“Mitzi” hobbled off the stage, no richer than when she’d walked onto it. I knew she made most of her wad giving incredibly overpriced handies in VIP; her technique wasn’t bad. I preferred her oral.

With Jennifer out of view, Lizard Brain got a lot louder, demanding answers as to what the fuck I was doing, screaming about stripperitis and going on and on about risk reward ratio. Shut the fuck up, I told it, but as usual it didn’t listen. Lizard Brain had kept me alive in bad spots more than once, and I had great respect for its astute observations. But it had been an awfully long time since I’d run across a girl that really caught my eye, and none of them held a candle to this one.

You’re fifty-three goddamn years old, Lizard Brain whispered. That’s a lot of years between you and some freshly legal teenager, and you think she knows something because she played two fucking songs from your generation. You’re an idiot, the voice sighed.

I had to agree, but then I was sitting on the edge of the cushion, tapping my foot. I knew there’d be one more dancer before her set, but I was hot to see what would be the next outfit and song this girl would choose. At first I considered being at the foot of the stage when she went on, but the girl had said not to move, and I’m nothing if not obedient to young girls. To distract myself, I allowed some to come purchase some of my drugs, their pretty little smiles and money that smelled of schmoe easing my anxiety. As a bit of amusement I wrote a note to Fuckin’ Todd reading “the rest in two hours or I make a call,” gave it to Lisa, and watched the scurry of activity that followed as I waited for my muse to reappear on stage.

“Chantel” eased out to the men waiting for her, pink neon bikini burning bright on her dark skin Kendrick flowing like the cellulite in her thighs. She parked her dumptruck ass on a schmoe’s face and danced and twitched, not bothering to conceal her boredom anymore, despite making enough with this dance to buy the week’s groceries for her large family. I thought about a little more best friend, but decided against it. Instead, I resolved: no more toot until I watched Jennifer to do some; that would help me work on her that much harder. And you’ll think clearer, yelled Lizard Brain, to which I repeated my entreaty for Lizard Brain to kindly shut the fuck up. Her second song underway, “Chantel” lost the bikini top and waggled her saggy tits as I plotted.

“Thank you Chantellllll,” Fuckin’ Todd yelled too loud into the mic. “Fellas she’ll be out among you soooooooon enough, giving twenty dollar tableside danceeeeeees.” Every single time, Todd, you gotta say that? We know. “And now, for the second time on our staaaaage, and the second dance set of her young liiiiife,” I could practically hear drool falling onto the microphone. “Join meeeee in welcoming to the Club Naw-Tee main stage, Candyyyyyy,” he breathed the last out in a sotto voce whisper, coming out like a parody. But Fuckin’ Todd was forgotten as Eddie Van Halen’s guitar intro to Hot For Teacher ripped out of the speakers.

No nervousness now, Jennifer strutted right to the front of the stage. Her hair was covered in a wig, a tiny raven beehive thing done up tight. On a little white collar sat a black bowtie, her impossibly deep decolletage framed in lacy black next to striking white. The poofy shoulders led to long sleeves, and a tight black corset sat below breasts in a too-small bra, causing lovely titflesh to bulge out at the viewer in a permanent “lunch is served” position. The loose little skirt did not hide the panties underneath at all, the thin black fringe teasing the eye with flashes of what it covered. Dark black stockings came up very high, showing mere inches of tasty-looking pale bare thigh before dropping to white strappy heels. I noted the heels weren’t especially high, and realized that made sense: big girl likes to move, unpracticed in stilettos. I didn’t mind a goddamn bit, as she rolled her head and hips around to eighties metal goodness. Dave moaned about having it bad as the gorgeous teen, now with eager fans who’d seen her first set, flaunted her generous assets.

Unlike earlier, this time Jennifer was nearly mobbed by schmoes. Not so bad as Meat’d intervene, but now clearly I was not alone in my assessment regarding divinity. And, already comfortable thanks to the dough I’d shoved at her, she was willing to take the boys’ money at a slower pace without the grabbiness. Smart girl. Also willing, apparently, to increase how much skin-on-skin contact she would provide: I watched her take a loser’s hand and make him smack her ass with that thousand-watt smile just a’gleamin’, only to get wider as the guy proceeded to give her a few healthy squeezes. Then she pranced on to the next moron, eager to see how much she could wheedle out of ‘em. Or so I imagined, forebrain waxing poetic about this perfectly lovely sentient creature and her possible motivations as Lizard Brain relaxed into imagining what her orgasms tasted like.

Her second track kept up the metal theme with the Datsuns’ MF From Hell, a high energy raveup. Tossing away the wig, her hair flew free as she ripped at her clothing, throwing it at a pile as her skin was released to us perverts’ gaze, jerking and kicking in fake anger. Like a lot of newbies she danced with a lot more animation than necessary, a method that tended to feel too draining to keep up for long. But it was fun as hell to watch, and she was undoubtedly having a really good time as she rapidly got naked.

Fully nude save for bright white mesh underpants, Jennifer dropped to her knees and looked over at me. Pinching her nipples, she lifted her heavy tits a couple inches in the air. I wished I had a camera, or rather I wished Meat didn’t reflexively beat the shit out of anybody holding up their phone for a picture. I told myself I would get one later, as the half-smirk on your face told me that was a possibility, or at least I told myself that.

She proceeded to roll around the stage, letting losers fondle her flesh as they wished, feigning (was she?) a look of deep pleasure, reveling in sensuality. Her head dropped back as she picked up her tits and squeezed hard, shaking them in her hands to the delight of the growing crowd of duds in front of her. She rolled onto her back, which I would not have advised her to do naked on that particular sorry excuse for a stage. With one hand grasping a tit the other was on her pussy, pressing firmly and in a strong circle, grinding her hips in little jerks, her eyes shut hard. As the Datsuns wrapped up bitching about the girl that made them feel bad but made ‘em feel alright, she stood up – she moved so quick for a girl of her size, Lizard Brain marveled again – facing away from the audience, and jerked the mesh material into her asscrack, jiggling what her momma gave her. Men began to clap as her cheeks clapped along with them; at the last chord she blew her fans a kiss and skipped happily out the stage door. Nice set. Very nice set, in every sense.

Lisa was standing nearby as I looked around the room, conscious that I was awake and on Earth. “Another?” she demanded curtly. She and that cunt behind the bar knew three was how many I was gonna want without asking, but to not waste another before confirmation.

I shook my head. “Dr. Pepper,” I said instead. “Shot of vanilla.” Lisa rolled her eyes; this was another contrivance I’d demanded they stock. Fucking with Cassandra, one of life’s little joys. “And hey,” I said softly as she began to stalk away. The waitress stopped, and looked at me funny. It was the look of a young woman who’d traded her tight, bony asshole a week ago for a gram of yayo, and had regrets. Granted it was really good yayo, but that’s not the point.

“Why does Cassandra hate me so?” I asked, sugar dripping from every word. “What’d I do to her, hmm?”

“You’re a scumbag,” Lisa whispered bitterly, and she left. Oh well, maybe she didn’t want a repeat after all. That’s okay. Fucking her had been goddamn uncomfortable; I’d had to push her off me and jerk off on her ass while she muttered that at least I wasn’t my business partner De’von, and I had been forced to agree. De’von was fucking massive.

Despite (or because of?) Lisa’s opinion of me, a few other schmoes stopped by to reduce my stock and embiggen my wad. Anorexic “Jamie” dropped by with a dirty envelope with three grand in it, and whispered shaky promises that she could be my sexy little porno whore if only Fuckin’ Todd could be back in my good graces. Again with the fear of Fuckin’ Todd; shit was starting to piss me off. I growled that she needed to stop hanging around with Fuckin’ Todd, and go eat a goddamn steak. Though I apologized quickly to the frightened woman, I did insist she get a meal as I peeled off a hundred for her. She nodded gratefully and stumbled away. As the too-loud bass thumped away, I knew that money was a lot more likely to go to adderall than food. As she left she passed Jennifer, and I took in the sight before me, my brain working kinda slow for some reason.

It was the same sort of body suit Cassandra at the bar wore, even in the same electric blue. But where the older woman’s toned body made the material look hard and forbidding, Jennifer’s soft, pliant flesh pressed against the dress begging to be groped. As with the bra she’d worn on stage earlier, her mammoth jugs bulged around the top, below a black choker adorned with a little skull and crossbones. The dress she’d worn of a similar material for her first dance ended in an open skirt, but this was a bodysuit with a zipper running from her melons – watermelons – to just below the slight bulge of her tummy. A snap connected the leggings to the top, matched by similar sleeves above. But on her feet were a pair of old black paratrooper’s boots, with the zipper up the side. They looked comfortable on her, maybe a little imposing, but not completely out of place.

She looked back at “Jamie.” “I guess you like ‘em every size, doncha?” She plopped down with a grin, dropping her clutch on the table.

“Not a bit,” I shook my head. “She was just dropping something off. Needs a meal.”

“Fuck yeah she does,” the sweet daydream in front of me agreed, unlacing her boots.

“You have great taste in music,” I got Lisa’s attention, who had my soda in her hand but turned around to get my companion’s beverage at my signal. “And I gotta say doll, these outfits you got for your first night, you fuckin’ put ‘em together really well.”

She glowed at the compliment, then held up a boot. “I’ve owned these forever. I can wear these anywhere and feel good. Figured if I need to kick ass on the floor, these’re what I needed, and they kinda work with this, right?” She twisted a little, modeling the bodysuit. I gave a hearty little golf clap, and she resumed ripping off her other boot.

“Those sexy clothes can’t have been cheap,” I said, my tone conversational. “Kicked out of the house, new in town, bunch of new clothes? Were you loaded to start with, or did you earn cash some other –”

“Hey,” she interjected. “You quit insinuating I’d trade sex, or feels, or beejays,” – beejays? Who says that? – “for anything. I wouldn’t do that,” she wagged her finger at me, and waited for me to acknowledge.

I paused; I wanted her to be free to believe any damn lie about herself she wanted, as long as the night ended with her coming on my cock. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I forget that women who wouldn’t do that, do in fact exist, and that’s entirely my fault. My sincerest apologies.”

She looked serious for a half moment longer only, then slid off her boot and leaned back, waggling a long, thick, sexy leg, ending in a foot encased in a rainbow sock, before my face. “You’re forgiven, I guess,” she said sassily. “You’re old, weird and funny lookin’, but you’re rich.”

“The mouth on this girl!” I exclaimed, before catching her foot in my hand quickly. That mouth opened in surprise. “Jennifer, my dear, may I suck on one of your toes, now? Please? It’s right here,” I pleaded gently. “I’ll stop whenever you say.”

She breathed in, that lovely chest rising. “Okay,” she breathed out gently, and closed her eyes.

I slid her sock off and, tossing it at her playfully as I generously moistened my lips, slid her great toe into my mouth. I’ve always thought this was the closest a woman would ever really understand what getting a dick sucked feels like, and I tried to replicate it on her toe. Only difference is I doubt any man’d want the teeth scrapes I included, the toe being more able to handle such things, and done correctly, teeth can feel quite nice. I did it correctly. Her eyes squeezed shut harder as she squirmed deliciously.

Sixteen seconds. “Enough,” she gasped, eyes flying open, and I released her. Lisa put our beverages down with a look of utter disgust before stalking away.

Jennifer pulled her foot back slowly, readjusting her frame the likes my booth had never seen, eyeing me strangely. Then she shook it off. “What were we talking about, music!” She plopped her boots on my table. This pissed me a bit the fuck off, but I cut her slack and said nothing. “Mommy was a college deejay, U of Nebraska. Absolute music freak. Insisted I listen to all this crazy shit, from like, the Sonics” –

“Fuck yeah, the Sonics, cheers,” I saluted.

“Yeahhhh, the Sonics. It’s crazy how they sound so fuckin’ timeless!” We proceeded to gush about music for several minutes, and it turned out her Mommy and I liked a lot of the same shit. Though she bemoaned her peers' lack of understanding of what constituted decent rock and roll, she was happy to enjoy genres as diverse as metal and dance. If Mommy looked anything like her sweet young baby just turned eighteen, well then goddamn. I heard they had ‘em young out there anyway. But I pushed such lovely dreams away, focusing on my goal of seeing sweet, kinda-smart-kinda-naive, sexy as goddamn hell Jennifer agree to meet this other girl I knew. I decided the best route was to steer the topic back toward green, the smokeable kind as well as the folding.

I could see that after three (that I knew of) sea breezes, Jennifer was feeling them a little. Not drunk, mind you, but the signs of a pleasant buzz definitely showed through. Though she may have smoked dope but the once, who knew how often she might’ve raided Daddy’s liquor, sneaking out to the woods for a sneaky midnight tryst with Jaybird Feelmeup. One more drink was probably enough. Although, should she express desire to plow ahead, she was a grownup with agency, and I wasn’t gonna cut her off. Cassandra might. But we were far from that point.

“Let’s go back to my other question,” waving to Lisa again. “These clothes, they look fabulous on you, but I’m pretty sure you didn’t sew that yourself. What’d you do, steal your college fund?”

She went a little pale. “Yeah, actually,” she said quietly.

“Wait, what? Okay, story time, spill it.” I leaned forward, my elbows on the table as I watched her face try to decide what to tell me. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t heard, I dunno, a gazillion of these stories before.

“Okay.” She took a breath. “So I have two older brothers, right? My family wasn’t, like, super rich or anything, but they went to college. And Dad bought ‘em new cars for graduation,” she sniffed a little. Oh, the sadness of a last in line child, doomed to not get the car they dreamed of. So very, very sad.

She gulped. I did her the respect of not watching the effect her gulp had on her breasts as she explained. “My parents had always told me, no matter what, I had a college fund. But Daddy, he would always make little comments, like ‘with tits like that beautiful you should concentrate on snagging a rich husband.’”

Now that was gross. Chicks can do whatever the fuck they want, no matter what they look like. If they can do the job then fuckin’ let ‘em do the job. Despite no kids of my own, I had no problem hating on fathers who said shit like that to their daughters. I was about to like whatever she ended up doing to the guy. Wait, I thought, “Did he ever…”

No naivete now. “No, never,” she shut that idea down. “He just figured that, even though I was doing pretty okay in school, it didn’t matter whether I went to StanDukeHarvarFord or where the fuck ever.” She was animated again, and it was mesmerizing to watch her hands waving in the air, her graceful movements making me think angels did exist. Stupid, stupid, stupid chanted Lizard Brain. “Sooooo… he thought it would be a good idea to, uh, make a few ‘withdrawals’ from my college fund over the years.” She was looking at her drink, stirring it with one finger absently. “Ask me what he spent it on.”

I already knew: Christian dad, father of three, compliments his daughter’s breasts. “What did he spend it on.”

“A fucking prostitute!” She slammed her hand down on the table, making her boots jump a little. She said it loud enough so a few people including Meat looked over at us with mild concern – especially at that last word – but she didn’t notice and I ignored them.

“There was, before he got his dick wet, twenty – thousand – dollars in that account,” she slammed her hand on the table again for emphasis. “Guess how much there was when I transferred it to me? Guess!” She was yelling now, and I waved her down a bit. She took a breath, picked up her drink and took a large swallow, before breathing deeply again (hello again, boobs) and sighing, “Guess.”

“Forty cents.”

“Five large, five fucking thousand dollars,” she whispered. “You have no idea how mad I was.” It was funny how she thought of a thousand as ‘large.’

“I think I have a little idea, yeah,” I tried to be disarming. It might’ve worked, as she smiled a little.

“Well I was fucking mad, I tell ya. And Momma, well, she just has nothing, y’know? She got pregnant in high school – “ because of course she did, but don’t think on that now, focus – “and is just completely under Daddy’s thumb. She’d never leave him, prostitutes or whatever. I’m sure that’s not the only side piece he’s got,” she said bitterly, before shaking her head. “So anyway, after emailing the deets to his pastor,” I gave a golf clap, she bowed, “I made a couple calls. I talked to Mona, I talked to Rico, I talked to Jerry –”

“Jerry?”

“My cousin. Lives here, your big city town of San Garibaldi. Jewel of the coast, they say,” she said with that bitter note again. “Anyway Jerry’s been after me since, like, I was fourteen and he was, uhm, nineteen?”

“Your cousin was after you? That common out there in bumfuck Egypt?”

She laughed, a sharp “Ha! Yeah, pretty much, yeah. He saw these things,” she bounced a little, and grinned as it had the desired effect on her breasts, “And was like, I needs me sumothat,” she giggled, before thrusting her chest out at me and batting her eyes. I’m biting my lip before I know it, and she giggled again. She knew exactly how her bulging boobies looked as she laughed, too, and that knowledge jerked me in a whole ‘nother direction. But that was just fine too.

“Anyway I just pitched Jerry on the whole, y’know, atheist girl in trouble thing. And that I’d be all alone, with nowhere to go, in the big, big city,” she oozed, leaning forward a little. There was this little twist to her lips every once in a while, combined with these flashing eyes she’d pull on you from behind the lenses. I couldn’t tell if it was something she’d practiced, or just some involuntary, man-destroying sigil sucking my soul. “And then I was here, fuck you Greyhound,” she gave the double whammy to the air. “And I came to see Rico, and, well…”

I blinked, then remembered, oh yeah. Kinda smart. “You told him how much money you had left.”

She nodded glumly. “I knew it was wrong like right after I said it. But he didn’t take any of it, he just said that if I was smart, I’d invest it in myself. He kept using that phrase. ‘Invest in yourself’.” I’d heard that from his employees before, it was a frequent saying he used to get women to spend way too much money at his brother’s filthy store, conveniently adjacent and connected within to, you guessed it, this shithole. “So yeah, until you walked into my life tonight, I was flat broke, and gonna have to earn my supper tomorrow by shakin’ it tonight. At least the pressure’s off a little now. And you gotta admit,” she beamed, “I do look really, really good.” She smiled warmly, and turned a little to model her lovely profile in a slightly different way. I was all about it.

“You do indeed. I’m glad to tell you so. Tell me your two-months-rent-or-whatever isn’t still in that little clutch right there.”

“Nope,” she grinned as she continued to preen. “Dumb, not that dumb.”

I smiled and pulled out the joint in a pill bottle I’d stuck in my pocket before riding over here. I always smoked a joint while celebrating a successful night of sales at this place; Rico and Meat hated it, saying it gave the schmoes the idea they could smoke too. I countered with the incredibly strong argument of, I don’t give a fuck, and I won. Didn’t fuck with caviar; why distort the sweet taste of good marijuana with the acrid smell of burnt powder? Besides, I wanted this girl to agree to a sniff of my sweets, and know mostly what she was getting into.

She smiled at seeing the fat joint. “I was wondering if I’d see pot. I heard a rumor there was a guy who got away with smoking pot in the back. Now I know,” she nodded, accepting the lit joint from me. She leaned back and inhaled, filling her ample chest with smoke. I could tell she wanted to try holding it in a little, but she sputtered it out, laughing that she just couldn’t hold it.

We had Meat’s attention now, which I wasn’t super fond of, but my attention was in one place alone as Jennifer and I consumed her second joint ever. The slur of the sea breezes was amplified a little by the heady sativa. I didn’t deal herb; stoners I found to be a lot more hassle than they were ever worth. Trees were always my first true love, til I met another white girl. Still, I love just about all the party favors I’ve tried so far ‘cept a spike, so I kept the number of a guy who with a few hours notice could get me anything my horrid little soul desired, and frequently did, as I liked buying in bulk.

Soon the roach sat mostly finished and burning out in the simple glass ashtray I kept around for such things, as we talked about the various attractions of this, her new hometown of San Garibaldi. She’d already seen the bay boardwalk, unimpressed. I agreed, since they never did figure out a way to deal with the smell. Various wine bars, vinyl record hutches and sushi shacks were mentioned, as I felt out her interests in such things, usually positive. But the moment of truth was ready, and I was fucking horny.

“Alright sugartits,” I took a mock serious tone, and she smiled as I started pulling money from my satchel. I definitely had Meat’s attention now. Then I pulled out my wallet and dumped the contents on the table, giving her a giggling fit that made her breasts wiggle oh so magically once more. I counted it, carefully, then piled it in front of her.

“That, pretty girl, is nine thousand six hundred and forty three dollars.” She said nothing, just kept smiling and giggling to herself intermittently. “Yours for three conditions.”

“Name them.” She picked up her drink and sipped at it, holding it before her lips like it’d keep her from saying something she didn’t mean.

“One. Lap dance for me, two songs at least, or however long you want it to be. You get naked, you tell me a fantasy, you talk dirty.”

She stared. “That’s like, a whole bunch of conditions wrapped up inside one condition,” she accused.

I shrugged. “Subclauses. One condition.”

“Alright, let’s say I agree to that, I was gonna be grinding on somebody tonight anyway.” She took another big gulp of her fifth sea breeze. Now she was definitely at the Kinda Drunk portion of our evening. “And I may not be super experienced at a few things but… I’m, uh, well read. Okay. Dirty talk, got it,” she tittered. There was that blush again. I wondered what she meant, but no time for that now, not when I was so close. “Second?”

“Second: I snort some of my cocaine off of your glorious tits.” True goal number one. Not that getting a lap dance from the most voluptuous girl I’d ever met wasn’t a worthy goal, but let’s get real here: I wanted to roll in the snow with this girl until our brains froze.

“No subclauses, just, coke on my tits?” I nodded, trying not to look like a kid asking Santa for heroin. “... ‘Kay. I don’t exactly get that, but I have heard of it. Read about it,” she corrected herself. So the girl had read with interest about the devil’s dandruff. I was feeling better about my final request. “Last?” I thought it mildly amusing that we both knew what I was going to say, but she was pretending not to.

“Last… You try two short little lines of my cocaine. One for each nostril.”

She nodded. I knew she knew, she knew I knew, I knew she knew I knew, but did she know… Stupid stupid stupid, whispered Lizard Brain.

There was silence for a little bit. I let it hang there, let her think about it. “Questions,” she said finally, tapping her fingers on the table in a weird little pattern. “Is trying this stuff dangerous? Like, are there stories of people dying from trying this for the first time?”

“No,” I shook my head. A lie.

“Are you gonna turn around and make me pay, if I decide I want some more tonight? Sneaky way of getting all your money back?”

“A valid question,” I conceded. “No.” Truth.

“But you would if I wanted some in the future.”

“Maybe,” I demurred, “That would depend on a lot of things. Our level of friendship being only one of them.”

“I think we’re friends now, after all you know my real name,” Jennifer said, only a little seductively. “Okay. And what about addiction, I know you said you take steps, but that Mitzi,” she paused.

“‘Mitzi’ is an idiot,” I offered gently. “I let ‘Mitzi’ get maybe a little more strung out than I meant to, and I’m sorry.” Lie. “But frankly, ‘Mitzi’ is nothing special. She is, as I said, an idiot, not really going anywhere, not really unlike any of the other flatchested bimbos Rico finds for this hole.” Truth. “But regardless of our level of friendship, or anything else, I would absolutely take care to not let that happen to you.” I had told this lie so many times, it was like repeating a song lyric.

Her brow furrowed again, she was really giving this deep thought. I hoped she didn’t hurt herself. “Where do you get it from, though? I heard your shit is like, really really pure. And that’s supposed to be good, right?”

Oh my sweet summer child. “Right,” I nodded faux-sagely. “Pure is better. As to where I get it,” and here I put my finger in her face, to ensure I had her full attention. “That, my lovely girl, is nobody’s, fuckin’, business, at all.” I brought my hand down to the table in a fist, but softly, next to her hand. “Don’t ask that question again, I’ll give your sexy Nebraskan ass that freebie this time. But me and my associates tend to react… Negatively. To inquiries.” Images of one of Meat’s brains splattered over Rico’s desk popped into my head unbidden, De’von yelling that Rico’d brought this on himself, that he thought Rico was smarter than that but instead just a stupid punk, Rico begging for his life as I held the revolver in his ear. I blinked fast, drove the images away, and concentrated once more on the vision of fleshy loveliness before me and not on the occasional ugliness of my trade.

“Whoa, big downer,” she agreed. “Sorry I asked. Really.”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “Like I said, react negatively. Seriously though, you see what a good time “Taylor”’s having over there?” I pointed at the VIP section, and Jennifer turned to look: “Taylor,” a platinum, underweight blonde who mistakenly thought she bore a resemblance to Ms. Swift, was rubbing her pancake tits all over the face of a fat schmoe who was moaning loud, audible from here over the music. The hand I could see was squeezing the girl’s skinny thighs like he was milking them; the other was obviously buried in the girl's cunt, jackhammering like a retard.

Despite the rough treatment from a stranger, “Taylor” had a sated, satisfied look on her face as the pig licked and mewled into her puppydogmama nipples, and I knew the glaze in her eyes was from the candy I’d sold her an hour ago. “She gets a little bit from me on Friday nights like this one, and she’s happy to get a little felt up by a guy she doesn’t know.” My voice dropped to the low, gentle register I liked using with chicks. It worked. “She toots a little toot, then scoots to the schmoes and lets them touch her,” I stroked Jennifer’s hand just a little, and she tried to disguise her jumpiness but failed. “Ask her, she’ll tell you… It’s a great time, the way we do it.” I was including my sexy new friend in that ‘we,’ ready to bring her deeper into my debauched, fucked-up world.

“They did say it’s a great time,” she said absently. So the bit earlier, about the backstage girls not saying why they liked me, that was a lie. Noted. “She is, uh, letting him go to town, isn’t she? And she does look like she’s having a good time. That’s … kinda hot, actually.” She looked back at me, and shivered and blushed again. I’m fucking done.

“So what do you say, baby?” I whispered, subtly pushing the pile of money at her. “Let’s have a little fun.”

I don’t know how long the next moment really lasted. It might’ve been ten thousand years, because in that moment I would’ve waited that long. Forebrain started yelling how that didn’t make any sense with the way time worked, but the moment didn’t last forever, and she finally nodded quickly.

“Okay. Okay! Okay, fine,” she started picking up money and stuffing it in the clutch. It took a minute. Meat was staring at us wondering what the hell; I telepathically told them to fuck the hell off, and made a few angry faces at ‘em, but no joy. I definitely noted other dancers staring at the newbie with open hatred and jealousy; they’d never seen me lay down that much cash at once. Not in the open, anyway. Maybe that one time in fourteen, when we had the orgy. I can’t remember how much that cost. Anyway.

“Me first,” I said, because I’m like that.

“Nope, uh-uh. I’m getting on this train first, pal.” She was nodding at me, licking her lips, fully committed now. Okay. We’re doing this. Fabulous, screamed my entire brain in unison. The bottle was in my hand again, and I laid out a couple small lines on my table for the busty girl as she grinned at me. Maybe this was always the plan, and the resistance was just a bluff. Didn’t give a fuck as I handed her a little cut straw – I kept a supply handy, I’m civilized – and she tilted her head a little. “Just, suck it up?” She pursed her lips again, flashing those big brown eyes and inscribing her name on the deed to my being.

“Yeah. Real quick,” I said fast. My resolution to wait for my own treats until she had hers, was wavering. But I didn’t have to wait for her: quickly she bent, and snorted the first rail in a quick jolt. Then she was up, moaning “Ahhh, ahhhh, ahh it burns,” as she pinched her nose. She was a trooper, though. Quickly she was back at it, horking up the next line into the opposite nostril and then repeating the performance. But she was smiling again as her pulse sped up. This time it wasn’t the million-dollar, the forty-watt, the thanks-for-the-money, or even the “Taylor”’s-getting-fingerbanged-and-that’s-hot. This, this was an everything-is-okay-with-the-world-and-I-feel-amazing... And it was pretty to watch, yet I had a goal. But then.

She leaned back. “So I heard,” she purred, “that this stuff feels really good… on the nipples.” And she eased a strap off her shoulder, freeing one of her perfectly mega gazooms to the air. She stuck out her tongue, licked it seductively looking me in the eye, then used it to scrape up a little of the dust left on the table. Then, way too fucking slowly but that’s ok, she brought her hand to her hardening nipple, and rubbed the spittle-yayo mixture in, eyes narrowing in pleasure. “Ooooh,” she moaned softly, “That’s interesting. That’s, yeah that’s very nice,” she spread her legs a little, then closed them tight again. It was hot. “What were you saying about the other condition besides the dance?” She was definitely feeling it now, her entire demeanor changing to the lovely feel of being hot young girl fucked up on the sexiest drug known to man.

My prayers to Eris, Aphrodite, Kali, Dionysis in drag, and all the other sexy gods raced out of me in a rush, as I eagerly moved to tap a little powder onto the generous tit pulled out before me. She giggled but tried to hold still as I carded it into something resembling a line, before putting nose right on boob and huffing it right into my bloodstream. Then I’m licking and sucking at her exposed flesh, and she’s giggling harder about how she knew that was next, but not pushing me away at all, instead holding my hair in a vice grip as her now rock-hard nipple floats around my tongue, not-so-soft moans escaping her lips. Then she’s releasing me, pushing my head away.

“Stop it, that wasn’t a condition,” she chided. I bowed my head and begged her forgiveness, which she ignored. I lay back and pushed the table out of the way, her boots falling on their side as I got comfortable for my dance. She watched me, the coke wiring our systems together in that fucked-up state of ethereal sexuality nothing else can produce. “Yeah, I like it,” she said finally, watching me adjust my hard cock in my jeans and laughing. “Thank you,” she said, “for reminding me that hard cock is why I’m here.” And she burst into giggle-snorts, her body shaking so nicely as the weird humor struck her.

But she’s getting up, and she leans over, putting a hand on my chest. “What were these sub-conditions, again, daddy?”

I frowned and my jaw did that jutting to the left it does when I’m annoyed. “Don’t,” I said curtly.

“What, dad– oh, oh yeah. No problem, sir,” she oozed back into sexy. She was doing that thing of leaning a little bit to let gravity accentuate the utter massiveness of her rack. “Mister,” she whispered, “what were the sub-conditions you had for me?” She started to gently sway in front of me. Her vanilla perfume was not as strong now, between the smell of weed, coke, and “Taylor”’s smelly pussy in VIP. Still it was pleasant, and a nice little reminder that this “vanilla” girl was about to have a “rocky road.” Stupid stupid stupid, muttered exasperated Lizard Brain.

“Subclauses,” I croaked. She grinned, but indicated for me to explain, rolling her sexy hips, hands on her flanks. “Tell me a fantasy. And, uh… talk dirty.” Another huge kink of mine. Only a couple of the lovely ladies of Club Naw-Tee had bothered to learn they could get my nut just by whispering slutty stories in my ear, and even then they rarely took advantage, since it drove me a little wild, and I had no desire to damage their poor, malnourished bodies.

“Tell you a fantasy,” she moaned no louder than a whisper. “And talk dirty. What a fucking pervert you are,” she continued, slowly stroking her hands up and down the latex of the bodysuit, pointing out every sexy little curve.

“It is known,” I agreed as she turned slowly, pushing cake in my face, pushing, rubbing, pushing, until I’m sure it’s her asshole against my nose through the material, her amazing cheeks pressing against mine and almost but not quite making it tough to breathe. “I’m, I’m sorry I didn’t ask before,” I stammered. “I’m sorry I licked your breast, without asking permission.”

“What?” She rose and turned to look at me, confused. “Oh no, baby,” she purred, “I mean, mister..” she put her hand in my hair again. “You can do that, if you want. You can kiss… bite… lick… taste… me. Anywhere,” she added almost imperceptibly. Teasing minx knew her job, for fucking sure. Can a dick pop from being too hard? I don’t think so, but I thought I might be finding out soon.

“This is song number one, Mister.” And she started to dance.

Chapter 3 very soon!