Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Hump Club: Bart's Odd Proposition
Part: 3 of 4
Universe: Hump Club
Summary: Hunks and Dolls -- a strip club -- has another name during its wilder
Ladies Nights, and strange and crazy things happen there.  But Bart Delacroix
brought a whole new dimension for a couple of generally left-out chicks
looking for a good time...

Keywords: MF MFF FF M+F group oral anal Mdom

Hump Club: Bart's Odd Proposition

Chapter 3

      Bridgette played with Shannon's hair for a few seconds, putting the hurt
aside and moving on, then, "Why are YOU doing this?  Why are you out hunting
for a... skank... who can't catch a guy with a butterfly net?  What is YOUR
motivation?"

      Bart chuckled.  "You tried to turn ME away in there, remember?  You've
seen one of my best features - but how many women can I reasonably show THAT
to?"

      Shannon sniffled and spoke to the appendage involved, "You can show it
to me again..."

      "You talk like a smart guy - or a rich one..." Bridgette mused.

      "Being smart doesn't get you anywhere with women," Bart replied.  "Being
rich is better, but it's not something you show strangers at first sight.
Women who would chase me for money would only be looking for a way to separate
me from it.  They might follow my rules for a short while, but they would tire
of it quickly and move on, looking for another easy mark."  He sighed.  "It's
simple, really - I never want to be manipulated by a woman again.  My mother
and my sister Beatrice virtually owned me during my childhood - and they still
try to bully me into bending to their will, but I've managed to insulate
myself from them for the most part.  But the woman who occupies my bed needs
to understand at the outset that I'm just not taking any -- well, crap, for
lack of a better word - from her.  If you live under my roof, you will live
under my rule.  Period."  Bart couldn't help the tinge of anger that
accompanied this declaration.

      Both women generated the exact same thought process:  'He's serious.
Can I do this?'  Bridgette asked, "So what does this entail?"

      "Well," Bart said slowly, "You commit yourself to me.  There will be
things like contracts and powers of attorney, but the important thing is your
word, don't you think?  Some of the things we'll agree to aren't legally
enforceable, even if we both sign a contract in good faith.  You'll move in
with me and I'll... keep you, for lack of a better term.  Your basic needs
will be taken care of, at a minimum.  I'm not promising to keep you in luxury
- everyone has a different concept of that, anyway - and with some women, it's
a sliding scale."  He smiled ruefully.  "You will take care of my needs -
including sex, obviously, but there will be others."

      Shannon sat up and started rubbing at her face; Bart snatched a napkin
from a door pocket and handed it to her.  "What was all that about dog
collars?" she asked.

      "Do you understand the concept of total power exchange?" Bart asked.

      "No."  Shannon shook her head.

      "Dominance and submission?"

      "I know what the words mean..."

      "There are people who practice this.  Dominants - 'Masters' - demand
subservience from a submissive.  There are generally features of the
relationship that most people would term excesses - things like humiliating
the submissive in public by calling her 'Slut' or something and making her go
without clothing.  She might be treated as a possession and lent out or made
to sleep in a cage or eat from a dog bowl - any number of humiliations and
embarrassments.  In the 'perfect' relationship between a Dominant and a
submissive, the Dominant treats the submissive like dirt - and the submissive
loves it.  She surrenders herself to him and every outrageous task he requires
of her is a test of her fidelity - and success is a reward in itself.  This
is... an extreme condition.  I bring many of these things up to dismiss them,
as I feel that they are excessive.  I don't want to spend my time thinking of
new and fascinating ways of making you miserable.  But there will be
occasional tests - and occasional excesses - especially in the beginning.
It's one thing to SAY you're committed and another to BE committed."

      "What if I find that I just can't do something?" Bridgette asked.

      "There are two clear scenarios," Bart mused.  "In the first scenario,
whatever it is isn't important to me.  In that case, I'll withdraw the
requirement - but I'll probably substitute something else.  You can consider
it a punishment if you like, but it's more a case of not being able to back
down and maintain proper control.  In the second scenario, we part company."

      "Just like that?" Bridgette blinked.

      "Well, it could be more complicated than that, but, yes.  I'm assuming
that whatever this requirement is, it is important to me and you will not
fulfill it."

      Shannon bit her lip.  "What if the spirit is willing but, ummm, the
flesh is weak?"

      "I would have to take that on a case-by-case basis," Bart replied.
"Certainly, inability is an extenuating circumstance."

      "Are you a lawyer?" Shannon asked, wrinkling her nose.

      Bart chuckled.  "No."

      "You sure talk like one."  She thought for a moment.  "What would be a
test?  What would be an excess?"

      Bart eyed her.  "Let's see...  Having you take on six black guys, three
at a time, would be an excess - and might be a test."  At Bridgette's gasp, he
added, "Of course, I would want to be careful in my selection of the six black
guys, as I wouldn't want you getting the Mandingo Syndrome."

      "Mandingo Syndrome?" Shannon asked.

      "You know, the whole slut for black cock thing.  It wouldn't do for me
to set a bunch of guys with foot long cocks on you - it would tend to ruin you
for my use afterward."

      "Surely, you wouldn't..." Bridgette began.

      "The prime reason for tests and excesses," Bart related, "is to
condition you NOT to make assumptions as to what I will or will not do.  When
you start making those assumptions and I exceed one of them, you'll
automatically consider disobedience.  That will lead you to bad habits.  It's
better if you assume that I'll follow through with any given threat --
particularly since if you balk, the onus is on me to ensure that the threat is
fulfilled.  I do hope you realize that."

      "So," Shannon murmured, "let me get this straight.  If you come out with
this six guy gang-bang thing and I don't believe you..."

      "I'm likely to go out and find nine guys in order to ensure that you
take me seriously the next time," Bart finished for her.

      "Really?" Bridgette queried, wide-eyed.

      "Really," Bart insisted.  "If you think I'm full of shit, I haven't
earned your respect - and I can't count on your obedience.  You have to assume
that I'm capable of whatever I tell you I intend doing - because if you don't,
it could cause trouble for both of us."

      "Well, okay," Shannon burst out, "but what if you..."

      Bart held up a hand to interrupt her.  "Clearly, there are checks and
balances.  If you think about it, if I insist that you take every directive
seriously, then I have to be able to deliver.  If I come out with some wild
task for you to execute that is clearly not a situation I can set up, my
credibility is shot.  You'll start questioning me on other issues and we'll be
in trouble.  So you see there ARE controls in place - I MUST be able to follow
through on a threat.  That is the flip side of requiring you to take me
seriously - I'm required to BE serious."  He glanced at them both.  "Let's
look at a realistic scenario.  I'm discussing a business deal with a client
and he takes a shine to you.  I determine that it might be in my best
interests if you were to crawl under the table and give him a blow job.  I
direct you to do so.  What do you do?"

      "I give him a blow job?" Bridgette guessed diffidently.

      "You do.  It's your job.  It might not be politically correct, but it is
well within your capabilities.  It is my job to decide whether it is a good
idea or not given the circumstances - for instance, in a private dining room,
I might direct you to do such a thing, but not out in the open restaurant.
One check on me is the 'Does this make sense?' question.  If I have you do
something that ruins you for other purposes I've shot myself in the foot.  If
I treat you like a common slut in public, then my ability to present you as my
significant other in public is compromised."

      "Um, yeah, about that..." Bridgette mused.  "If this thing is
effectively forever and you're talking about significant others..."

      "As I indicated previously," Bart replied, "having two of you
complicates things.  I can't marry you both, for instance.  Maybe I could get
away with it in Utah, but the marriages and everything attached to them would
be subject to question.  If one of you wants to marry, then the other has to
agree to the appearance of a secondary position."

      "The appearance?" Shannon blurted.

      "If there are going to be two of you, I'm going to have to either set
one of you above the other permanently or attempt to treat you as equally as
possible.  Frankly, having one of you married to me presents such an advantage
to the one performing the role as wife that I have some concerns about the
practicality of the idea," Bart replied.  "For instance, if one of you acts
up, I might want to place the other in the top position for a time as a
punishment - but if the one acting up is my wife, my hand is forced to a
certain extent.  That being the case, I don't really think I can offer
marriage to one of you as long as the other is present.  You'll forgive me if
I wander around some - I just wasn't prepared for this."

      "Well... what about kids?" Bridgette asked.  "I want kids..."

      "Good!" Bart replied.  "I do, too.  After we settle in and everyone is
comfortable with their role, we can work on that.  In the meantime, you'll be
on birth control - and as soon as you're cleared for sexually transmitted
diseases, I'll stop using rubbers."

      "What?" Shannon blurted.

      "Wait!" Bridgette erupted.  Both opened their mouths to continue, but
Bart raised a hand and they subsided.

      "Bridgette?" Bart handed off control.

      "Who will take care of the kids?"

      "Well, you will, obviously," Bart replied, smiling thinly.  "If you're
asking will they be legitimate from my perspective, the answer is yes.  I will
admit paternity and will take care of them to the best of my ability, even if
our relationship should be dissolved at some point.  Again, I can't tell you
that they will want for nothing, but I won't be a deadbeat dad."  He turned to
the other woman, "Shannon?"

      "I don't have anything!"

      "I'm sure you don't," Bart agreed, "but for our mutual protection you
will be tested.  I will be tested, too.  You will undoubtedly have sexual
contact with others, but I'm the only person who will enter your vagina
without a rubber from here on out - understood?"

      "Well, yeah..."

      "Is there a problem?"

      "No."  Shannon sat wondering how Bart had just shut her down - was it
because he seemed so serious?

      Bridgette offered, "I still can't understand why you would come HERE to
make THIS offer..."

      Bart eyed her incredulously.  "There's a better place?  Maybe you think
I should go out and buy a white slave?  That would be all kinds of complicated
- from a legal standpoint and from a personal safety standpoint it just
wouldn't work.  No matter how well trained she was, I couldn't trust her - and
I would be limited in what I could do with her and where I could take her.
She could react to my somewhat easier control environment with gratitude - or
with contempt.  I couldn't take her places on my arm.  No, at bottom I require
someone who WANTS to be where she is - who sees the benefits.  Oh, I'm going
to use every method at my disposal to chain you to me - but those chains must
be invisible, and are therefore breakable, ultimately.  When you really
examine what I'm looking for, this place provides women who met my
criteria..."

      "Yeah, like desperation," Shannon interjected unhappily.

      "You miss the point," Bart insisted.  "Both of you are a little brave.
You're not above pushing the edge of the envelope.  You're open to sex.  And
you're looking - HARD - for a relationship.  Not only that, but the very fact
that Bridgette asked the question she did the way she did indicates that she
values my offer.  Do you really think such a thing would happen in a regular
club?"

      "What about online dating services?" Shannon asked.

      "That MIGHT work, but when I put in my requirements I would probably be
rejected or considered a crank.  This works - if it didn't, we wouldn't be
sitting here."

      "If I decided to accept, what would I need to do?" Bridgette queried.

      Shannon flashed her a look that said, 'Are you insane?' but Bart merely
replied, "You commit yourself to me.  I have some contracts and other papers,
but I wasn't really planning for two - so you could both sign them, but I
don't know how good they would be.  To a certain extent some of them are
unenforceable, as you really can't sign away your civil rights in this country
- they're more an indication of intent than anything else - something to
protect me from a lawsuit.  Other things, like a power of attorney, are legal,
but if both of you sign the same document it might be breakable.  We would
have to re-do it all at some point.  None of it is any good if your word
isn't, anyway, and if things don't work out, you'll be released.  There are
protections for me, primarily, to ensure that you don't benefit by walking
away."

      "I guess we should read them..." Bridgette opined.

      "Fine.  I agree, actually."  Bart turned to Shannon.  "Would you let me
out?  They're in the front seat.  I'm going to leave the two of you in privacy
to talk about it, anyway."  Shannon nodded and got out; Bart got out and then
went into a briefcase in the front passenger seat and extracted what had to be
twenty pages.  Passing it between the seats, he said, "I'll be leaning on the
fender if you have questions."  Then he closed the door and positioned himself
exactly as he described, leaning against the right front fender of the car.

      "Are you nuts?" Shannon hissed.  "This guy is a whacko!"

      "Is he?" Bridgette retorted.  "Sure, this is strange - but isn't he sort
of like us?  And look at this - talk about having your shit together..."

      "That's what's fucked up about it," Shannon opined.  "Contracts?  All
this 'Do as I say' stuff?"

      "I'm having a hard time seeing a problem with that," Bridgette replied.

      "He's gotten to you, hasn't he?" Shannon demanded.  "Nothing I say is
gonna change your mind."

      "Find something in this that he has lied about," Bridgette replied.
"We'll go through it page by page..."  She started reading rapidly.  "Fuck, I
hate legalese..."  After a few seconds, she passed the page to Shannon and
moved on to the next.  Shannon read it, too, clearly more slowly, her lips
moving.

      "You can't DO this!" Shannon burst out, "Not legally!"

      "DUH!" Bridgette retorted.  "He SAID that!  It's about the promise!"
She handed off the second page.

      Ten minutes later, Shannon looked up.  "Okay, I give up.  You don't do
this stuff unless you're serious - but is it SMART?"

      "Sweetie, what do you want?" Bridgette asked.  "Think about it - a guy,
right?  Do you know any guys who give guarantees?  Shit, do you know any
guys?"

      "It's... cold..."

      "Is it?"

      "It says here we agree to allow him to 'administer corporal punishment.'
That means he can beat us, right?"

      "Yes."

      "And you're okay with that?"

      Bridgette looked stubborn.  "Yes!  He said he might spank us if we
screwed up! You've never been spanked?"

      "No."

      "I guess you'd better not screw up then," Bridgette grinned.  "You won't
DIE or anything..."

      "Why is this okay?" Shannon demanded.

      "Sweetie, it's about what you want - and what you're willing to pay for
it.  If this scares you, then just say no."  Bridgette cocked her head.  "You
can do better, right?"

      "Don't be nasty!"

      Bridgette shrugged.  "He's right - he can make this offer to us -
because it IS the best we're going to get!  Guys don't offer contracts!  Guys
don't make promises and tell you what they want up-front!  Even if you had
three other offers - and you don't - they wouldn't come close to this!"  She
looked off toward the club.  "I bet if we say no he can find someone else -
tonight!"

      "You're gonna say yes, aren't you?" Shannon pouted.

      "Uh huh.  I'm sorry, Sweetie - you've fucked him, but you haven't had
him turn on the charm.  You haven't had him turn you into jelly in two seconds
flat, like he did me!"

      "You're right!"  Shannon's tone implied that he wouldn't, either.

      Bridgette leaned over and rolled down the window.  "Bart?"

      "Yes?"  Bart circled the front of the car to reach her side.

      "Would you make out with Shannon for a little bit?"

      "Well, sure..."  This wasn't what he expected to be called over for.

      "Take charge of her," Bridgett whispered conspiratorially, "like you did
me."

      "Ah."  THAT made sense to him.  He circled the car and opened the door
beside Shannon.  "Scoot over."  Shannon started shifting.  "Give Bridgette
that stuff," he directed, pointing at the wad of papers in her hand.  Shannon
turned to hand Bridgette the contracts - and Bart was on her before she turned
back!

      "Ah, shit!" Shannon gasped.  His lips were on her neck and his hands
slid under her top to tickle her nipples through her bra.  "Oh, God!"

      "Shut up," he whispered in her ear.  When her mouth opened to protest,
he shoved two fingers in it, stifling her.  "Take off your bra."  Meanwhile,
his lips made demands, sliding over her neck and behind her ear as his tongue
tantalized her skin.  She undid her bra without even thinking about it and his
hands captured her big soft breasts - but his lips stayed with her neck, ears
and face.  She turned her head and his tongue slid into her open mouth; she
clamped her lips on it, sucking, while the raider took possession of her
mouth.  It seemed like he had eight hands - they were on her breasts, rubbing
her sides, then one was working its way under the waistband of her skirt at
the back and sliding over her ass...  But one of her nipples was hard and
itchy, swollen and burning in his fingers.  Any time his tongue wasn't worming
its way around hers, it was in an ear or tracing a line along her neck - and
he always seemed to have an extra hand available to hold or direct her head
such that she was unable to escape his lips.  He turned her to face him on the
seat, backing her against Bridgette, who took charge of her aching tits; she
put a foot up on the seat, splaying herself so he could finger her.  There was
no denying him - she didn't have it in her.

      "Now, tell me how horrible he is," Bridgette whispered mockingly in her
ear - but Shannon couldn't reply with Bart's tongue in her mouth!  Moments
later, his fingers in her pussy provoked a flashing orgasm and she collapsed
against Bridgette, sated.

      Bart settled back in the seat, saying nothing.  Was he a super lover?
They acted like it.  Bart didn't see how it could be possible, given the tiny
amount of practice he'd managed in his lifetime - he was winging it, letting
his hands and mouth go where they would.  But they seemed to like it...

      "Where do I sign?" Bridgette asked.

      "We'll figure it out," Bart chuckled, turning his attention to Shannon.

      As predicted, Shannon was sold.  "What happens after?"

      "A test," Bart replied, sobering.  "I think it's best that we make sure
right away, don't you?"

      Bridgette eyed him.  "Something extreme."

      "Yes."

      "Where?"

      "Here."  He waved at the club.

      "Will you tell us before...?"

      "No."  He shrugged.  "You have to trust me.  You have to make the leap."

      "Okay," Bridgette nodded positively, "Sign me up."

      "Me, too!" Shannon yelped.

      Bart dug for the papers and pored over them, looking for signature
blocks.  "Did you read this?"

      "Yes."  Bridgette nodded.

      "ALL of it?" Bart probed Shannon, who nodded.

      Nonetheless, the three of them spent the next twenty minutes going over
things.  When it was done, both of the girls had signed the 'contract' and a
power of attorney and a release and a couple of other documents - and no one
could argue that they hadn't seen everything important.  Bart put the papers
back in his briefcase.  "Let's go back inside."

      When they hit the door, the bouncer eyed him, "There will have been a
rotation."

      The girls had no idea what this meant, but Bart did - it meant that his
place on the floor was occupied by another 'waiter'.  "I'm set," he said,
indicating the girls.  "Besides, we're going to hang out in the back room."

      "Oh?" the bouncer blinked.

      "Yeah, we're going to hang out until closing time."

      The bouncer eyed the girls; neither of them looked particularly blitzed.
"Somebody got a headache?"

      Bart pursed his lips.  "They'll be fine after they've rested a bit."

      "Okay."  The bouncer nodded them off.

      "What was that all about?" Shannon wanted to know.

      "It's a long story," Bart replied.  "It's more about me at this point.
When we went outside, I more or less went off-shift and they don't need me on
the floor.  Since it's Ladies Night..."

      "Oh."  Even the girls knew that the number of males on the floor was
limited for Ladies Night - they just didn't know the real reason why.  The
assumption that too many males on the floor would make the girls self-
conscious was valid as far as it went, anyway...

      "Let's take our time and get drinks, but head toward the back where they
do first aid for drunks," Bart suggested.

      They meandered along the walls and hit the bar.  The place was chaos; it
was after midnight and virtually everybody in the place was lit.  A good
percentage of the girls were half-naked and every male in sight had one or
perhaps two women knelt up in front of him taking turns practicing their
fellatio - if they didn't have one bent over in front of them getting a fuck.
The first time Bart came out for this, he couldn't believe what he was seeing
- girls actually fondling guys' cocks and giving head - even fucking - right
there in public in the room.  But the high-test mixture of booze and drugs and
sex - and a video camera, apparently, since the girls seemed to LOVE to cut up
in front of a camera - seemed to free a good number of these girls of any
inhibitions they might have.

      One of the handlers - the employees who managed the flow of 'waiters'
onto the main floor - came out to see Bart as he and the girls lingered near
the bar.  "You're done, Bub - you've been replaced," the guy said gruffly.

      Bart nodded.  "I'm staying out of the flow - I've got them." He pointed
out Bridgette and Shannon.

      The guy took a glance and grunted; the look on his face said clearly,
'To each his own, I guess.'  Of course, the handler - whose name was Gary -
was more than a little jaded.  To him, ninety-five percent of the club girls
were 'Type Too' - as in too short, or too fat, or too skinny, or their noses
were too long, or their tits were too small - you get it.  Bridgette and
Shannon didn't even meet his minimum standard, but...  "You don't get to keep
'em."

      "We made an arrangement," Bart replied, "Besides, we're headed for the
back."

      "What for?"  The bitches didn't look drunk to Gary.

      "They're volunteers."

      "I don't know 'em."

      "I'm vouching for them."

      "I don't know YOU!"

      "Shannon!"  Bart waved her over.  "Give the man a blow job."  Shannon
blinked, shrugged, and settled to her knees.

      "Lots of that going on," Gary opined, covering his fly.  "That doesn't
mean they know the score in the back room."

      Bart looked down at Shannon.  "If I told you to go in the back and fuck
the first twelve guys who show up, what would you do?"

      "I guess I'd get ready to fuck," Shannon replied, her glance shifting
from Bart to Gary and back.  "Is that what we're doing?"

      "Yes." Bart nodded.

      "Okay."  Shannon shrugged.  When she thought about it, it made sense --
giving head wasn't extreme...

      "Shit had better go according to plan," Gary grumbled.

      "It'll be fine," Bart assured him.

      "I don't want to see you fucking with anything but these two skanks,"
Gary warned.

      "No sweat," Bart assured him.

      "Nice guy!" Shannon groused.  "See if I offer to give HIM head again!"
Bart chuckled.  "Can I tell Bridgette?"

      "Sure."

      Shannon got up and approached Bridgette.  "What was that all about?"
Bridgette asked.

      "Bart put me on some asshole," Shannon replied.  "We're going to fuck a
couple of dozen guys in the back room, I guess."

      "Really?"

      "Yeah.  That's the test."

      "Damn."  Bridgette looked up at Bart, who crooked a finger.  She shifted
closer, diffidently.

      "I'll be right there," he assured her.

      "Okay."  Bridgette's response was petulant, but cooperative.

      They hung out near the bar for a few more minutes, and then Bart led
them to the back rooms.  Ironically, Shannon had been there before - but
early.  "So, what's up?" she asked Bart.

      "We wait for closing time.  Stake out a couple of cots side by side,"
Bart replied.

      "I've been here before," Shannon offered.

      "At closing time?"

      "No."

      "Well, keep your mouth shut about what you see."  Bart waved Bridgette
over.  "Okay.  Shannon has been here before, but got out before closing time,
right?"  He got a nod.  "Things go differently after closing time.  This isn't
something you're going to want to discuss with anyone.  If someone comes over
and asks why you're here, just say you're volunteers."  He waved them at a
pair of cots and grabbed a folding chair to sit between them.

      It being almost one a.m., the version two hangover cure was being
dispensed - the one that made the patient pliant and disoriented.  There were
four normal patients and Bridgette and Shannon.  Since the pair was way too
alert, they attracted the attention of a 'medic.'  "Y'all waiting for
somebody?" he drawled.

      "They're volunteers," Bart explained.

      "Didn't think we'd attracted any this year," the 'medic' grunted
suspiciously.  Turning to Shannon, he asked, "What are you here to do?"

      "Fuck," Shannon replied flatly.

      The 'medic' shrugged.  "Don't succumb to the temptation to tell these
other idiots what they're doing."  He wandered off, leaving the pair of them
eyeing each other in incomprehension.

      A few minutes later, the haze began to clear.  A chunky bleached blonde
with a serpentine tattoo on her upper arm struggled up from the cot next to
Shannon's and queried, "Where the Hell am I?"

      The 'medic' came over, lugging a glass of water and some pills.  "You
had too much to drink, Honey.  Here, take this - it'll help you feel better."

      "What is it?" the woman asked while swallowing the pills.

      "Hangover cure.  Rest a minute while it takes hold."

      "Awright."  The woman laid back.  In a few minutes, she was humming to
herself.  Shannon looked at her closely; her eyes didn't seem to be tracking.
She managed to lock onto Shannon, though.  "Hey, you're cute..."

      "Ummm, thanks..." Shannon muttered.

      "Nice rack."  The woman waved her arm a bit and managed to reach
Shannon's.  "C'mere."  Shannon let herself be tugged closer - and got a
surprise when the woman squeezed her left tit!  "Ooo!  Soft!  None of that
fake shit!"  Shannon recoiled and the woman whined, "Don't go!"

      The 'medic' showed up.  "Lie back - you need to rest some more."  The
woman did as she was told and he reached down and mauled one of her nipples.

      "Don't do that!" the woman whined, then turned blurrily to Shannon.
"Men are beasts.  I hate them!  Can we cuddle?"

      The medic, who had been momentarily concerned, sneered.  "Are you a
lesbian, Honey?"

      "What's it to you?" the woman snapped.

      The 'medic' laughed.  "I love it when they're lesbians.  So fucking
ironic."  Turning to Shannon, he directed, "Keep her happy."  Shannon looked
at Bart, who shrugged, so she leaned over the blonde - who proceeded to take
possession of both of Shannon's breasts.

      Bridgette, sitting up watching, whispered, "What's going on?"

      "At this time of night the hangover cure is laced with Ecstasy and some
date-rape drug that keeps the girls horny and disoriented," Bart related
softly.  "She doesn't know it but she's about to become an amateur hooker."

      "And she doesn't like men," Bridgette mused.  She looked up at Bart.
"Maybe I don't like men, either."

      Bart leaned over and kissed her.  "You like men."

      "Some men," Bridgette agreed, leaning into his embrace.  Shannon, more
or less stuck, watched the pair neck, unhappy that she couldn't participate.