“… and he says, all embarrassed, ‘I thought I was putting it in the right place!’” The women were talking and laughing, sharing stories about the night’s various customers and prior customers they had dealt with, the stories recalled by similar events of the night. The scene would have seemed entirely familiar to anyone who has worked retail and has escaped the floor for the sad and too brief respite of a break room… except that the women were all more or less naked, and the discussion included frankly sexual anecdotes rather than innuendo.
“That big cowboy drove a brand new Escalade and was slipping tens into our G-strings,” Naomi paused, then asked one of the other newer dancers, “How was his private?”
“His privates made it clear why he drives a monster SUV,” the light skinned black girl, Amelia answered, as she settled into one of the hard plastic seats arrayed before the gang vanities, having just returned from the champagne room. Her meaning got a laugh from the other girls, “But I’m not complainin.’ He tipped all right, and wasn’t arrogant or demanding or aggressive.” The other girls nodded more solemnly, recognizing that it might be fun to laugh at the man’s expense, but that he would be a great ‘sugar daddy.’ Go was always pushing them to establish ‘regular customers,’ and an easy lay who paid like that would be a real catch.
“Well that big guy who knows Go isn’t overcompensating,” Glory, another new girl warned them, wincing as she pressed her hand between her legs.
“He packing, then?” Phoebe was checking the Velcro of her costume, ready to take the stage when Fallon was done with her set.
“Honey, I he smiled and asked if I was ready to celebrate ‘hum day’.” The other women groaned, “Then he went to work, and I wondered if I’d have to apply for worker’s comp before he was done.” Everyone laughed at that. Go did not let any of his girls work enough hours to have to pay benefits, and had deftly ended the handful of outbursts Kelly or Sharon had seen where one or more of the girls suggested they ‘deserved’ such by pointing out they were making more than any two women their age were for the time that they did work. To his credit he had never minimized the work they did-- the work that was making him rich-- and he never stooped to pointing out there would be little public support for strippers trying to unionize. Kelly snorted at that though, guessing even union organizers would hesitate to support that, unless they thought they could supplant Go as strippers’ ultimate pimp.
The last time it had happened, Palomino had stormed off of the stage after the first number, irate at a regular having ‘touched her’ while tucking a $10 into her G string, then demanding that Go provide them with better protection and rambling that he owed them health coverage and retirement contributions, according to ‘her man.’ Go had calmly ripped what little of her costume remained and the bouncers had thrown her naked into the parking lot. Horrified, the girl had scrambled to her feet, ******* of the gravel and abrasions as she tried to hide her nudity while begging Go to let her back in.
He had met her plea with a stone face, only glaring at the other girls who had gathered at the door to watch. Palomino had realized too late she was pushing it, and collapsing in the dusty gravel lot, she had begun to apologize, insisting she had just been mad because her boyfriend had used all of the ‘medications’ she needed to work. Go had shrugged, and one of the bouncers had tossed the hapless girl her purse, along with a five sizes too large mumu on which the Snake Eyes logo was prominent.
Seeing her usual means of manipulating men were not working, Palomino had again changed tactics, scrambling to her feet, leaving her chest bare, breasts thrust proudly at the bouncers and Go, the dress held discreetly over her pelvis and legs as she had defiantly warned Go that ‘her man’ was not going to like what he had done to her. Pausing, Go had sighed, then looked back at the too self-confident woman whose beauty had begun to fade under the press of too many long nights dancing and drugging.
“Girl,” he had rumbled without raising his voice, “You send him right along… We’ll be happy to show him just what you been doin’ to bring home all that money he’s been spending.” Palomino had quailed at that-- few of the girls let their boyfriends even consider they did more than dance at Snake Eyes-- if the boyfriends had been polled, only three or four of the girls would have been even offering lap dances. “You just learn from this… Get off the dope.” That was the closest Kelly had seen Go approach duplicity, considering most of the girls did the occasional hit of one stimulant or another to get through a long shift. And it was not just ‘occupational use’ as she had heard other girls term those highs… she and the others had seen Palomino using in the dressing room more than once, and more than recreationally-- the girl had a habit that was eating her alive. In short, none of the other dancers had been surprised she had not lasted.
“I’ll give you a rec for any of the other clubs. But if you think you ‘deserve’ anything, go on down to that big Occupy Event we’re hearing about in St. Louis, see if they offer you any more equality than you got while you were here.” All of the men had snorted at that, and then had left the shaking, humiliated young stripper as she struggled into the shapeless garment.
Glory shook her head, her long platinum hair fanning expressively, but without impact-- the dancers were blind to theatrics, if not to the beauty of their co-workers. Kelly had not decided yet if her decidedly increased interest in women was from the wonderful things Sharon did to her, or the time she had spent with her fellow BZ Sisters, or if-- as Dave insisted was true-- all women were lesbians at heart, and only tolerated cock as a guarantee of protection. It seemed a strange claim, considering the stable of women the frat maintained, and when she was enjoying a cock it seemed absurd, but watching Glory, Kelly found herself wondering… She blushed as Sharon swept into the room, pausing to look at the others before her eyes settled on her partner. The women smiled, and Kelly’s frequent lover sauntered over, her expression and attitude immediately sparking something inside the younger woman. Glory seemed a pale comparison.
“You waiting for me?” Sharon was slightly out of breath, having just completed her fourth ‘private’ in the champagne room. They had not frequently done as much before becoming the Snake Eyes headliners, and Sharon’s unusual popularity had not gone unnoticed by the other women.
“Why, you going back for more?” Naomi teased from her position near Kelly. Sharon’s eyes flared, and for an instant Kelly saw not another dancer and BZ ‘Sister’ but Dave or one of the other frat members… arrogant, unchallengeable… More and more often her once demure, naïve friend and lover seemed downright aggressively masculine. Naomi quailed slightly at Sharon’s response, as if she, too, worried the older woman might lash out. Instead, Sharon blinked, her body almost visibly shuddering as she took a breath and held it, running a hand down her bare stomach, pressing against the sequined thong covering her femiscaped mons.
“Mmmm,” she managed after her eyes stopped fluttering, “I might just have to do that,” she bit her lower lip, Kelly assumed feigning arousal, “That last brute was hung, but he just couldn’t tire me out.”
“Damn, girl,” Amelia snorted, “You was shoutin’ for him to fuck you harder loud enough my boy picked up the pace.” The women laughed.
“No lie,” Glory sniffed, examining her intricately painted nails, “You could tone it down a bit… my guy thought I should be ‘more vocal’ after hearing you two going at it.” Sharon shrugged, obviously unaffected by any animosities the other women held. She flopped unceremoniously into the seat beside Kelly, looking anything but ladylike, but unquestionably sexy as she examined her face, then body in the mirror. She grimaced.
“If I can’t get a handle on this acne you won’t have to worry,” she complained to no one in particular, “Go won’t let me in the club… God, I look like a leper.” Kelly laughed.
“I though that got better with age.”
“I haven’t ever had acne like this,” Sharon shook her head, “I’ve changed make up, I’m washing my face and chest constantly, even with that ProActive stuff they advertise… nothing is helping… if anything, it’s worse.” Kelly shrugged.
“Well, it’s not costing you popularity,” Phoebe patted both women’s shoulders as she passed, having heard Fallon’s last song start, “Wish me luck.”
“Break a leg,” several of the women chorused in return, Amelia adding, “And a few hearts, too, girl.” As the women resumed their various conversations Kelly glanced at the clock. She never looked for too long-- Go was famous for catching girls ‘eyeing the clock’ as he called it, and would pointedly ask if they were bored and needed to work the front room more.
“Phoebe’s probably the last set,” she said, considering it was a week night, and they would be closed at least for drinks and dancing in another 30 minutes. She and Sharon were supposed to be spared having to ‘work longer,’ but the other girls were right-- they were supposed to be spending less time in the champagne room, too, and Sharon was busier than ever. “You ready to get out of here?” Sharon considered, which surprised her younger friend. She knew Sharon was not as comfortable servicing so many strange men, and was aware, unlike the others, that the BZ girls were not really dancing purely by choice. But her Honda was in the shop… again, and she had come to work with her friend.
“Don’t tell me you’re considering going out again… Would that be four?” Glory had been eavesdropping.
“Five,” Sharon answered, her voice almost a growl that made the younger woman lean away. Unwilling to let on she had been intimidated, she shook her hair out once again, then rolled her eyes.
“You two have it made, why would you volunteer for more abuse?” Kelly was glad someone else had asked what she was thinking. Since they were doing three sets more than the other girls… and longer sets at that, Go was not pushing them to do any time in the champagne room, and beyond her handful of ‘regulars’ she had found herself having to ‘entertain’ for several weeks. She had laughed at one point to Sharon it really seemed like vacation had just continued after the Thanksgiving break.
Headlining was not easy, to be sure, but it was more fun. The money was better, and they avoided the scut the other dancers did, helping to clean the place. And with the practice time it was definitely better exercise. Anything that reduced the time she spent with strangers sweating and grunting over her for a few minutes was a positive change. Glancing at Sharon, who was shifting regularly in her chair as she touched up her make up, Kelly had the sudden thought that her friend was rubbing herself, almost masturbating right in front of the other girls.
“Well, Glory,” Sharon drawled, batting her eyes as she spoke, “I just sort of find that sex is a wonderful cure to whatever ails ya. Cut loose… beg them to give it to you just the way you want it, and maybe they’ll surprise you.” She stretched languidly, “But I think Kelly and I are ready to call it a night.” She reluctantly, Kelly thought, reached for her Timbuk bag, a gaudy pink and gold bag one mousy chubby white admirer had given the married co-ed after she had paid him a little attention. Kelly had been amazed, considering the guy had not even asked to take her friend back to the champagne room, and a little jealous when what he had insisted-- that it was a one of a kind bag-- had been proven true with a little work online. The oversized messenger bag was a perfect means to transport the clothes and accessories Sharon would not wear ‘at work.’
Or rather, it would have been big enough. Considering Kelly’s married friend had arrived in just the thin nylon ‘BZ’ jogging shorts, a strappy baby doll with the Snake Eyes logo, and white converse sneakers, it was possible the guys who were paying to watch them dance would have had a better peek in broad daylight. It was yet another change in the formerly devoted housewife Kelly was having trouble understanding… like baiting another dancer without any cause.
Glory wisely chose not to pick up the gauntlet, though she did lift a carefully plucked eyebrow as her gaze settle momentarily on Kelly.
“Well aren’t y’all just ready to throw a hissy,” Fallon drawled from where she had paused in the doorway, watching the scene. “Sheath those claws, pussycats,” she sniffed, moving with a confident grace that cannot be faked and within a handful of seconds managing brief but intimate hugs for all the women in Go’s dressing room. Settling lightly into her own seat adjacent to Glory’s position, she kicked a bare heel up onto the other dancer’s counter, turning the position into an impossible yoga stretch before continuing, her mouth barely visible below the back of her thighs.
“Kelly, are you just going to sit there and let our girls duke it out?” Kelly snorted, confident either Sharon or Glory could clean her clock if she tried to stop them. Glory was all sculpted curves and tight sinew; part of her attitude toward Sharon was that Sharon was looking as muscular, if not moreso.
“If these two go at it, it’ll take Go or Raoul to break them up.”
“Or Geoff,” Naomi pointed out-- she was seeing the big bouncer after hours, and felt compelled to stand up for him.
“Naw, you just have to stand your ground,” Fallon insisted, “They both love you, so they’d listen.” Kelly was momentarily dazzled by Fallon’s words… Did Glory really… she giggled at the thought, something that would have been totally foreign just a few months before.
“Well, I’m not one to interfere with my partner when she’s promoting our act,” she managed, certain it sounded lame if not forced. The others laughed, though.
“You’re converting a new legion of fans with your cunt, one at a time?” Glory asked Sharon, her neck imperiously straight. Sharon stretched and turned, the move emphasizing the row of muscles in her lats that had recently become so pronounced. Glory’s preen threatened to become a pout.
“Save your energy, girlfriend,” Fallon suggested to Sharon in a friendly tone, “It’s not even the weekend.”
“It’s not like I really have a choice, is it?” Sharon rolled her eyes, huffing through her nose in frustration, “If Go says jump, all of us jump.”
“But we’re not… Uhm, we’re supposed to be spending more time on stage,” she finished, knowing that sounded lame. But none of the other girls argued, either. Sharon shrugged.
“That’s what he said at first.” Her gaze settled on Kelly, “Why did you say promoting?” The tone was no different, but Kelly could feel the challenge in her friend’s question. And she knew with intense unease the way Phoebe and Glory had felt in the past few minutes.
“Well,” she stammered, “I heard Go say something about that the other day… you were ‘promoting our little act.’ That’s all.” Sharon nodded, and seemed suddenly sad.
“Why are you so popular all of a sudden, anyway?” Naomi asked, “I mean, if it’s the act, Kelly should be shaking her pert ass, too.” Kelly nodded.
“I’ve asked, but Go just shooed me back here.” She did not ad that it had left her feeling more jealous than she wanted to admit, since he had not taken advantage of her, either. She began to pack her bag, sure that Sharon would want to end the conversation and get home, as she had skirted it every other time the other dancers had asked about the obvious change. A wave of bitterness at what was happening beyond her control took voice, “I mean hell, it’s not like I wouldn’t want to be on national TV…” Sharon glared at her.
“What?” Fallon and Glory said in unison.
“You doing some softcore on skinemax?” Naomi asked.
“Nah, she’s looking to be Miss Nude USA… or International… whatever it is,” Amelia suggested.
“That’s all rigged,” Fallon exhaled through her nose, the act suggesting she felt she had been sleighted by that at some point in the past. “You have to have major promoters and a real fan base… and it’s all out west in California, where they turn us into flash in the pans on screen, then move on to the next bus load.” All of the women winced at that characterization.
“I’m serious,” Fallon insisted, “It’s not every girl who puts out for ‘direct to video’ or internet ‘spreads’ that stays on like Jenna. I’d say she’s the exception, not the rule.”
“So why dance?” Naomi asked; she had not become resigned to what a dancer’s life was.
“Well, if I can’t make half what I make for Go, just considering the dancing,” she paused, “And I don’t figure a few cell phone pictures will ruin my life when I start to get old and saggy and have to retire,” she winked at Sharon, “Or maybe I can keep doing this into my 50’s… Sharon’s proving any of us should be able to do this until our kids are about ready to start dancing.” The women laughed at that, including Sharon, although Kelly thought it was forced.
“It wasn’t Cinemax or a strip contest or a nude pageant,” she told them, “Sharon was one of the features at the Sexpo in Melbourne.”
“Get out!” Naomi answered, rocking back in her seat, an almost adoring gaze shifting to Sharon.
“Bullshit,” Glory snorted.
“It’s real,” Naomi started, “I’ve seen it on Spike TV when Geoff is watching…”
“No,” Glory rolled her eyes, “Bullshit our MILF stripper was a feature.”
“Uhm, it’s true,” Kelly answered, then shrugged when Glory glared at her, “I’m not lying, am I?” she turned to Sharon, who’s glare was almost as intense as Glory’s. The older woman turned her glittering expression toward the incredulous young stripper.
“Jealous?” Sharon smiled cruelly, then shrugged, “It really wasn’t anything special… just another evening with my men.”
“The BZ?” Fallon’s tone suggested what she thought of the frat.
“Mm-hmmm,” Sharon paused, eyes flickering half closed and her back arching as she shivered in front of all of the women, “Mmmm, she said after a moment, “Just thinking about it is enough to get me hot.”
“More bullshit,” Glory grumbled, “Save it for the johns.” Kelly was almost unable to take her eyes off of Sharon, though. Her partner was simply incredible. She could not put her finger on what was happening, but every day she seemed more… a vision of Go flashed through her mind, and she snorted at the thought that somehow Sharon was the masculine, controlling figure of the club owner. But even as she discounted it, Kelly had to admit Sharon was suddenly so different, so… virile.
Sharon ran a finger around her pierced nipple, eyes still lidded, head back, as she brought her other hand to her crotch, suggestively pressing against her sex.
“Ungh,” she shuddered again, and every other woman watched in rapt fascination as Sharon undulated without moving, oblivious to everyone around her. Worried, Kelly moved to distract the others as Sharon slid bonelessly into her seat, groaning huskily. She grabbed her ipad from her bag-- a gift Dave had provided, along with specific instructions she had been finding increasingly difficult to obey, considering she felt like she was spying on Sharon.
“Here,” she cleared her throat and began running her fingers over the screen. G4... She scrolled through the site as it loaded, found the Header for Sexpo 2010, Melbourne, scrolled through the episodes… “Just check this out,” she triumphantly spun the little tablet for Glory and the others to see as Riley Style began the intro to the next segment, her little girl voice piping from the speaker.
“And now, what we’ve been telling you about… the amateur awards that are scheduled for tonight… I’ve seen some of these girls,” she licked her lips suggestively, “And I’m hoping they make the jump to come play with me. Let’s see what’s happening,” and she spun away from the camera dissolve before it showed her again, at the back of a big auditorium.
“Some of these women may be the big stars of tomorrow,” she said in an unnecessary whisper, “Well, some of them are already stars in their own right…”
A pair of well known porn stars, one brunette and bold, the other a bottle blonde who had made a career of at least playing at being ‘ditzy’ were getting the crowd focused.
“… category is best New Amateur in a series.” the ditzy blonde pouted, “I remember when I was in the running for this award.”
“Did you win?”
“No, silly. I only did one loong movie,” she dragged out the word, then batted her eyes at the camera, “I thought taking a series of big studs was what would get me nominated.” The brunette rolled her eyes.
“Tonight’s nominees have been acting…”
“Or not,” the blonde tittered.
“Or not,” her companion agreed, “In at least three separate productions that have earned at least $100,000. To be nominated, the women must also not have been signed to a studio, and they can’t have been doing it before this year!” the blonde looked at her exasperated friend,
“What?”
“They cannot have been performing in the sex trade before this year.” The crowd laughed at the prompting light.
“Oh, right…” another giggle, “I think all of these gals have been ‘doing it’ well before this year.” the blonde winked again at the camera, then turned to her companion, “Well, Sasha, who’s up for the award?” Sasha Blue opened the page she had been holding.
“Miss Geri Jones,” the big screen behind the pair cut to a clip of a buxom redhead riding on one cock while slurping hungrily at another jutting through a hold in the wall, “Gloryhole Jones, 1 through 4,” the scene cut to the same lithe young woman screaming in ecstasy as a big tattooed stud pounded her ass against a checkered tile floor.
The crowd applauded, the clapping increasing as the scene cut to the woman, seated in the crowd, wearing a shimmering green dress cut to ****** the insides of her breasts as well as her navel. Smiling almost shyly, the young starlet tweaked her dress, baring the edge of an areola, which was deftly blurred by the censors.
“You may have seen her get her start in ‘Grads Gone Wild,’ Sasha continued, and another video replaced her image on screen, showing a younger, less sexually polished woman flashing her breasts in a crowded bar for a camera, “Another in the line of discoveries by Larry Rubio.” The cameras dutifully cut to the man who had gotten rich talking ***** coeds on Spring Break to show the country their tits. By means of waving, Rubio lifted his arm to show the chromed handcuffs he wore, linking him to a guard who was his ever present shadow while the convicted tax cheat worked off his debt to Uncle Sam.
“Who’s next?” the blonde chirped. Sasha tilted her head, returning her attention to the page she was holding.
“The star of ‘Hot Pocket Deliveries,’ 1-6, Rose Victoria.” The Latino beauty was shown knocking on the door wearing a thin white T with red sleeves, the front emblazoned with ‘Hot Pocket Deliveries.’ The image immediately cut to the same actress spreading her heavy, clean shaven labia as the ‘homeowner’ slipped into her with a groan of delight. Leaning back, the athletic young woman began to hump herself at the offered cock, shouting ‘Yesss!’ with an accent reminiscent of the ‘Modern ******’ star making it big in Hollywood. The scene cut, and the camera showed her encouraging an anal pummeling before accepting her ‘payment’ from the satisfied customer and sauntering toward her red and white VW Bug, pausing to look back over her shoulder and wink before saying, ‘Just 3 more deliveries to go…’ before the image cut to the same smiling woman where she was seated in the crowd. Rose wore a body hugging white sequin dress that emphasized her impressive cleavage, and set off her flawless mocha complexion. Batting her heavily made up eyes, the beauty blew a kiss at the camera.
“Mmmm,” the blonde sighed, “I think I need to try Hot Pockets again.” Rose smiled prettily and nodded in answer, mouthing ‘any time’ for the camera. “But wait,” the blonde frowned, “Wasn’t she a GGW, too?” On cue the overhead screen showed Rose, pre-augmentation, flashing and shaking her ass at a beach party for a recent Grads Gone Wild production.
“Yep, Larry strikes again,” Sasha paused, “Damn, that man gets around.” When the camera cut to him again, the producer smiled broadly. Rose tried to look appropriately embarrassed, and the crowd pretended the starlet the had just seen humping a ‘stranger’ would be so affected.
“Who’s next, Sasha, another Grads Gone Wild discovery?”
“Well, in fact,” Sasha shook her head, “Maybe we’ll name this the Rubio award next year… Anna Colter!” The screen lit with a passable news desk set, where an impossibly tall blonde was deftly eviscerating a pudgy politician
“… Trying to tell this Audience you have no recollection of visiting the Tabby Cat and paying for lap dances?” there was a movie in a movie cut of the target of her attack drooling over a succession of faceless strippers, “That you were not a regular customer of the Soccer Mom Madam, “Cut to the man rutting into a willing young woman, face obscured by the camera angle, the ‘Madam’ in question peering over his shoulder through the open door of the frilly girly pink painted room, “And yet, you are somehow opposed to insurer coverage of contraception and federal funding for abortion?” The clearly surprised politician was left speechless, blinking as he looked about as if to escape.
“Well I have only one response to that,” the too thin young woman stood, the heavier but shorter man almost cowering away from her. Anna turned, setting one elbow on the new desk that had been behind their ‘interview’ setting, and using the other to flip her miniskirt up, baring her naked ass and sex, “You’ve got some big balls, Senator… Now show me how well you can use them.” Suddenly confident, the ‘Senator’ hurried to accommodate the newswoman’s demand. The screen cut back to the pair on the stage.
“Foxy Hosin’ Zone, 1-3,” the blonde giggled, “I’d say she’s fairly balanced,” the coupling was continuing on the big screen behind the presenters.
“Yes,” Sasha agreed as the screen dissolved, “Miss Colter is unable to join us tonight, but sent along a thanks,” the screen changed to a twitter post, ‘Love that you’re all watching me right now. Hugs and Kisses, A’
“And yes, she’s another Rubio discovery,” the blonde piped up, “Don’t all you men wish you were Larry, just for a day?” She turned to Sasha, “Who’s next?” Sasha again focused on her paper,
“A true school girl MILF, and married to boot, the star of the BZ Bitches 1-5... Sharon Synn.” The scene behind them cut to Sharon, in her Demoness costume, servicing a line of the BZ Brothers. There were hushed murmurs and cheers as she begged the young stud between her legs to fuck her harder, and then urged someone else to take their turn when he finished up and pulled away. The scene cut to a profile of Sharon being approached ‘on the beach,’ the first film shoot she had done in the warehouse, her face turned enough to hide who she was, until it was buried in one of the big stud’s groin while a second began to pound into her easily.
“Mrs. Synn… Yep, you heard me right, Missus, could not be here tonight, as school resumes Monday, but she and her friends at the BZ Frat are able to join us by satellite…”
The screen cut to Sharon, seated between Dave, and Samir, her hands wanking their bare cocks. She was topless, wearing the Demoness mask, and when she saw herself on the television her mouth dropped open in obvious shock. Her hands went right on working though. The crowd laughed.
“Wow,” the blonde giggled, “I think she’s already filming number six.”
“Eight, actually,” Dave said, then let his mouth go slack, feigning greater pleasure than he was actually receiving, “Damn, but you can work a cock, Shar’.” Shocked, she took her hand away from his cock, horrified to see the televised image of her do the same a second later. Dave adjusted himself, aware his cock was impressive to the average man or woman as he continued, “6 and 7 as well as a Greatest Hits eh, Missus,” he paused while the crowd chuckled at the promo sign one of the other brothers had held up behind the coach showing the spelling of their play on words, “Are in the can.”
Horrified at being on live TV, Sharon sat, one hand still working Samir’s cock. She wanted to bolt from the room, and as reason began to urge the more than tipsy white housewife to do just that, Dave lifted his chin-- not a motion anyone watching would notice. Bernie stepped up and held a card up over the camera set above the television in front of her. Sharon froze, seeing a picture of herself with Chris. As she opened her mouth to ask what was happening, Dave leaned close, kissing her neck. Her eyes flickered closed automatically as her nerves sang. TWANG! Her clit pulsed and her body undulated, one hand still working Samir’s solid cock.
“If you leave we’ll have to show them you really are married… just play along, little Bitch,” Dave whispered while pretending to kiss her ear. Her eyes focused on her wedding band as her fingers rose and fell on Samir’s deep black shaft. The little voice that had tried to get her to escape was shouting-- hundreds… thousands of strangers were watching her… She’d never be able to pretend it wasn’t her! Dave winked, at her,
“The mask has to stay on, so hubby doesn’t find out just how horny his little wife is.” Sharon relaxed slightly, trying to convince her he was right-- Chris would not recognize her dressed as she was… doing what she was doing. Her gaze was still captured by the movement of her hand and the sensation of Samir’s erection sliding through her fingers… She realized her free hand was frigging her dripping slit. God, it felt good. The worries, the knowledge that others were watching her faded away. “Her fans will know, but trust me, this married MILF gets NAUGHTY!” Dave offered the camera a thumbs up, “Just catch one of her performances and you’ll be back for more.” Leaning back, leaving it obvious no force was being used, he said, “Damn, you got wonderful hands, but I want that mouth, my sexy little bitch.”
The rational fragment of her mind not hazed by the hours of drugs, booze, and constant sexual activity was still shouting-- the blinking light over the TV was real… they could not fake having her name called on a live broadcast from half the world away. But without hesitation, driven as much by her own building need as the demand of the younger man, Sharon dutifully twisted, dipping her head to slurp his swollen cock into her mouth.
She bobbed almost gently a time or two before she felt his hips lift slightly. She automatically took the cue, knowing what he wanted, and began to bob at him more forcefully, taking him to the root and holding herself there every few strokes, sucking at him strongly. She heard the murmurs followed by a building applause as the screen reverted to the stage half way around the world. Turning her head, she realized that even with the two women front and center, a hugely magnified image of her bobbing head was still on display, behind the announcers. She was incredibly embarrassed-- how many people were seeing her do that live? And yet she was suddenly so wet she moaned around Dave’s cock, wishing Samir would fuck her…
Kelly and the other dancers had no idea what had led up to her putting on the little show on cable and satellite television… that Sharon had rushed back to her small condo, grabbing the Demoness mask and the accompanying dildo ‘tail’ and then speeding the short distance to the frat, frantic by the time that she arrived that it had been more than the hour and a half Dave had allowed.
She had actually left the Range Rover running, dashing up the steps to see if she had time to park before whatever Dave had planned was starting, and had been amazed to see the house was mostly deserted. Carlyn had been asleep on one of the couches in the main room, heedless of the light, her unpierced left nipple visible above the edge of the BZ Bitch baby doll she was wearing. Bernie, the frat member who had answered the door, had laughed at Sharon’s expression, asking if something was wrong. She had stammered that Dave had made it sound like there was a party or some pressing event that she had needed to rush back to attend. Laughing, had pointed at the quietly snoring younger woman.
“Well, it’s been a rough holiday for your sister, keeping us all satisfied, so maybe Dave wanted you to come take over for her.” He had waved off, Sharon’s suggestion she would park the Rover, “Don’t sweat it, little Bitch, I been wantin’ ta drive that fine ride. And you just get comfortable, I want to do some partying with you.” He had been out the door after offering an lascivious wink that had managed to trigger the inexplicable and almost incapacitating reaction of Sharon’s clit.
She had sagged against the inner doorframe until the sensation eased, and then had gone looking for Dave. The senior frat member had been watching movies in the rec room, and had waved off Sharon’s inquiry as to what was up. It had not been five minutes from finding Dave before the shapely housewife had been seated between the domineering BZ brother and Tom, the big lineman who had proven to be a capable and gentle lover, a big glass of alcohol in hand. Dave had prompted her to share ‘what she had done during the holiday,’ and frightened that he would somehow know if she lied, she had offered an embarrassingly thorough description. He had seemed surprised about her adventure in the hospital, and had been downright unhappy about the way the high school players had used her.
“Tom,” Dave had growled as he got up, deftly refreshing the Solo glass of Mind Eraser that had been given to the hapless housewife, their best BZ Bitch, “When Zeke rings up you get me, no matter what else I’m doing. Unless that boy’s recruiting that other big lineman he isn’t allowed to be freelancing our girls like that.” Tom had nodded soberly-- Sharon had been sure he was more upset about the various ways she had been used over the holiday than Dave, but with the heavy fog of reefer smoke filling the room, it was just too hard to focus for her to wonder why.
Sometime later… Sharon had no idea how much time, much less how much she had had to drink, she had acquiesced to Dave’s insistence that she put the mask on, and with less reluctance she has slipped the ‘tail’ into its place jutting from her ass. Sitting with the big dildo inserted was initially uncomfortable, but by then Sharon had been sufficiently aroused at the constant touching and fondling of the BZ who were partying with her, not to mention the frequent less than subtle suggestions of what was going to happen, that she had actually enjoyed the pressure of the thick rubber distending her bottom, a harbinger of the pleasures to come.
She remembered giggling at how slurred her voice was when she had asked Dave why it had been so important that she come home that night, never stopping to consider where it was she considered ‘home.’ Instead of answering, Dave had looked over at Samir, who had told Sharon he wanted her to dance for them.
Giggling, Sharon had stepped onto the low coffee table between the couch and the big flat panel TV, and had started to dance with the ease of the performer she had become. Even without a pole, she had managed a lewd display that had all of the BZ brothers on hand ready to take advantage in just a song or two. When she stepped off to take a break, she had disrobed but for her heels and the costume, and without thinking about it she had dutifully retrieved drinks for the young men, naked, before she had done a second set, teasingly drawing the strands of her ‘tail’ through her bare sex and whipping them against her naked breasts, reveling in the power she had felt over the enraptured frat members.
She had paused, seeing herself on television as she had turned to bounce her ass at the trio seated on the couch, and Samir had quickly told her it was just the ‘Eye’ on the X-Box Kinect, pointing to the elaborate lens situated above the television. Sharon had seen the frat members playing various games with it, and giggled at the way her body as moving on the screen before her, but as much as the expressions of the men behind her, whose eyes were glued to her thrusting bottom. The guys had laughed when Samir had told her the camera was a new addition with HD resolution-- which meant nothing to Sharon. Bernie had asked if the young programmer was designing a sex game with Sharon as the main character, and the guys had laughed with Sharon at the joke.
Standing from his seat in the chair to the side, Bernie had dropped his pants, announcing it was time to ‘tip the entertainment.’ Seeing his jutting cock, Sharon had licked her lips-- she had been horny for a long time by that point, and was more than ready to feel Bernie inside of her. Stepping close, the younger BZ had spanked Sharon’s naked ass smartly, and the well-conditioned married housewife turned, bending at the waist while deftly sweeping the plume of her ‘tail’ to the side, giving her ‘brother’ easy access.
As a swimmer, Bernie was tall but almost painfully thin, with ropey muscles rather than the bulky strength of Tom and most of the others. His cock was similar… not so thick but of above average, length, even in the frat. And whether it was breath control or training in the water, he was also able to go much longer than most of the other frat members, Sharon remembered from past enjoyable interludes. She was wondering how long it would be comfortable to take him standing on the coffee table with the makeshift tail in place when he had asked Samir if he needed to be wearing any special harness to get the geeky BZ brother the ‘data he needed.’ Sharon had turned to look at the younger frat member in surprise as Bernie had slipped easily into her sex.
“You aren’t… ahhh,” God, it felt good having a big cock thrust into her, she had to admit, “God…” he caught her hips and set an easy but rapid pace, “Aren’t recording this for a game?” Samir had laughed.
“No, but it’s a great idea… Will you be my character, Sharon?” TWANG! Sharon’s clit pulsed and Bernie was just sliding home at that moment, and her attempted agreement was a fervent shout, “Yes!” she had shivered, climaxing visibly, to the shouts and cheers of she and Bernie’s impromptu audience.
True to her memory, Bernie easily got her off repeatedly before she was begging him to let them change positions, which is how she had come to be draped over the back of the couch watching Dave and Tom play Call of Duty, hooting and shouting at others across the region as they played online, devastating all comers. The unblinking hi resolution eye of the ‘Kinetic’ camera-- actually a much more expensive unit Samir had piggybacked into the system just for the night’s show-- caught it all, Sharon loving the endless screwing of one BZ brother while her other casual lovers played games in the same room. She had dutifully toked off of the blunt being passed around the room, and had even had most of a Mind Eraser through a straw while being thoroughly fucked by the frat’s resident ‘cocks man.’
When Bernie was finally ready to cut loose, he had paused, yanking her ‘tail’ free, then had slipped up, pulsing into her loose, welcoming ass before plunging the dildo back, laughing that he was going to ‘plug her up’ so she’d stay nice and hot for later. After he had padded naked out of the rec room, Dave had told Sharon to go ‘touch up’ and without thinking she had gone to the bathroom to check her make up, mask still on, and then had collected fresh beer for the brothers before Dave had suggested she sit down between he and Samir.
Between rounds he had laughed to the younger frat member that it wasn’t fair that their little Bitch didn’t have a joystick to play with, too. Nodding his agreement, both men had stripped off their jeans, after which Sharon had been left playing with them-- not too much, don’t distract me, Bitch, Dave had warned-- until Samir had warned them ‘last game.’ When they had turned the television on , Sharon had been in the semi-dark room with the brothers present through the break for nearly 4 hours. It was 3 AM, and she was flying and still horny, never considering it was even live TV when Samir had switched the screen to G4.
The show in which Sharon had found herself performing had started at 6 PM the next day in Australia, so it was end of the Sexpo crowd-- a packed house-- on hand to enjoy the show she put on, not to mention the tens of thousands of full package subscribers and internet media viewers who watched her wank, then blow Dave live in HD.
“Well, Jess,” Sasha had said, looking back as Sharon went on eagerly gobbling at Dave’s cock, “She seems to enjoy her work.”
“Me, too,” Jess Gem answered, running a hand down her skin tight body suit, “I may go back to school after all.”
“What do you think, Mr. Rubio, would she make a good Grads Gone Wild girl?” The usually too smooth entrepreneur paused, then shook his head in the negative, eliciting scattered hoots and taunts.
“Well, I don’t think she minds… she seems to have found just the right position,” Jess tittered, having watched as Samir moved the still sucking white housewife onto one knee on the couch, her forward leg bracing between the couch and coffee table as he slid his bare tool into her with apparent ease.
“And what a position it is,” Sasha agreed, and for several seconds the pair, along with all of the assembled crowd, watched Sharon being spit roasted, her body twitching in obvious pleasure.
“Uhm… oh,” Sasha saw the stage hand waving frantically, as the image was cut off, “I, uh, I guess we have more nominees.”
“As if it’s necessary,” Jess murmured, still looking at the blank screen, “I think I want to go to summer school.” On television, the contestants present in the theater, whose faces had replaced the image of Sharon being thoroughly fucked, nodded in enthusiastic agreement. The crowd chuckled, men across the expansive theater shifting in their seats as the space in their trousers shrank alarmingly.
“Uhm, who else,” Jess asked, then giggled, “Oh, that’s my line…” The crowd laughed, and the sexual tension that had so quickly pegged in the auditorium eased back. “The next nominee is Alesha Hawkins.” The screen behind lit with the grainy footage of an attractive red head blowing the first in a row of men leaning against the edge of a trampoline in a wooded setting. “This sultry single mom-- that’s right, guys, a bonafide MILF,” Jess giggled, “Is the star of the popular ‘Suburban Sprawl’ series, one through eleven.” The screen cut to show Ms. Hawkins head back, mouth open as she welcomed a doggie style screwing from a ersatz pest control agent.
“Another independent, Ms. Hawkins is with us from her home in New Orleans tonight…” The screen dissolved to show the would be starlet, impeccably made up, wearing a naughty latex number that did nothing to hide her nipples despite the pale tint of her areolae.
“Hey, Jess, Sasha,” the woman’s voice was a deliciously honeyed drawl, “I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you.”
“Congratulations on being nominated. You were the most prolific of the nominees tonight, with 32 movies in the last year.” The pretty woman nodded and beamed, “Word is we may see you on a major label next year,” Sasha asked, “I think it’d be wonderful to bring your Sprawl series out west.”
“Well, it may happen,” the red head winked, “Though I don’t think all my ‘friends’ out here want me to leave.” Jess laughed.
“Well, if they come out to visit and you’ll let me, I’ll help entertain… that’s a yummy exterminator!”
“Oh, darlin’, you don’t even know,” Alesha winked, pressing a hand against the camel toe defined by the latex catsuit, “He can really send a girl over the moon.” She smiled mischievously, “Why don’t y’all come down and I’ll introduce you.”
“Mmmm, deal,” Jess licked her lips, “We’ll see if just how many times the South can really can rise again.” Sasha rolled her eyes on cue.
“Well, I’ll let y’all get on with it, but tell that Sharon she should bring her sexy self down here, and experience some true Southern hospitality… Course, I’d love it if she brought some of them big ‘ol boys she’s got to play with.”
“Worried about the competition?”
“Sugar, we women are always worried about other hot women… but I think Miss Synn is busy enough she can share, jus’ like me.” The thin woman stretched languidly, seemingly unconsciously, “And I can always make it up to her… ain’t she just delicious to watch,” she pointed to the laptop she had to one side, “I’m just starting number four… gotta do my research, right?” The crowd dutifully laughed, and the presenters thanked the pert young woman then bade her good-bye.
“So,” Jess said, looking expectantly at Sasha, “Who won?”
“She was supposed to open the envelope,” Sasha told the audience, “But I caught her trying to sneak a peek back stage.” Jess wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at Sasha, before both women laughed. “I’ll open it, you tell everyone, deal?” the self assured young crossover star asked. Her bubbly companion beamed.
“I get to announce that…”
“I haven’t opened the envelope yet,” Sasha pointed out.
“Well, it’d be a crime if they don’t choose Aieee!” The petite blonde squealed as Sasha slapped her rump with a practiced hand. She used black lacquered nails to slice the award envelope open, then handed it to her smaller companion with a flourish. Jess took the envelope,
“And the winner of $5,000, this fancy award,” she held up an oversized gold colored dildo that obligingly flopped from side to side from where it was mounted to the wooden base, “Mmmm, where was I?”
“The prizes,” Sasha prompted.
“Oh right… This wonderful trophy… use it often girls,” she giggled, “A contract with Livid studios, a little fun money…”
“$1500,” Sasha nodded, rolling her eyes at the idea it was ‘fun money’.
“And of course, an expense paid trip to AVN next year…” Jesse slipped the card out with a clumsy attempt at a flourish, and giggled, then focused on the card, “… Sorry Larry, this year’s New Amateur of the year is Missus Sharon Synn!” The crowd cheered as the camera cut back to the rec room in the BZ frat.
Sharon was astraddle Samir, who was grinning broadly as their pet Bitch rode him eagerly. Her head was back, fingers of one hand pinching her pierced nipple as she stabilized herself on his knee with the other, humping up and down as hard and fast as she could. Head back, eyes closed, it was a moment before she realized Dave had cleared his throat-- he wanted her attention. Still riding Samir’s cock, she looked to where he was standing beside the television.
“Sharon?” Sasha smiled, “Did we catch you at a bad time?” The crowd laughed.
“Uh, no…” Sharon slowed, but a poke into her ass from Samir’s thumb, hidden by her splayed thighs from the television screen, spurred her on.
“Nope, it doesn’t look like a bad time at all…” Jesse murmured, pressing a hand against her crotch. Sharon had been blissfully ******* of what was happening. “
“How does it feel…” Sasha started to ask.
“God it’s great… Fuck yeah!” Sharon slurred, humping against Samir even harder.
“No… I mean… You know you won?” Sharon frowned, her entire focus on how close she was to getting off, and then she realized she was watching herself again… riding Samir like a wanton slut, face barely concealed by the ‘Demoness’ mask, too little she thought idly to keep anyone from recognizing her. She came to a stop, fully impaled, ignoring Samir’s jab to keep moving. Her eyes moved to Dave, who smiled and held up a card, that read ‘say Thank You.’
“I won…” she blinked, trying to remember what they had talked about… some contest with other women… porn stars. “Thank you,” she managed, “I didn’t… I mean,” she stopped herself from saying she had not entered, seeing the angry glare Dave directed her way. He held up another card, above the camera catching her lewd act, and she obediently read. “I want to than the Sexpo and the nominating committee… It was an honor just to be considered, and to have won…” where the card read ‘pause’ she had almost said the word. Her effort to focus on what she was reading was hampered by the BZ brother still thrust into her sex. At a push from Samir’s hands she had resumed rising and falling on his cock. Her need was still there, the promise of a delicious orgasm almost within reach. Dave had switched the big cue card.
“Maybe you two can come visit and I’ll show you how we really celebrate home cumming,” she blinked, then giggled at the strange spelling, belatedly understanding what she had just said, and pleased that the crowd was still laughing. She arched her back putting on a show automatically, and groaning slightly as she went on reading, “I can’t wait for AVN next year, and if you can’t, check out my new release-- just in time for Christmas-- or come check me out at Snake Eyes!”
“Damn, she has the right idea,” Jesse murmured, eyes glued to Sharon’s moving body as she began to lose herself again in the coupling with Samir. Sasha seemed more put out at behavior that clearly would not make it onto the G4 broadcast. Of course, every engineer who could was catching the action for whatever they could include on the ‘uncensored’ DVD release that was sure to follow. “Is she nominated for anything else tonight?” the blonde star asked hopefully. Sasha looked to the wing, where a producer consulted his chart, then shook his head.
“Fraid not,” she cleared her throat, “That’s quite a start to the evening’s entertainment,” she paused, “Something tells me we’ll see more of that hottie next year!” The crowd cheered, and Jesse winked at the camera.
“Well, have fun, girl… Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… well, with those studs what wouldn’t I do?” Sharon had managed a weak smile and a nod, but had begun to get off on Samir’s cock, and so could not form the words to say thank you or anything else. The scene cut away as her entire body twitched and spasmed visibly. “I always thought going Greek meant something else,” Jesse pouted, “But that looked like enough fun I may have to check about an on line college… do you suppose the BZ Brothers will do off campus visits?” Sasha rolled her eyes.
“I kinda think if the prospect of sex is involved they’ll go anywhere, right Larry?” The man who had built an empire convincing coeds to flash the camera just smiled knowingly. The unwritten rule among ‘talent scouts’ for the adult industry was not so different from the fictional Fight Club… no one wanted to complain about the tactics the others used-- it was a big world, with plenty of new skin for all to profit.
“What’s next, or can we take a break… I may need to visit the little girls’ room,” Jesse’s intent was plain to all.
“Not yet, sorry,” Sasha answered without meaning it. Part of her wished the annoying woman would let her go on alone. A runner had carried a new nominee card and winner’s envelope out to her. She did not need to check the heading, but did, just to be sure, “First we have to announce the winner for the best lesbian ensemble movie.” Jesse was obviously distracted, but managed to hold her end of the choreographed banter as the show continued.
Kelly watched the other dancers as they recognized Sharon had, indeed, won $1500 for the ‘work’ she was doing outside of Go’s. Because any of the women working at Go’s took turns in the champagne room, all were essentially doing what Sharon had been doing (behind a blur bar, thanks to the You Tube net censors), so none was innocent enough to be shocked at the idea. She could see jealousy in some of the girls’ expressions, most notably Glory, who others had pegged as hoping to use Snake Eyes as a Springboard to the bigger dance circuits in Arizona, Nevada, or California.
Fallon patted the older woman’s bare shoulder,
“Congrats, Shar.
“Yeah,” Naomi was breathless, “What are you going to do with the money?” Her eyes were bright as she considered the various ways she could enjoy a $1500 prize. Sharon blinked, surfacing from the continued memory of the weekend-- The guys had kept her humping her ass throughout the night and well into Saturday afternoon before she had finally crashed for a brief nap on the same couch she had seen her ‘Sister’ sleeping on when she had arrived. The rest had been brief, because returning students had quickly found her, and the hapless white housewife had found herself ‘entertaining’ a new and rotating group of frat members, horny after days at home, chafing under the watchful eye of parents.
What would have once upon a time left the blonde coed a ragged wreck seemed barely to touch the need she felt, and Dave was not the only one who had noticed how vocal and frankly aggressive their pet wife had become. Even when they didn’t keep her on a steady diet of weed and booze, she was almost a nymphomaniac. At odd times during the action she would snap rigid, breath catching, an occasional moan or whine escaping her throat. He tried not to let on that the behavior worried him when others asked about what had happened to her, assuring them she was just getting in line with being their prize bitch. But he had made a mental note to talk to Shaun about it, as well as some of the brain trust that he and his friend relied on to minimize the inevitable troubles that arose when managing a stable of variously willing young women.
Sharon had passed out taking two and three frat brothers at a time, and had been surprised to wake up later on Monday in her own bed, her skin a maze of dried fluids that betrayed the prior days’ activities. She had showered, but had not had time to do anything but call the clinic before Kelly had called about being picked up for their shift at Snake Eyes. Any thought of actually attending classes had long since disappeared.
The ladies had spent the day getting back in sync, laughing that it should not be so hard after so few days away. They had eagerly shared a bit of time in Go’s office, before they had headed to the dressing room to ‘help the other girls along’ as Go described it. The tacit understanding was that the girls were to tell him anything he asked about the others, and they knew that it was a two way street… Just for that reason the girls like Palomino never lasted long.
Sharon never considered that she and Kelly were already some of the club’s ‘veterans,’ but citing the holiday rush, Go had them working 3 weekdays and all of the weekends. And Sharon’s ‘visitors’ had resumed. When she had called the frat after servicing four entirely unsatisfactory resident advisors the Thursday of her return, her one day ‘off’ from Go’s, Dave had pointedly reminded her she was ‘helping the system’ with finals approaching. She had known better than to argue, even when two more annoyingly eager young men had shown up the next day hours before she was to be on stage at Snake Eyes.
That first weekend ‘back’ she had asked Go for a session in the champagne room after she and Kelly had finished their last set. The big club owner had leered at her and had nodded, ‘Knew it wouldn’t be too long before the itch got too bad.’ The Sharon of less then a year before would have blushed and beaten a hasty retreat. Without thinking about it, she had instead stepped up, bringing her hand up to tickle Go’s big balls through his jeans with her cliqued ceramic nails. ‘If I had the itch, I’d ask you to scratch it,’ she’d purred, and had been delighted when the bar owner had laughed, leading her back to his office to ‘prove it.’ Thoroughly fucked, she had been a bit surprised when he had called her out of the dressing room thirty minutes later, pairing her with a muscular young man ‘just back from the sandbox’ Go had explained.
With the nearby army base, the women were used to ‘treating’ the young men-- unattached and otherwise-- just back from rotations in the country’s carefully ignored little war. Some were spent so quickly the girls felt bad at whatever the men had spent to visit the champagne room, and most made sure the young troopers got what they had paid for with an enthusiastic ‘encore.’ The occasional soldier treated coupling like another battle, their cock like a primeval club to force the women to submit. When her ‘guest’ proved to be this more aggressive and selfish partner, though Sharon had not sought the help of the club’s bouncers, bucking against him, urging him on even harder and faster, demanding it, cursing the panting vet as he hammered into her. Their rutting had been so violent others nearby had stopped to watch, and when they had collapsed in a moaning heap after a mutual orgasm a bare 4 minutes after he had first pushed inside of her, the others coupling in the bit room had offered an enthusiastic round of applause.
Somehow, that had spurred her on, but her attempt to get the previously almost enraged soldier to give it to her again was unsuccessful… apologizing profusely, the man had beaten a retreat so hasty it had seemed he had been embarrassed, which had left the barely satisfied white housewife puzzled.
She had been more puzzled when Go had handed her a small box the next week before their first set. The club owner had offered no explanation and when she had opened it to find an impressive diamond tennis bracelet she had looked up, her surprise obvious as she stammered a thanks, glancing at Kelly, worried that their boss would offend her lover with so showy a gift and without a companion for the brunette. Go had laughed, ‘That isn’t from me… first rule, remember? Don’t get attached to the help.’
Sharon had stamped her foot at that, ‘We’re more than just the help and we both know it!’ grabbing Kelly’s hand, she had thrust the jewelry into it, ‘We’re also a team, so don’t think you can get between us.’ Laughing, Go had caught both women by the hair, half dragging them into his office, where he had proceeded to nail each in the cunt and ass, alternating every few strokes, easily getting them close to climax without letting either get off.
‘This what you meant?’ he had taunted, ‘Can’t let either of you get off 1st, or the other might pout…’ Biting back the need to cum, Sharon had tried to hump back at the big man to get past his self control, but nearly three decades into making a living off of sin, Go easily kept her movements in control and withdrew whenever his control was threatened. When that ploy had failed, Sharon had reluctantly demanded that he finish Kelly first, but the big man had just laughed, leaving them both hanging as he called Phoebe in, finishing off in the Latina’s talented mouth.
‘Yeah, you both know you’re under my… thumb,’ he had chuckled, pointedly cleaning his spend cockhead off on the other stripper’s pouting lips, ‘I can do whatever I want to you both… or not.’ He had smiled, shrugging after Phoebe left at his gesture, ‘But you’re right, you’re both more than just help now.’ Sharon had felt her smile as wide as the one she had seen lighting Kelly’s face, ‘Just don’t think it means you can git uppity.’ The women had nodded, putting themselves back together, resigned to the maddening sense of need he had left each with . ‘An that trinket’s from the guy you schooled last week, Sharon.’
Sharon had been honestly puzzled, until Kelly laughed, ‘The big soldier… the one that wanted to take a year’s frustrations out on you, remember?’ Even then, it took a moment before she had remembered the show she had put on with a strange soldier in the champagne room. Go was nodding.
‘Yep, that’s the one.’
‘But, why, I mean, it was just sex…’ Kelly had snorted, and Go had stared at her with obvious surprise.
‘Girl, you are something,’ he had shaken his head, ‘That boy had more rage in him than I had seen in any ten men in the last year or two. He came in wanting you to beg for him to stop.’
‘I would’ve,’ Kelly piped up, ‘Every girl here agreed you had to have been putting that lidocaine lube in your snatch.’ Sharon had blushed, but shook her head.
‘He just wanted it rough,’ her blush deepened, ‘It just felt right… it’s what I needed, too.’
‘Well, he realized he was way over the line, but you took it… you showed him up.’ A too small voice in Sharon’s head had asked if that meant she had been over the same line, but had not noticed. ‘He asked me to give this to you.’
‘I can’t!’ Sharon imagined how Chris would react if she wore home such expensive new jewelry, ‘It’s too expensive.’ Go shook his head.
‘You can’t refuse… Boy paid good money for it. He’ll be back to see if you’re wearing it, sure as shit. Don’t get so dramatic,’ he rolled is eyes, then, ‘You did good… Gave the boy just what he needed. That’s what wins you regulars. And regulars pony up like you’re an honest to goodness girlfriend.’ So Sharon had worn the bracelet when she and Kelly were dancing… Had taken to wearing it all of the time; she could admit it was beautiful and it made her feel good that she had so impressed the young man he had wanted to give her such a thank you.
She had not been surprised when the intense young soldier was present and had offered a hesitant wave from his front row position the next Friday night. She had flashed the bracelet, smiled, and mouthed ‘thank you’ before putting on an especially aggressive 69 with Kelly, trying to make sure her beau had a great view. He had been in the same place for all three sets, gently tucking $20 bills into her G string, even when she pouted and reminded him he did not need to be more generous.
But he had not been there to enjoy another screw afterwards. Instead, Sharon had found herself being railed by another stranger. When the man had finished and she had cleaned up, she had caught Raoul by the elbow. The big bouncer was the one watching the Champagne room that night.
‘Where’s my… well, my, uh, my fan?’ Sharon had suddenly found she did not know how to describe the soldier she had expected to be interested in a fuck. Raoul had shrugged, but not because he had not known who she was talking about. He had lifted the mike hanging by his jaw, speaking into it, and after listening for a moment, he had shrugged again.
‘He left after your last set, Shar’, didn’t have a lap dance, didn’t go to the shower. Chet says looks like he was here to watch you, but just to watch. Ya know?’ Sharon had thanked the big bouncer, then had returned to the dressing room where Kelly had been waiting. The younger woman had been puzzled at Sharon’s willing return to the champagne room.
On the way home Sharon had asked what Kelly thought about her admirer’s stand off attitude. Kelly had shrugged, ‘He could be married.’ The idea horrified the married white housewife… He would cheat on his wife like that? Buy another woman expensive jewelry? ‘I don’t think so, though…’ Kelly had continued, ‘No ring, and no enlisted man can afford that sort of ‘thank you’ that you’re wearing there.’ Sharon had nodded, wondering about the soldier, and embarrassed that she did not even know the young man’s name.
He had not been back in the next week, although the crowd rushing to get seats whenever Sharon and Kelly were on stage was obviously getting bigger, and Go had begun asking both women to ‘do specials’ after their sets. Sharon was doing more than her friend, but Kelly wasn’t having the problems finding satisfaction like the older woman.
Sharon had finally asked Go if he could find out what the story was. The big black man had initially worried the soldier was stalking her, following her home or trying to convince her to run off with him. He had seemed puzzled when she explained instead she had not seen him, but had agreed to see what he could find. Sharon was long past surprised that the club kept recordings of the extensive ‘security cameras’ set throughout. With the check of driver’s license or military ID that they made of every patron coming through the door, Go actually needed only to check a couple dates, and then make a call to get the answer.
To Sharon’s surprise the young soldier with whom she had interrupted the champagne room’s usual activities had volunteered to go back to Afghanistan. Go did not have more information and did not offer to try to get more, leaving the lost housewife more confused… what sort of man would spend more than a thousand dollars on jewelry for a stranger, not take advantage of the sex his purchase guaranteed, and in fact would then intentionally put himself in harm’s way? The new worry-- that somehow she had pushed the young man to put himself at risk-- gave her nightmares that only a pre-bedtime bowl from the never empty supply on her mantle seemed to dampen, and she found herself sleeping even less than before, throwing herself into taking care of the BZ ‘chip holders’ and her work at the club.
“I don’t know,” Sharon answered with a shrug, “Probably get some more costumes or some new tapes for Kelly and I to use.” She had almost answered that she could just give it to the frat. Dave kept insisting she was getting rich, but thinking about the money always reminded her how she had earned it, and that was embarrassing… bad enough to be the frat’s house slut… If she was making money it would mean she was a whore. Sharon barked a laugh at that, ignoring the way the other women rocked back, not having been privy to her inner thoughts.
“We could all go to a weekend in Vegas with that money,” Kelly pointed out.
“As if Go would ever close down for a weekend,” Glory sniffed.
“Fine,” Sharon narrowed her eyes at the haughty younger woman, “The rest of us can go, you can work the runway and the champagne room with the new girls.” Glory considered arguing, Kelly could tell, but she eyed the older woman and wisely thought better of it. Kelly was reminded of the way young men posture and fight… But the professor in her psychology class had been very specific: women did not behave that way socially. Glancing around she could tell that some of the other women had noticed the decidedly masculine attitude the two alpha dancers were putting out. Satisfied she had cowed the younger woman, Sharon shrugged, “I’m just kidding, we need all of Go’s best girls if we were going to do Sin City right.” Glory ducked her head, accepting the compliment.
“It’s a dream, though,” Fallon shrugged, “Go doesn’t have enough new girls to let us all go, even if he was willing to do it.” Kelly shrugged,
“Oh, you never know,” she stopped, aware that all of the dancers were looking at her suspiciously. Including Sharon. She giggled, “I just thought Sharon could fuck him senseless… not let up until he agreed… signed it on a club napkin, you know…” The other girls laughed. Sharon’s smile was lupine.
“Well, girls,” Sharon reluctantly reached for her oversized bag; she did not bother to change out of the clothes she had been wearing, simply tugging a pair of sweats and a hoodie over the Velcro costume,” I have to get some sleep before lunch.” The others laughed. When Kelly pointed out that she was having the service crew clean her costume from that night, Sharon winked at her and then quickly shimmied out of the costume without removing the sweats, “See, she wants me nearly naked before we even get home.”
With that, the pair left, arm in arm. Kelly could still feel herself blushing at Sharon’s exit line.
“They’re going to talk,” she scolded the older woman. Sharon barked a laugh.
“Fuck ‘em,” she declared, then shrugged as she caught Kelly, planting an impressive and not slightly possessive kiss on the smaller woman to the delight of a trio of young men who were similarly leaving the bar. “Fuck them, too,” Sharon huffed, leading the shocked and aroused younger woman by the hand to the Range Rover, “They’ll talk about us anyway, so might as well give them something to talk about we don’t care about.” Kelly just nodded, trying to decipher her friend and lover’s meaning… was Sharon not concerned about the other women talking about them being an item. The thought left her with a pleasant warmth deep inside. She was almost certain Sharon did not mean that she did not care who talked about her sexuality-- even with the new, aggressive woman her fellow BZ Bitch had become, Kelly knew Sharon loved her husband and ******, so she could not mean it so callously.
Sharon squealed the tires as the big SUV tipped and cut out of the parking lot onto the road. Her driving had changed., too… What was that movie? ‘Drive Angry’ That was a good description of it, Kelly considered, making sure she had her belt on. Twice Sharon had been stopped on the way home from work since Thanksgiving, once getting a warning, the second time arranging for a ‘private visit’ in the champagne room to get out of an impressive ticket. The memory of that made the young co-ed smile… Sharon had left the guy a panting mess-- had finished him off in under two minutes to the amusement of several of the employees.
“Shar,” she warned, realizing the humiliated cop could be lurking, waiting his chance to get even, “I don’t wanna get carsick, and I don’t want to pull a train for the whole night shift, after that stunt you pulled the other night, so take it easy?” Sharon offered a challenging smile… a smirk, really, but she did scale it back, and not three blocks later they passed the waiting shadow of a city cop. Kelly giggled when Sharon ducked her head.
“Thanks, babe,” she said, reaching over to expertly dip a lacquer nailed finger tip over the younger woman’s sex. Kelly shivered and groaned, confident they were going to spend another hour or two at Sharon’s apartment as the older woman worked to ‘tire them both out,’ as she had taken to calling it.
The sun was nearly peeking over the horizon when Kelly agreed that staying at Sharon’s was the best idea for the night or what was left of it. The room was heavy with both women’s musk, and the younger woman found herself drifting to sleep, amazed that Sharon was still more than ready to go.
“We need to sleep,” she scolded, pinching Sharon’s pierced nipple for emphasis, “You crazy nymphomaniac.”
“You love it and you know it,” Sharon rolled away, though, to lay panting on the rumpled, damp sheets, the strap on dildo she had brought home after finding it in the dressing room after the holidays still glistening with Kelly’s juices. Kelly shivered at just how masculine her partner looked lying beside her on the bed.
She woke, her hand pressed firmly between her bare legs, and realized with a brief assessment where she was. And that Sharon was not in bed with her.
“Shar?” she lifted her head to find the older blonde was wearing a less than new ‘Snake Eyes’ hoodie and BZ Bitch sweat bottom combination. “Where are you going, it has to be early.”
“It’s almost 10,” Sharon picked up her purse.
“See what I mean? That’s horribly early,” Kelly complained, “We don’t have to be to the tanning beds until after 3.” Go had told both women they should ‘fake bake’ to get uniform and ‘sexy’ tans, and the women had begun leaving for work early enough to hit the local Suntana place. Go had beds but not the new state of the art units that were less prone to causing burns. And when they had tried tanning at Snake Eyes they had learned quickly enough it wasn’t free-- patrons could watch them tan, and they were expected to be performing even while in the clamshell beds. The blinking eyes of the various cameras had made the decision easy for Sharon-- she knew that Go was selling time to voyeurs who wanted to watch women tanning, and minimizing her exposure to other people-- people who might know Chris was still a conscious worry. She was embarrassed at how much she had come to need the sex… and could admit it was a ‘need,’ but she was still determined to protect her marriage.
That was part of the reason she was up when she would have preferred to be snuggled against Kelly, dead to the world. As it was, she had burned most of one of the thick joints that were always in the tin on the mantle down while struggling to get ready despite being dog tired. Sharon was embarrassed to admit to Kelly she had another appointment at the clinic. Being careful not to slip on the ice still scattered along the walk, she headed out to the car, thinking back.
The first week back, she had visited on Wednesday, and had nearly been late to work at Go’s after waiting for fully three hours for just the blood draw, genital swab, and urine collection one of the sour nurses had collected after hearing her story about being ***** and having a stranger take advantage of her. The woman had all but sneered listening to Sharon’s story-- she clearly didn’t believe a word of it-- worse, she had been outright rude… nasty, whispering ‘prissy slut’ loudly enough Sharon and the other women in the care room had heard her when Sharon had asked about the Gardasil shots.
“Think she a young chicken just because she away at school, shaking her ass…”
True, the women in the waiting area had glared at her, and had whispered to each other, occasionally nodding as if some especially emphatic point had been made to mutual agreement. The handful of men had stared, a couple of the younger men primping and posturing until the women they were with took offense, staring daggers at Sharon as if she had been responsible. Sharon was long used to people whispering in her wake, though, and she ignored it without a second thought.
Having the women who were supposed to be taking care of her behave like she was trash though… that stung. And considering the empathy they had shown to some of the other dregs of society who had been sharing the waiting room with her, Sharon had been just incensed enough to make an issue of it, though afterwards, she had still been shocked she had been so forward.
“You don’t look so dried up that you’d be that bitter,” she had snapped without really thinking about it, and while the other women in the back of the clinic had hidden their faces at their colleague’s impertinent remark, all activity had stopped, every eye fixing on the pair as the painfully skinny older black woman had straightened in surprise before whipping around and thrusting a skeletal finger at Sharon’s chest.
“Don’t sass me, you Jezebel… We all know what you are. Harlot… Homewrecker.” Once upon a time, Sharon would have meekly accepted whatever admonition a stranger would have made. That day, though, it was as if she was burning. She barely felt the ‘Twang’ of arousal so out of place in the clinic, but to which she had become familiar in the past days.
“You listen to me, you self-righteous bitch,” Sharon had swatted the other woman’s hand away, stepping toward her as she continued, “You don’t know me. You don’t know my life. Stop acting like you do, or maybe you’d like me to introduce you to the choices I have to make every day.”
“I seen that fancy truck you pulled up in,” the woman sneered, closing the distance instead of backing away, “You come in here all sexed up, making every man give you an eye even if they with their woman… Disgraceful. You sit out there like you don’t want to touch anything… like you’re better than those other poor folk. So I wonder why you’re even here… It doesn’t look like you’re hurting too much to have to come here in the first place if you don’t like the care.”
“You know shit about me,” Sharon had snarled, the women’s breasts in contact as they shouted at each other, audible in the waiting room, “I didn’t ask to have a black man seduce me, get evidence that could ruin my marriage, and then turn me into his whore,” Sharon’s spittle landed on the suddenly quiet older nurse’s face, but the BZ Bitch did not notice, “I didn’t ask to be tattooed, to be marked so any brother who recognizes it can use me like the slut you think I am… I didn’t ask to have strangers empty themselves into me so I’d have to come here to see if I’ve been infected. I’m here in the car my husband bought me because I love him and I’m terrified I’ll pass some filth onto him; is that enough information for you, you snooping, judgmental bitch!?”
And then Sharon had realized she was almost looming over the smaller woman… No, she had been looming over the cowering figure, fist raised as if she might strike… might hit another human being. Horrified at her behavior, Sharon had collapsed back, hand covering her face as she had begun to sob, horrified anew at having lost control of herself in front of strangers… at what she had just admitted to women who moments before were treating her like white trash, and at having lost control once more as the wracking sobs threatened to overcome her as completely as her anger had.
“Shhh…. Shhh,” the same nurse who had been so openly hostile was the one who had guided Sharon away from the open front desk window and the cluster of suddenly alert and interested patients, back to one of the exam rooms again. And she had not been alone… the other nurse, one of the clerks, and the nurse’s assistant were along, all of them clucking maternally at Sharon, trying to sooth the emotional white woman.
After disappearing for a moment, the head nurse had returned with a Dixie cup, insisting Sharon ‘take it down.’ She had, gasping in surprise at the burn of whiskey. Eyes watering, she had coughed before glaring at the older woman.
“What the hell?” she sputtered, pushing away from the women, clutching at the flimsy hospital style gown she had donned for the testing to be done, “Are you going to take advantage of me, too?!”
“Honey,” the nurse had arched an eyebrow, letting her eye wander over Sharon’s body, which wasn’t adequately hidden be the threadbare garment, “If you think any woman here would touch you when you’re here to see if you’ve got the clap or worse, you aren’t thinking.” And considering that had made Sharon laugh… And laugh… Fresh tears spilled down her face, but it felt good, and seeing the other women were laughing… knowing they were supportive after all, Sharon had found herself dwelling on the strange thought that she felt safe in the clinic.
The nurse had finally shooed the others away, before she had caught Sharon’s hands in her own, apologizing for making assumptions and asking the amazed younger housewife and mother if there was anything she could do. Smiling gratefully, Sharon had shook her head sadly.
“Bettie,” the nurse’s nametag read ‘Bettie Seele’ and to Sharon she felt like a sure friend, “I’ve thought about it… I’ve looked at it every way I can think… If I refuse to… well, if I say no Chris will find out… He’ll be destroyed… he won’t ever be able t forgive me, and I think I’d just wind up back in their control but without a ****** to go home to.
“But child, you’re going to lose that ****** sure enough on this path.” Sharon ducked her head.
“I may… or maybe they’ll get tired of me… I’m old, I can’t keep up with these younger women, they’ll want someone better looking.” She sighed, aware that what she was saying was not the whole truth… the other BZ Sisters were not able to keep up with her. Too late she realized that they might have been strategically holding back, but the knowledge was of little use to her by then. She waved a distressed hand at her face and chest, “Look at me, I’m a mess… the stress is giving me worse break outs then I had in high school.” Bettie nodded, rubbing her chin in thought.
“We could put you on Accutane… that’d clear it up.” Sharon shook her head.
“I’ve heard about that… they say it causes irritable bowel syndrome.”
“Poppycock!” the older woman nearly cackled, “That’s like saying Tylenol causes anxiety… I don’t think IBS is really a disease… it’s for people with too much time on their hands and not enough needs doing… or folks who want to escape from doing something.” Sharon nodded, though she was not sure she fully agreed with the nurse’s assessment… Then again, the friends she had who were afflicted were without an exception she could name annoyingly self-absorbed and forever afflicted with some ailment. “The only real worry is you can’t be in the sun,” Bettie continued, and Sharon shrugged in defeat.
“And I have to tan.” Bettie frowned at her as if she was babbling incoherently. Sharon rolled her eyes, “My… uhm, my employer is insisting.” Recognition dawned and Bettie nodded her head.
“See, you got to get away from them. What if you didn’t come back for the next semester of school?” Sharon shook her head.
“They’d just send my husband photos… or videos.. Or DVDs… or websites…” She shivered, “God, it is hopeless.” Bettie patted her shoulder.
“Well, now, you’ve survived this long without your ****** finding out, right?” Sharon nodded. “And you’ve met some people you can trust… people who will help you no matter what.” Sharon considered… Would Kelly be there for her? Then she realized Bettie meant the people at the clinic. She managed a smile.
“Thank you, Bettie… And Dr. Brian, too.” Bettie seemed shocked.
“He knew ‘bout this?!” Sharon blushed but nodded.
“He saw the tattoos when I was here… when I had the IUD placed. He basically tried to get me to stop, like you’re doing… But he wasn’t judgmental either.” She smiled, “Maybe it’s just you two, but you’re right, it’s a start.”
“Well, he’s a good doctor… and a good man if he’d just stop brooding about problems he can’t fix,” Bettie frowned, “He’s serious about protecting your privacy-- hadn’t even told me about your… situation, and I thought he told me everything.” Sharon patted the older woman’s hand.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve already been here long enough I may be late to work…” she blushed, “Is it good I just see it as another job?” It had been Bettie’s turn to shrug.
“Wait here,” the gaunt older woman moved quickly to a cart, plucking a tube out after considering the contents of the second drawer she had opened. “This should help with that acne. The instructions are on the tube.” Sharon reached for her wallet, but the nurse caught her hand, “No, Honey, that’s on me. And I am sorry about the way I treated you… I just thought,” she shrugged, “I don’t know what I thought… But it wasn’t very Christian of me.” Sharon had laughed and thanked the woman, relieved when her new friend had suggested she slip out the back door to avoid the patients in the waiting area who had heard the outburst. And at the door, she had clutched Sharon’s hand, holding her back for a moment.
“You keep your head up and protect yourself,” she had said sternly, “And come back next week and we’ll get you that Gardasil shot.”
“It isn’t just for younger women?” Bettie laughed.
“Honey, let’s face it, what you’re doing is for younger women… We’ll see you’re as safe as can be. Just come back next week.”
Sharon had promised to do just that, and she meant to keep her promise, even if an extra week had somehow jumped past. She was not sure why she had not explained to Kelly where she went to get checked out; she had told her friend, partner, and lover that she was going to make sure she was ‘all right’ after the past weekends’ activities, and had previously mentioned that she’d been to a local clinic for care, but for some reason she was hesitant to be specific, and Kelly had not asked; she guessed Kelly had assumed she would use student health. Every time she had come she had wondered why she kept her visits secret, and while she had never been aware of an answer, and was mildly embarrassed at doing it, she had not changed her behavior, either.
Though naïve, Sharon was not stupid. Her first visit to the clinic, parking away from the run down building had left her susceptible to an awful stranger. The second visit, she had parked right in front without thinking twice about it, and the upscale car had drawn the staff’s ire. Looking at it from their perspective, she could not fault them-- how many free care patients drove Range Rovers? Of course, from the flashy Lincoln Town Car and the chromed out Escalade parked to the right of the building, she wondered if the ladies’ claim had been merely convenient. Her father had once pointed to a brand new Camaro sitting in the drive of a run down house when she had been learning to drive.
“See that, Sharon,” he had asked, not waiting for an answer, “People find the money to buy what they want, no matter how much they make. Just make sure you want to spend your money on the right things.” He had always had a ready suggestion or homily, and Sharon found herself fighting back tears, wondering what he would say if he saw what she was doing now. Squaring her shoulders, Sharon fiercely assured her ego or id… she wished she had actually attended class some of the time, she could not remember which was which, that he would-- she was protecting her ******.
The bells on the inside of the wired glass door jangled as she entered, and Sharon hurried to the counter, relieved that the warm acceptance of the staff from the week before had not been a momentary ploy to get rid of the crazy white woman. The woman seated behind the desk, whose nametag read ‘Carol’ smiled at Sharon and held the requisite clipboard out for her.
“Have a seat, honey, and we’ll be right with you.” Sharon nodded and took a seat, puzzled, then relieved when the page on the clipboard was not the ubiquitous medical records form but a suduko puzzle and a note, ‘We’ll get to you soon.’ It was signed ‘Bettie.’ Sharon almost relaxed as she set about trying to complete the number puzzle. She had seen Scott doing them over the summer and had tried, but typically had better ways to occupy her time.
She had been making progress when a commotion to the side drew her attention… As her eyes came up, Sharon told herself it was not so much a commotion as it was the… attention. Sure enough, two young black men seated side by side in the small waiting room were staring at her intently.
The more aggressive, bouncing a knee unconsciously as he stared smiled more widely, elbowing his partner as his smile grew to a leer.
“Tol’ you it was her. Damn, she’s smoking’ hot…” Sharon knew she should look away, return her attention to the puzzle, pretend they weren’t there, or better, that they had embarrassed her. Something sparked inside of her though, and aside from weathering the almost expected ‘Twang’ that accompanied the anger, making her eyes flicker for a moment, she kept her gaze riveted on the pair.
“Naw, man… no way that her,” his buddy shook his head, “Sure, it look like her, but half the time she wearin’ a mask… Could be any blonde woman.” The first of the pair shook his head, or rather, tilted it, reminding her of watching Stevie Wonder on television, but at a much faster tempo.
“Dawg, you starin’ at a grade A porn star and won’t believe it. S’why Myrna won’t give it up, chump.”
“Shit,” the second youth snorted, “You so sure, why you sittin’ there… I hear you, allas telling’ what you’d do if you met her.” Sharon was still staring, idly wondering if they would get up the courage to approach her. The other patients had not seemed to notice, beyond the disapproving glares of a few of the women.
“What ‘chu lookin’ at, bitch?” the first young tough leaned toward her, his voice lower, though a few of the others noticed what he was saying, turning their scowls on him to no evident effect. Sharon knew she should apologize, or avert her eyes… or both. Instead, she rolled her eyes, shaking her head in mock sympathy.
“Just boys,” she pursed her lips and arched her back just enough; smiled as the movement drew both young men’s eyes to her chest. She knew she should quail when the alpha of the pair jerked to his feet at her obvious insult.
“Boys?” he barked a laugh, “You’re her, all right… Sharon, the black cock slut.” Sharon pursed her lips as others in the room gasped in shock. In her peripheral vision she saw Carol push back from the counter, turning to say something down the hall. Sharon could not stop herself from taunting the young man.
“You’ll never know for sure,” she answered in mock sympathy, “Whatever brings you here, anyway, a little sore on your peter?” One of the older men, who had been feigning indifference, nearly choked at that. The younger men glared at him to no real benefit, then the ballsy one took a step toward her, hands out, flashing some sign to emphasize his bravado.
“You’ll be getting an exposure to it, bitch.” Sharon raised an eyebrow, stretching languidly, the movement leaving her right foot clear of the left. “You’ll choke on what I got.” His buddy tried to catch the sleeve of his hoodie.
“C’mon, man, it ain’t even her, I tol’ you.” Sharon pursed her lips, winking at the second young man.
“Oh, but I am,” she purred, licking her lower lip and letting her eyes flicker closed in just the way that enticed men when she was on stage. “But I only entertain men… You’ll just have to play with yourselves and remember you met me.”
“I’ll play with…” the first young man actually caught hold of the mascot sweatshirt Sharon was wearing before she kicked up with all her might. For a moment, the young man seemed unaffected, and then his hand slipped off of her shoulder to clutch at his groin. Knees sagging together, whatever he had been gong to say was a gurgle as he collapsed into the chair sitting at a right angle to Sharon. She smiled wolfishly, reveling in the pleasure at having hurt him. The young man’s friend was frozen in place, eyes wide.”
“Sharon,” Carol called, “We’re ready for you,” and in case any of the other patients chose to protest, “We can’t leave you out here being threatened by other patients.” Sharon stood with as much poise as she could muster, leaning over to kiss the second young man on the cheek.
“Ignore your friend’s advice,” she whispered, “But be yourself and treat Myrna right, and she’ll surprise you.” Switching her hips more suggestively than was necessary, the married white mother could feel the others’ eyes on her as she sauntered to the open doorway to the treatment area. The power she felt at having dominated the young tough… God, it was exhilarating!
She barely restrained a shout, suppressing the urge to smile out of a dim understanding the women in the clinic might misunderstand. Bettie led her to an empty exam room, having swept the syringe encased in a ziplock bag up from the med room’s counter as she passed. At her motion, Sharon shucked the hoodie, belatedly realizing she was bare beneath. The older nurse pursed her lips, then shook her head and swabbed Sharon’s upper arm with an alcohol pad.
“I don’t have many bras,” Sharon managed, knowing it sounded lame. And glad she had not been asked to drop the sweat bottoms.
“Mm-hmm,” Bettie nodded, “Can’t have you dressing proper like, can they.” Sharon smiled gratefully, nodding. The needle stabbed forward into her muscle, but Bettie was good at what she did-- Sharon barely felt it. A moment later it was done. “You’ll need a booster. Carol can set an appointment up, but just come in sometime around it and we’ll take care of you.” She smiled at Sharon, then, “Are you all right?” Sharon nodded reflexively, but her eyes fell to the alarming constellation of acne dotting her chest.
“I wish I knew what was causing this.” Bettie shrugged,
“You’re showering enough?” Sharon laughed at that.
“Sorry, Bettie… I wind up showering several times a day.”
“No new detergent, soap, perfume…” Sharon shook her head. “No other drugs or over the counter meds…” Sharon shook her head again. She shrugged,
“Stress?” Bettie clearly was not inclined to agree. She patted Sharon’s bare shoulder.
“Well it’s clearly not put the guys off,” Sharon blushed, but felt unmistakable pride considering that. “Don’t worry,” the matronly nurse handed her a bag with several small oblong boxes inside, “Sorry they’re so small… they’re samples,” she explained, “There’s maybe 30 in there… a tube should do… once at night, once again in the morning over any area that’s affected.” Without thinking Sharon leaned over, hugging the other woman, who was obviously surprised and embarrassed.
“You are wonderful,” Sharon told her, meaning it, “I can’t thank you enough.”
“You want to thank me, you come here. Quit all this… We can explain to your husband what drugs and threats can do.” Sharon shook her head.
“God, I’d love to,” she paused, horrified at the realization part of her had rebelled at her statement, “But I can’t risk it yet… But if it gets too bad…”
“Honey, if it gets worse you’ll be…” Bettie stopped herself. Shook her head. “You just remember what we said… we’re here for you.” Sharon started to hug her again but the nurse was ready, “And put that top on or the other girls will give me no end of hell for hugging you.”
“I can tan with these,” she asked, slipping the hoodie back on. Bettie nodded.
“The Accutane would be better, but this should help… and keep trying to think of what might have changed to cause it.” Sharon nodded, but she had been wracking her mind since the first little pimples had appeared. And she could not bring herself to ask if pot would cause it.
She paused at the desk, and Carol handed her a card with an appointment date written on it. Sharon was relieved that it did not have anything to suggest where it had come from. She wondered why she wanted to keep it secret but did not dwell on it. Thanking the women, she ducked out the side door she had used before. She made it to the car without anyone intercepting her, and decided to stop for more yogurt, juice, granola bars, and of course, Asti singles, beer, and condoms before going home.
“Damn,” Dave frowned at the GPS read out he had just retrieved from the unit in Sharon’s car. They knew she had gotten birth control at the clinic, thanks to Kelly, but based on her stop, the clinic where she was getting the contraceptives was the last place they would want her getting medical care. One of the other brothers working in the frat’s impressive IT suite looked over at him. Dave waved a dismissive hand, while using the other to dial Shaun.
“You going to break my balls about ‘winning our bet’ again?” his friend asked instead of saying ‘hello.’
“Hey, you lost. She won.”
“No, you bet she would be there and would win… Winning on a remote television feed doesn’t count.”
“That’s a bullshit technicality, and you know it,” Dave rolled his eyes, “Our prize bitch won head to head against real porn stars at Sexpo. Period.”
“So that’s why you’re calling? Again?” Shaun had just laughed the last time Dave had ‘reminded’ the other frat member he’d won their bet. It had galled his less refined friend to hear Sharon had been the winner, rather than Dave.
“Naw,” Dave waited, knowing Shaun would wonder what was up, “I thought you’d want to know where Shar’ is getting her pills.”
“Oh?” Shaun recognized immediately it could not be good if Dave was calling. And he could eliminate the potential problems, based upon the limited issues the frat faced… there was little the Frat did not have some influence over.
“Dr. B’s.”
“Shit.” Shaun paused, “Shit!” The man was one of the few who had walked away in outrage over what he had called the fraternity’s ‘excesses.’ Which to the other members meant he wanted to despoil all the pretty coeds himself, rather than share, considering he’d been a major horn dog when he’d been a football star a decade before. The man had made a noisy exit within the fraternity at least, and had seemed more angry no one listened to his holier than thou arguments than the fact that he had been totally isolated after his ‘noble’ exit… ‘Who cares if it’s one brother banging a dozen chicks or a dozen sharing one,’ Shaun remembered one of the national officers laughing at a meeting he had attended in Fort Lauderdale as a Sophomore. By then the doctor’s departure was ancient history, but BZ was missing nothing on the biker gangs… they did not forget traitors. And considering the… more coercive methods that the Frat was using, Shaun could imagine some ways the good doctor could be a thorn in their side. “Well, that little bitch,” he murmured, “Thinkin’ she can step out on us…”
“Naw, she ain’t steppin’ out,” Dave misunderstood what Shaun was thinking.
“Oh, I know she ain’t sharing it around… you and Go got her busy enough she can’t be doing more than sleeping when she ain’t shaking that married ass. But she might give old Dr. B some ammunition he could use.”
“Shit, none of the girls are still on the helpers,” Dave was quick on the uptake, “And most aren’t even aware why they started acting the slut… sure, there’s the pictures, but most never need that; they just think it’s the booze and the smoke, and buy into the old saying…” Shaun did not bother repeating the tired pick up line. It was true for some women, he’d seen, but he had also listened in on women’s studies topics where women had insisted they had better sex-- meaning they got off or got off better-- with average or even small cocks. He snorted at that, but admitted what Dave was arguing was true enough. And Sharon had to know they’d ruin her life if she helped the good doctor to make an issue to the school. Besides, they had the most likely ally in their stable now, also thanks to Sharon. Shaun wondered if they could use their best BZ Bitch to bring the good doctor down if he tried to cause a problem… surely the man had to have imagined slipping it to the hot white wife… “So what do I do? Tell her to bring her tight ass back to school health?”
“Naw… we know where she’s going… we can keep an eye on it… maybe having her there will be a good thing,” Shaun did not elaborate, guessing Dave would be able to fill in the blanks. “That’s all?”
“Well, it seemed like something that shouldn’t wait.”
“Damn straight, I’m glad you called. You about done with the monitor shift?” All of the members took turns watching the innumerable feeds for trouble with their brothers, or issues with teachers, administrators, or their stable of girls. There were Federal agencies that would have been green with envy at the total coverage the frat had spooled together not just of the campus, but the city and other ‘points of interest’ as their tech wizards would say with a juvenile laugh.
“Well have you decided yet about my suggestion?” Dave had pushed hard, but then again, he had set their prize filly up and she’d won against true thoroughbreds.
“When is it?”
“January, so it won’t mess up your holiday plans at all,” Dave insisted eagerly, “She can do it without any problem… Go already cleared it.”
“You’re going behind my back to Go?” Shaun was a little pissed at that… Sharon was his.
“No, no, no… I checked, that’s all. Go said he’s got so many coming in to see her based on the Sexpo he offered to pay for her flight there and back. I guess he’s got guys calling and booking ahead right up until he’s going to have to let her go home for break.” Dave waited while Shaun considered that. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he pushed, “C’mon, that was the bet… if I made her a hit at Sexpo we’d take her to the AVN bash… imagine the skilled fringe we can sample, man!”
“A’ight,” Shaun had already come to the same conclusion. He had also realized it was likely just a matter of time before their best bitch was a wreck… the bugs running on her ******’s computers had uncovered a little porn habit her hubby enjoyed. Shaun was a little surprised hubby hadn’t realized already that he’d sat in his den watching his wife put out to frat members and pros alike. He hadn’t paid for anything yet… understandable considering the flood of fresh meat hitting the net every month. But at some point he might figure it out, and they should be ready with ‘alternatives’ for Sharon if things went south. “She’s keeping up with the increased demand?” Dave laughed.
“Go insists she’s a natural; keeps asking when she was a working girl before marriage, because she leaves them panting and begs for more. Hell, he warned me she’d almost worn him out the last time he decided to ‘teach her a lesson.’ Shaun chewed the inside of his lip at that. The woman they’d ensnared was obviously not a pro, which made him worry.
“Well maybe we should visit our favorite BZ Bitch at work tonight, get us a little taste.”
“Can’t… Go’s got her booked solid.. He’s already asked if we’ll let her work another day each week until break, I’d almost forgotten to tell you.” Shaun frowned again… sometimes Dave forgot it wasn’t just about he and his dick. Shaun considered it a sacred trust of the frat, and his friend’s decisions made him glad he was grooming other younger members to take over when he finally decided he was ready to go out in the real world.
“Well shit, she’s popular here, too. We’ve got TA’s to get off and a couple professors. Plus the winter bash.”
“She isn’t working the House parties anymore.”
“She isn’t working the regular parties,” Shaun corrected, “But we’ll get a great release from this one to help sell her in Vegas.” The way Dave chuckled, Shaun knew he needn’t say more. But he also made a decision… waiting on this was too risky. He unlocked the cell-- having it lock in a minute was a hassle but it was worth the security-- and scrolled to one of the cryptic nicknames in his contacts.
Like at DOD secured phone, the handset bounced the signal through a prearranged security scrambler another BZ alum had piggybacked onto a Verizon satellite, and the call came back down to a different number… the right person, but protecting the Frat was job one.
“Yeah,” Shaun smiled. Samir might still be overawed at the Frat’s ability to get hot women, and so his ability to score with said hotties, but he was learning fast.
“When you gonna get more screen time?” Samir considered.
“Scheduled this weekend, why, you need something special?” Shaun bobbed his head, pleased at his brother’s ready to go attitude.
“Sorry, man, but we may have a problem with our golden goose.” Samir did not speak, “I need you to sit an extra shift or two… tell me if she’s doing anything unusual.”
“You wanna give me a clue?” Shaun bit back a smart ass response. It was a valid question.
“Sorry, but if I knew you wouldn’t have to keep an eye on her… Am I hurtin’ your action?” Samir laughed.
“No, bra,” Shaun guessed it was the crime tv show set in Hawaii that had increased that little familiarity in the Frat language, “the BZ Bitches ARE my action.”
“Well that’s why we have them around,” Shaun pointed out, then added, “Shout soonest if something strange happens. Otherwise I’ll check in tomorrow.” He resisted asking the freshman to not say anything to Dave or to ‘anyone’ in general… that could backfire. Killing the call, Shaun considered whether he needed to reconsider the holiday plans… or push up their schedule. Smiling, he chose to let it ride; it had been the best semester they had ever had… Theirs was on the national radar, and he had not gotten there by playing it safe.
“That big cowboy drove a brand new Escalade and was slipping tens into our G-strings,” Naomi paused, then asked one of the other newer dancers, “How was his private?”
“His privates made it clear why he drives a monster SUV,” the light skinned black girl, Amelia answered, as she settled into one of the hard plastic seats arrayed before the gang vanities, having just returned from the champagne room. Her meaning got a laugh from the other girls, “But I’m not complainin.’ He tipped all right, and wasn’t arrogant or demanding or aggressive.” The other girls nodded more solemnly, recognizing that it might be fun to laugh at the man’s expense, but that he would be a great ‘sugar daddy.’ Go was always pushing them to establish ‘regular customers,’ and an easy lay who paid like that would be a real catch.
“Well that big guy who knows Go isn’t overcompensating,” Glory, another new girl warned them, wincing as she pressed her hand between her legs.
“He packing, then?” Phoebe was checking the Velcro of her costume, ready to take the stage when Fallon was done with her set.
“Honey, I he smiled and asked if I was ready to celebrate ‘hum day’.” The other women groaned, “Then he went to work, and I wondered if I’d have to apply for worker’s comp before he was done.” Everyone laughed at that. Go did not let any of his girls work enough hours to have to pay benefits, and had deftly ended the handful of outbursts Kelly or Sharon had seen where one or more of the girls suggested they ‘deserved’ such by pointing out they were making more than any two women their age were for the time that they did work. To his credit he had never minimized the work they did-- the work that was making him rich-- and he never stooped to pointing out there would be little public support for strippers trying to unionize. Kelly snorted at that though, guessing even union organizers would hesitate to support that, unless they thought they could supplant Go as strippers’ ultimate pimp.
The last time it had happened, Palomino had stormed off of the stage after the first number, irate at a regular having ‘touched her’ while tucking a $10 into her G string, then demanding that Go provide them with better protection and rambling that he owed them health coverage and retirement contributions, according to ‘her man.’ Go had calmly ripped what little of her costume remained and the bouncers had thrown her naked into the parking lot. Horrified, the girl had scrambled to her feet, ******* of the gravel and abrasions as she tried to hide her nudity while begging Go to let her back in.
He had met her plea with a stone face, only glaring at the other girls who had gathered at the door to watch. Palomino had realized too late she was pushing it, and collapsing in the dusty gravel lot, she had begun to apologize, insisting she had just been mad because her boyfriend had used all of the ‘medications’ she needed to work. Go had shrugged, and one of the bouncers had tossed the hapless girl her purse, along with a five sizes too large mumu on which the Snake Eyes logo was prominent.
Seeing her usual means of manipulating men were not working, Palomino had again changed tactics, scrambling to her feet, leaving her chest bare, breasts thrust proudly at the bouncers and Go, the dress held discreetly over her pelvis and legs as she had defiantly warned Go that ‘her man’ was not going to like what he had done to her. Pausing, Go had sighed, then looked back at the too self-confident woman whose beauty had begun to fade under the press of too many long nights dancing and drugging.
“Girl,” he had rumbled without raising his voice, “You send him right along… We’ll be happy to show him just what you been doin’ to bring home all that money he’s been spending.” Palomino had quailed at that-- few of the girls let their boyfriends even consider they did more than dance at Snake Eyes-- if the boyfriends had been polled, only three or four of the girls would have been even offering lap dances. “You just learn from this… Get off the dope.” That was the closest Kelly had seen Go approach duplicity, considering most of the girls did the occasional hit of one stimulant or another to get through a long shift. And it was not just ‘occupational use’ as she had heard other girls term those highs… she and the others had seen Palomino using in the dressing room more than once, and more than recreationally-- the girl had a habit that was eating her alive. In short, none of the other dancers had been surprised she had not lasted.
“I’ll give you a rec for any of the other clubs. But if you think you ‘deserve’ anything, go on down to that big Occupy Event we’re hearing about in St. Louis, see if they offer you any more equality than you got while you were here.” All of the men had snorted at that, and then had left the shaking, humiliated young stripper as she struggled into the shapeless garment.
Glory shook her head, her long platinum hair fanning expressively, but without impact-- the dancers were blind to theatrics, if not to the beauty of their co-workers. Kelly had not decided yet if her decidedly increased interest in women was from the wonderful things Sharon did to her, or the time she had spent with her fellow BZ Sisters, or if-- as Dave insisted was true-- all women were lesbians at heart, and only tolerated cock as a guarantee of protection. It seemed a strange claim, considering the stable of women the frat maintained, and when she was enjoying a cock it seemed absurd, but watching Glory, Kelly found herself wondering… She blushed as Sharon swept into the room, pausing to look at the others before her eyes settled on her partner. The women smiled, and Kelly’s frequent lover sauntered over, her expression and attitude immediately sparking something inside the younger woman. Glory seemed a pale comparison.
“You waiting for me?” Sharon was slightly out of breath, having just completed her fourth ‘private’ in the champagne room. They had not frequently done as much before becoming the Snake Eyes headliners, and Sharon’s unusual popularity had not gone unnoticed by the other women.
“Why, you going back for more?” Naomi teased from her position near Kelly. Sharon’s eyes flared, and for an instant Kelly saw not another dancer and BZ ‘Sister’ but Dave or one of the other frat members… arrogant, unchallengeable… More and more often her once demure, naïve friend and lover seemed downright aggressively masculine. Naomi quailed slightly at Sharon’s response, as if she, too, worried the older woman might lash out. Instead, Sharon blinked, her body almost visibly shuddering as she took a breath and held it, running a hand down her bare stomach, pressing against the sequined thong covering her femiscaped mons.
“Mmmm,” she managed after her eyes stopped fluttering, “I might just have to do that,” she bit her lower lip, Kelly assumed feigning arousal, “That last brute was hung, but he just couldn’t tire me out.”
“Damn, girl,” Amelia snorted, “You was shoutin’ for him to fuck you harder loud enough my boy picked up the pace.” The women laughed.
“No lie,” Glory sniffed, examining her intricately painted nails, “You could tone it down a bit… my guy thought I should be ‘more vocal’ after hearing you two going at it.” Sharon shrugged, obviously unaffected by any animosities the other women held. She flopped unceremoniously into the seat beside Kelly, looking anything but ladylike, but unquestionably sexy as she examined her face, then body in the mirror. She grimaced.
“If I can’t get a handle on this acne you won’t have to worry,” she complained to no one in particular, “Go won’t let me in the club… God, I look like a leper.” Kelly laughed.
“I though that got better with age.”
“I haven’t ever had acne like this,” Sharon shook her head, “I’ve changed make up, I’m washing my face and chest constantly, even with that ProActive stuff they advertise… nothing is helping… if anything, it’s worse.” Kelly shrugged.
“Well, it’s not costing you popularity,” Phoebe patted both women’s shoulders as she passed, having heard Fallon’s last song start, “Wish me luck.”
“Break a leg,” several of the women chorused in return, Amelia adding, “And a few hearts, too, girl.” As the women resumed their various conversations Kelly glanced at the clock. She never looked for too long-- Go was famous for catching girls ‘eyeing the clock’ as he called it, and would pointedly ask if they were bored and needed to work the front room more.
“Phoebe’s probably the last set,” she said, considering it was a week night, and they would be closed at least for drinks and dancing in another 30 minutes. She and Sharon were supposed to be spared having to ‘work longer,’ but the other girls were right-- they were supposed to be spending less time in the champagne room, too, and Sharon was busier than ever. “You ready to get out of here?” Sharon considered, which surprised her younger friend. She knew Sharon was not as comfortable servicing so many strange men, and was aware, unlike the others, that the BZ girls were not really dancing purely by choice. But her Honda was in the shop… again, and she had come to work with her friend.
“Don’t tell me you’re considering going out again… Would that be four?” Glory had been eavesdropping.
“Five,” Sharon answered, her voice almost a growl that made the younger woman lean away. Unwilling to let on she had been intimidated, she shook her hair out once again, then rolled her eyes.
“You two have it made, why would you volunteer for more abuse?” Kelly was glad someone else had asked what she was thinking. Since they were doing three sets more than the other girls… and longer sets at that, Go was not pushing them to do any time in the champagne room, and beyond her handful of ‘regulars’ she had found herself having to ‘entertain’ for several weeks. She had laughed at one point to Sharon it really seemed like vacation had just continued after the Thanksgiving break.
Headlining was not easy, to be sure, but it was more fun. The money was better, and they avoided the scut the other dancers did, helping to clean the place. And with the practice time it was definitely better exercise. Anything that reduced the time she spent with strangers sweating and grunting over her for a few minutes was a positive change. Glancing at Sharon, who was shifting regularly in her chair as she touched up her make up, Kelly had the sudden thought that her friend was rubbing herself, almost masturbating right in front of the other girls.
“Well, Glory,” Sharon drawled, batting her eyes as she spoke, “I just sort of find that sex is a wonderful cure to whatever ails ya. Cut loose… beg them to give it to you just the way you want it, and maybe they’ll surprise you.” She stretched languidly, “But I think Kelly and I are ready to call it a night.” She reluctantly, Kelly thought, reached for her Timbuk bag, a gaudy pink and gold bag one mousy chubby white admirer had given the married co-ed after she had paid him a little attention. Kelly had been amazed, considering the guy had not even asked to take her friend back to the champagne room, and a little jealous when what he had insisted-- that it was a one of a kind bag-- had been proven true with a little work online. The oversized messenger bag was a perfect means to transport the clothes and accessories Sharon would not wear ‘at work.’
Or rather, it would have been big enough. Considering Kelly’s married friend had arrived in just the thin nylon ‘BZ’ jogging shorts, a strappy baby doll with the Snake Eyes logo, and white converse sneakers, it was possible the guys who were paying to watch them dance would have had a better peek in broad daylight. It was yet another change in the formerly devoted housewife Kelly was having trouble understanding… like baiting another dancer without any cause.
Glory wisely chose not to pick up the gauntlet, though she did lift a carefully plucked eyebrow as her gaze settle momentarily on Kelly.
“Well aren’t y’all just ready to throw a hissy,” Fallon drawled from where she had paused in the doorway, watching the scene. “Sheath those claws, pussycats,” she sniffed, moving with a confident grace that cannot be faked and within a handful of seconds managing brief but intimate hugs for all the women in Go’s dressing room. Settling lightly into her own seat adjacent to Glory’s position, she kicked a bare heel up onto the other dancer’s counter, turning the position into an impossible yoga stretch before continuing, her mouth barely visible below the back of her thighs.
“Kelly, are you just going to sit there and let our girls duke it out?” Kelly snorted, confident either Sharon or Glory could clean her clock if she tried to stop them. Glory was all sculpted curves and tight sinew; part of her attitude toward Sharon was that Sharon was looking as muscular, if not moreso.
“If these two go at it, it’ll take Go or Raoul to break them up.”
“Or Geoff,” Naomi pointed out-- she was seeing the big bouncer after hours, and felt compelled to stand up for him.
“Naw, you just have to stand your ground,” Fallon insisted, “They both love you, so they’d listen.” Kelly was momentarily dazzled by Fallon’s words… Did Glory really… she giggled at the thought, something that would have been totally foreign just a few months before.
“Well, I’m not one to interfere with my partner when she’s promoting our act,” she managed, certain it sounded lame if not forced. The others laughed, though.
“You’re converting a new legion of fans with your cunt, one at a time?” Glory asked Sharon, her neck imperiously straight. Sharon stretched and turned, the move emphasizing the row of muscles in her lats that had recently become so pronounced. Glory’s preen threatened to become a pout.
“Save your energy, girlfriend,” Fallon suggested to Sharon in a friendly tone, “It’s not even the weekend.”
“It’s not like I really have a choice, is it?” Sharon rolled her eyes, huffing through her nose in frustration, “If Go says jump, all of us jump.”
“But we’re not… Uhm, we’re supposed to be spending more time on stage,” she finished, knowing that sounded lame. But none of the other girls argued, either. Sharon shrugged.
“That’s what he said at first.” Her gaze settled on Kelly, “Why did you say promoting?” The tone was no different, but Kelly could feel the challenge in her friend’s question. And she knew with intense unease the way Phoebe and Glory had felt in the past few minutes.
“Well,” she stammered, “I heard Go say something about that the other day… you were ‘promoting our little act.’ That’s all.” Sharon nodded, and seemed suddenly sad.
“Why are you so popular all of a sudden, anyway?” Naomi asked, “I mean, if it’s the act, Kelly should be shaking her pert ass, too.” Kelly nodded.
“I’ve asked, but Go just shooed me back here.” She did not ad that it had left her feeling more jealous than she wanted to admit, since he had not taken advantage of her, either. She began to pack her bag, sure that Sharon would want to end the conversation and get home, as she had skirted it every other time the other dancers had asked about the obvious change. A wave of bitterness at what was happening beyond her control took voice, “I mean hell, it’s not like I wouldn’t want to be on national TV…” Sharon glared at her.
“What?” Fallon and Glory said in unison.
“You doing some softcore on skinemax?” Naomi asked.
“Nah, she’s looking to be Miss Nude USA… or International… whatever it is,” Amelia suggested.
“That’s all rigged,” Fallon exhaled through her nose, the act suggesting she felt she had been sleighted by that at some point in the past. “You have to have major promoters and a real fan base… and it’s all out west in California, where they turn us into flash in the pans on screen, then move on to the next bus load.” All of the women winced at that characterization.
“I’m serious,” Fallon insisted, “It’s not every girl who puts out for ‘direct to video’ or internet ‘spreads’ that stays on like Jenna. I’d say she’s the exception, not the rule.”
“So why dance?” Naomi asked; she had not become resigned to what a dancer’s life was.
“Well, if I can’t make half what I make for Go, just considering the dancing,” she paused, “And I don’t figure a few cell phone pictures will ruin my life when I start to get old and saggy and have to retire,” she winked at Sharon, “Or maybe I can keep doing this into my 50’s… Sharon’s proving any of us should be able to do this until our kids are about ready to start dancing.” The women laughed at that, including Sharon, although Kelly thought it was forced.
“It wasn’t Cinemax or a strip contest or a nude pageant,” she told them, “Sharon was one of the features at the Sexpo in Melbourne.”
“Get out!” Naomi answered, rocking back in her seat, an almost adoring gaze shifting to Sharon.
“Bullshit,” Glory snorted.
“It’s real,” Naomi started, “I’ve seen it on Spike TV when Geoff is watching…”
“No,” Glory rolled her eyes, “Bullshit our MILF stripper was a feature.”
“Uhm, it’s true,” Kelly answered, then shrugged when Glory glared at her, “I’m not lying, am I?” she turned to Sharon, who’s glare was almost as intense as Glory’s. The older woman turned her glittering expression toward the incredulous young stripper.
“Jealous?” Sharon smiled cruelly, then shrugged, “It really wasn’t anything special… just another evening with my men.”
“The BZ?” Fallon’s tone suggested what she thought of the frat.
“Mm-hmmm,” Sharon paused, eyes flickering half closed and her back arching as she shivered in front of all of the women, “Mmmm, she said after a moment, “Just thinking about it is enough to get me hot.”
“More bullshit,” Glory grumbled, “Save it for the johns.” Kelly was almost unable to take her eyes off of Sharon, though. Her partner was simply incredible. She could not put her finger on what was happening, but every day she seemed more… a vision of Go flashed through her mind, and she snorted at the thought that somehow Sharon was the masculine, controlling figure of the club owner. But even as she discounted it, Kelly had to admit Sharon was suddenly so different, so… virile.
Sharon ran a finger around her pierced nipple, eyes still lidded, head back, as she brought her other hand to her crotch, suggestively pressing against her sex.
“Ungh,” she shuddered again, and every other woman watched in rapt fascination as Sharon undulated without moving, oblivious to everyone around her. Worried, Kelly moved to distract the others as Sharon slid bonelessly into her seat, groaning huskily. She grabbed her ipad from her bag-- a gift Dave had provided, along with specific instructions she had been finding increasingly difficult to obey, considering she felt like she was spying on Sharon.
“Here,” she cleared her throat and began running her fingers over the screen. G4... She scrolled through the site as it loaded, found the Header for Sexpo 2010, Melbourne, scrolled through the episodes… “Just check this out,” she triumphantly spun the little tablet for Glory and the others to see as Riley Style began the intro to the next segment, her little girl voice piping from the speaker.
“And now, what we’ve been telling you about… the amateur awards that are scheduled for tonight… I’ve seen some of these girls,” she licked her lips suggestively, “And I’m hoping they make the jump to come play with me. Let’s see what’s happening,” and she spun away from the camera dissolve before it showed her again, at the back of a big auditorium.
“Some of these women may be the big stars of tomorrow,” she said in an unnecessary whisper, “Well, some of them are already stars in their own right…”
A pair of well known porn stars, one brunette and bold, the other a bottle blonde who had made a career of at least playing at being ‘ditzy’ were getting the crowd focused.
“… category is best New Amateur in a series.” the ditzy blonde pouted, “I remember when I was in the running for this award.”
“Did you win?”
“No, silly. I only did one loong movie,” she dragged out the word, then batted her eyes at the camera, “I thought taking a series of big studs was what would get me nominated.” The brunette rolled her eyes.
“Tonight’s nominees have been acting…”
“Or not,” the blonde tittered.
“Or not,” her companion agreed, “In at least three separate productions that have earned at least $100,000. To be nominated, the women must also not have been signed to a studio, and they can’t have been doing it before this year!” the blonde looked at her exasperated friend,
“What?”
“They cannot have been performing in the sex trade before this year.” The crowd laughed at the prompting light.
“Oh, right…” another giggle, “I think all of these gals have been ‘doing it’ well before this year.” the blonde winked again at the camera, then turned to her companion, “Well, Sasha, who’s up for the award?” Sasha Blue opened the page she had been holding.
“Miss Geri Jones,” the big screen behind the pair cut to a clip of a buxom redhead riding on one cock while slurping hungrily at another jutting through a hold in the wall, “Gloryhole Jones, 1 through 4,” the scene cut to the same lithe young woman screaming in ecstasy as a big tattooed stud pounded her ass against a checkered tile floor.
The crowd applauded, the clapping increasing as the scene cut to the woman, seated in the crowd, wearing a shimmering green dress cut to ****** the insides of her breasts as well as her navel. Smiling almost shyly, the young starlet tweaked her dress, baring the edge of an areola, which was deftly blurred by the censors.
“You may have seen her get her start in ‘Grads Gone Wild,’ Sasha continued, and another video replaced her image on screen, showing a younger, less sexually polished woman flashing her breasts in a crowded bar for a camera, “Another in the line of discoveries by Larry Rubio.” The cameras dutifully cut to the man who had gotten rich talking ***** coeds on Spring Break to show the country their tits. By means of waving, Rubio lifted his arm to show the chromed handcuffs he wore, linking him to a guard who was his ever present shadow while the convicted tax cheat worked off his debt to Uncle Sam.
“Who’s next?” the blonde chirped. Sasha tilted her head, returning her attention to the page she was holding.
“The star of ‘Hot Pocket Deliveries,’ 1-6, Rose Victoria.” The Latino beauty was shown knocking on the door wearing a thin white T with red sleeves, the front emblazoned with ‘Hot Pocket Deliveries.’ The image immediately cut to the same actress spreading her heavy, clean shaven labia as the ‘homeowner’ slipped into her with a groan of delight. Leaning back, the athletic young woman began to hump herself at the offered cock, shouting ‘Yesss!’ with an accent reminiscent of the ‘Modern ******’ star making it big in Hollywood. The scene cut, and the camera showed her encouraging an anal pummeling before accepting her ‘payment’ from the satisfied customer and sauntering toward her red and white VW Bug, pausing to look back over her shoulder and wink before saying, ‘Just 3 more deliveries to go…’ before the image cut to the same smiling woman where she was seated in the crowd. Rose wore a body hugging white sequin dress that emphasized her impressive cleavage, and set off her flawless mocha complexion. Batting her heavily made up eyes, the beauty blew a kiss at the camera.
“Mmmm,” the blonde sighed, “I think I need to try Hot Pockets again.” Rose smiled prettily and nodded in answer, mouthing ‘any time’ for the camera. “But wait,” the blonde frowned, “Wasn’t she a GGW, too?” On cue the overhead screen showed Rose, pre-augmentation, flashing and shaking her ass at a beach party for a recent Grads Gone Wild production.
“Yep, Larry strikes again,” Sasha paused, “Damn, that man gets around.” When the camera cut to him again, the producer smiled broadly. Rose tried to look appropriately embarrassed, and the crowd pretended the starlet the had just seen humping a ‘stranger’ would be so affected.
“Who’s next, Sasha, another Grads Gone Wild discovery?”
“Well, in fact,” Sasha shook her head, “Maybe we’ll name this the Rubio award next year… Anna Colter!” The screen lit with a passable news desk set, where an impossibly tall blonde was deftly eviscerating a pudgy politician
“… Trying to tell this Audience you have no recollection of visiting the Tabby Cat and paying for lap dances?” there was a movie in a movie cut of the target of her attack drooling over a succession of faceless strippers, “That you were not a regular customer of the Soccer Mom Madam, “Cut to the man rutting into a willing young woman, face obscured by the camera angle, the ‘Madam’ in question peering over his shoulder through the open door of the frilly girly pink painted room, “And yet, you are somehow opposed to insurer coverage of contraception and federal funding for abortion?” The clearly surprised politician was left speechless, blinking as he looked about as if to escape.
“Well I have only one response to that,” the too thin young woman stood, the heavier but shorter man almost cowering away from her. Anna turned, setting one elbow on the new desk that had been behind their ‘interview’ setting, and using the other to flip her miniskirt up, baring her naked ass and sex, “You’ve got some big balls, Senator… Now show me how well you can use them.” Suddenly confident, the ‘Senator’ hurried to accommodate the newswoman’s demand. The screen cut back to the pair on the stage.
“Foxy Hosin’ Zone, 1-3,” the blonde giggled, “I’d say she’s fairly balanced,” the coupling was continuing on the big screen behind the presenters.
“Yes,” Sasha agreed as the screen dissolved, “Miss Colter is unable to join us tonight, but sent along a thanks,” the screen changed to a twitter post, ‘Love that you’re all watching me right now. Hugs and Kisses, A’
“And yes, she’s another Rubio discovery,” the blonde piped up, “Don’t all you men wish you were Larry, just for a day?” She turned to Sasha, “Who’s next?” Sasha again focused on her paper,
“A true school girl MILF, and married to boot, the star of the BZ Bitches 1-5... Sharon Synn.” The scene behind them cut to Sharon, in her Demoness costume, servicing a line of the BZ Brothers. There were hushed murmurs and cheers as she begged the young stud between her legs to fuck her harder, and then urged someone else to take their turn when he finished up and pulled away. The scene cut to a profile of Sharon being approached ‘on the beach,’ the first film shoot she had done in the warehouse, her face turned enough to hide who she was, until it was buried in one of the big stud’s groin while a second began to pound into her easily.
“Mrs. Synn… Yep, you heard me right, Missus, could not be here tonight, as school resumes Monday, but she and her friends at the BZ Frat are able to join us by satellite…”
The screen cut to Sharon, seated between Dave, and Samir, her hands wanking their bare cocks. She was topless, wearing the Demoness mask, and when she saw herself on the television her mouth dropped open in obvious shock. Her hands went right on working though. The crowd laughed.
“Wow,” the blonde giggled, “I think she’s already filming number six.”
“Eight, actually,” Dave said, then let his mouth go slack, feigning greater pleasure than he was actually receiving, “Damn, but you can work a cock, Shar’.” Shocked, she took her hand away from his cock, horrified to see the televised image of her do the same a second later. Dave adjusted himself, aware his cock was impressive to the average man or woman as he continued, “6 and 7 as well as a Greatest Hits eh, Missus,” he paused while the crowd chuckled at the promo sign one of the other brothers had held up behind the coach showing the spelling of their play on words, “Are in the can.”
Horrified at being on live TV, Sharon sat, one hand still working Samir’s cock. She wanted to bolt from the room, and as reason began to urge the more than tipsy white housewife to do just that, Dave lifted his chin-- not a motion anyone watching would notice. Bernie stepped up and held a card up over the camera set above the television in front of her. Sharon froze, seeing a picture of herself with Chris. As she opened her mouth to ask what was happening, Dave leaned close, kissing her neck. Her eyes flickered closed automatically as her nerves sang. TWANG! Her clit pulsed and her body undulated, one hand still working Samir’s solid cock.
“If you leave we’ll have to show them you really are married… just play along, little Bitch,” Dave whispered while pretending to kiss her ear. Her eyes focused on her wedding band as her fingers rose and fell on Samir’s deep black shaft. The little voice that had tried to get her to escape was shouting-- hundreds… thousands of strangers were watching her… She’d never be able to pretend it wasn’t her! Dave winked, at her,
“The mask has to stay on, so hubby doesn’t find out just how horny his little wife is.” Sharon relaxed slightly, trying to convince her he was right-- Chris would not recognize her dressed as she was… doing what she was doing. Her gaze was still captured by the movement of her hand and the sensation of Samir’s erection sliding through her fingers… She realized her free hand was frigging her dripping slit. God, it felt good. The worries, the knowledge that others were watching her faded away. “Her fans will know, but trust me, this married MILF gets NAUGHTY!” Dave offered the camera a thumbs up, “Just catch one of her performances and you’ll be back for more.” Leaning back, leaving it obvious no force was being used, he said, “Damn, you got wonderful hands, but I want that mouth, my sexy little bitch.”
The rational fragment of her mind not hazed by the hours of drugs, booze, and constant sexual activity was still shouting-- the blinking light over the TV was real… they could not fake having her name called on a live broadcast from half the world away. But without hesitation, driven as much by her own building need as the demand of the younger man, Sharon dutifully twisted, dipping her head to slurp his swollen cock into her mouth.
She bobbed almost gently a time or two before she felt his hips lift slightly. She automatically took the cue, knowing what he wanted, and began to bob at him more forcefully, taking him to the root and holding herself there every few strokes, sucking at him strongly. She heard the murmurs followed by a building applause as the screen reverted to the stage half way around the world. Turning her head, she realized that even with the two women front and center, a hugely magnified image of her bobbing head was still on display, behind the announcers. She was incredibly embarrassed-- how many people were seeing her do that live? And yet she was suddenly so wet she moaned around Dave’s cock, wishing Samir would fuck her…
Kelly and the other dancers had no idea what had led up to her putting on the little show on cable and satellite television… that Sharon had rushed back to her small condo, grabbing the Demoness mask and the accompanying dildo ‘tail’ and then speeding the short distance to the frat, frantic by the time that she arrived that it had been more than the hour and a half Dave had allowed.
She had actually left the Range Rover running, dashing up the steps to see if she had time to park before whatever Dave had planned was starting, and had been amazed to see the house was mostly deserted. Carlyn had been asleep on one of the couches in the main room, heedless of the light, her unpierced left nipple visible above the edge of the BZ Bitch baby doll she was wearing. Bernie, the frat member who had answered the door, had laughed at Sharon’s expression, asking if something was wrong. She had stammered that Dave had made it sound like there was a party or some pressing event that she had needed to rush back to attend. Laughing, had pointed at the quietly snoring younger woman.
“Well, it’s been a rough holiday for your sister, keeping us all satisfied, so maybe Dave wanted you to come take over for her.” He had waved off, Sharon’s suggestion she would park the Rover, “Don’t sweat it, little Bitch, I been wantin’ ta drive that fine ride. And you just get comfortable, I want to do some partying with you.” He had been out the door after offering an lascivious wink that had managed to trigger the inexplicable and almost incapacitating reaction of Sharon’s clit.
She had sagged against the inner doorframe until the sensation eased, and then had gone looking for Dave. The senior frat member had been watching movies in the rec room, and had waved off Sharon’s inquiry as to what was up. It had not been five minutes from finding Dave before the shapely housewife had been seated between the domineering BZ brother and Tom, the big lineman who had proven to be a capable and gentle lover, a big glass of alcohol in hand. Dave had prompted her to share ‘what she had done during the holiday,’ and frightened that he would somehow know if she lied, she had offered an embarrassingly thorough description. He had seemed surprised about her adventure in the hospital, and had been downright unhappy about the way the high school players had used her.
“Tom,” Dave had growled as he got up, deftly refreshing the Solo glass of Mind Eraser that had been given to the hapless housewife, their best BZ Bitch, “When Zeke rings up you get me, no matter what else I’m doing. Unless that boy’s recruiting that other big lineman he isn’t allowed to be freelancing our girls like that.” Tom had nodded soberly-- Sharon had been sure he was more upset about the various ways she had been used over the holiday than Dave, but with the heavy fog of reefer smoke filling the room, it was just too hard to focus for her to wonder why.
Sometime later… Sharon had no idea how much time, much less how much she had had to drink, she had acquiesced to Dave’s insistence that she put the mask on, and with less reluctance she has slipped the ‘tail’ into its place jutting from her ass. Sitting with the big dildo inserted was initially uncomfortable, but by then Sharon had been sufficiently aroused at the constant touching and fondling of the BZ who were partying with her, not to mention the frequent less than subtle suggestions of what was going to happen, that she had actually enjoyed the pressure of the thick rubber distending her bottom, a harbinger of the pleasures to come.
She remembered giggling at how slurred her voice was when she had asked Dave why it had been so important that she come home that night, never stopping to consider where it was she considered ‘home.’ Instead of answering, Dave had looked over at Samir, who had told Sharon he wanted her to dance for them.
Giggling, Sharon had stepped onto the low coffee table between the couch and the big flat panel TV, and had started to dance with the ease of the performer she had become. Even without a pole, she had managed a lewd display that had all of the BZ brothers on hand ready to take advantage in just a song or two. When she stepped off to take a break, she had disrobed but for her heels and the costume, and without thinking about it she had dutifully retrieved drinks for the young men, naked, before she had done a second set, teasingly drawing the strands of her ‘tail’ through her bare sex and whipping them against her naked breasts, reveling in the power she had felt over the enraptured frat members.
She had paused, seeing herself on television as she had turned to bounce her ass at the trio seated on the couch, and Samir had quickly told her it was just the ‘Eye’ on the X-Box Kinect, pointing to the elaborate lens situated above the television. Sharon had seen the frat members playing various games with it, and giggled at the way her body as moving on the screen before her, but as much as the expressions of the men behind her, whose eyes were glued to her thrusting bottom. The guys had laughed when Samir had told her the camera was a new addition with HD resolution-- which meant nothing to Sharon. Bernie had asked if the young programmer was designing a sex game with Sharon as the main character, and the guys had laughed with Sharon at the joke.
Standing from his seat in the chair to the side, Bernie had dropped his pants, announcing it was time to ‘tip the entertainment.’ Seeing his jutting cock, Sharon had licked her lips-- she had been horny for a long time by that point, and was more than ready to feel Bernie inside of her. Stepping close, the younger BZ had spanked Sharon’s naked ass smartly, and the well-conditioned married housewife turned, bending at the waist while deftly sweeping the plume of her ‘tail’ to the side, giving her ‘brother’ easy access.
As a swimmer, Bernie was tall but almost painfully thin, with ropey muscles rather than the bulky strength of Tom and most of the others. His cock was similar… not so thick but of above average, length, even in the frat. And whether it was breath control or training in the water, he was also able to go much longer than most of the other frat members, Sharon remembered from past enjoyable interludes. She was wondering how long it would be comfortable to take him standing on the coffee table with the makeshift tail in place when he had asked Samir if he needed to be wearing any special harness to get the geeky BZ brother the ‘data he needed.’ Sharon had turned to look at the younger frat member in surprise as Bernie had slipped easily into her sex.
“You aren’t… ahhh,” God, it felt good having a big cock thrust into her, she had to admit, “God…” he caught her hips and set an easy but rapid pace, “Aren’t recording this for a game?” Samir had laughed.
“No, but it’s a great idea… Will you be my character, Sharon?” TWANG! Sharon’s clit pulsed and Bernie was just sliding home at that moment, and her attempted agreement was a fervent shout, “Yes!” she had shivered, climaxing visibly, to the shouts and cheers of she and Bernie’s impromptu audience.
True to her memory, Bernie easily got her off repeatedly before she was begging him to let them change positions, which is how she had come to be draped over the back of the couch watching Dave and Tom play Call of Duty, hooting and shouting at others across the region as they played online, devastating all comers. The unblinking hi resolution eye of the ‘Kinetic’ camera-- actually a much more expensive unit Samir had piggybacked into the system just for the night’s show-- caught it all, Sharon loving the endless screwing of one BZ brother while her other casual lovers played games in the same room. She had dutifully toked off of the blunt being passed around the room, and had even had most of a Mind Eraser through a straw while being thoroughly fucked by the frat’s resident ‘cocks man.’
When Bernie was finally ready to cut loose, he had paused, yanking her ‘tail’ free, then had slipped up, pulsing into her loose, welcoming ass before plunging the dildo back, laughing that he was going to ‘plug her up’ so she’d stay nice and hot for later. After he had padded naked out of the rec room, Dave had told Sharon to go ‘touch up’ and without thinking she had gone to the bathroom to check her make up, mask still on, and then had collected fresh beer for the brothers before Dave had suggested she sit down between he and Samir.
Between rounds he had laughed to the younger frat member that it wasn’t fair that their little Bitch didn’t have a joystick to play with, too. Nodding his agreement, both men had stripped off their jeans, after which Sharon had been left playing with them-- not too much, don’t distract me, Bitch, Dave had warned-- until Samir had warned them ‘last game.’ When they had turned the television on , Sharon had been in the semi-dark room with the brothers present through the break for nearly 4 hours. It was 3 AM, and she was flying and still horny, never considering it was even live TV when Samir had switched the screen to G4.
The show in which Sharon had found herself performing had started at 6 PM the next day in Australia, so it was end of the Sexpo crowd-- a packed house-- on hand to enjoy the show she put on, not to mention the tens of thousands of full package subscribers and internet media viewers who watched her wank, then blow Dave live in HD.
“Well, Jess,” Sasha had said, looking back as Sharon went on eagerly gobbling at Dave’s cock, “She seems to enjoy her work.”
“Me, too,” Jess Gem answered, running a hand down her skin tight body suit, “I may go back to school after all.”
“What do you think, Mr. Rubio, would she make a good Grads Gone Wild girl?” The usually too smooth entrepreneur paused, then shook his head in the negative, eliciting scattered hoots and taunts.
“Well, I don’t think she minds… she seems to have found just the right position,” Jess tittered, having watched as Samir moved the still sucking white housewife onto one knee on the couch, her forward leg bracing between the couch and coffee table as he slid his bare tool into her with apparent ease.
“And what a position it is,” Sasha agreed, and for several seconds the pair, along with all of the assembled crowd, watched Sharon being spit roasted, her body twitching in obvious pleasure.
“Uhm… oh,” Sasha saw the stage hand waving frantically, as the image was cut off, “I, uh, I guess we have more nominees.”
“As if it’s necessary,” Jess murmured, still looking at the blank screen, “I think I want to go to summer school.” On television, the contestants present in the theater, whose faces had replaced the image of Sharon being thoroughly fucked, nodded in enthusiastic agreement. The crowd chuckled, men across the expansive theater shifting in their seats as the space in their trousers shrank alarmingly.
“Uhm, who else,” Jess asked, then giggled, “Oh, that’s my line…” The crowd laughed, and the sexual tension that had so quickly pegged in the auditorium eased back. “The next nominee is Alesha Hawkins.” The screen behind lit with the grainy footage of an attractive red head blowing the first in a row of men leaning against the edge of a trampoline in a wooded setting. “This sultry single mom-- that’s right, guys, a bonafide MILF,” Jess giggled, “Is the star of the popular ‘Suburban Sprawl’ series, one through eleven.” The screen cut to show Ms. Hawkins head back, mouth open as she welcomed a doggie style screwing from a ersatz pest control agent.
“Another independent, Ms. Hawkins is with us from her home in New Orleans tonight…” The screen dissolved to show the would be starlet, impeccably made up, wearing a naughty latex number that did nothing to hide her nipples despite the pale tint of her areolae.
“Hey, Jess, Sasha,” the woman’s voice was a deliciously honeyed drawl, “I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you.”
“Congratulations on being nominated. You were the most prolific of the nominees tonight, with 32 movies in the last year.” The pretty woman nodded and beamed, “Word is we may see you on a major label next year,” Sasha asked, “I think it’d be wonderful to bring your Sprawl series out west.”
“Well, it may happen,” the red head winked, “Though I don’t think all my ‘friends’ out here want me to leave.” Jess laughed.
“Well, if they come out to visit and you’ll let me, I’ll help entertain… that’s a yummy exterminator!”
“Oh, darlin’, you don’t even know,” Alesha winked, pressing a hand against the camel toe defined by the latex catsuit, “He can really send a girl over the moon.” She smiled mischievously, “Why don’t y’all come down and I’ll introduce you.”
“Mmmm, deal,” Jess licked her lips, “We’ll see if just how many times the South can really can rise again.” Sasha rolled her eyes on cue.
“Well, I’ll let y’all get on with it, but tell that Sharon she should bring her sexy self down here, and experience some true Southern hospitality… Course, I’d love it if she brought some of them big ‘ol boys she’s got to play with.”
“Worried about the competition?”
“Sugar, we women are always worried about other hot women… but I think Miss Synn is busy enough she can share, jus’ like me.” The thin woman stretched languidly, seemingly unconsciously, “And I can always make it up to her… ain’t she just delicious to watch,” she pointed to the laptop she had to one side, “I’m just starting number four… gotta do my research, right?” The crowd dutifully laughed, and the presenters thanked the pert young woman then bade her good-bye.
“So,” Jess said, looking expectantly at Sasha, “Who won?”
“She was supposed to open the envelope,” Sasha told the audience, “But I caught her trying to sneak a peek back stage.” Jess wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at Sasha, before both women laughed. “I’ll open it, you tell everyone, deal?” the self assured young crossover star asked. Her bubbly companion beamed.
“I get to announce that…”
“I haven’t opened the envelope yet,” Sasha pointed out.
“Well, it’d be a crime if they don’t choose Aieee!” The petite blonde squealed as Sasha slapped her rump with a practiced hand. She used black lacquered nails to slice the award envelope open, then handed it to her smaller companion with a flourish. Jess took the envelope,
“And the winner of $5,000, this fancy award,” she held up an oversized gold colored dildo that obligingly flopped from side to side from where it was mounted to the wooden base, “Mmmm, where was I?”
“The prizes,” Sasha prompted.
“Oh right… This wonderful trophy… use it often girls,” she giggled, “A contract with Livid studios, a little fun money…”
“$1500,” Sasha nodded, rolling her eyes at the idea it was ‘fun money’.
“And of course, an expense paid trip to AVN next year…” Jesse slipped the card out with a clumsy attempt at a flourish, and giggled, then focused on the card, “… Sorry Larry, this year’s New Amateur of the year is Missus Sharon Synn!” The crowd cheered as the camera cut back to the rec room in the BZ frat.
Sharon was astraddle Samir, who was grinning broadly as their pet Bitch rode him eagerly. Her head was back, fingers of one hand pinching her pierced nipple as she stabilized herself on his knee with the other, humping up and down as hard and fast as she could. Head back, eyes closed, it was a moment before she realized Dave had cleared his throat-- he wanted her attention. Still riding Samir’s cock, she looked to where he was standing beside the television.
“Sharon?” Sasha smiled, “Did we catch you at a bad time?” The crowd laughed.
“Uh, no…” Sharon slowed, but a poke into her ass from Samir’s thumb, hidden by her splayed thighs from the television screen, spurred her on.
“Nope, it doesn’t look like a bad time at all…” Jesse murmured, pressing a hand against her crotch. Sharon had been blissfully ******* of what was happening. “
“How does it feel…” Sasha started to ask.
“God it’s great… Fuck yeah!” Sharon slurred, humping against Samir even harder.
“No… I mean… You know you won?” Sharon frowned, her entire focus on how close she was to getting off, and then she realized she was watching herself again… riding Samir like a wanton slut, face barely concealed by the ‘Demoness’ mask, too little she thought idly to keep anyone from recognizing her. She came to a stop, fully impaled, ignoring Samir’s jab to keep moving. Her eyes moved to Dave, who smiled and held up a card, that read ‘say Thank You.’
“I won…” she blinked, trying to remember what they had talked about… some contest with other women… porn stars. “Thank you,” she managed, “I didn’t… I mean,” she stopped herself from saying she had not entered, seeing the angry glare Dave directed her way. He held up another card, above the camera catching her lewd act, and she obediently read. “I want to than the Sexpo and the nominating committee… It was an honor just to be considered, and to have won…” where the card read ‘pause’ she had almost said the word. Her effort to focus on what she was reading was hampered by the BZ brother still thrust into her sex. At a push from Samir’s hands she had resumed rising and falling on his cock. Her need was still there, the promise of a delicious orgasm almost within reach. Dave had switched the big cue card.
“Maybe you two can come visit and I’ll show you how we really celebrate home cumming,” she blinked, then giggled at the strange spelling, belatedly understanding what she had just said, and pleased that the crowd was still laughing. She arched her back putting on a show automatically, and groaning slightly as she went on reading, “I can’t wait for AVN next year, and if you can’t, check out my new release-- just in time for Christmas-- or come check me out at Snake Eyes!”
“Damn, she has the right idea,” Jesse murmured, eyes glued to Sharon’s moving body as she began to lose herself again in the coupling with Samir. Sasha seemed more put out at behavior that clearly would not make it onto the G4 broadcast. Of course, every engineer who could was catching the action for whatever they could include on the ‘uncensored’ DVD release that was sure to follow. “Is she nominated for anything else tonight?” the blonde star asked hopefully. Sasha looked to the wing, where a producer consulted his chart, then shook his head.
“Fraid not,” she cleared her throat, “That’s quite a start to the evening’s entertainment,” she paused, “Something tells me we’ll see more of that hottie next year!” The crowd cheered, and Jesse winked at the camera.
“Well, have fun, girl… Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… well, with those studs what wouldn’t I do?” Sharon had managed a weak smile and a nod, but had begun to get off on Samir’s cock, and so could not form the words to say thank you or anything else. The scene cut away as her entire body twitched and spasmed visibly. “I always thought going Greek meant something else,” Jesse pouted, “But that looked like enough fun I may have to check about an on line college… do you suppose the BZ Brothers will do off campus visits?” Sasha rolled her eyes.
“I kinda think if the prospect of sex is involved they’ll go anywhere, right Larry?” The man who had built an empire convincing coeds to flash the camera just smiled knowingly. The unwritten rule among ‘talent scouts’ for the adult industry was not so different from the fictional Fight Club… no one wanted to complain about the tactics the others used-- it was a big world, with plenty of new skin for all to profit.
“What’s next, or can we take a break… I may need to visit the little girls’ room,” Jesse’s intent was plain to all.
“Not yet, sorry,” Sasha answered without meaning it. Part of her wished the annoying woman would let her go on alone. A runner had carried a new nominee card and winner’s envelope out to her. She did not need to check the heading, but did, just to be sure, “First we have to announce the winner for the best lesbian ensemble movie.” Jesse was obviously distracted, but managed to hold her end of the choreographed banter as the show continued.
Kelly watched the other dancers as they recognized Sharon had, indeed, won $1500 for the ‘work’ she was doing outside of Go’s. Because any of the women working at Go’s took turns in the champagne room, all were essentially doing what Sharon had been doing (behind a blur bar, thanks to the You Tube net censors), so none was innocent enough to be shocked at the idea. She could see jealousy in some of the girls’ expressions, most notably Glory, who others had pegged as hoping to use Snake Eyes as a Springboard to the bigger dance circuits in Arizona, Nevada, or California.
Fallon patted the older woman’s bare shoulder,
“Congrats, Shar.
“Yeah,” Naomi was breathless, “What are you going to do with the money?” Her eyes were bright as she considered the various ways she could enjoy a $1500 prize. Sharon blinked, surfacing from the continued memory of the weekend-- The guys had kept her humping her ass throughout the night and well into Saturday afternoon before she had finally crashed for a brief nap on the same couch she had seen her ‘Sister’ sleeping on when she had arrived. The rest had been brief, because returning students had quickly found her, and the hapless white housewife had found herself ‘entertaining’ a new and rotating group of frat members, horny after days at home, chafing under the watchful eye of parents.
What would have once upon a time left the blonde coed a ragged wreck seemed barely to touch the need she felt, and Dave was not the only one who had noticed how vocal and frankly aggressive their pet wife had become. Even when they didn’t keep her on a steady diet of weed and booze, she was almost a nymphomaniac. At odd times during the action she would snap rigid, breath catching, an occasional moan or whine escaping her throat. He tried not to let on that the behavior worried him when others asked about what had happened to her, assuring them she was just getting in line with being their prize bitch. But he had made a mental note to talk to Shaun about it, as well as some of the brain trust that he and his friend relied on to minimize the inevitable troubles that arose when managing a stable of variously willing young women.
Sharon had passed out taking two and three frat brothers at a time, and had been surprised to wake up later on Monday in her own bed, her skin a maze of dried fluids that betrayed the prior days’ activities. She had showered, but had not had time to do anything but call the clinic before Kelly had called about being picked up for their shift at Snake Eyes. Any thought of actually attending classes had long since disappeared.
The ladies had spent the day getting back in sync, laughing that it should not be so hard after so few days away. They had eagerly shared a bit of time in Go’s office, before they had headed to the dressing room to ‘help the other girls along’ as Go described it. The tacit understanding was that the girls were to tell him anything he asked about the others, and they knew that it was a two way street… Just for that reason the girls like Palomino never lasted long.
Sharon never considered that she and Kelly were already some of the club’s ‘veterans,’ but citing the holiday rush, Go had them working 3 weekdays and all of the weekends. And Sharon’s ‘visitors’ had resumed. When she had called the frat after servicing four entirely unsatisfactory resident advisors the Thursday of her return, her one day ‘off’ from Go’s, Dave had pointedly reminded her she was ‘helping the system’ with finals approaching. She had known better than to argue, even when two more annoyingly eager young men had shown up the next day hours before she was to be on stage at Snake Eyes.
That first weekend ‘back’ she had asked Go for a session in the champagne room after she and Kelly had finished their last set. The big club owner had leered at her and had nodded, ‘Knew it wouldn’t be too long before the itch got too bad.’ The Sharon of less then a year before would have blushed and beaten a hasty retreat. Without thinking about it, she had instead stepped up, bringing her hand up to tickle Go’s big balls through his jeans with her cliqued ceramic nails. ‘If I had the itch, I’d ask you to scratch it,’ she’d purred, and had been delighted when the bar owner had laughed, leading her back to his office to ‘prove it.’ Thoroughly fucked, she had been a bit surprised when he had called her out of the dressing room thirty minutes later, pairing her with a muscular young man ‘just back from the sandbox’ Go had explained.
With the nearby army base, the women were used to ‘treating’ the young men-- unattached and otherwise-- just back from rotations in the country’s carefully ignored little war. Some were spent so quickly the girls felt bad at whatever the men had spent to visit the champagne room, and most made sure the young troopers got what they had paid for with an enthusiastic ‘encore.’ The occasional soldier treated coupling like another battle, their cock like a primeval club to force the women to submit. When her ‘guest’ proved to be this more aggressive and selfish partner, though Sharon had not sought the help of the club’s bouncers, bucking against him, urging him on even harder and faster, demanding it, cursing the panting vet as he hammered into her. Their rutting had been so violent others nearby had stopped to watch, and when they had collapsed in a moaning heap after a mutual orgasm a bare 4 minutes after he had first pushed inside of her, the others coupling in the bit room had offered an enthusiastic round of applause.
Somehow, that had spurred her on, but her attempt to get the previously almost enraged soldier to give it to her again was unsuccessful… apologizing profusely, the man had beaten a retreat so hasty it had seemed he had been embarrassed, which had left the barely satisfied white housewife puzzled.
She had been more puzzled when Go had handed her a small box the next week before their first set. The club owner had offered no explanation and when she had opened it to find an impressive diamond tennis bracelet she had looked up, her surprise obvious as she stammered a thanks, glancing at Kelly, worried that their boss would offend her lover with so showy a gift and without a companion for the brunette. Go had laughed, ‘That isn’t from me… first rule, remember? Don’t get attached to the help.’
Sharon had stamped her foot at that, ‘We’re more than just the help and we both know it!’ grabbing Kelly’s hand, she had thrust the jewelry into it, ‘We’re also a team, so don’t think you can get between us.’ Laughing, Go had caught both women by the hair, half dragging them into his office, where he had proceeded to nail each in the cunt and ass, alternating every few strokes, easily getting them close to climax without letting either get off.
‘This what you meant?’ he had taunted, ‘Can’t let either of you get off 1st, or the other might pout…’ Biting back the need to cum, Sharon had tried to hump back at the big man to get past his self control, but nearly three decades into making a living off of sin, Go easily kept her movements in control and withdrew whenever his control was threatened. When that ploy had failed, Sharon had reluctantly demanded that he finish Kelly first, but the big man had just laughed, leaving them both hanging as he called Phoebe in, finishing off in the Latina’s talented mouth.
‘Yeah, you both know you’re under my… thumb,’ he had chuckled, pointedly cleaning his spend cockhead off on the other stripper’s pouting lips, ‘I can do whatever I want to you both… or not.’ He had smiled, shrugging after Phoebe left at his gesture, ‘But you’re right, you’re both more than just help now.’ Sharon had felt her smile as wide as the one she had seen lighting Kelly’s face, ‘Just don’t think it means you can git uppity.’ The women had nodded, putting themselves back together, resigned to the maddening sense of need he had left each with . ‘An that trinket’s from the guy you schooled last week, Sharon.’
Sharon had been honestly puzzled, until Kelly laughed, ‘The big soldier… the one that wanted to take a year’s frustrations out on you, remember?’ Even then, it took a moment before she had remembered the show she had put on with a strange soldier in the champagne room. Go was nodding.
‘Yep, that’s the one.’
‘But, why, I mean, it was just sex…’ Kelly had snorted, and Go had stared at her with obvious surprise.
‘Girl, you are something,’ he had shaken his head, ‘That boy had more rage in him than I had seen in any ten men in the last year or two. He came in wanting you to beg for him to stop.’
‘I would’ve,’ Kelly piped up, ‘Every girl here agreed you had to have been putting that lidocaine lube in your snatch.’ Sharon had blushed, but shook her head.
‘He just wanted it rough,’ her blush deepened, ‘It just felt right… it’s what I needed, too.’
‘Well, he realized he was way over the line, but you took it… you showed him up.’ A too small voice in Sharon’s head had asked if that meant she had been over the same line, but had not noticed. ‘He asked me to give this to you.’
‘I can’t!’ Sharon imagined how Chris would react if she wore home such expensive new jewelry, ‘It’s too expensive.’ Go shook his head.
‘You can’t refuse… Boy paid good money for it. He’ll be back to see if you’re wearing it, sure as shit. Don’t get so dramatic,’ he rolled is eyes, then, ‘You did good… Gave the boy just what he needed. That’s what wins you regulars. And regulars pony up like you’re an honest to goodness girlfriend.’ So Sharon had worn the bracelet when she and Kelly were dancing… Had taken to wearing it all of the time; she could admit it was beautiful and it made her feel good that she had so impressed the young man he had wanted to give her such a thank you.
She had not been surprised when the intense young soldier was present and had offered a hesitant wave from his front row position the next Friday night. She had flashed the bracelet, smiled, and mouthed ‘thank you’ before putting on an especially aggressive 69 with Kelly, trying to make sure her beau had a great view. He had been in the same place for all three sets, gently tucking $20 bills into her G string, even when she pouted and reminded him he did not need to be more generous.
But he had not been there to enjoy another screw afterwards. Instead, Sharon had found herself being railed by another stranger. When the man had finished and she had cleaned up, she had caught Raoul by the elbow. The big bouncer was the one watching the Champagne room that night.
‘Where’s my… well, my, uh, my fan?’ Sharon had suddenly found she did not know how to describe the soldier she had expected to be interested in a fuck. Raoul had shrugged, but not because he had not known who she was talking about. He had lifted the mike hanging by his jaw, speaking into it, and after listening for a moment, he had shrugged again.
‘He left after your last set, Shar’, didn’t have a lap dance, didn’t go to the shower. Chet says looks like he was here to watch you, but just to watch. Ya know?’ Sharon had thanked the big bouncer, then had returned to the dressing room where Kelly had been waiting. The younger woman had been puzzled at Sharon’s willing return to the champagne room.
On the way home Sharon had asked what Kelly thought about her admirer’s stand off attitude. Kelly had shrugged, ‘He could be married.’ The idea horrified the married white housewife… He would cheat on his wife like that? Buy another woman expensive jewelry? ‘I don’t think so, though…’ Kelly had continued, ‘No ring, and no enlisted man can afford that sort of ‘thank you’ that you’re wearing there.’ Sharon had nodded, wondering about the soldier, and embarrassed that she did not even know the young man’s name.
He had not been back in the next week, although the crowd rushing to get seats whenever Sharon and Kelly were on stage was obviously getting bigger, and Go had begun asking both women to ‘do specials’ after their sets. Sharon was doing more than her friend, but Kelly wasn’t having the problems finding satisfaction like the older woman.
Sharon had finally asked Go if he could find out what the story was. The big black man had initially worried the soldier was stalking her, following her home or trying to convince her to run off with him. He had seemed puzzled when she explained instead she had not seen him, but had agreed to see what he could find. Sharon was long past surprised that the club kept recordings of the extensive ‘security cameras’ set throughout. With the check of driver’s license or military ID that they made of every patron coming through the door, Go actually needed only to check a couple dates, and then make a call to get the answer.
To Sharon’s surprise the young soldier with whom she had interrupted the champagne room’s usual activities had volunteered to go back to Afghanistan. Go did not have more information and did not offer to try to get more, leaving the lost housewife more confused… what sort of man would spend more than a thousand dollars on jewelry for a stranger, not take advantage of the sex his purchase guaranteed, and in fact would then intentionally put himself in harm’s way? The new worry-- that somehow she had pushed the young man to put himself at risk-- gave her nightmares that only a pre-bedtime bowl from the never empty supply on her mantle seemed to dampen, and she found herself sleeping even less than before, throwing herself into taking care of the BZ ‘chip holders’ and her work at the club.
“I don’t know,” Sharon answered with a shrug, “Probably get some more costumes or some new tapes for Kelly and I to use.” She had almost answered that she could just give it to the frat. Dave kept insisting she was getting rich, but thinking about the money always reminded her how she had earned it, and that was embarrassing… bad enough to be the frat’s house slut… If she was making money it would mean she was a whore. Sharon barked a laugh at that, ignoring the way the other women rocked back, not having been privy to her inner thoughts.
“We could all go to a weekend in Vegas with that money,” Kelly pointed out.
“As if Go would ever close down for a weekend,” Glory sniffed.
“Fine,” Sharon narrowed her eyes at the haughty younger woman, “The rest of us can go, you can work the runway and the champagne room with the new girls.” Glory considered arguing, Kelly could tell, but she eyed the older woman and wisely thought better of it. Kelly was reminded of the way young men posture and fight… But the professor in her psychology class had been very specific: women did not behave that way socially. Glancing around she could tell that some of the other women had noticed the decidedly masculine attitude the two alpha dancers were putting out. Satisfied she had cowed the younger woman, Sharon shrugged, “I’m just kidding, we need all of Go’s best girls if we were going to do Sin City right.” Glory ducked her head, accepting the compliment.
“It’s a dream, though,” Fallon shrugged, “Go doesn’t have enough new girls to let us all go, even if he was willing to do it.” Kelly shrugged,
“Oh, you never know,” she stopped, aware that all of the dancers were looking at her suspiciously. Including Sharon. She giggled, “I just thought Sharon could fuck him senseless… not let up until he agreed… signed it on a club napkin, you know…” The other girls laughed. Sharon’s smile was lupine.
“Well, girls,” Sharon reluctantly reached for her oversized bag; she did not bother to change out of the clothes she had been wearing, simply tugging a pair of sweats and a hoodie over the Velcro costume,” I have to get some sleep before lunch.” The others laughed. When Kelly pointed out that she was having the service crew clean her costume from that night, Sharon winked at her and then quickly shimmied out of the costume without removing the sweats, “See, she wants me nearly naked before we even get home.”
With that, the pair left, arm in arm. Kelly could still feel herself blushing at Sharon’s exit line.
“They’re going to talk,” she scolded the older woman. Sharon barked a laugh.
“Fuck ‘em,” she declared, then shrugged as she caught Kelly, planting an impressive and not slightly possessive kiss on the smaller woman to the delight of a trio of young men who were similarly leaving the bar. “Fuck them, too,” Sharon huffed, leading the shocked and aroused younger woman by the hand to the Range Rover, “They’ll talk about us anyway, so might as well give them something to talk about we don’t care about.” Kelly just nodded, trying to decipher her friend and lover’s meaning… was Sharon not concerned about the other women talking about them being an item. The thought left her with a pleasant warmth deep inside. She was almost certain Sharon did not mean that she did not care who talked about her sexuality-- even with the new, aggressive woman her fellow BZ Bitch had become, Kelly knew Sharon loved her husband and ******, so she could not mean it so callously.
Sharon squealed the tires as the big SUV tipped and cut out of the parking lot onto the road. Her driving had changed., too… What was that movie? ‘Drive Angry’ That was a good description of it, Kelly considered, making sure she had her belt on. Twice Sharon had been stopped on the way home from work since Thanksgiving, once getting a warning, the second time arranging for a ‘private visit’ in the champagne room to get out of an impressive ticket. The memory of that made the young co-ed smile… Sharon had left the guy a panting mess-- had finished him off in under two minutes to the amusement of several of the employees.
“Shar,” she warned, realizing the humiliated cop could be lurking, waiting his chance to get even, “I don’t wanna get carsick, and I don’t want to pull a train for the whole night shift, after that stunt you pulled the other night, so take it easy?” Sharon offered a challenging smile… a smirk, really, but she did scale it back, and not three blocks later they passed the waiting shadow of a city cop. Kelly giggled when Sharon ducked her head.
“Thanks, babe,” she said, reaching over to expertly dip a lacquer nailed finger tip over the younger woman’s sex. Kelly shivered and groaned, confident they were going to spend another hour or two at Sharon’s apartment as the older woman worked to ‘tire them both out,’ as she had taken to calling it.
The sun was nearly peeking over the horizon when Kelly agreed that staying at Sharon’s was the best idea for the night or what was left of it. The room was heavy with both women’s musk, and the younger woman found herself drifting to sleep, amazed that Sharon was still more than ready to go.
“We need to sleep,” she scolded, pinching Sharon’s pierced nipple for emphasis, “You crazy nymphomaniac.”
“You love it and you know it,” Sharon rolled away, though, to lay panting on the rumpled, damp sheets, the strap on dildo she had brought home after finding it in the dressing room after the holidays still glistening with Kelly’s juices. Kelly shivered at just how masculine her partner looked lying beside her on the bed.
She woke, her hand pressed firmly between her bare legs, and realized with a brief assessment where she was. And that Sharon was not in bed with her.
“Shar?” she lifted her head to find the older blonde was wearing a less than new ‘Snake Eyes’ hoodie and BZ Bitch sweat bottom combination. “Where are you going, it has to be early.”
“It’s almost 10,” Sharon picked up her purse.
“See what I mean? That’s horribly early,” Kelly complained, “We don’t have to be to the tanning beds until after 3.” Go had told both women they should ‘fake bake’ to get uniform and ‘sexy’ tans, and the women had begun leaving for work early enough to hit the local Suntana place. Go had beds but not the new state of the art units that were less prone to causing burns. And when they had tried tanning at Snake Eyes they had learned quickly enough it wasn’t free-- patrons could watch them tan, and they were expected to be performing even while in the clamshell beds. The blinking eyes of the various cameras had made the decision easy for Sharon-- she knew that Go was selling time to voyeurs who wanted to watch women tanning, and minimizing her exposure to other people-- people who might know Chris was still a conscious worry. She was embarrassed at how much she had come to need the sex… and could admit it was a ‘need,’ but she was still determined to protect her marriage.
That was part of the reason she was up when she would have preferred to be snuggled against Kelly, dead to the world. As it was, she had burned most of one of the thick joints that were always in the tin on the mantle down while struggling to get ready despite being dog tired. Sharon was embarrassed to admit to Kelly she had another appointment at the clinic. Being careful not to slip on the ice still scattered along the walk, she headed out to the car, thinking back.
The first week back, she had visited on Wednesday, and had nearly been late to work at Go’s after waiting for fully three hours for just the blood draw, genital swab, and urine collection one of the sour nurses had collected after hearing her story about being ***** and having a stranger take advantage of her. The woman had all but sneered listening to Sharon’s story-- she clearly didn’t believe a word of it-- worse, she had been outright rude… nasty, whispering ‘prissy slut’ loudly enough Sharon and the other women in the care room had heard her when Sharon had asked about the Gardasil shots.
“Think she a young chicken just because she away at school, shaking her ass…”
True, the women in the waiting area had glared at her, and had whispered to each other, occasionally nodding as if some especially emphatic point had been made to mutual agreement. The handful of men had stared, a couple of the younger men primping and posturing until the women they were with took offense, staring daggers at Sharon as if she had been responsible. Sharon was long used to people whispering in her wake, though, and she ignored it without a second thought.
Having the women who were supposed to be taking care of her behave like she was trash though… that stung. And considering the empathy they had shown to some of the other dregs of society who had been sharing the waiting room with her, Sharon had been just incensed enough to make an issue of it, though afterwards, she had still been shocked she had been so forward.
“You don’t look so dried up that you’d be that bitter,” she had snapped without really thinking about it, and while the other women in the back of the clinic had hidden their faces at their colleague’s impertinent remark, all activity had stopped, every eye fixing on the pair as the painfully skinny older black woman had straightened in surprise before whipping around and thrusting a skeletal finger at Sharon’s chest.
“Don’t sass me, you Jezebel… We all know what you are. Harlot… Homewrecker.” Once upon a time, Sharon would have meekly accepted whatever admonition a stranger would have made. That day, though, it was as if she was burning. She barely felt the ‘Twang’ of arousal so out of place in the clinic, but to which she had become familiar in the past days.
“You listen to me, you self-righteous bitch,” Sharon had swatted the other woman’s hand away, stepping toward her as she continued, “You don’t know me. You don’t know my life. Stop acting like you do, or maybe you’d like me to introduce you to the choices I have to make every day.”
“I seen that fancy truck you pulled up in,” the woman sneered, closing the distance instead of backing away, “You come in here all sexed up, making every man give you an eye even if they with their woman… Disgraceful. You sit out there like you don’t want to touch anything… like you’re better than those other poor folk. So I wonder why you’re even here… It doesn’t look like you’re hurting too much to have to come here in the first place if you don’t like the care.”
“You know shit about me,” Sharon had snarled, the women’s breasts in contact as they shouted at each other, audible in the waiting room, “I didn’t ask to have a black man seduce me, get evidence that could ruin my marriage, and then turn me into his whore,” Sharon’s spittle landed on the suddenly quiet older nurse’s face, but the BZ Bitch did not notice, “I didn’t ask to be tattooed, to be marked so any brother who recognizes it can use me like the slut you think I am… I didn’t ask to have strangers empty themselves into me so I’d have to come here to see if I’ve been infected. I’m here in the car my husband bought me because I love him and I’m terrified I’ll pass some filth onto him; is that enough information for you, you snooping, judgmental bitch!?”
And then Sharon had realized she was almost looming over the smaller woman… No, she had been looming over the cowering figure, fist raised as if she might strike… might hit another human being. Horrified at her behavior, Sharon had collapsed back, hand covering her face as she had begun to sob, horrified anew at having lost control of herself in front of strangers… at what she had just admitted to women who moments before were treating her like white trash, and at having lost control once more as the wracking sobs threatened to overcome her as completely as her anger had.
“Shhh…. Shhh,” the same nurse who had been so openly hostile was the one who had guided Sharon away from the open front desk window and the cluster of suddenly alert and interested patients, back to one of the exam rooms again. And she had not been alone… the other nurse, one of the clerks, and the nurse’s assistant were along, all of them clucking maternally at Sharon, trying to sooth the emotional white woman.
After disappearing for a moment, the head nurse had returned with a Dixie cup, insisting Sharon ‘take it down.’ She had, gasping in surprise at the burn of whiskey. Eyes watering, she had coughed before glaring at the older woman.
“What the hell?” she sputtered, pushing away from the women, clutching at the flimsy hospital style gown she had donned for the testing to be done, “Are you going to take advantage of me, too?!”
“Honey,” the nurse had arched an eyebrow, letting her eye wander over Sharon’s body, which wasn’t adequately hidden be the threadbare garment, “If you think any woman here would touch you when you’re here to see if you’ve got the clap or worse, you aren’t thinking.” And considering that had made Sharon laugh… And laugh… Fresh tears spilled down her face, but it felt good, and seeing the other women were laughing… knowing they were supportive after all, Sharon had found herself dwelling on the strange thought that she felt safe in the clinic.
The nurse had finally shooed the others away, before she had caught Sharon’s hands in her own, apologizing for making assumptions and asking the amazed younger housewife and mother if there was anything she could do. Smiling gratefully, Sharon had shook her head sadly.
“Bettie,” the nurse’s nametag read ‘Bettie Seele’ and to Sharon she felt like a sure friend, “I’ve thought about it… I’ve looked at it every way I can think… If I refuse to… well, if I say no Chris will find out… He’ll be destroyed… he won’t ever be able t forgive me, and I think I’d just wind up back in their control but without a ****** to go home to.
“But child, you’re going to lose that ****** sure enough on this path.” Sharon ducked her head.
“I may… or maybe they’ll get tired of me… I’m old, I can’t keep up with these younger women, they’ll want someone better looking.” She sighed, aware that what she was saying was not the whole truth… the other BZ Sisters were not able to keep up with her. Too late she realized that they might have been strategically holding back, but the knowledge was of little use to her by then. She waved a distressed hand at her face and chest, “Look at me, I’m a mess… the stress is giving me worse break outs then I had in high school.” Bettie nodded, rubbing her chin in thought.
“We could put you on Accutane… that’d clear it up.” Sharon shook her head.
“I’ve heard about that… they say it causes irritable bowel syndrome.”
“Poppycock!” the older woman nearly cackled, “That’s like saying Tylenol causes anxiety… I don’t think IBS is really a disease… it’s for people with too much time on their hands and not enough needs doing… or folks who want to escape from doing something.” Sharon nodded, though she was not sure she fully agreed with the nurse’s assessment… Then again, the friends she had who were afflicted were without an exception she could name annoyingly self-absorbed and forever afflicted with some ailment. “The only real worry is you can’t be in the sun,” Bettie continued, and Sharon shrugged in defeat.
“And I have to tan.” Bettie frowned at her as if she was babbling incoherently. Sharon rolled her eyes, “My… uhm, my employer is insisting.” Recognition dawned and Bettie nodded her head.
“See, you got to get away from them. What if you didn’t come back for the next semester of school?” Sharon shook her head.
“They’d just send my husband photos… or videos.. Or DVDs… or websites…” She shivered, “God, it is hopeless.” Bettie patted her shoulder.
“Well, now, you’ve survived this long without your ****** finding out, right?” Sharon nodded. “And you’ve met some people you can trust… people who will help you no matter what.” Sharon considered… Would Kelly be there for her? Then she realized Bettie meant the people at the clinic. She managed a smile.
“Thank you, Bettie… And Dr. Brian, too.” Bettie seemed shocked.
“He knew ‘bout this?!” Sharon blushed but nodded.
“He saw the tattoos when I was here… when I had the IUD placed. He basically tried to get me to stop, like you’re doing… But he wasn’t judgmental either.” She smiled, “Maybe it’s just you two, but you’re right, it’s a start.”
“Well, he’s a good doctor… and a good man if he’d just stop brooding about problems he can’t fix,” Bettie frowned, “He’s serious about protecting your privacy-- hadn’t even told me about your… situation, and I thought he told me everything.” Sharon patted the older woman’s hand.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve already been here long enough I may be late to work…” she blushed, “Is it good I just see it as another job?” It had been Bettie’s turn to shrug.
“Wait here,” the gaunt older woman moved quickly to a cart, plucking a tube out after considering the contents of the second drawer she had opened. “This should help with that acne. The instructions are on the tube.” Sharon reached for her wallet, but the nurse caught her hand, “No, Honey, that’s on me. And I am sorry about the way I treated you… I just thought,” she shrugged, “I don’t know what I thought… But it wasn’t very Christian of me.” Sharon had laughed and thanked the woman, relieved when her new friend had suggested she slip out the back door to avoid the patients in the waiting area who had heard the outburst. And at the door, she had clutched Sharon’s hand, holding her back for a moment.
“You keep your head up and protect yourself,” she had said sternly, “And come back next week and we’ll get you that Gardasil shot.”
“It isn’t just for younger women?” Bettie laughed.
“Honey, let’s face it, what you’re doing is for younger women… We’ll see you’re as safe as can be. Just come back next week.”
Sharon had promised to do just that, and she meant to keep her promise, even if an extra week had somehow jumped past. She was not sure why she had not explained to Kelly where she went to get checked out; she had told her friend, partner, and lover that she was going to make sure she was ‘all right’ after the past weekends’ activities, and had previously mentioned that she’d been to a local clinic for care, but for some reason she was hesitant to be specific, and Kelly had not asked; she guessed Kelly had assumed she would use student health. Every time she had come she had wondered why she kept her visits secret, and while she had never been aware of an answer, and was mildly embarrassed at doing it, she had not changed her behavior, either.
Though naïve, Sharon was not stupid. Her first visit to the clinic, parking away from the run down building had left her susceptible to an awful stranger. The second visit, she had parked right in front without thinking twice about it, and the upscale car had drawn the staff’s ire. Looking at it from their perspective, she could not fault them-- how many free care patients drove Range Rovers? Of course, from the flashy Lincoln Town Car and the chromed out Escalade parked to the right of the building, she wondered if the ladies’ claim had been merely convenient. Her father had once pointed to a brand new Camaro sitting in the drive of a run down house when she had been learning to drive.
“See that, Sharon,” he had asked, not waiting for an answer, “People find the money to buy what they want, no matter how much they make. Just make sure you want to spend your money on the right things.” He had always had a ready suggestion or homily, and Sharon found herself fighting back tears, wondering what he would say if he saw what she was doing now. Squaring her shoulders, Sharon fiercely assured her ego or id… she wished she had actually attended class some of the time, she could not remember which was which, that he would-- she was protecting her ******.
The bells on the inside of the wired glass door jangled as she entered, and Sharon hurried to the counter, relieved that the warm acceptance of the staff from the week before had not been a momentary ploy to get rid of the crazy white woman. The woman seated behind the desk, whose nametag read ‘Carol’ smiled at Sharon and held the requisite clipboard out for her.
“Have a seat, honey, and we’ll be right with you.” Sharon nodded and took a seat, puzzled, then relieved when the page on the clipboard was not the ubiquitous medical records form but a suduko puzzle and a note, ‘We’ll get to you soon.’ It was signed ‘Bettie.’ Sharon almost relaxed as she set about trying to complete the number puzzle. She had seen Scott doing them over the summer and had tried, but typically had better ways to occupy her time.
She had been making progress when a commotion to the side drew her attention… As her eyes came up, Sharon told herself it was not so much a commotion as it was the… attention. Sure enough, two young black men seated side by side in the small waiting room were staring at her intently.
The more aggressive, bouncing a knee unconsciously as he stared smiled more widely, elbowing his partner as his smile grew to a leer.
“Tol’ you it was her. Damn, she’s smoking’ hot…” Sharon knew she should look away, return her attention to the puzzle, pretend they weren’t there, or better, that they had embarrassed her. Something sparked inside of her though, and aside from weathering the almost expected ‘Twang’ that accompanied the anger, making her eyes flicker for a moment, she kept her gaze riveted on the pair.
“Naw, man… no way that her,” his buddy shook his head, “Sure, it look like her, but half the time she wearin’ a mask… Could be any blonde woman.” The first of the pair shook his head, or rather, tilted it, reminding her of watching Stevie Wonder on television, but at a much faster tempo.
“Dawg, you starin’ at a grade A porn star and won’t believe it. S’why Myrna won’t give it up, chump.”
“Shit,” the second youth snorted, “You so sure, why you sittin’ there… I hear you, allas telling’ what you’d do if you met her.” Sharon was still staring, idly wondering if they would get up the courage to approach her. The other patients had not seemed to notice, beyond the disapproving glares of a few of the women.
“What ‘chu lookin’ at, bitch?” the first young tough leaned toward her, his voice lower, though a few of the others noticed what he was saying, turning their scowls on him to no evident effect. Sharon knew she should apologize, or avert her eyes… or both. Instead, she rolled her eyes, shaking her head in mock sympathy.
“Just boys,” she pursed her lips and arched her back just enough; smiled as the movement drew both young men’s eyes to her chest. She knew she should quail when the alpha of the pair jerked to his feet at her obvious insult.
“Boys?” he barked a laugh, “You’re her, all right… Sharon, the black cock slut.” Sharon pursed her lips as others in the room gasped in shock. In her peripheral vision she saw Carol push back from the counter, turning to say something down the hall. Sharon could not stop herself from taunting the young man.
“You’ll never know for sure,” she answered in mock sympathy, “Whatever brings you here, anyway, a little sore on your peter?” One of the older men, who had been feigning indifference, nearly choked at that. The younger men glared at him to no real benefit, then the ballsy one took a step toward her, hands out, flashing some sign to emphasize his bravado.
“You’ll be getting an exposure to it, bitch.” Sharon raised an eyebrow, stretching languidly, the movement leaving her right foot clear of the left. “You’ll choke on what I got.” His buddy tried to catch the sleeve of his hoodie.
“C’mon, man, it ain’t even her, I tol’ you.” Sharon pursed her lips, winking at the second young man.
“Oh, but I am,” she purred, licking her lower lip and letting her eyes flicker closed in just the way that enticed men when she was on stage. “But I only entertain men… You’ll just have to play with yourselves and remember you met me.”
“I’ll play with…” the first young man actually caught hold of the mascot sweatshirt Sharon was wearing before she kicked up with all her might. For a moment, the young man seemed unaffected, and then his hand slipped off of her shoulder to clutch at his groin. Knees sagging together, whatever he had been gong to say was a gurgle as he collapsed into the chair sitting at a right angle to Sharon. She smiled wolfishly, reveling in the pleasure at having hurt him. The young man’s friend was frozen in place, eyes wide.”
“Sharon,” Carol called, “We’re ready for you,” and in case any of the other patients chose to protest, “We can’t leave you out here being threatened by other patients.” Sharon stood with as much poise as she could muster, leaning over to kiss the second young man on the cheek.
“Ignore your friend’s advice,” she whispered, “But be yourself and treat Myrna right, and she’ll surprise you.” Switching her hips more suggestively than was necessary, the married white mother could feel the others’ eyes on her as she sauntered to the open doorway to the treatment area. The power she felt at having dominated the young tough… God, it was exhilarating!
She barely restrained a shout, suppressing the urge to smile out of a dim understanding the women in the clinic might misunderstand. Bettie led her to an empty exam room, having swept the syringe encased in a ziplock bag up from the med room’s counter as she passed. At her motion, Sharon shucked the hoodie, belatedly realizing she was bare beneath. The older nurse pursed her lips, then shook her head and swabbed Sharon’s upper arm with an alcohol pad.
“I don’t have many bras,” Sharon managed, knowing it sounded lame. And glad she had not been asked to drop the sweat bottoms.
“Mm-hmm,” Bettie nodded, “Can’t have you dressing proper like, can they.” Sharon smiled gratefully, nodding. The needle stabbed forward into her muscle, but Bettie was good at what she did-- Sharon barely felt it. A moment later it was done. “You’ll need a booster. Carol can set an appointment up, but just come in sometime around it and we’ll take care of you.” She smiled at Sharon, then, “Are you all right?” Sharon nodded reflexively, but her eyes fell to the alarming constellation of acne dotting her chest.
“I wish I knew what was causing this.” Bettie shrugged,
“You’re showering enough?” Sharon laughed at that.
“Sorry, Bettie… I wind up showering several times a day.”
“No new detergent, soap, perfume…” Sharon shook her head. “No other drugs or over the counter meds…” Sharon shook her head again. She shrugged,
“Stress?” Bettie clearly was not inclined to agree. She patted Sharon’s bare shoulder.
“Well it’s clearly not put the guys off,” Sharon blushed, but felt unmistakable pride considering that. “Don’t worry,” the matronly nurse handed her a bag with several small oblong boxes inside, “Sorry they’re so small… they’re samples,” she explained, “There’s maybe 30 in there… a tube should do… once at night, once again in the morning over any area that’s affected.” Without thinking Sharon leaned over, hugging the other woman, who was obviously surprised and embarrassed.
“You are wonderful,” Sharon told her, meaning it, “I can’t thank you enough.”
“You want to thank me, you come here. Quit all this… We can explain to your husband what drugs and threats can do.” Sharon shook her head.
“God, I’d love to,” she paused, horrified at the realization part of her had rebelled at her statement, “But I can’t risk it yet… But if it gets too bad…”
“Honey, if it gets worse you’ll be…” Bettie stopped herself. Shook her head. “You just remember what we said… we’re here for you.” Sharon started to hug her again but the nurse was ready, “And put that top on or the other girls will give me no end of hell for hugging you.”
“I can tan with these,” she asked, slipping the hoodie back on. Bettie nodded.
“The Accutane would be better, but this should help… and keep trying to think of what might have changed to cause it.” Sharon nodded, but she had been wracking her mind since the first little pimples had appeared. And she could not bring herself to ask if pot would cause it.
She paused at the desk, and Carol handed her a card with an appointment date written on it. Sharon was relieved that it did not have anything to suggest where it had come from. She wondered why she wanted to keep it secret but did not dwell on it. Thanking the women, she ducked out the side door she had used before. She made it to the car without anyone intercepting her, and decided to stop for more yogurt, juice, granola bars, and of course, Asti singles, beer, and condoms before going home.
“Damn,” Dave frowned at the GPS read out he had just retrieved from the unit in Sharon’s car. They knew she had gotten birth control at the clinic, thanks to Kelly, but based on her stop, the clinic where she was getting the contraceptives was the last place they would want her getting medical care. One of the other brothers working in the frat’s impressive IT suite looked over at him. Dave waved a dismissive hand, while using the other to dial Shaun.
“You going to break my balls about ‘winning our bet’ again?” his friend asked instead of saying ‘hello.’
“Hey, you lost. She won.”
“No, you bet she would be there and would win… Winning on a remote television feed doesn’t count.”
“That’s a bullshit technicality, and you know it,” Dave rolled his eyes, “Our prize bitch won head to head against real porn stars at Sexpo. Period.”
“So that’s why you’re calling? Again?” Shaun had just laughed the last time Dave had ‘reminded’ the other frat member he’d won their bet. It had galled his less refined friend to hear Sharon had been the winner, rather than Dave.
“Naw,” Dave waited, knowing Shaun would wonder what was up, “I thought you’d want to know where Shar’ is getting her pills.”
“Oh?” Shaun recognized immediately it could not be good if Dave was calling. And he could eliminate the potential problems, based upon the limited issues the frat faced… there was little the Frat did not have some influence over.
“Dr. B’s.”
“Shit.” Shaun paused, “Shit!” The man was one of the few who had walked away in outrage over what he had called the fraternity’s ‘excesses.’ Which to the other members meant he wanted to despoil all the pretty coeds himself, rather than share, considering he’d been a major horn dog when he’d been a football star a decade before. The man had made a noisy exit within the fraternity at least, and had seemed more angry no one listened to his holier than thou arguments than the fact that he had been totally isolated after his ‘noble’ exit… ‘Who cares if it’s one brother banging a dozen chicks or a dozen sharing one,’ Shaun remembered one of the national officers laughing at a meeting he had attended in Fort Lauderdale as a Sophomore. By then the doctor’s departure was ancient history, but BZ was missing nothing on the biker gangs… they did not forget traitors. And considering the… more coercive methods that the Frat was using, Shaun could imagine some ways the good doctor could be a thorn in their side. “Well, that little bitch,” he murmured, “Thinkin’ she can step out on us…”
“Naw, she ain’t steppin’ out,” Dave misunderstood what Shaun was thinking.
“Oh, I know she ain’t sharing it around… you and Go got her busy enough she can’t be doing more than sleeping when she ain’t shaking that married ass. But she might give old Dr. B some ammunition he could use.”
“Shit, none of the girls are still on the helpers,” Dave was quick on the uptake, “And most aren’t even aware why they started acting the slut… sure, there’s the pictures, but most never need that; they just think it’s the booze and the smoke, and buy into the old saying…” Shaun did not bother repeating the tired pick up line. It was true for some women, he’d seen, but he had also listened in on women’s studies topics where women had insisted they had better sex-- meaning they got off or got off better-- with average or even small cocks. He snorted at that, but admitted what Dave was arguing was true enough. And Sharon had to know they’d ruin her life if she helped the good doctor to make an issue to the school. Besides, they had the most likely ally in their stable now, also thanks to Sharon. Shaun wondered if they could use their best BZ Bitch to bring the good doctor down if he tried to cause a problem… surely the man had to have imagined slipping it to the hot white wife… “So what do I do? Tell her to bring her tight ass back to school health?”
“Naw… we know where she’s going… we can keep an eye on it… maybe having her there will be a good thing,” Shaun did not elaborate, guessing Dave would be able to fill in the blanks. “That’s all?”
“Well, it seemed like something that shouldn’t wait.”
“Damn straight, I’m glad you called. You about done with the monitor shift?” All of the members took turns watching the innumerable feeds for trouble with their brothers, or issues with teachers, administrators, or their stable of girls. There were Federal agencies that would have been green with envy at the total coverage the frat had spooled together not just of the campus, but the city and other ‘points of interest’ as their tech wizards would say with a juvenile laugh.
“Well have you decided yet about my suggestion?” Dave had pushed hard, but then again, he had set their prize filly up and she’d won against true thoroughbreds.
“When is it?”
“January, so it won’t mess up your holiday plans at all,” Dave insisted eagerly, “She can do it without any problem… Go already cleared it.”
“You’re going behind my back to Go?” Shaun was a little pissed at that… Sharon was his.
“No, no, no… I checked, that’s all. Go said he’s got so many coming in to see her based on the Sexpo he offered to pay for her flight there and back. I guess he’s got guys calling and booking ahead right up until he’s going to have to let her go home for break.” Dave waited while Shaun considered that. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he pushed, “C’mon, that was the bet… if I made her a hit at Sexpo we’d take her to the AVN bash… imagine the skilled fringe we can sample, man!”
“A’ight,” Shaun had already come to the same conclusion. He had also realized it was likely just a matter of time before their best bitch was a wreck… the bugs running on her ******’s computers had uncovered a little porn habit her hubby enjoyed. Shaun was a little surprised hubby hadn’t realized already that he’d sat in his den watching his wife put out to frat members and pros alike. He hadn’t paid for anything yet… understandable considering the flood of fresh meat hitting the net every month. But at some point he might figure it out, and they should be ready with ‘alternatives’ for Sharon if things went south. “She’s keeping up with the increased demand?” Dave laughed.
“Go insists she’s a natural; keeps asking when she was a working girl before marriage, because she leaves them panting and begs for more. Hell, he warned me she’d almost worn him out the last time he decided to ‘teach her a lesson.’ Shaun chewed the inside of his lip at that. The woman they’d ensnared was obviously not a pro, which made him worry.
“Well maybe we should visit our favorite BZ Bitch at work tonight, get us a little taste.”
“Can’t… Go’s got her booked solid.. He’s already asked if we’ll let her work another day each week until break, I’d almost forgotten to tell you.” Shaun frowned again… sometimes Dave forgot it wasn’t just about he and his dick. Shaun considered it a sacred trust of the frat, and his friend’s decisions made him glad he was grooming other younger members to take over when he finally decided he was ready to go out in the real world.
“Well shit, she’s popular here, too. We’ve got TA’s to get off and a couple professors. Plus the winter bash.”
“She isn’t working the House parties anymore.”
“She isn’t working the regular parties,” Shaun corrected, “But we’ll get a great release from this one to help sell her in Vegas.” The way Dave chuckled, Shaun knew he needn’t say more. But he also made a decision… waiting on this was too risky. He unlocked the cell-- having it lock in a minute was a hassle but it was worth the security-- and scrolled to one of the cryptic nicknames in his contacts.
Like at DOD secured phone, the handset bounced the signal through a prearranged security scrambler another BZ alum had piggybacked onto a Verizon satellite, and the call came back down to a different number… the right person, but protecting the Frat was job one.
“Yeah,” Shaun smiled. Samir might still be overawed at the Frat’s ability to get hot women, and so his ability to score with said hotties, but he was learning fast.
“When you gonna get more screen time?” Samir considered.
“Scheduled this weekend, why, you need something special?” Shaun bobbed his head, pleased at his brother’s ready to go attitude.
“Sorry, man, but we may have a problem with our golden goose.” Samir did not speak, “I need you to sit an extra shift or two… tell me if she’s doing anything unusual.”
“You wanna give me a clue?” Shaun bit back a smart ass response. It was a valid question.
“Sorry, but if I knew you wouldn’t have to keep an eye on her… Am I hurtin’ your action?” Samir laughed.
“No, bra,” Shaun guessed it was the crime tv show set in Hawaii that had increased that little familiarity in the Frat language, “the BZ Bitches ARE my action.”
“Well that’s why we have them around,” Shaun pointed out, then added, “Shout soonest if something strange happens. Otherwise I’ll check in tomorrow.” He resisted asking the freshman to not say anything to Dave or to ‘anyone’ in general… that could backfire. Killing the call, Shaun considered whether he needed to reconsider the holiday plans… or push up their schedule. Smiling, he chose to let it ride; it had been the best semester they had ever had… Theirs was on the national radar, and he had not gotten there by playing it safe.
