could thrust.

“Perfect,” Rex’s voice rumbled again, reverberating in Sharon’s recovering, still filled cunt, “She won’t have any problem taking me.” Sharon wondered if he was just saying that for Anna’s benefit… the dildo still was several inches shorter and not more than half as thick as the wonderful cock filling her up from behind. She pressed her face into the younger woman’s sex, licking, sucking, and nipping at clit and labia in order to get Anna as aroused and wet as possible. The young woman gasped, bucking up against Sharon’s face, and the housewife heard Anna gasp that she was cumming. She smiled, glad she could do that to another woman so easily.

Sharon whined when Rex pulled out, leaving her still aroused sex wanting. But she also wanted to watch as the big man claimed another woman… showed her what sex could be like. She stepped to the foot of the bed, running hands over Anna’s bare thigh to her flat tummy. She traced the clefts of the girl’s ribs, then turned her hand over, letting her nails circle Anna’s dark pink areola, working teasingly toward the peak of her erect nipple. Anna’s breath was fast, her skin flushed, eyes half open.

“You want this?” Rex gently set his length, dripping Sharon’s juices, over the skinny woman’s mons. His cock head reached nearly to her navel. Anna twitched, her hand coming down to close over the end of Rex’s shaft. She ran her fingers up and down, breath catching before she truly began to pant.

“Yes!” she husked, “Please fuck me.” Sharon was surprised that the porn star did not tease her new friend more. He did make the younger woman take responsibility, though.

“Put it in, then,” he murmured, sliding back. Sharon guessed it was another way to reduce the likelihood of a woman being upset afterwards. She felt her own excitement grow as Anna’s small hand moved down Rex’s long shaft, and the young blonde guided the thick glans to the spread deep pink of her inner labia. She tried to pull him into her, and Rex chuckled as he eased four inches before pausing. Anna’s breath caught again. She lifted her pelvis, trying to take more of him. “So you like that,” Rex murmured, backing out, then easing forward as Anna’s hands dropped away, bracing on the mattress beneath her.

She nodded, hissing ‘Yessss!’ as he added more on the second stroke. Rex was standing at the edge of the bed, and Sharon realized it was a good thing the bed was on a pedestal. Otherwise, the big porn star would have been in an awkward position. Instead, he could easily support his weight with his legs, controlling his stroke, which left his hands free. He set them on the tops of Anna’s thighs, pinning her in place after she had been taking half of his cock for a minute. He added another quarter of his length, and the young woman whimpered but never stopped trying to buck up to take even more.

As she quieted, adjusting to the new stroke length, Rex’s hands roamed over her taut belly , teasing the ring in her navel, and up to her nipples, rolling and pinching them, eliciting new moans. Sharon bit her lip, a hand pressed against her sex, wishing she was the one Rex was claiming.

His hands slipped under Anna’s ass, anchoring her as the big man finally applied more pressure, driving the last of his cock into the young porn star after he had been fucking into her for nearly five minutes. Anna gave a whimpering cry as he settled, buried fully, but when Rex began to slide out she shook her head, hands catching his ass, trying to pull him back into her.

“No,” she groaned, “God that’s so good… Don’t stop… Leave it in me… Fuck me, please!” Sharon realized she was using the pundit’s voice, and wondered if Anna was really enjoying it, but from the appearance of her nipples and the trembling of her stomach as Rex pulled out, Sharon knew it was no act. She almost giggled, guessing that no woman could take that cock and not react… Sure some would decide it was too much, she snorted at that thought, but no one would fake enjoying it… They’d either love it or demand that the big man stop. And she could tell that Anna was going to be begging for more. The housewife told herself she was damn sure going to get her share of the amazing cock.

Rex worked his cock in and out of Anna’s cunt for nearly ten minutes before he was ready to blow. Ever the professional, he told Sharon to get up on the bed beside her friend, and the women were giggling and whispering and kissing, Sharon pausing to lick and suck on Anna’s lust hardened nipples, and even dipping down to lick at her friend’s stretched seam and the root of Rex’s cock as he pounded into the young blonde.

Rex grunted that ‘it was coming’ and pulled out of Anna’s cunt, wanking his big shaft twice before a heavy streamer of his jism launched toward both women. It spattered Anna’s cheek, mouth, and chin. Sharon lunged forward, kissing her new friend and lover and reveling in the taste of Rex’s jism before turning her head to try to catch the second liquid rope. The women went on kissing and licking at each other until Rex was spent and both were cleaned up. Rex backed up and Anna closed her legs, a hand pressed against her sex. She was still panting, shivering from the after effects of the repeated release of adrenaline which had occurred during her climaxes.

“Oh my God… Oh my God,” the younger blonde kept panting, “That was so good… amazing… Oh my God!” She finally sat up, looking down at her body, as if she expected to see something changed. Sharon laughed.

“I did the same thing,” she admitted, remembering that first morning, “I knew it had to be obvious that I’d been ruined… My pussy would be a gaping mess.” She tilted her hips and opened her toned legs, “But it wasn’t… It was just easier to take it fully from the start the next time.”

“And you can still… You still get off with smaller cocks?” Anna seemed worried. Sharon nodded.

“Oh definitely… If there’s enough foreplay, or I get hot enough, or there’s enough pressure on my clit it’s easy to get off, sometimes before we I start to really fuck. Think about it, I climax almost every time I finger myself.” Anna shrugged at that and then nodded. “If I’m having a hard time,” Sharon continued, “All I have to do is remember a particularly good screwing… like this, and voila.” She started to get off of the bed, “But right now, the only thing I want to do is get that amazing cock in my mouth so you can put it back where it belongs,” she told Rex, licking her lips in anticipation. Anna sat up, obviously interested in sharing the duties and the eventual rewards.

Rex smiled at the women and shook his head.

“Blondes. Always insatiable once they realize how good sex can be,” he teased, then pointed to the other cameramen with his chin, “Trust me, I’ll be ready to go… I may even enjoy letting you do some of that,” he shrugged, “But for now you need to help me take care of these strapping young men who gave up their time to help me document our mutual pleasure.” Sharon giggled at his language… He seemed so refined for any man, much less a big black porn star. And she understood why he was a star… the man could fuck as well as any other man she had met. She blushed, finding the comparison was to Go and Shaun and Tom, not to Chris.

The younger men were already stripping down behind the cameras, and Sharon found herself nearly as amazed at how well Rex could juggle the various cameras as he single-handedly directed and filmed as she was the subsequent sex. Anna seemed hesitant at the idea of fucking another stranger, but when Sharon laughed at the ‘ready young men’ approaching with impressive erections she lay back and the women had sighed in unison as new cocks had speared into them, taking both in missionary position side by side on the big bed. The men had worn condoms, reminding her of Rex’s reaction to her assuming ZB members were all safe. He would risk his health with she and Anna, but made even the guys he worked with like this take precautions. It embarrassed her that the men working with him had not that first night; she decided to be glad the big man had been willing to ride her bare that night, sure proof that she was safe at least at the moment.

The men switched up often, taking each woman missionary style, before having them move onto their hands and knees to take them from behind. Anna seemed more anxious about that than she had been even when Rex was preparing to fuck her, and Sharon leaned over, kissing the younger woman as the men moved into position and plunged into them like young rutting bucks.

The men did not last as long as Rex had, pulling out and stripping their condoms off to paint the women’s backs in a weird sort of synchronized sex. Rex had the women ‘clean them up’ which she and Anna did without hesitation. As with the young men of the frat, the men were quickly ready for more, which amplified Sharon’s arousal and was an obvious surprise to Anna. The women rolled fresh condoms onto the resurgent pricks, and the men then took their time taking each women together. When Sharon complained about the taste of the condom, Rex shrugged and the young man fucking her face had stripped his off. Sharon had gone to work, managing to get the poor young man off before he could rotate and take another turn in her pussy.

He had obviously been embarrassed about it, and she worked to make him feel better, gasping that he tasted as good as any man she’d ever blown. After all, she doubted that was the last he would be inside of her, and she had no doubt he could punish her if he wanted to do so. Anna had been less enthusiastic about being double teamed, warning she did not want to do anal. Sharon did not argue, and when the men asked if she would let them ‘oreo her,’ the once naïve housewife eagerly climbed onto the first young man… the man she had embarrassed earlier, and let him fuck into her pussy as his buddy took her ass. She put on a show, but it was not feigned, as she climaxed twice before the men went stiff, filling their condoms inside of her.

After their show, of course, Rex was hard once again. And as if to reinforce the fact that anal could provide pleasure, he started with Sharon, using her pussy and then her ass, and getting the ZB Bitch off in a powerful orgasm. By the time he pulled out, Sharon was barely able to breathe, much less think, and she watched, ass high and loose from the recent fucking as the big porn star skillfully worked Anna to a fever pitch, after which he managed to get the lust addled young woman to beg for him to fuck her ass. There was the usual whining and begging, but like Sharon, Anna got off on Rex’s anal fucking, and reveled in the sense of the big man exploding inside of her his second release, backing out to show the cameras the young woman’s filled bottom as he continued to spray his jism over her pale back.

“Now you know how to be fair and balanced,” he had growled, a far cry from the voice he used in everyday life, and Anna had nodded, thanking him repeatedly and assuring him she had learned her lesson.

Sharon was impressed that the younger blonde could stay in character even when she was getting off. She was not sure she could pull that off, although the Sharon Synn personae was increasingly easy to adopt when she was dancing or servicing her fans… FAF as Rex had called it.

Rex apologized but told the women he needed to get some sleep before the show’s big day, the main awards on the seventh. He and his cameramen thanked the women, made sure they had their signed forms, and let themselves out as Sharon and Anna lay panting on the oversized round bed.

“God, that was incredible,” Anna murmured, hands roaming over her body as if recalling what had happened, “Even the anal… I never thought…”

“It has to be the right guy,” Sharon warned, “If they aren’t careful and gentle it can actually do damage.” Anna had nodded, “But you’re right… there’s something like having someone do that masterfully that… well, I get off like almost nothing else.” Laying with Anna’s hand in hers, Sharon wondered at how easily she had spoken to the other woman… she would never talk like that to Chris, or even Kelly. And Shaun and Dave were not interested in how she felt… only in her willingness to keep putting out. The women kissed, enjoying a languid sixty nine, which left both panting and finally sated, the last vestiges of Rex’s visit expunged. Anna asked if Sharon wanted her to leave, and the white wife and mother instead pulled the skinny blonde close, thanking her for sharing such an amazing night before she drifted to sleep.



Dave awakened them the next morning, and Sharon was not at all surprised when he insisted on ‘sampling’ Anna. Her new friend had been hesitant but obviously enjoyed it. And Dave paused to get Sharon off as well before he painted Anna with his load. The women showered, coming out to find he had eaten the breakfast they had ordered. Anna hugged Sharon, and the women exchanged information, her new friend promising to come out and see Fallen Angels dance at her first opportunity. Sharon said her goodbye naked and still damp at the door to the suite, not caring who passed in the hall.

Dave selected the day’s attire, a ZB Bitch T sans bra and the school’s mascot on white sweat pants, but with the spike heels from the night before. He explained that the main awards were that night, and that there was going to be a surprise later, so that she was not supposed to eat anything after midnight. Sharon asked, pouted, bargained, and begged, but her chaperone refused to elaborate.

The expo was little different, except more people stopped her, offering congratulations and asking for photos and autographs. Sasha and Riley and Jess all found her and offered their own more exuberant support, Jess reminding the housewife they had to ‘do it’ before the weekend was over. Sharon almost told the short porn star that Anna had loved her introduction to black cock, but decided not to press the issue… the idea of a lesbian fling with the bubbly starlet was enough to get her juices flowing.

Somehow Dave knew about the man at the fleshlight booth, and Sharon spent an interesting two hours answering passers by questions as the technicians ‘prepared her’ which essentially meant got her so excited she would have let anyone fuck her, and then took latex molds of her vaginal vault and labia. She was literally dripping with excitement when they finished, and when Jess ‘happened by’ the nearby convention goers were treated to a hot lesbian exchange, as the short blonde climbed over Sharon where she had been reclining, thrusting her sex into Sharon’s face as she dove into Sharon’s just modeled sex, licking and sucking with obvious expertise and real desire. They were panting, faces glistening with one another’s honey. when they finally stopped, laughing and preening naked for the assembled crowd, who offered the women a loud cheer.

An uptight balding man in a sweat stained dress shirt approached, waving a clipboard and angrily asking if the women were trying to get the show closed for lewd behavior and public indecency. Jess threw a hip out, asking the gathered fans if they thought what they had just seen was indecent. The crowd, hoping to see even more, came to the women’s defense, and the little would be tyrant quickly backed off, warning the fleshlight booth owner to watch himself or he might be kicked out.

When Sharon apologized… or tried to, trying to explain that she had just lost all self control when Jess’ juicy snatch had been presented after the techs had been teasing her for hours, the man laughed, hugging her like an uncle would and assuring her that she and Ms. Jem had done more for his sales than any AVN Expo advertising would ever manage. He waved a fist full of order forms as demonstration, adding, ‘and they were choosing you over Jess four to one.’

The brassy porn star heard, but she responded with a shrug and a wink, telling everyone within earshot it was just because they already had her pussy at home to enjoy. Then she told Sharon she should come out to California to ‘try some straight work’ and with a playful swat to Sharon’s again clothed ass she was gone.

The day was a whirlwind, and except for some protein drinks and supplement samples that were offered at the various tables, and a fun size snicker bar she filched from the E TV table while trying to avoid being on their ‘live coverage,’ Sharon did not have time to eat a thing. There were plenty of drinks, though, and she was kept pleasantly buzzed, laughing and enjoying herself.

After lunch, they went into the casino and she played blackjack under Dave’s tutelage, which was tolerated by the dealer purely because she was the hottest woman who had been at his table that week, which was saying something when they were hosting a porn convention. She left the table up another $250, and pleased with herself, even after Dave pointed out that the ‘little work’ she had done the night before with Rex was going to easily earn her more than ten times that number. It was the first he had indicated he knew what had happened, and Sharon chose not to even ask… She hoped it nettled the sometimes overconfident young man, that he could not guess how she would react to every little thing… or the occasional big things. She just smiled, remembering it had been Rex she had filmed with the night before.

Dave won again at the craps table, and laughed when they even hit by ‘betting black’ on roulette on their trip back to the suite. At his instruction, Sharon showered and made herself up as if she was going to be dancing. She donned the black silk backless gown Dave handed her, a spray of rhinestones accenting the daring neckline and the edge of the thigh high slit in the floor length gown. Sharon did not even bother looking for a bra or panties, and slipped into her black five inch heels. She could not believe she was about to wear such a daring dress in public, the back reaching to the top of her ass, and the front dropping to reveal her navel piercing. It was so low she was glad for the thin vee of pubic hair, rather than a typical landing strip. She was also glad for the adhesive strips at the edges of the dress, certain she would have been exposing herself to everyone around them with every step, otherwise. Reminding herself that at least there would be other more risqué outfits at the awards, the married housewife let her black coat and tie attired ZB brother lead her back down to the auditorium for the night’s main awards.

It was flattering and unsettling how many people recognized her, offering congratulations. Sharon saw the E and G4 television cameras scattered through the auditorium and hoped her face was not being plastered onto TV screens across the nation with a ‘last night’s winner of best new amateur’ label. She shuddered at the thought that Chris or Scott might see that. Various stars and starlets were shown on the big projection screen at the front as they entered or as the roving cameras paused at various points in the big room. She and Dave were seated farther back than the night before, but she recognized others from the prior night in neighboring seats. The big stars were there, though; this night was for them.

The outfits ran the spectrum from the German fetish queen who looked like a librarian, to the woman Sharon had seen the night before who had returned in a new duct tape pattern ‘dress’ that covered (almost) her nipples, areolae, and crotch. As she had noted the night before, everyone was friendly and relaxed and the winners received support from the other nominees as well as the rest of the crowd. Even though most of the bits that were played for the various awards were not ‘interracial,’ the oversexed housewife found herself nearly dripping with excitement. She wondered if Rex would want an encore, or if Anna would invite Sharon to enjoy an evening with some of her friends. She saw the big man, surrounded by his entourage, near the front. At one point she was sure he looked back and smiled, but she did nothing but smile in return. And Sharon did not see Anna anywhere. She hoped her new friend was all right.

Sasha swept by before the awards began, dryly commenting that she had ‘heard Jess and Sharon had put on quite a show.’ Sharon simply shrugged, asking if Sasha wanted to be included the next time she was hot and bothered. To her delight, after a failed attempt to seem uninterested, the pretty brunette bent close to whisper, ‘fuck yes,’ before standing again, winking once, and sweeping imperiously down the aisle toward the stage.

During a ‘commercial break’ people stood and talked to those around them. Sharon accepted more congratulations on her win, shrugging when asked if she would be making the jump to a professional actress before the next awards. When she looked to Dave for guidance, the ZB brother seemed more interested in the conversation he was having with a petite Asian. Looking farther back in the crowd, though, Sharon realized someone was waving at her. She frowned, then smiled as she remembered Korfa, her cabbie from the first night in Vegas. He raised his arms in a mock celebration, and Sharon guessed he had been there the night before. She waved, blew him a kiss, and then turned to find Dave watching her.

“A new admirer?” he dead panned? Sharon shrugged.

“You seemed pretty busy with that Asian girl.” The big ZB grinned.

“Keiko? I would hope so… She’s a ZB Bitch.” Sharon nodded her head… It made sense that some of her sisters would be doing work that would bring them here.

“What about that bitch on the plane,” she hated sounding jealous… no not really. Dave’s smile grew.

“That really bugged you, didn’t it?” Sharon nodded. He shrugged again, “She’s a ZB recruit.”

“A what?”

“We have several women approaching the frat these days… They’ve seen you, and they want to do what you do… Live the life of a co-ed, getting all the sex you could want, enjoying big cocks, parties, and no real responsibilities.”

“So why the plane?”

“IF they are serious, they have to be willing to put up… Shaun called her the afternoon of the flight… Told her to be on the plane if she was serious about becoming a ZB Bitch. She was, so I was… well, obligated to see if she’ll work out.” Sharon nodded, lips pursed, mad at herself for falling into the trap. She could not be jealous of her sisters… that was one of the rules.

“So what’s she doing while we’re here?” she had the sudden image of Dave visiting the other woman in another suite at the casino, banging her while Sharon and Anna had been letting Rex and his boys have their ways with them.

“Oh, there’s a local chapter of ZB,” Dave winked, “She’ll be thoroughly broken in by the time we fly back.” Sharon tried not to frown at the idea that the bitch would be flying back with them. She reminded herself it was a sister, and though she might think she was getting into this voluntarily… “Anyway,” Dave interrupted her thoughts, “Who’s the little admirer?” Sharon tried to tell herself not to feel pride that Dave was jealous.

“His name’s Korfa,” she shrugged, “HE helped me when you left me high and dry at the airport.” Dave shrugged.

“I knew you’d get her OK,” the words did not sound completely confident, and Sharon wondered what the ZB had been doing upon his arrival that had so delayed or distracted him that he had not made sure she got to the casino safely. “What’s his story? Was he working the limo line?”

“He’s a cabbie,” Sharon answered angrily, “I didn’t have the money or the directions to be taking a limo.”

“He go to school here?”

“He wants to, but he’s just driving a cab for now… I think he said he was Somali.” Dave went to work on his smart phone, and Sharon assumed the discussion was over. A moment later there was a buzz as a sexy blonde walked in with a spiky haired muscle boy on her arm. Sharon gaped along with many of the others as Betty Beam paused, enjoying the attention.

Even before Sharon had become something of a sex star… before she had become the ZB sex toy, she had heard of Betty Beam. The woman had started stripping in Vegas, taking her name from a bottle of whiskey the day she began. She had posed for every men’s magazine in the country, and had turned her sex appeal into a economic juggernaut. She had done porn, had danced as a headliner, and had been one of the early adult performers to embrace the internet. She had even made the often talked about jump to mainstream, appearing in non-pornographic roles. She had been on talk shows, and talked about in the magazines Sharon and other housewives read while standing in line at the supermarket.

And yet, as Sharon watched her with the preening jock who was her husband, Sharon had the distinct impression the woman was not happy. She shivered, wondering if that was what happened to you when you became successful… whether it was in business or sports or sex, did reaching the top mean being alone?

The woman’s entourage was not allowed in the high end seats, some of them taking seats nearby, which kept Sharon from asking Dave what he thought. She noticed the ZB had barely paid Betty any attention, though, and leaned over, asking why.

“She don’t play,” he said without hesitation.

“Bullshit,” Sharon snorted, “She may not do it now, but she was in like a gazillion movies.” Dave shook his head, patting Sharon as if she was a loveable dog.

“No,” he pointed at her, “You play. Your friend Anna plays now. Little Jess from today? She don’t play. Riley don’t play. Sasha don’t play anymore. And uppity Betty Beam don’t play.” Sharon was still puzzled. Dave laughed, “You are still that naïve? That means we brothers don’t get no play. Get it?” Sharon blinked.

“They’re racist?” Dave shrugged eloquently.

“They say not… some say their fans don’t want it… some say it would hurt… some say they just aren’t attracted… they all have an excuse. But it comes down to they have sex for money, and claim to love having sex… just not with brothers.” Sharon frowned.

“But Jess… well, we had sex today?” Dave just smiled.

“Damn straight… that was some hot shit watching you two go at it.”

“You aren’t mad?” That earned another snort.

“Naw. In fact, It’s sort of like doing her second hand.” It was Sharon’s turn to snort.

“What the fuck?”

“Well, who was in you last night.”

“Rex Iron,” Sharon hoped it did not sound like she was fixating on the big porn star.

“Right. And had you cleaned up this morning?”

“I showered,” she said defensively. Dave just stared at her. “No, I didn’t really scrub,” she admitted.

“I knew you two weren’t really soaping up,” he said with a grin, not bothering to mention the cameras that had caught all of the action. “So when you were letting Jess eat you out…”

“She was also eating Rex,” Sharon finished, nearly laughing.

“That’s right… they may not want to, but we brothers always win in the end,” Dave smiled, and Sharon dropped the subject.

Late in the show, Sharon had barely been paying attention, pestering Dave about what they were going to do when the awards were done. She had long since stopped watching the screen, telling herself that if she saw another woman throw her head back and moan in orgasm she was going to hike her dress and climb on Dave there in the auditorium, even if they both got arrested.

Abruptly bright lights hit her. She blinked in surprise, looking to the stage to see her image behind the night’s presenters, Riley Style and Jessica Dragon. The women were looking out to her, and she heard Riley’s too high little girl voice, ‘… won last night for the best new amateur. She may give our established MILF’s a run for their money… Sharon Synn.’ Sharon waved, in part to block the bright lights blinding her. She shifted in her seat nervously, watching the scene on stage as she welcomed a young TA into her condo, opening the door naked, and obviously surprising him. She grabbed at the flute of champagne she had taken some minutes before, draining it and grabbing Dave’s

“How do you have that footage?” she whispered to Dave, who shrugged.

“That must be while one of us is there.”

“Bullshit,” she blinked, then stared at him hard, “You have my condo on camera?” Dave smiled.

“Little Bitch, we have you on camera wherever you go.” While she knew she should believe he meant that, Sharon could not believe that the frat… even a nationwide fraternity, had such pervasive power. She was distracted from the conversation as Riley opened the envelope.

“This year’s winner for the best MILF/ Cougar is… Betty Beam.” The applause was not as spontaneous or affectionate as it had been for other awards. The bottle blonde strutted onto the stage, grabbed the award almost violently, and thanked her husband and sons and friends and co workers and the AVN board. She thanked the other stars who worked for her studio… and never once mentioned the other nominees or the fans.

“Another politically expedient vote,” someone said nearby, loudly enough to ruffle the feathers of those in her entourage who were nearby. By then, though, Betty had exited just as Sharon had the night before.. Except without so much as a hug from Riley or Jessica.

When the show wound up a few awards later, Jessica reminded everyone that they were invited to go to the nearby club Sapphire, which had been rented out for the evening. Sharon looked at Dave, who just shrugged.

“We can’t very well ditch the party when they even nominated you for a main award, right?” Sharon did not argue. She was not shy about emptying the rest of Dave’s champagne and grabbing another as they stood up and began to file out with the rest of the crowd.



The club she admitted to herself within the next thirty minutes had been incredibly fun. It had to help that almost everyone was involved the industry, so there were not stingy lechers lining the stage, looking for a chance to cop a feel for a lousy buck. And while not all porn stars dance, there were dancers in the audience, and enough had come up through the clubs that a steady series of impressive performances went on on the clubs seven separate stages. Sharon was impressed that the club’s DJ’s were able to play radically different music for stages in direct sight without the sound getting muddled.

She was not surprised when Dave ‘volunteered her’ to dance, and tried to get away with doing a brief spin while wearing her dress, but of course the crowd started to chant, and the married co-ed found herself in a dressing room disturbingly similar to Go’s, pawing through the ‘community’ bin for an outfit that would do the job. She settled on an elf outfit that looked like it had only recently been tossed for anyone to use, hoping the crowd would be able to groove with the just finished holiday theme.

To ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ Sharon spun and turned and gave it her all, which the crowd obviously appreciated. The song was nearly over when Sharon realized that one of the other dancers who had been working the stage to her right was Betty Beam… and that most of the crowd was watching Sharon or the other girls. To her horror as she strutted along the narrow stage where she was dancing, she realized that one of the men staring up at her was Betty’s husband. Her eyes snapped up to find the blonde superstar glaring her way. She mouthed ‘sorry’ and dutifully avoided even glancing at the idiot during the rest of her song. He had tossed a twenty onto the glossy black runner, but she did not bother with it-- to her relief no one else was throwing bills onto the stage. The night was about performing for fun, not about profit.

She had been prepared to strip bare, but froze as the last chorus started, uncertain what was legal in Vegas. Bounding to the nearby she breathlessly asked the DJ if that was allowed, and laughing, the man hit the pause and whispered, ‘Tonight you can do what you want… it’s a private party, baby… but thanks for looking out for me.’ She smiled, leaping back to the pole and stripped off the thong and bra as she spun, arching her back so her nude body led into the spin as the song ran out. The crowd, most of whom had figured why she had paused, went wild.

The crowd demanded another number from her later, during which she found that the men and women lining the stage had decided to ‘raise the bar’ by making the dancers down shots as they worked the number. She lost count of the number of shots she downed in the three minute version of the Black Eyed Peas ‘Rock That Body.‘

Her name was shouted when the call went out for a ‘wet T-shirt contest,’ which she had only ever seen in bad teen movies. The cold water spraying from the seltzer bottles guaranteed that her already aroused nipples were rock hard before her third dance, which she did to Pitbull’s ‘I Like It.’

By then the crowd had dwindled… many were still there and partying, but had retired to sit in groups throughout the club. Only three stages were still working. Sharon nearly gasped as she spun through and let go, catching the pole with the back of her leg and finding herself looking into Korfa’s focused gaze. She smiled broadly, pleased that the cabbie had come along to the after party, and asked if he was having a good time as she went on dancing, giving him almost all of her attention. He smiled, nodding, and stammered that it was the best evening he had ever had.

While she agreed it had been a fun evening, and could understand that someone with little contact with women might be overwhelmed by all of the casual sexuality, the idea that he had never had a better night was almost sad. She told him he should drive cabs near where she worked at Snake Eyes so she could give him lap dances. She had not seen anyone taking part in that particular activity, guessing it was too commercial and impersonal for the party goers to really want to do that.

The cabbie told her he would have to imagine it, because he was saving all of his fares to go to school. She nodded that she remembered, reminding him to be sure to pledge ZB when he did. Though she felt bad for teasing him, having such rapt attention was a definite ego stroke for Sharon, who had realized as she eyed the younger thinner women dancing in the club that despite her efforts things were starting to sag. Not for the first time she wondered whether she could get more of the testosterone cream.

She knew her third dance was not her best, but by then she had had so many shots the room threatened to start spinning if she paused. And the men and women still lining the rail at the stage did not seem to mind. Giggling drunkenly, Sharon had slipped down off of the stage, stark naked, after the song ended, and hugged the surprised cabbie, telling the others who were watching that he had saved her when she had arrived in Vegas. She kissed his cheek, thanking her knight in shining armor, then stuck her tongue out at Dave, who had sauntered up at the end of the song.

To her surprise, Dave waved a finger for the nearest waitress, and a moment later three highball glasses had appeared. The ZB brother had given a glass to Korfa and another to Sharon, taking the third for himself. He toasted to Sharon’s guardian angel, knocking back the drink, which of course the others had tried to imitate. When Sharon had stopped at the halfway point, he had checked his watch, telling her she should finish it, since she was not supposed to drink anymore after that. Sharon giggled, asking if he would tell her the secret, since she was sure she would not remember, but Dave had merely smiled, clinking his empty glass against theirs.

Both she and Korfa had managed to empty the glass on the second try, and after that things were more than a little hazy. She had a clear memory of looking down to see Korfa under her, eyes wide, hands raised, cupping her bare breasts as she rode him, enjoying the feel of his condom clad cock in her sex. They were doing it on one of the stages, and she knew that there had been people wandering by, cheering them on and making suggestions. At least they had not been the only ones putting on such a show.

She remembered the pretty boy… Betty’s hubbie, climbing up on stage and feeding her his average cock, cumming quickly, and demanding she ‘swallow it all’ even though Chris had managed larger loads. She was glad Korfa had held out until after the dumb brute was done. She remembered Betty demanding Sharon eat her after she climbed down off of Korfa, and how the blonde shivering through an enormous orgasm… as if she had not climaxed in weeks, the queen of porn had offered Sharon a clinging hug and a quiet thanks before she stumbled away from the stage where Dave had somehow arranged for Sharon to put on a sex show for people who did it for a living. She had a blurred memory of blowing Rick, the asshole from the night before, and of Jessca Dragon and she dancing and enjoying a sixty-nine session, as well.



Sharon shivered, trying to pull more blankets higher on her body, but was frustrated by the bandages… BANDAGES? She sat half way up before complaining muscles and something sharper brought her to a stop. She opened her eyes, recognizing that the room was not her suite at the casino… It was a small stark white room with the matching blinds pulled down at the paired narrow rectangular windows in the corner of the room. There was a second bed in the room, but it was empty.

Sharon looked around, finding a clear plastic bag with graceful lavender writing that she could not focus to read. Bandages? She lifted her head, ignoring the low grade protest from her chest, and saw the heavy wrap around her chest. She whimpered, wishing she could remember what had happened… She set her head back, struggling to recall… The sex show at Sapphire had gone on… She had fucked Korfa… blown Betty Beam’s husband… ate Betty out. Endured Rick. Reveled in Jessica Dragon. Dave and another ZB who had attended the awards had double teamed her, then took turns thrusting into her and her new sister, Mary Gardner as the too thin brunette lay draped over Sharon on the stage. She remembered cheers-- the hangers on from the party urging them on.

She remembered dancing nude on stage with Mary, trying to help the younger married woman to learn how to turn on the pole, and complaining when Mary said that she would never get it that at least she had perky attractive breasts. She remembered Marry laughing and stepping close, telling Sharon to look… that there was a tiny scar at the lower edge of her areola. ‘I had help’ the foolish new ZB toy slurred.

Sharon glanced down at her bandaged chest, trying to shake the cobwebs out… ‘Focus, you bitch,’ she growled at herself. She concentrated on slowing her breathing, and glanced at the bag again.

Dr… Dr. P something.

Sharon flashed on a handsome man of Indian or Pakistani descent… seated at his desk speaking to she and Dave… ‘We can do whatever you want,’ he said, ‘Though I cannot recommend the axillary or abdominal approach. The placement is too uncertain.’ Sharon nodded as she had at the time, drunkenly, letting Dave steer the conversation.

“What are her options, then, doc?” The man rubbed his hands together and touched the glass surface of his desk. A screen lit behind him.

“We do mostly sub pectoral,” he started, showing a woman with widely spaced bullet shaped breasts, the undersurface of the side nearest the camera showing an obvious ripple, “It lets the breasts form a more natural cleavage, and hides the surface of the implant so these wrinkles aren’t as common,” Sharon whimpered, but becoming emotional threatened to mask what she was remembering.

“It also leaves a more natural contour as the breast slopes to the nipple.”

“You said you can take care of the… sag?”

“Saggy,” Sharon remembered repeating morosely.

“Of course,” the man… Dr. P? Agreed, “I’ll cover that in a minute. Now some women go for size alone, and for them we do the sub glandular approach,” another picture showed a woman with simply enormous breasts, “If Mrs. Sobel wanted to stand out…”

“No!” she remembered saying, and Dave shrugging.

“Guess not, doc,” he said, “Guess it is possible to be too big isn’t it?” The doctor nodded.

“Oh definitely… we do nearly as many reductions as augmentations.” He crossed through the display of varying enormous sacs of water or silicone. “These 700 cc and larger implants were all the rage a decade ago, but the women knew they would fail and so they would have to have new implants placed.” He switched to a new image, “Today we hope to have our implants last at least twenty years… Many women have had even the last generation of implants for thirty years without a problem.”

“And they can stand up to… well, to use?” Dave asked. The doctor laughed.

“Unless you are really abusing your chest, Mrs. Sobel, it will be no problem… we encourage physical activity to reduce the risk of capsular contraction.”

“So it’s silicone or saline now?” Dave asked. The doctor selected another image.

“We can do either,” he started, “But most of our patients now choose silicone… the past concerns… well, they were mostly just a scare brought about by the media,” he frowned, “But it did lead to better implants… the silicone in today’s implants is not as liquid. So it stays nearby even if the sac ruptures,” he showed some photos of MRI examinations and mammograms, “But this rarely happens. And in fact,” he switched to another image, “I can offer what we call cohesive silicone now,” the photo showed an implant with a chuck cut out and set to the side, “It still feels more natural than saline. We call them gummy bears.”

“Gummy bears,” Sharon repeated in a low giggle.

“Well, I guess she likes that,” Dave said and Dr. P smiled and made a selection.

“How big does she want to go,” he said, the new image showing three basic curves of the implants, called the profile, and then several sizes of each profile.

“Big,” Sharon heard herself repeat, and the doctor nodded again.

“Well, I always recommend a woman go larger than she thinks she will want,” he showed photos of women with the implants in place, “There is always some settling and the muscle hides some of the size.

“Will there be a loss of sensation?” Dave asked.

“That’s usually a question we hear from the women,” Dr. P teased, then looked at Sharon pointedly.

“Oh, she was nervous, so she had a little too much to drink before midnight last night,” Dave said smoothly, whipping out the sheet Sharon had signed for him days before, “I’m her durable medical power of attorney… I know what she wants.” The doctor was a little hesitant, but after reading the form he reached across, patting Sharon’s shoulder.

“We’ll do everything we can to prevent any problems,” he said, and then selected another image… It showed a line at the bottom of a woman’s areola. “This is my usual approach… the scar hides in that crease very well, and we can get even an big gummy bear in without having to cut too much. And most patients have no problems with nipple sensation afterwards. Sometimes, they complain they are more sensitive.” He switched images, “But for Mrs. Sobel we want to address the droop, too,” the photo showed a before and after of a woman whose breast sag was noticeably decreased, “We used to do what is called a keyhole… that’s around the nipple and down to the bottom of the breast… But that downward scar never completely fades.” Sharon whimpered at her memory of the obvious scar. “Today I do a ‘donut’ incision,” the picture showed an intra-operative image, with a gap all around the areola, which looked nearly as hideous, “It has the benefit of good lift, and because there is a uniform scar it hides the scar sometimes better than an augmentation only.” The photo changed, and the breasts in the photos, shown before and after, did look amazingly improved.

Sharon considered sitting up, not sure she wanted to remember more. She wanted to stop the somehow vivid moment by moment of the visit she had no conscious memory of… but she told herself she had to know. She calmed herself, wondering why the pleasure of the earlier evening was only fragmentary, whereas she could remember the doctor’s cologne. For a moment she was in the body of the woman in the consultation room. She looked down and gasped, realizing that throughout the interview she had been sitting in the office topless, across from the physician at his desk and with Dave beside her!

“… software now,” Dr. P was continuing, rising and stepping around his desk, “That lets us show you what to expect. He had a black sharpie marker and made deft circular marks around each of Sharon’s nipples, “The ring will have to come out for the procedure,” he said, But we put in monofilament line and you can put it back as soon as the bandages come off.” he added marks at the upper outer aspect of each of Sharon’s breasts, and a small V at the top of her cleavage. He reached across the table and touched a key. The screen showed an array of breast implants… opaque white jelly fish sitting before a blue background. The doctor used the mouse to select one, and the image changed, showing Sharon sitting topless. With another keystroke, the image froze, and then changed. Sharon gasped, watching her breasts rise and swell ever so slightly.

“I’ve never used these smaller options,” the doctor explained, “They just show what could happen if essentially all we did was the lift.” He selected a much larger implant near the right side of the screen half way down, “These are the moderate profile,” on screen, Sharon’s breasts grew noticeably, and the doctor looked at she and Dave expectantly. He frowned slightly, “We can always go bigger,” he selected the option in the bottom right, and the Sharon on screen came to look like some cartoon character. “As an expert,” he continued, “I would recommend the MF,” he pointed to the next to last in the middle row, “or the MX style,” the far right option in the middle.

He stood, leaning over the desk to type for a moment, “Actually, they are doing most of these from four basic choices,” The screen showed four implant graphics, the upper left FM, the upper right MM, the lower left FF, and the lower right MF. These refer to the height… moderate or full, and the profile or the bustiness, moderate of full,” the doctor continued. “Based on what you’ve told me… and the size of your breasts already,” he paused, and Sharon sat passively as he eyed her bare breasts, “I would recommend you go with the FF or the MF style.

“FF,” Dave said without hesitation. The doctor nodded, making the selection, and the image of Sharon came back on the screen.

“That does not decide the ultimate size,” he warned, “We have different volumes from,” he checked his table, “One hundred eighty five to… seven hundred forty cc.” He clicked another button, selecting 335, and Sharon’s breasts ballooned on the monitor. The doctor eyed she and Dave, then moved to 475. “Now, I know I said I recommend going big,” he laughed at his joke, then went silent when neither Sharon nor Dave said anything, “But there is such as thing as too big, if you ask me,” he finally added. He nodded, “These implants work well with the lift, but if they get too large, they look fake, and they increase the likelihood of the breasts sagging again or the implants falling through.” He hesitated, “Falling through is when the implant drops and becomes obvious… it can be quite… noticeable. And it requires extensive surgery to correct.” He reluctantly moved past the 535 cc level to the 595 cc mark. Dave nodded. Sharon could not believe her memory of the her on the screen. Chris would freak out; she looked like a Barbie doll.

“That’s it, then?” The doctor sounded obviously relieved. Dave nodded again and leaned back.

“Great,” he said, clicking the ‘save’ icon and opening the next window, “We can help you to arrange a payment schedule…”

“She has the money,” Dave interrupted him, unzipping his jacket and pulling out a wad of cash with the casino’s band around them, “She hit it big and said this was what she had always wanted.” The physician blinked for just a moment at the cash.

“Well, I mean… I thought this was just a consultation, and… were you wanting to do this today?” “Why wait, my man,” Dave smiled broadly, “Why put off progress, right? Besides,” he continued, “She has to be getting home soon. But this will be the best souvenir to get in Vegas, right, Shar?” Sharon felt her head nod.

“You Can do it today?” Dave leaned forward, and the move somehow seemed… ominous, “I mean, I like your style, doc, but the ad said same day service…” Dr. P seemed at a loss for words. Dave sat back. “I’m sorry, I just really want my girl to get what she wants, you know?” Dr. P nodded. Dave shook his head, “She really worried that the droop was going to hurt her business.”

“Her business?” Dr. P straightened his jacket, and Sharon could read the name tag: Dr. Panchonin. Dave bobbed his head.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I thought a man of your profession in a town like this… Hell, I thought you might have been at the AVN expo…” The doctor looked at Sharon more intently, then.

“Is that… I mean do you?”

“Yeah, doc, Sharon is the real deal… You help a lot of the Vegas Showgirls and… working girls, right?” The doctor bobbed his head. “You don’t happen to be in a frat, do you, doc?” Dr. Panchonin was having a hard time following Dave’s conversation, which made Sharon giggle in the consultation room and again where she lay. “Well, my frat… the Zeta Beta?” He waited, Sharon guessed hoping the physician was a member… or that he had heard of them. “Let’s just say we have lots of girls who might be needing this sort of special procedure.” The doctor snorted.

“You already have the coupon from the magazine, my receptionist told me,” he said dismissively, “I will do amazing work for Mrs.” he paused for the first time, and Sharon was embarrassed however many hours later, “Sobel and any of your other girls. But I am not interested in having sex with them or offering you a volume discount.”

“Hey, hey, it’s cool,” Dave waved a hand, “You know I had to ask. Here,” he stripped off hundreds, “I want to get this taken care of today. You can manage that, right?” The doctor watched the bills piling up on the counter. He picked up his phone.

“Nadine,” Dr. Panchonin said curtly, “Hold room three… We have a VIP augmentation and lift. Send the nurses in to escort Mrs. Sobel to pre-op.” He hung up the phone, caught Sharon’s hand in one of his and touched her shoulder with the other, staring at her breasts openly, “Yes, you will love the new you, Mrs. Sobel,” he said, finally looking up into her eyes, “I guarantee it.”

Things became a whirlwind at that point. The doctor held out a form insisting that Sharon had to sign it, which she did after glancing at Dave. An impossibly beautiful young blonde had come into the consultation room, and seemed totally unconcerned that Sharon was topless. The only word that came to Sharon’s mind looking at the woman’s perfectly defined cheeks, her full lips, the impressive curve of her breasts, and the taut line of her ass and thigh was ‘sculpted.’ And part of her yearned for doctor Panchonin to leave her looking that way. But then the woman spoke, her voice almost squeaky and a bit nasal. The skin on her face did not move naturally, and for another awful moment Sharon imagined she would wake up so changed Chris would not recognize her… that Dave and the ZB would make her entirely their own, and Sharon Sobel would simply disappear.

With that thought in mind, Sharon sat up, not trying to remember the few details that were available… the cold bright green room with the impossibly bright lights, the masked people leaning over her, assuring her she would be fine, sticking her, telling her to breathe… to count…

Sharon braced an arm half over and half under and supporting her chest, gritting her teeth to ignore the ache there, certain now why it was that she was sore. She looked about the room wild eyed… a mirror… where was a god damn mirror? Her things were neatly folded in a clear bag with Dr. Panchonin’s stylistic signature in lilac and the name and address of his clinic. She stepped barefoot across the cold tile floor and clutched at the bag, embarrassed to find that it was only her heels and the dress from the night before… Nothing she could use to run very far. But at least it was her things. There was a smaller bag in which her nipple ring had been placed.

Sharon almost laughed at the odd impulse that she needed to get the ring back in place right then. The room had not started to spin, so she cautiously moved farther from the bed, still clutching the sack with one hand, and the bandages over her chest with her other arm. She found the mirror over a stainless steel sink just inside the door to the room. The mirror was half height, but it was tipped forward at the top, so that she could see from her head to just below her knees. Sharon threw the sack onto the bed, then reached back, finding the place where the tape holding the bandages in place stopped. Nail extensions scrabbled at the edges, the flexion in her chest increasing the ache she felt.

The tape started to come free, and she yanked, biting back a cry at the pain that caused. She moved more gingerly, partly afraid that what she was about to do was going to ruin whatever Dr. Panchonin had done. The larger part of her had to see it, though. The tape criss crossed behind the swell of her breast, so that as she pulled the bottom tab, the top tab that she had not yet reached came away. And then the thick cup of taped gauze was pulling away from her left breast. Sharon cupped her hand under her breast, afraid it would sag and anticipating pain. She saw a faint red ring on the inside of the gauze. Then it was hanging uselessly from her right breast, Sharon stared at herself.

The first thought was ‘amazing.’ Where her nipples had started to point toward the floor, her left nipple was now sitting proudly at the upper curve of her breast. She tried to remember if it had ever looked so good. There were awful black sutures at the edges of her areola, and there was some dried blood, too. But the awful gaping cut she had seen in the doctor’s office had been a shot from during the operation. Her breast was larger, too, she knew… Much larger than it had been before the surgery, and larger than she ever remembered seeing it, even when she had been breast feeding the kids. But it did not look garish… The upper half of her breast was almost a flat slope, looking incredibly natural. She reached up to touch it, then paused, frightened of what she had heard friends say… that he nipple would be numb.

But as she watched, it began to rise, reacting to the cool air to which it was now exposed. It seemed impossible to Sharon that there was no sag of the her new breast. And when there was no pain or awful wound, she more quickly finished removing the other half of the dressing, holding it in her hand in case they wanted her to wear it again. Sharon found herself smiling, even as she agonized about how her husband would react… her breasts were simply beautiful. She still had not touched either, and opted not to, afraid in part she would hurt where the sutures were visible. She turned in the mirror, eyeing the gentle swell from the side, the way they moved… They did seem almost totally natural.

She admitted to herself then that Dr. Panchonin was a genius. And then she blushed, embarrassed at being so pleased that someone had performed plastic surgery on her body. She moved to the bed intent on dressing, hoping the dress would fit her new enhanced chest. The room door behind her swung open.

“Let’s see how our… oh!” Dr. Panchonin stuttered to a stop, obviously surprised to find Sharon up. Sharon squealed having turned around upon hearing him. She covered her breasts with her arm, pressing against the nipples, which hurt, making her gasp. The plastic surgeon hurried forward.

“Here now, no worries,” he chided her, patting her shoulder then pulling her arm gently down, “I have seen these before after all, right?” Sharon managed a half smile and nodded. “And, they are magnificent,” he held her arm out and stepped back, openly admiring his work, “If I do say so myself.” He looked into her eyes, then, “Am I right, or am I right?”

“You’re right,” Sharon answered, blushing.

“And she talks!” the physician paused, looking across the room as if worried Dave would be there. “Is that man really your husband?” Sharon shook her head, and the doctor looked stricken. She put a hand on his arm.

“It’s fine, really,” she said, “I’m… I’m supposed to be with him.” Dr. Panchonin did not seem to understand, which surprised Sharon, considering he had admitted he did work for women in the sex industry in Vegas, “And you’re right… they’re… They’re amazing. Thank you.” She stopped trying to cover herself and stopped worrying about how Chris would react. Watching the man who had put them in be unable to keep from staring unleashed something in the housewife. She smiled sexily, shimmying her shoulders just a bit, but enough that her body warned her not to repeat it. She ignored that, licking her lips, “I wish I could thank you appropriately.” The doctor’s mouth opened and closed. He glanced down away from her body, and Sharon saw the ring he wore. She bent a knee just a bit, turning it out, knowing what it did to emphasize her neatly trimmed pussy.

“You know,” she whispered huskily, “I can do things she can’t…” Without thinking about what she was doing, Sharon dropped to her knees in front of the plastic surgeon, “Here, let me show you,” and then she had his pants open. He was not hard, but was quickly getting there, and Sharon did not wait, slurping him fully into her mouth, swirling her tongue over his shaft and cockhead before bobbing gently tip to base, sucking hungrily. Dr. Panchonin’s hand tangled in her hair and he groaned. It spurred Sharon on. She dove to the base of his cock, slurping non-stop as she held him with his glans in her throat and hummed. He groaned again, his entire shaft twitching once. Sharon backed off, just long enough to tickle his testicles with her tongue, slurping one, then the other into her mouth. Then she swallowed him whole again. She sucked powerfully, backing slowly off, swirling her tongue along the underside and teasing the purpled helmet when that was all that remained in her mouth before catching his ass and literally pulling him back into her throat. He erupted then, pulsing into her throat, panting loudly as Sharon expertly swallowed every drop, then milked him dry before rocking back onto her heels, naked at his feet.

“Mmmm,” she licked her lips, “That was wonderful. Thanks again.” The doctor managed a feeble smile and reluctantly pulled his hand out of Sharon’s tangled hair. She lay back on the cold tile on her elbows, body posed lewdly for him, “Can I do this yet?” she teased. The doctor cleared his throat, checked the door with his eyes, and hurriedly zipped up, then reached down, helping Sharon up as the white housewife pouted about his not playing along.

“You are… amazing when you are not playing the church mouse,” he managed. Sharon smiled wickedly. “You don’t know the half of it,” she answered, even as she remembered who she was… and that there were going to be questions she would have to answer. “Then again,” she added, “Neither do I.” And that clearly puzzled the surgeon, though he did not admit it. She enjoyed being able to control men, especially men who were unused to being under someone else’s control. “I don’t have to wear that restrictive bandage?”

“Uhm, not… I mean, some women want to wear them… it’s comforting to have the support.”

“But I don’t need the support, right?” Sharon bit her lip, intentionally provocative, delighting in the surgeon’s discomfiture.

“No… No, you don’t.” He shrugged, “And truthfully keeping that gauze or a bra up against the incisions can lead to infections.”

“So I shouldn’t wear a bra,” Sharon smiled, shimmying her shoulders and enjoying the way her new breasts swayed, capturing Dr. Panchonin’s attention.

“Uhm, only if you want to,” he advised, “We will need to see you to take the sutures out in 10 days.”

“But I’ll be back home by then,” Sharon protested.

“Of course… Uhm, I guess then you can have your physician do that,” he managed, “I’ll have the nurse bring your paperwork… You look like you’ve recovered nicely from the anesthetic.”

“What did you use?” Sharon was not ready to end their interaction.

“Uhm… Propafol.”

“Isn’t that what killed Michael Jackson?” she was mildly shocked, in part that she remembered such trivia.

“Yes,” the surgeon admitted, “But it was being given to the singer in his home. Here we have very strict controls, and a nurse anesthetist was with you the entire time.

“Did he see my breasts?” she asked, playing the innocent to the surgeon’s increasing nervousness. “Uhm, there is a screen, but we are all medical professionals, you remember.”

“Uh-huh,” Sharon smiled wolfishly and licked her lips, “And you are a medical professional with a great tasting cock.” Despite his dark complexion, Sharon could tell he was blushing. “It worked,” she added.

“W-what worked?” the surgeon blinked at her.

“The propafol,” Sharon stretched her arms over her head, almost giggling at the way her new breasts bounced, “It feels like I had the best nap ever.”

“Oh,” Dr. Panchonin nodded, “We hear that a lot… maybe that’s why Michael wanted it at home.” He shifted toward the door, “You, uhm, you might want to get dressed… I mean I was going to open the door.”

“It’s ok, Sharon stepped forward until her body was almost touching the surgeon’s, “You’re all medical professionals.” She brought a hand up, almost tweaking a nipple, then stopped, “When can… when can I play with them?”

“Uhm… I guess you’ll have to be the judge of that,” he shrugged, “Usually women are a little sore for the first few days.” Sharon nodded, lifting a breast until the nipple was nearly at her lips.

“And when can I do this?” she let her tongue out, almost touching the tip of her augmented breast. “Wait!” the surgeon closed the minimal distance, putting his hand out over her nipple, “Don’t let saliva get on those incisions,” he warned, “That could lead to infection.” Sharon pouted and he went on in a rush, “I think you should wait until a day or two after the sutures come out to do that.”

“But that will be almost two weeks without,” Sharon pouted, “Being able to play.” She tilted her head down, “Can’t I have fun before that?” The surgeon looked like he might bolt the room, and Sharon sighed theatrically, “Can you at least help me with the ring, then?”

“The, uhm, ring?” She moved to the bed, retrieving the envelope with her nipple ring.

“I didn’t put it in,” she said by way of explanation, “I don’t know exactly what to do, so I was hoping… Can you put it in for me?” Dr. Panchonin glanced at the door again, then shrugged, taking the envelope from her.

“We had to remove it so there would not be an infection,” he explained, “We cleaned it in alcohol. Usually we do not recommend putting them back in so soon, but since we can do this with clean technique…” he lapsed into silence, opening a drawer in the stand by the bed and removing a suture removal kit. He tore it open, wiped Sharon’s nipple and his fingers with the alcohol pad-- no gloves, the teasing housewife noticed-- and deftly cut the monofilament line that had been passed through her piercing. He removed the ring from its sealed bag and then carefully set the open end against the hole in the side of Sharon’s nipple before pulling the nylon line out from the other side. He smoothly advanced the ring in its wake, smiling in satisfaction as he completed the exchange, turning the ring down and then reaffixing the capture bead.

“I did these during residency,” he said almost to himself, “Although most women then wanted a navel piercing, rather than this…” Sharon stuck her tongue out, letting him see it was pierced as well. “I like my piercings,” she purred, “Do you know why?” He shook his head, freezing in place as she leaned forward to lick his neck with just the tip of her tongue. Her right hand dropped, fingers grazing his crotch; he was hard again. “They keep me hot, and the one in my tongue,” she licked back up his neck again, “Gets the boys so they’ll do almost anything.” She leaned back against the edge of the bed, legs spread so that his were between hers just beyond her knees… just out of reach for her to hook him and pull him to her. “I’m horny,” she whispered, as if there were other people in the room, “And Dave won’t give me his cock if he can’t play with my boobs…” She reached out, catching one of the surgeon’s belt loops, and pulling him close enough. Her right heel came up, cinching beneath his ass, locking him in place as her fingers deftly lowered his zipper.

His erection made it difficult to get out of his briefs, but Sharon managed, fingers wrapping around his shaft, pulling him toward her waiting sex.

“You deserve a special thank you,” she purred, “For giving me these ahhh!” Dr. Panchonin’s cockhead slipped into her and Sharon dropped her head back, arching her back, leg pulling him toward her. “God, that’s so good!” she groaned, hands catching his ass, urging him on. The surgeon no longer needed any encouragement, though. He braced his hands on the edge of the bed, thrusting fully into his patient.

Sharon kept her leg hooked behind his thigh, levering her pelvis up, welcoming his thrusts. They coupled heatedly, but silently, Sharon not wanting to break the spell, Dr. Panchonin obviously worried that someone in the hall might come in. The knowledge that he was married… that he knew better than to do this to a patient… and yet that he was eagerly fucking into her spurred Sharon’s arousal, and she came quickly, urging the surgeon on quietly when he slowed.

“Wait,” she urged a few minutes later, “Wait… I want… Wait, baby.” She gently but insistently pushed until the panting surgeon pulled out of her. She turned, bending over the bed, and giggled at the reflection of her in the window as she nodded, “Ride me, baby… Give it to me from behind.” The surgeon had already stepped up to mount her, and was balls deep a moment later. Sharon pushed back, meeting each thrust, burying her head in the sheets as she felt her next climax approaching a few minutes later. She knew that Dr. Panchonin had to be close, too. He paused, and she guessed he was about to pull out.

“Don’t!” she gasped, “Give it to me, baby… Fill me up!”

“But,” he panted, “I’m not… wearing a… condom.” She shook her head, reaching back as if she could hold him inside of her.

“It’s OK,” she gasped, “I’m safe.” She giggled, then, “Didn’t you… read the forms?… I have… an IUD.” The surgeon gave a choked laugh, catching hold of Sharon’s trim waist as he thrust into her harder than before, losing the tempo he had been maintaining. Sharon came in a rush, trembling visibly as he cut loose, as well. He pulled away when they had both quieted, and Sharon turned, lounging against the bed, one leg bent, her hand cupping her sex as he hurriedly zipped up, checking to see if he had left any sign of their coupling on his slacks. Sharon considered pointing out she had left them visibly damp, but he expertly closed his coat, hiding the evidence, and she guessed it would dry quickly enough in the dessert’s arid climate.

“Mmmm, thank you, doctor,” she smiled broadly, lifting her hand and licking their mixed fluids off, reluctantly pressing her thighs together, which ruined the sexy image she had been offering, but kept her from dripping onto the tile, “That’s the best medicine.” Dr. Panchonin managed a smile.

“You must be very good at your job,” he wiped at his brow, “And I hope that what we did for you helps.”

“Oh, it will,” Sharon was certain that was true, “But between you and me, thank you for not letting Dave insist on the largest possible implants.” The physician laughed.

“He did seem to take ‘going big’ too literally.” They laughed, the surgeon becoming more cocky as he decided he was going to get away with his little ethics violation. “But your new breasts are beautiful. And thank you for…” He stopped and grinned like a little boy sharing a dirty secret. “I’ll let the nurse know you’re ready to leave, so whenever… Dave gets back.”

“He didn’t wait?” Sharon was not really surprised, and she was glad Dr. Panchonin was not asking about their arrangement. The surgeon laughed.

“You’re a naughty temptress, but I would not have gotten close to letting that happen if he was here,” the surgeon said, and Sharon recognized the lie before he had finished speaking. “They’ll have a list of precautions for you. No bath or shower for another day,” Sharon arched a brow and looked down at her neatly trimmed sex, prompting a nervous laugh, “Well, nothing that gets your breasts wet,” he compromised, “No strenuous exercise for a week. Keep the ointment the nurses will give you on the incision lines… That will help reduce any scarring. And put some on before your doctor takes them out so that they come out more easily.” Sharon nodded, “Our number is there, so you can call if there are any questions or if you are ever back in town.” Sharon smiled and thanked him again, and then Dr. Panchonin was backing toward the door. “Uhm… you might at least take the robe,” he pointed to where it was hanging by the head of the bed. Sharon giggled but reached for it. She paused, though.

“Dr. Panchonin?” He stopped,

“Yes?”

“I have another little problem,” she frowned pulling the dress out of the plastic sack. “I seem to have lost my panties.” The doctor blinked, as if wondering why that would matter, since she had had breast implants. Then he realized. He waved a dismissive hand.

“Here,” he moved to a bank of drawers, opening one, then another, a stopped at the third, “I guess it’s a good thing we like to advertise.” He withdrew a small cellophane pouch and leaned close enough to hand it off to Sharon. She smiled, seeing his signature in the same lilac across the front of a pair of cotton boyfriend underwear.

“I’m glad it’s not a thong,” Sharon quipped. Without thinking, the surgeon grabbed another package, tossing it onto the bed.

“Oh, we have those, too,” he smiled, “I’m sure you’ll look amazing in them. But no,” he remembered again why a thong might be less than ideal, “I think those will suit you best for now.” Then he had moved to the door.

“Thank you again, Mrs. Sobel. Lets us know if ever we can… help you again.” Sharon slipped into the panties, after wiping up what she could with Kleenex that were beside the bed. She slipped into the dress, noticing that with her new bustline the fabric was noticeably tighter over her chest. She had just gotten into her heels and was considering going to the door when a harried but beautiful nurse burst in.

“Dr. P said,” she paused, staring openly at Sharon’s revealing dress, “Wow,” she said, then smiled at Sharon, “That’ s beautiful.” She seemed to realize she was not behaving very professionally, “Uhm, most women leave here in sweat suits,” she smiled, “Even the show girls… You’d make them all feel so frumpy.” Sharon beamed at her new friend. “I have your papers and the ointment…” she glanced at Sharon’s top, “It should probably go on again now… they put some on in the OR, but it usually comes off with the gauze.” Sharon nodded, and let the nurse help her to uncover one breast and then the other, dabbing the ointment around the edge of each areola. “Wow,” the nurse smiled as she finished up, “This is easier than with a sweatshirt too.” Sharon resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss the beautiful woman.

“Does everyone who works here have to be gorgeous?” she asked in stead. The woman dimpled.

“Thanks. But no… I mean, I guess we’re all right, but most women ask if Dr. P has ‘fixed us’ all.” Sharon feigned shock, glad she had not asked that. “We say no, and it’s not like it’s a requirement, but if you can get tightened here and tucked there for just the cost of the materials,” she winked at Sharon, “If anyone ever asks you if these are real, honey, you just answer, ‘they are now’.” Sharon laughed and nodded. The woman gave her the papers, which repeated what Dr. Panchonin had already advised. She signed herself out, seeing the ‘paid in full- cash’ notation on her chart, and let the staff show her to the main entrance.

It was late afternoon, she guessed. The towering hotels of the strip were visible to the northwest, she guessed from the angle of the sun and shadows. It would be too far to walk. She was surprised and more than a little frustrated that Dave was not there. She looked at her clutch purse, wondering if she had Korfa’s card. She wondered what her fan would say about the ‘New Sharon,’ as she started to look, taking her cell phone out to make the call.

“Sharon!” She looked up as Dave got out of a cab to the left where it had just pulled in under the center’s awning. She breathed a sigh of relief and hurried over, letting Dave hug her as if they were a married couple.

“Where were you?” she asked, “I thought I was going to have to get a cab back to the casino.”

“We’re not going back to the casino,” Dave shook his head, “It’s cheaper to fly back tonight, and you can’t be… well, you can’t be entertaining for awhile, so there’s no point in spending more time paying for the suite.”

“Where were you?” He shrugged.

“I went back to the tables.” Dave frowned, “I should’ve known better… Without my lucky charm I wasn’t winning a thing.” She frowned.

“Your lucky charm?”

“You, my beautiful ZB Bitch,” Dave laughed, and Sharon blushed, realizing the cabbie was listening in. “Wait here,” Dave warned unnecessarily, “I think you left something.”

“I what?”

“I got something for you, but you didn’t know it was there,” Dave had stepped away from the cab, “I’ll be right back, just wait…” And then he was gone. Sharon sat in the cab, ignoring the open stare of the swarthy Turkish cabbie, wondering why she had not told Dave she was not entirely out of commission. She decided that she had been busy enough since New Year’s that a few days without might be just what the doctor ordered.



Having asked what room Sharon had been in, Dave repeated the story about his gift to the nurse, assuring her he could find it without help. He paused inside the room Sharon had recovered in, making sure the nurse did not follow him in . On the counter by the sink he had set one of the little Go Pro style cameras that they used. He slipped it into his pocket, recovering the second that had been set on the window sill, and the last camera, which he had stuck to the wall beside the closet. Opening the closet door, he took out the blinged tie dyed shirt he had purchased for his ZB Bitch, oversized as a sleep shirt, and emblazoned ‘what happens in Vegas,’ on the front, and ‘Stays in Vegas’ on the back, which was surrounded by a brightly colored mosaic of the various things people did ‘only’ when visiting the city of sin.

“It doesn’t all stay in Vegas,” Dave murmured to himself, ******* at the time that it had been genius that he had insisted Dr. Panchonin sign a waiver under the guise of ‘protecting Sharon’s name’ if anyone came asking if the surgeon had done work on her. It had been a gambit he had expected to lose, and had been amazed when the harried surgeon had scribbled his name on the sheet even as he had crossly insisted to Dave that patient physician confidentiality was more than enough protection. He guessed seeing the entire payment up front and in cash had helped with that. And the good doctor had even given them a discount, which had provided Dave the money he had squandered at the casino while awaiting Sharon’s recovery.

He had worried that they should have gone bigger, but the Indian or Pakistani surgeon had been spot on, he could admit to himself: Sharon looked amazing. She had nearly been glowing, and Dave wondered how long he would have to wait until he could play with their toy’s new additions. Making a final survey of the room, Dave stepped out, thanked the nurse who was coming out of another patient’s room, and headed for the exit. The plastic surgeon appeared at the far end of the corridor, and Dave waved his thanks, amused when the smaller man returned the wave hurriedly and ducked into the next room. He guessed keeping the ritzy place running would mean hustling as many patients through as possible.

A moment later he was seated beside Sharon as the cab rolled toward McCarran. And not ninety minutes later, they were airborne, the ZB Bitch asleep, so that she missed the probing gaze of every man walking by their seats, enjoying the revealing dress’s plentiful cleavage and bare skin, and the acrimonious looks from the women aboard, who were all a frumpy collection of left overs, including the co-eds who on boarding had seemed ready to do a ‘Girls Gone Wild’ Mild High edition, and the exhausted housewife who one of Dave’s frat brethren had delivered to the airport, after her ‘audition weekend.’

Mrs. Mary Gardner had provided some first class footage, Dave knew form the intermittent messages and e-mails he had been getting. She wasn’t a pole dancer, yet, but had taken it as well as Sharon at Sapphire the night before. He would have to wait to see if she really had that ‘it’ factor that was almost oozing from Sharon’s pores. He knew the adventurous wife had had a cock in her mouth and cunt or ass almost non-stop until seconds before they had dropped her at the curb, and he could only guess that she had not gotten much sleep during her trip to Vegas, so it was no surprise that she was, like Sharon, sleeping through the flight. He leaned back, enjoying the envious looks of the other male passengers, and wondered how Sharon would enjoy what else they had planned for their pet housewife.

Next: Sgt. Pepper’s Band.