Chapter 6

My initial reaction to the newly assigned duties was a sense of disappointment because I had imagined being supervisor to a bevy of beautiful broads all begging to receive cock when the curtain went down. In a way, I think it was a stroke of luck that I was put in charge of all the maritime activities associated with the casino.

The casino yacht club’s modus operandi was to man each of the speedboats with a good looking young heartbreaker with absolutely no interest in true romance or the slightest confidence in the belief that love ultimately wins out over lust in the long run every time. In all honesty, I was a firm believer in the staying power of pure self-centered lust after the glow of quivering pussies and stiff dicks faded into the haze of a busy schedule and pressure of earning a few fast bucks in a quickly changing environment.

These friendly females that monitored the excursions and drove the boats mostly moonlighted in the casino at night as hostesses or labored in the basement as money counters or support personnel for the active showgirls if they were not up to snuff for actual front line use in ringing the chimes of paying customers. Most of them had lives of their own that involved other people like ex-spouses or offspring that required their precious free-time hours to stay afloat in a sea of disregard.

Ramon had traded in his drug-snorting bitches for a pair of the boat-girls that clung to him like a taxi magnet to a refrigerator to advertise his heterosexual dependence on twenty-four hour pussy always available and just out of sight. It was definitely a change for the better and I was relieved to see him regain his confidence and relax without constantly looking over his shoulder expecting that everyday backfire to be the long, last goodbye.

I had a totally unsatisfying fling with a beautiful showgirl that hung up her six-inch high heels and went back to just outside Chicago to marry some pious preacher’s son with absolutely no idea about the depths of her innate depravity after the sun went down. He was in for the shock of a lifetime on the honeymoon providing he was able to survive her physical need for sex and several other deviant practices that he would never be able to discuss with his family or close friends as a topic of conversation.

The fetish-minded showgirl was called Carmelita and was billed as a Brazilian bombshell to scoop up the homebodies that were hoping to find something a little unusual and strange to file in their memory banks. Of course, her name wasn’t Carmelita and she had never been out of the country in her entire lifetime. Her real name was Janice and she was born and raised in a suburb of Chicago as the middle child of a church-going couple that secretly used spanking and submissive behavior to spice up their lackluster lives behind closed doors. I suspected that the innocent-looking Janice had been exposed to that lifestyle at an early age and she never looked back on a lifetime of proper behavior. Now, she was desperately returning to normalcy in an attempt to right her listing boat before she capsized and went all the way down to Davey Jones locker in shameful disgrace.

I did have a certain level of appreciation for the dazzling Janice to arouse my carnal instincts with her nicely trimmed twenty-something bush and she inspired my urge to shoot long lines of creamy man juice each time she bent over in front of me and looked over her shoulder with that look that said,

“Just get it inside real deep and make me take it all the way up the ass, Mister.”

We didn’t play games with each other and I recognized her true anal attractions the first time I was able to get her to lower her panties behind my locked office door.

Life after Janice was admittedly a bit boring. At least, until I followed Ramon’s chain of thought and opted to take Jackie and Jill’s company on a live-in basis right out in the open and risk the snickers and dirty jokes about keeping two girls satisfied at the same time. The truth was that Jackie was a bit dyke-like in her attitudes and she tended to play rough in a way that was like catnip to Jill’s carnal needs. They were the Captain and crew of one of the mid-sized pleasure boats that had several cabins below decks for entertaining high rollers more interested in nailing enthusiastic and obedient pussy more than winning at the gaming tables with repetitive success.

Of course, most of the full-time hands were aware of Jackie’s inclination to be on top with a female underneath her muscular legs, but most of the transient mob at the tables only saw her pert boobs and luscious ass cheeks placed right on the line and ready to dispense memories to savor for a lifetime of ordinary living. I never doubted her ability to project feminine charm when it was for the good of the casino or a nice tip for both her and Jill working as a team to put some horny married man through his paces and drain him of all his nasty urges to drag the other gender down to his level of filth and degradation. Most of the married men carried a silent dark traveler that constantly chewed at their conscience to subject some beautiful strange girl to the most degrading and humiliating services that their spouses and/or their girlfriends refused to even consider. In a way, it was a married man fetish of fantasy substitution for sexually repressed desires that were formulated from a hedonistic society that objectified females into brainless sex dolls that lived only to please a man.