Message-ID: <21059asstr$942412201@assm.asstr.org>
X-Original-Path: not-for-mail
From: rthornton1449@my-deja.com
Subject: {ASSM} Two in Vegas -- Part 1/2 (Slow, FF)
X-Post-Date: Fri, 08 Oct 1999 12:54:29 GMT
Lines: 618
X-Original-Message-ID: <7tkpi0$gpk$1@nnrp1.deja.com>
X-To: story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us
JMDigest-Score: good -26
Date: Fri, 12 Nov 1999 08:10:01 -0500
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr.org/Year1999/21059>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-admin@asstr.org>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@asstr.org>
X-Moderator-ID: assm-admin
Two in Vegas -- Part 1/2 (Slow, FF)
WARNING -- This is a work of erotic fiction intended only for readers of
a legally responsible age in the jurisdiction where they live. This work
may be archived and redistributed, but it may not be sold or changed in
any way. I encourage comments and criticism to OKIquit@hotmail.com --
Chaz
----------
Two in Vegas
by Chaz Thain
okiquit@hotmail.com
Jodi and I have been friends all our lives. Growing up, she
probably spent as many nights at my house as she did at home. My Mom
called Jodi their third daughter. We shared nearly everything from 5th
grade on -- everything but Jeremy Elder, the biggest hottie in our
class.
We fought fiercely over Jeremy our senior year, but neither of
us ever became his “steady.” Too bad his daddy got him a scholarship at
BYU about the time we graduated and then he left town for good. A couple
of weeks later Jodi got snotty and bragged that she had balled Jeremy
the night before he left -- and he promised to come back for her.
Hah! As it happens, he screwed me in the back seat of the same
car the night before he nailed Jodi. And you know what? Yeah, he
promised to come back for me, too. You guessed it. He never came back,
never called, never even sent a postcard. We were so mad at Jeremy we
soon got over being mad at each other.
Among the things Jodi and I shared was a dislike for life in
Twin Falls. So it’s kind of funny we were both still in town three years
after high school. Oh, I had been to State for two semesters and gotten
good grades. But college wasn’t for me -- mainly because I had no idea
what I wanted to study. I felt like I was wasting Mom’s money.
I always thought Jodi was smarter than me, but she never even
went to State. Her Dad died when we were 15 and her Mom couldn’t afford
to send her to college. She stayed home and worked and took some classes
at juco.
There we were. Both 21. Both still living at home. Both working
at nothing jobs. There were plenty of guys to be had in Twin Falls, if
you were willing to “party,” which meant drinking, toking and -- sooner
or later -- spreading your legs. But most of the guys had no more idea
where they were headed than me and Jodi. We weren’t thrilled with the
idea of “settling” and having babies in a rented mobile home on the edge
of town.
Then one Saturday Jodi slammed open my Mom’s back door to find
me making iced tea in the kitchen.
“Get packed,” she said.
“Packed for what?”
“Las Vegas.”
So I packed a couple of bags and we left that same afternoon,
driving as far as Salt Lake. I was between guys at the time and Jodi
didn’t even bother to call the guy she was dating. A couple of days
later we were jammed into a ratty room in a long-stay motel, cooking on
a two-burner stove and looking for work.
It’s amazing how fast I got a job cocktailing at a casino on the
Strip. What’s more amazing is the costume they had me wear. The first
couple of days I felt like a hooker with my boobs hanging out. But I
soon got used to the tiny skirt, revealing top and heels. Most people
seemed not to notice that I was half-naked, and after awhile I stopped
feeling self-conscious. I also learned to use Band-Aids on my nips to
keep them from standing out like bullets in the air-conditioned casino.
Guys hit on me all the time, but I was used to dealing with
that. I enjoyed the attention, if I was in a flirty mood, but the other
girls told me the score. Nice guys don’t come to Vegas looking for Miss
Right. And I learned to call Security if somebody got too obnoxious. I
remember one middle-age jerk who did a double-take when he saw me, then
ditched his wife somewhere and came back. He didn’t even take off his
wedding ring! He must have thought he was such a stunning specimen I’d
swoon into his arms. No
chance!
Jodi got a job dealing blackjack and our lives settled into a
comfortable groove. With our salaries and tips, we were making more
money than we could ever hope to make in Twin Falls. We moved to a
two-bedroom apartment in a nice complex with a lawn and pool. We fixed
up Jodi’s car, bought a stereo, good furniture and even pictures for the
walls. I got a set of pots and pans and started COOKING! My Mom would
have croaked!
Eventually we got the same nights off and spent a lot of
evenings going to movies, shows or just exploring Vegas. What a wild
town! We met guys everywhere and rarely had to buy a drink. Jodi was
always the one who decided which guys we partied with, and which ones
got to stay the night. She’s very picky -- says I have no judgment --
and she almost never let guys stay over.
“I’m the brains of this outfit,” she would say, “and you’re the
tits.”
There’s nothing wrong with Jodi’s boobs. Her 32Bs are beautiful
-- round with tiny pink nipples. She’s just sensitive because Jeremy
used to call her “Skinny.” I think she looks like a model -- pretty, and
tall for a girl, with gorgeous, long legs.
I’m the average type. You know, 5-feet-5, 135 pounds, with a bit
of an hourglass shape. People are more likely to call me “pretty” than
“beautiful.” And my tits ARE pretty good, at least as far as guys are
concerned. I wear a 34D.
The good times lasted more than a year. Neither of us wanted to
spend our lives in casinos, but the work was easy and the money was
good. We shared expenses and always seemed to have plenty left over for
clothes, CDs or show tickets. We spent a week in California, once, doing
all the tourist stuff. We both dated occasionally, nothing serious, and
had friends at work and the complex.
Then disaster struck.
I was leaving work one day, just stepping off the curb, when an
idling car slipped into gear and lurched forward. It knocked me down,
gave me a concussion and broke my leg. Not the lower leg, the thigh. It
wasn’t a complicated break, but the pain was pretty bad. I woke up in
the ambulance, then passed out again. I woke up the next day with Jodi
at my bedside. She was great. She took care of everything, dealt with
the doctors, handled the paperwork, made sure I got my medication on
time.
When they finally sent me home, Jodi was in charge again. She
got me home and settled, cooked, fed me, cleaned, helped me in the
bathroom -- embarrassing. I leaned on her for everything -- a true
friend.
My leg continued to heal, but a few days later I woke up feeling
hot. I turned up the AC. Jodi left for work and I fell asleep, tossing
and turning. I woke in a couple of hours, burning up. The sheets were
soaked with sweat. I took some aspirin and that helped. I fell asleep
and woke up a few hours later, hot and drenched in sweat again. I took
off my clammy nightshirt and took more aspirin.
Jodi called. They wanted her to work a double shift. I told her
I was coming down with a cold, but would do fine until she got home.
Not.
When Jodi finally got home she found me lying on the sofa,
wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, shivering and delirious with fever.
She dialed 911. I was soon back in the hospital. Pneumonia. For two
weeks. When I got home again I had lost 20 pounds and was weak as a
kitten. Again the load fell on Jodi. She took great care of me, but her
work suffered and she got fired. She wouldn’t have told me, but she had
to explain why she was spending all day at home.
A week later I felt strong enough to get out of bed and get
myself a glass of water. But when I walked into the living room it was
bare! All our furniture was gone, including the stereo, the pictures
from the walls and the dining room set. I shouted for Jodi.
“Where’s all our STUFF!” I cried.
She came out of her bedroom, looking haggard.
“It’s gone,” she said, her voice flat, her beautiful blue eyes
defeated. “I had to sell
everything to pay the bills. We’re broke.”
“Broke?” I was stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I tell you, as sick as you were? And what could you
have done, anyway?”
That was our low spot. She helped me back to bed and we laid
there, holding each other and crying until we were cried out. Then we
took stock. Our rent was paid to the end of the month. We still had our
bedroom furniture and clothes, Jodi’s 10-year-old car and half a tank of
gas. Our food would stretch for a couple of weeks if we ate pasta twice
a day.
“We’re skating on thin ice,” Jodi said wryly. “Keep taking those
antibiotics. If you have a relapse we’ll have to sell the car.”
“What about going home,” I asked timidly. She made a face and
turned both thumbs emphatically down. I knew her family was a big reason
Jodi finally left Twin Falls. They wanted her to marry like her sisters,
get religion, have kids. She wanted none of it. Jodi was too much of a
free spirit, always going her own way.
Not to mention, Jodi’s father molested her for awhile when she
was maybe 13 or 14. She almost never talked about it, but from the
little she’s said I don’t think he actually raped her. Bad enough he sat
on her bed and fondled her late at night, his fingers squeezing and
poking. He choked her when she tried to turn away, so she learned to
close her eyes and think of something else.
She finally told her Mom what was happening, but her Dad denied
it and her Mom called her a lying slut. Her sisters were older, and had
already left home. Then Jodi told a teacher at school. The police talked
to her Dad, but didn’t arrest him. He moved out for awhile, then moved
back in. He was killed that same year in a one-car rollover out on 93 --
drunk as a skunk. Her Mom blamed Jodi for her father’s death, so they
weren’t on the best of terms.
My father had died when I was 12. Cancer. After I left home my
mother moved in with my sister and her family, struggling to control her
diabetes. If we went back to Twin Falls, we’d both be living with
married siblings -- and probably wind up sleeping on their living room
couches. I made a face myself.
“Bad idea.”
“We’ll think of something,” Jodi said determinedly.
Later that day there was a knock on the door. It was our
neighbor Jennifer with a pot of homemade soup.
“My GOD, I’ve been worried about you!” Jennifer exclaimed. “How
ARE you! Besides thin as a RAIL, I mean! You’re so LUCKY your tits don’t
disappear when you lose weight!”
Before I could answer, she noticed the absence of furniture.
“GIRLS! Where are all your THINGS?!”
“Pawn shops or the used furniture store,” Jodi said wearily.
“You poor BABIES! The doctor bills cleaned you out?”
Jodi told the whole story while Jennifer listened closely. Jenn
was our best neighbor, always dropping by to give me a cooking tip or
advise Jodi on car repairs. She was one of those EMPHATIC people with an
opinion on everything, but I loved the positive spin she put on life.
Jenn was also a bit of a mystery. Or maybe not so mysterious
after you get to know Vegas. Early on we suspected she was a high-priced
call girl. About 30, she lived in the nicest apartment in our complex,
though she didn’t seem to have a job. If anybody asked about her work,
she laughed and said she was a consultant, but I know she never went to
college. Jenn carried a pager and cell phone, even at the pool, and she
came and went at all hours, always dressed beautifully.
One day after we’d known her several months, she came over for
iced tea. In the course of a long conversation (she loved to talk), she
confided that she was, indeed, a fallen woman. Jodi wasn’t even
surprised, but there was still enough Twin Falls in me to be shocked.
Still, I felt more sympathy than outrage.
“Jenn, you don’t have to do that!” I protested. “You’re smart,
you could take classes and get a good job!”
“BABY!” she laughed. “I could have a Ph.D and not make the kind
of money I’m making. I own part of this apartment complex and I’ve got a
six-figure stash in an offshore account. I paid off my mother’s house in
Arcata and there’s $65,000 cash buried in her crawl space. I’ve even got
health insurance.”
“But isn’t it ... horrible?” I asked.
“Not the way I’ve got things set up,” she asserted. Jodi looked
doubtful and I’m sure I did, too.
“Look,” she said, leaning forward. “I got into this because I
was desperate, but I’m NOT a victim. This work isn’t for everybody, but
I turned it into a good thing for me.
“I figured the agencies make the real money in this business, so
I peddled my ass just long enough to start my own agency,” Jenn said.
“It was hard at first. Other agencies tried to take me over, but I made
sure I was a moving target. My girls stayed with me because I gave them
a bigger cut, took care of their health and was really concerned about
their safety. And I figured a way to get the police interested in my
competitors. Now some of them have left town, the others have backed
off, and I’m one of the biggest agencies.”
“Speaking of police?” I prompted.
“The cops know there’s going to be working girls in Vegas,” she
explained. “How can there NOT be, with all the men and money coming
here? They just want to keep it out of sight and honest. No ripoffs. No
unhappy customers.”
“What ABOUT the customers,” Jodi asked.
“They’re just men,” Jenn laughed, “or mostly men. The key thing
is to control the situation from the beginning and never give up
control. You just have to find out what they want, give it to them and
be sweet about it. It’s more an acting job than anything.”
After we knew her secret and didn’t give her the cold shoulder,
we were better friends with Jenn than ever, visiting back and forth. She
never talked about her business except when Jodi asked questions. And
Jodi was always curious about everything.
So it was no great surprise when Jenn pulled out $500 cash and
insisted we take it as a gift. Jodi resisted for awhile, but we wound up
taking the money.
“Thanks Jenn, this will keep us going for another couple of
weeks,” she said. “Now I’ve got to see about finding a cheaper
apartment, and getting my job back.”
“I can work, too,” I declared, but Jodi just rolled her eyes
and Jenn chuckled.
“Baby, ANYBODY can see you still need more time. A full shift on
your feet would put you back in the hospital.” Then she paused
thoughtfully, looking from me to Jodi.
“If you two ever want to make good money in a hurry, some of my
girls have come up with a good gimmick. They don’t even have to screw
the clients!”
That remark was followed by an uncomfortable silence, and
Jennifer soon went home.
That night Jodi and I were talking around bedtime when she said,
“I wonder what Jennifer meant about that gimmick her girls came up
with.”
I had wondered about that comment myself, but didn’t say
anything.
The next day, Jennifer helped us get a one bedroom apartment in
our complex. I was gaining strength, but was no help moving. Jodi and
Jennifer did it all while I slept on Jennifer’s huge, plush couch. And
that night we had carry-out at Jennifer’s dining room table.
“What’s that gimmick you were talking about?” Jodi asked.
“Gimmick?” Jennifer said.
“Yeah. The gimmick that lets your girls make tons of money
without doing it.”
“Oh. I didn’t say they didn’t have SEX! I said they didn’t have
sex with the clients!” Jennifer exclaimed.
“Well how does THAT work,” Jodi said, wanting the details.
“It’s great,” Jennifer said. “The girls go to a client’s hotel
room and put on a show. Some of my girls do a girl-girl show, some do a
girl-boy show and I have a couple who do solos.”
“What do you mean by shows?”
“Two girls, or a girl and a guy, have sex and the client
watches. It’s a turn-on, but completely safe. Sometimes it’s several
clients. The Japanese especially like to watch in groups. Or it’s a
client and his wife. About half want girl-girl shows.”
“And the client pays to just watch?” Jodi asked, amazed.
“Not always,” Jennifer said. “Some clients just watch, most jack
off and and some pay extra to join the girls.”
“Lesbians?”
“My girls? NO!” Jennifer laughed. “A couple are bi, but most of
my girls are straight. "They like money, but they decide how far they’ll
go. And for $500 they’re willing to be flexible.”
“Five hundred bucks apiece!” Jodi gasped.
“Well, I charge $500 for a two-girl show and I keep 60 percent
for the agency. The girls pay their expenses and split the rest. And
they keep all their tips. Tips can be BIG!”
“What expenses?”
“Clothes, toys, cab fare. That’s about it. I make ALL my girls
see the doctor once a week and they pay for that, too.”
“What do you mean, clothes and toys?” Jodi said.
Jenn explained how her “employees” designed an act, or several
acts, with costumes to match. Sometimes clients asked for a girl and a
guy, sometimes for two girls dressed boy-girl. Other times they wanted
two girls dressed as men, or both dressed as women.
“But what do they actually DO for the clients,” Jodi insisted.
“The plain fact is,” Jenn said, “the more you do, the more money
you make. The wilder the act, the bigger the payoff. Stripping,
masturbation and straight girl-guy fucking pays the least. But I’ve got
a pair of girls who’ve worked together for a year, adding new tricks all
the time. They’ve got this VERY hot B&D act that makes ME soak my
panties. Last week they cleared $5,000 in three shows!”
Jodi’s eyes bugged out of her head when she heard that! I was
wondering what a B&D act was, exactly, but felt a little flushed,
myself.
“No way anybody would pay $500 to watch some guy boink me,” I
muttered.
“We’re not going to split our money with ‘some guy,’ “ Jodi
said, looking at me with
exasperation. “We’re going to put together an act with the two of us,
you and me.”
“HEY! Wait a minute! I’m not having sex for money,” I protested.
“Listen goofy,” said Jodi. “But don’t you see? We can make a
month’s rent in a couple of nights of easy work.”
“I could get you started,” Jenn chimed in. “My regulars are
always eager for fresh faces.”
They both looked at me. For a fleeting second I wondered if they
had cooked this up between them, but I knew Jodi wouldn’t go behind my
back. There was a long silence before Jenn told us to think about it and
left.
I brought up morality and Jodi argued me down. I brought up
legality and Jodi argued me down. I brought up danger and disease and
self-respect, and Jodi argued them all down. I could tell she’d been
thinking about this for some time.
Finally, three days later, I was reduced to weak protests about
my lack of acting ability.
“Listen,” Jodi said. “You won’t HAVE to act. You can just be
natural and I’LL do the acting. And we can practice here at home until
it feels natural.”
“How is it ever going to feel NATURAL? You don’t know any more
about doing it with another girl than I do!” Jodi gave me a long,
doubtful look. Finally she said, “Jenn said she’d help us out. She’s our
expert. She can tell us what her clients like and how to do it.”
I never really said, ‘Yes,’ but I finally quit saying, ‘No,’ and
Jennifer was soon coaching us on costumes and scenarios. But she
wouldn’t tell us what to say. I begged her to give me a script,
something I could memorize, but she insisted that would ruin the whole
thing. I was so afraid of freezing and not being able to talk!
Then we had what Jenn called the “walk-through,” really a dress
rehearsal. I was at our apartment, wearing the dress, underwear and even
shoes Jennifer selected. She gave me a tube of lubricant and told me to
make sure my pussy was well-prepared. I almost gave up the idea when I
saw myself in the bathroom mirror pushing lube up my twat. Instead I
hung a towel over the mirror.
Jodi dressed at Jennifer’s apartment ... something about a
surprise. I was sweating nervously when the doorbell rang. Some
surprise! I knew it was Jodi standing there with Jennifer, but nobody
else would have known her. She looked like a fresh-faced, teen boy in
Dockers, loafers and a loose shirt, with her hair cut short and slicked
back.
I let them in and Jenn began directing the action. Her scenario
wasn’t much different from what happens on a third or fourth date ... or
at least what guys want to happen on the third or fourth date. There was
a little small talk, some awkward hugging, then Jenn told us to kiss and
I froze, like I knew I would. Jodi never hesitated. She even touched my
lips with her tongue, but retreated when I didn’t open my mouth.
If not frozen, I remained pretty wooden while Jenn walked Jodi
through the steps of fondling me through my clothes, undressing me and
undressing herself. I think a guy would have paid more attention to my
tits. I didn’t feel aroused. I didn’t feel anything except a warm flush
of embarrassment and confusion.
I knew Jodi was wearing a dildo, that was pretty obvious. But I
was still a little startled when Jodi pushed down her boxer shorts and
it popped into view. It looked big and very strange, held onto her
womanly hips with various straps. She guided me down on my back on the
living room couch, but the spell was broken when she climbed on top, her
erect nipples poking through her shirt. I started shaking my head.
“I can’t do this,” I said, crossing my arms across my breasts
and looking away.
Jodi and Jenn looked concerned, but I closed my legs. There was
something too weird about feeling a cock push against my pussy while
looking up into my best friend’s face.
Then Jenn suggested doggie style, and that’s what we finally
did. I knelt on the floor, my forearms flat on the white berber, while
Jodi slowly entered me from behind and began thrusting. I didn’t have to
look her in the face. Her hands held my hips for leverage and her hips
slapped against my ass. But they could have been anybody’s hands and
anybody’s hips. The overwhelming sensation was that big fake cock
sliding in and out, in and out. It was definitely the biggest thing I’d
ever had inside me. At first my pussy really had to stretch to let it
in. It made a warm spot, down low in my belly. And I got an occasional
zing as my nipples rubbed on the rough carpet.
Jenn coached me into a steadily rising series of grunts and
moans. That was easy enough. I did the same thing for Jeremy Elder. He
may have been the cutest boy in school, but he didn’t know a thing about
making a girl feel good ... or didn’t care. In the end, Jodi and I both
faked noisy climaxes and she pulled out. Without looking at her, I got
up and went to the bathroom for my robe. At least there wasn’t a lot of
goo running down my legs.
Jennifer was enthusiastic, giving tips and praising us for our
“performance,” but I couldn’t look at Jodi for a long time.
When we were alone, Jodi asked if she had hurt me. I told her,
no, it hadn’t hurt.
“Are you going to be able to do this?” she asked.
I looked at her coldly.
“Like you care,” I said. And I went into the bedroom, closing
the door, my face hot with embarrassment. I was confused, even more so
since the dildo had begun to feel good stretching me open and sliding
inside, stroke after stroke. I laid on my bed for an hour, trying
without success to sort things out. My pussy was a little sore.
Finally I concluded that being mean to Jodi would do nothing but
alienate my best friend. She believed we could put on a convincing act
and make good money. We needed to survive, and I felt I owed it to her
to try. I went into the living room and apologized to a much-relieved
Jodi and we fixed dinner. The next morning we did another walk-through,
then another that afternoon. It did seem to get easier and Jenn was very
pleased.
“I know this still feels strange,” she said, giving me a hug.
“But you guys look VERY hot together. The clients are going to LOVE you!
In fact, I’ve got a job lined up tonight if you want it.”
I could tell Jodi was eager to get started, so I agreed even
though I felt far from ready. That night, in costume, we drove to a
neat, middle-sized house in a Las Vegas suburb.
I was surprised when the door was answered by a cheerful little
old man who had to be at least 70. He led us to the living room,
introduced his equally cheerful and elderly wife, and offered us drinks.
We declined.
“Then you can start whenever you’re ready,” he said eagerly. The
old couple were on Jennifer’s list of regulars, so they had already paid
by credit card. I grinned when it occurred to me they could be paying
for our services with Social Security money.
It was easier than I thought. The old couple sat on a couch
facing a large, carpeted space in their living room. Jodi in her preppy
clothes began talking to me, kissing and hugging. I was much better at
faking that part although my lips remained closed to the occasional
touch of Jodi’s tongue. She was getting much better at the foreplay,
taking more time and paying much more attention to my ears, neck,
breasts. She spent a lot of time behind me, reaching around and
stroking my nipples with her fingers, giving an occasional light pinch.
That always drives me nuts!
When she got our clothes off, Jodi kissed me again, alternately
holding my head in her hands pressing hard, then pulling my hips against
hers with both hands on my butt. I felt dizzy and I was dripping sweat.
After that it went just like we practiced -- the big, rubber phallus
sliding and sliding, deep in me. I really got into the moaning and
panting at the end, and Jodi sounded like she was exploding. I collapsed
forward with the dildo still inside and she rode me down. I felt her
hard nipples brushing my sweaty back.
When I glanced at the old couple, they had their arms around
each other, kissing excitedly. It was kind of cute. They tipped us $300
and said they’d ask for us again. Jodi was flushed and excited on the
way home, pleased with our earnings. We did two more shows that week,
one for a middle-aged couple who did everything we did, and one for a
single guy in his 30s. He sat there naked, masturbating and moaning so
loud I thought he was dying.
After three shows we were rolling in cash. A triumphant Jodi
dragged me out for a fancy dinner at the DI. SHE had no doubts. Then a
couple of days later Jennifer knocked on our door, more excited than
I’ve ever seen her.
A high-roller was in town, she told us excitedly. He wanted a
special show and she was putting it together. Things were going so well
that Jodi agreed without asking anything about the show but where and
when. Late that night we were ushered into the entry hall of what had to
be the biggest suite in Vegas.
I wasn’t surprised to see two other couples waiting, both
girl-girl pairs dressed boy-girl. Jenn had told us there would be a
crowd, and Jodi and I were dressed boy-girl as well. The marble-floored,
gilt-mirrored entryway made me nervous. The ceiling seemed a mile high.
“How is this going to work? Is it going to be all of us at
once?” I whispered to Jodi. She shrugged, but I could tell she felt
nervous, too. Finally Jenn bustled in, looking flustered for the first
time since I’d known her.
“Okay girls, here’s how it’s going to work,” she said. “You’ll
all go in at the same time, introduce yourselves, then Mr. Karasatos
will tell you what he wants.”
“Aren’t you going to be there,” I said shakily.
“No, I’ll be waiting outside,” she smiled apologetically, “but
here’s the good news.”
She handed us each an envelope. Opening mine I found 10 $100
bills.
“That’s just for showing up!” Jenn said excitedly, and I noticed
she was holding an envelope, too. She had us put our envelopes in our
purses and leave them on a beautiful gilded side table. “Now get in
there and knock their socks off!”
Continued in Part 2
----------
WARNING -- This is a work of erotic fiction intended only for readers of
a legally responsible age in the jurisdiction where they livee. This
work may be archived and redistributed, but it may not be sold or
changed in any way. I encourage comments and criticism to
OKIquit@hotmail.com -- Chaz
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.
--
If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments
are their only payment. Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is
copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@asstr.org> | <story-admin@asstr.org> |
| ASSM Archive site +-----------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
| <http://assm.asstr.org/>---<http://assm.asstr.org/erotica/assm/faq.html> |
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| This newsgroup is moderated by ASSTR, an entity supported by donations. |
| If you enjoy this newsgroup, please consider making a donation to help |
| Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository keep providing this free service for you.|
| </> Donations: </donations.html> |
\_________________________________________________________________________/