Home                                                             Sitemap                                                      Contact Us



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter Twenty

            Dexter was consumed with guilt, so much so that he could barely look at Rosarita. He was sitting at the table, pushing his fork around his plate without eating anything.

            'What's the matter with you?' Rosarita finally said, irritated by his lackluster attitude. 'Yes, dear,' Martha chimed in. 'You're awfully quiet tonight. Birdie got your tongue?'

            'I, uh heard something today,' he said, reluctant to share the news but unable to keep it to himself any longer.

            'What was that, son?' asked Matt, chewing on a piece of steak.

            'There's this rumour going around that they may be canceling my show,' Dexter said glumly.

            'Oh, my God!' Martha exclaimed in horror, her hand rushing to her mouth. 'They can't do that.'

            'They can do whatever they want,' Dexter said, wishing his mother was right for once. 'Who told you?' Rosarita said, not revealing that she'd been hearing the same rumour for the last couple of months.

            'Silver Anderson.'

            'Now there's a fine woman,' Matt interjected, becoming quite starry-eyed. 'Hasn't aged a bit.' 'of course she has,' snapped Martha, uncharacteristically bitchy. 'It's simply that your eyes have faded. You need glasses to see anything.'

            Good for you, Rosarita thought. You actually have a bit of spunk after all.

            'What will you do if the show's cancelled?' Matt asked, ignoring his wife's outburst.

            'There's other opportunities,' Dexter said, moodily shoving his plate away. 'I have an agent. I'll talk to him.' 'don't you think he should've talked to you first?' Rosarita said. 'If there's this rumour, why didn't he tell you?'

            'I'm surprised he didn't, Dexter admitted. 'It's not as if I'm unimportant at the agency. I have a lot of fans, you know. I receive hundreds of letters a week.'

            'I'd love to read them, dear,' Martha said. 'What kind of things do people write?'

            'They tell him all their sex fantasies,' Rosarita teased, a wicked glint in her eyes. Dexter silenced her with a frown, then quickly looked away. Sex was a powerful weapon that women used, and Silver Anderson had used it on him. he couldn't stop thinking about what she'd done to him. God! He was a married man, and marriage was sacred. With all her faults, Rosarita would never dream of screwing around on him, yet he'd allowed himself to be use by Silver, and had done nothing to stop her. It was humiliating and demeaning.

            Not that he'd touched her, but the fact that she'd had his manhood in her mouth was enough to infuse him with overwhelming guilt. And he'd thought she was such a fine lady. That was a joke.

            What would Rosarita say if she ever found out?

            It didn't bear thinking about.

            'When can we see Chas again?' Martha asked. 'I miss his smiling face.'

            I bet you do, Rosarita thought. I bet you'd like to get him in the sack. Only you're a little too old for him, dear. And your boobs drop.

            'We should plan a farewell dinner,' she said, thinking she couldn't wait until they got the hell out to Dodge. 'After all,' she added, smiling sweetly at Martha, 'you'll be leaving soon.'

            Martha nodded sadly. 'I shall miss all the excitement,' she said. 'We're enjoying ourselves so much.'

            'We certainly are,' Matt joined in, chewing on another piece of steak. 'Although I'm not happy with tonight's news.' He gave Dexter a penetrating look. 'What will you do next, son?'

            'I told you,' Dexter said, thinking that as much as he loved his parents, this crisis was nobody's business except his own, 'my agent will have some ideas.'

            'You should get into proper moves, dear,' Martha trilled, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. 'You could be another Harrison Ford. They need a younger Harrison Ford.'

            'I'm sure agent will know what to do,' Dexter assured them, wishing they'd all shut up. It was bad enough that he was about to be out of a job, he didn't need his family butting in.

            After dinner, Matt and Martha settled in the living room to watch Chicago Hope on the big-screen TV. 'It's my favourite programme,' Martha admitted, a box of chocolates by her side. 'Such a guilty pleasure. I wouldn't miss it for the world.'

            'I told Mom I'd buy her a VCR for Christmas,' Dexter remarked, to no one in particular.

            'That's all very well and good,' Martha said, downing two chocolates at once. 'The trouble is I'll never learn how to use it.'

            'Dad'll get it going for you.'

            'She knows I'm good with my hands,' Matt put in, with a lewd wink. 'And so she should, after all these years.'

            Dexter wished his father would stop with the sexual innuendoes, it was unsettling to say the least.

            More important, he didn't know how he was going to face Silver the next day. The show had not been officially cancelled yet, which meant that they'd probably be working together for weeks to come. How was he going to see her every single day? How was he going to live with the fact that he'd been unfaithful to Rosarita? Well.kind of. After all, President Clinton had publicly declared that a blow-job was not actually sex, so maybe things weren't as bad as he thought.

            Perhaps he should tell Rosarita confess.

            No. That would be the worst thing he could do. She'd hold it against him, and then she'd definitely insist on going ahead with a divorce.

            Every night he prayed to God that he'd knocked her up. If only things could stay the way they were until she discovered she was pregnant, he'd be safe.

            As for Silver, he would just have to do his best to avoid her. He had no alternative.


            Varoomba turned up at the Boom Boom Club to collect her things. Chas had told her in no uncertain terms that he did not want her working there any more. And since he was prepared to set her up in an apartment and pay all her bills, he didn't want her working period.

            Varoomba was delighted that she'd finally found a man who was ready to look after her. Sometimes Chas could be a little crass, but the thing she liked about him was that he was older, therefore he wasn't pawing her day and night like some of the younger guys she'd been with. One glimpse of her giant tits and it was usually non-stop action. Chas' action didn't last quite so long, which was a good thing, because Varoomba had experienced enough action to last several lifetimes.

            She wasn't unhappy about leaving the club. There were too many freaks that came to watch her dance. Sometimes it was positively creepy the way they sat there like hypnotized zombies, dull, mesmerized eyes popping out of their sockets as she undulated in front of them. It was okay when it was some poor schmuck who was quietly admiring her body, and bachelor parties were okay too, but all too often there were sick perverts with strange and scary agendas.

            Her boss, Mr Paten-leather Hair as the girls had christened him, was not happy she was quitting. 'You get a better offer?' he growled. 'If it's at another club, I'll top whatever they're giving you.'

            'No,' she said, busily packing up her makeup, wigs and various outfits. 'I've been seeing a gentleman friend who wants to have me all to himself.'

            'That'll last five minutes,' Mr Patent-leather Hair sneered.

            'No it won't,' she said defensively. 'This man is very enamoured.'

            'Enamoured!' Mr Patent-leather Hair bellowed. 'Enamour me, honey.' He coughed loudly, then said, 'I'll give you an extra hundred to go out there and dance tonight,' cause one of your fans has been coming in all week, an' this dude's desperate t' see you shake it.'

            'Who might that be?' she asked, curiously.

            'That Joel guy.'

            'Oh, him,' she said, wrinkling her nose. 'There's something freaky about him.' 'What's your beef?' Patent-leather Hair demanded. 'He's got plenty bucks to stick down your little titties.'

            'Little?' Varoomba shrieked, quite insulted. 'That's the first time I've heard, called little!'

            'I see you're getting' a mouth now you're leaving'.'

            Cramming a long black fall into her wig box, she thought about scoring some quick cash. 'How much did you say you'd pay if I dance for freako tonight?' she asked.

            'An extra hundred.'

            'Not enough,' she said, thinking that the more she managed to stash away the better. 'I gotta get outta here.'

            'Okay - two hundred. That's as high as I'll go, an' you'll score a hefty tip from the schmuck.'

            'Is he here now?'

            'Yeah. Bin asking for you all week.'

            Two hundred cash. When her boobs dropped she'd better be prepared. 'Make it two fifty an' we got a deal,' she said.

            'Jesus!' Mr Patent-leather Hair muttered in disgust. 'You hold yourself in high freaking esteem for a stripper.'

            'I certainly do,' she said, throwing him a haughty glare.

            Mr Patent-leather Hair took off, while Varoomba tried to decide what outfit to dazzle them with for her farewell performance. How about her schoolgirl uniform? It was popular with all the guys. They got off on the crisp white shirt, red tie, blue pleated mini-skirt, proper cotton panties, white ankle socks and saddle shoes.

            She put on the outfit and braided her hair in two cute pigtails. It was a look she should probably do for Chas one night - he'd be in heaven.

            Well, there'd be lots of opportunities to show him plenty since she'd taking all her costumes with her.

            Mr Patent-leather Hair informed her that Joel was delighted to hear she was there, and had requested a private lap dance. She'd worked privately for him before. Last time he'd grabbed her tits, squeezing them so hard her nipples had been bruised for a week. That had cost him an extra hundred.

            As soon as she entered the private cubicle she wagged a warning finger at him. 'No touching tonight,' she admonished. 'House policy.'

            'Show me those big titties and shut the fuck up,' Joel replied, leaning back in his chair ready for a hot, lusty show.

            'No bad language either,' Varoomba said, tugging on one of her pigtails. 'I'm good girl. In fact, I'm a good little Catholic schoolgirl.'

            And then she started to dance.

            She had it down, moving to the music like the seasoned veteran she was, big tits swaying to the beat of Mariah Carey's 'Butterfly.'

            Joel felt cheated because no one was watching except him. Varoomba should be on public display for all to see. How could he get off without an audience

            He wondered how much it would cost to persuade her to come to his office at lunch-time.

            Who cared about money? The question was, would she do it?

            Yeah, she was a hooker. What other kind of girls got into the stripping business? When she was down to her bra and panties, he asked her.

            She swayed closer, shaking her boobs in his face. 'Sorry,' she said, allowing a large, dark nipple to graze his nose. 'I'm leaving the business.'

            'You don't wanna do that,' he said. 'You gotta get into private work, do special performances on your own time. Make some big bucks.' He sat up very straight. 'I'll pay you five hundred cash to come to my office tomorrow lunch-time.'

            'Hmm..' She said, tempted by such a generous offer. 'Maybe I could do it later in the week. I'll let you know.'

            'No sweat,' he said, grabbing her right boob. 'You gimme a call. An', babe, you will not regret it.'


Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62