Chapter 260: Rosie Robinson, 27, Stunned...

Between Miss Kitty’s and Contrary Mary’s, Kate Broussard employed over 60 women and girls. And, Darlene was now in control of the pussy. Some, like the Motel Girls, didn’t actually work in either establishment, but they still were hired by, and reported to, Darlene.

The 14-year-olds working for her at Mary’s usually made more in wages and tips than their mothers. Sometimes, more than their fathers.

The Miss-Kitty dancers — with all their Blowjob Room visits — made considerably more than any of the teachers in the Sausalito School District.

Gigi Fontenot — double dipping as a very popular dancer and mayor — was both highly compensated and highly respected.

Looking from the outside in — from the outside of Darlene’s circle — it was easy to understand why stage-mothers and dancer-applicants were so eager to work their way into the system. Money, sure. Prestige, absolutely. But there were also intangibles — pride, sisterhood, fellowship.

And, once in a while, desperation.

Life had bitch-slapped Rosie Robinson like a tsunami. One day, the 27-year-old mother of two grade-schoolers had been going through life in a mostly structured manner.

Sure, there were the usual setbacks — marital arguments, kids running a fever, a financial hiccup now and then. But her family and her faith helped her navigate through those occasional rough patches.

Especially her faith. Rosie, like her parents and grandparents belonged to the United Pentecostal Church of Christ Risen. The same church that the one-time mayoral candidate, Reverend Emanuel Luther Mosby, led. He had lost a very spirited mayoral campaign to Gigi Fontenot. Which, because she worked for that whore-monger, Kate Broussard, added insult to injury.

The fact that a scurrilous, on-air accusation of pig-fucking (Louella Guthrie’s blue-ribbon winning hog, Petunia) only bolstered the Very Reverend Mosby’s determination to root out Sin in Sausalito.

But the porcine accusation had been a setback. Even a year later, he suspected that people looked at him and wondered.

But for Rosie, all of her faith, her upbringing, her sterling character — none of that had prepared her for the depravity of betrayal foisted upon her by Dick Robinson, her husband of 14-years.

Rosie lived next door to Sara Pellerin, Darlene’s mother. Rosie and Sara were friendly enough, but moved in different circles. Rosie’s life centered around her family and her church. Sara, around her family — Darlene, her son, Chuck, and her husband, Charles.

Well, Darlene got knocked up — then married and moved in with her husband. Sara still had her husband and son. Then one day, Charles abruptly ran off with a 14-year-old girl — and Sara no longer had a husband.

Rosie had been sympathetic, genuinely so. But Sara had been so dependent on her husband. Stability, money, sex. The two women, still living in different worlds, became a little closer.

Then Dick Robinson ravaged Rosie’s life. He too, split town with a teenage girl. But more than that, he stole every last cent he could get his hands on.

It took Rosie a couple of weeks to uncover the extent of his perfidy. One morning, over coffee, she spilled her guts to Sara, “He took — he stole — our entire savings. It wasn’t much, just over $4,000, but...”

“Aw, hon.”

“He was a deacon at United Pentecostal and took — stole — over $3,000 from the church.”

“Fuck. Oh, sorry, Rosie.”

“But the worst thing? He stopped making our mortgage payments three months ago. I didn’t know until this came — registered mail.”

Tears were streaming down Rosie’s cheeks as she showed Sara the Notification of Foreclosure and Eviction. Sara had been so dependent on her own worthless husband, Charles, that she could instantly identify with her neighbor. But Sara wasn’t a business person, wasn’t a problem-solver, didn’t see big-picture solutions.

She called her daughter, “Darlene, kin you come over here? Rosie Robinson’s got some big problems an’ we don’t know what to do.”

Darlene listened to the sorry tale, read the eviction notice, and got angrier and angrier. “That cocksucking cunt.”

Rosie blushed at the obscenity; Sara nodded in agreement.

Darlene tapped her cell, “Kate, I’m bringing Rosie Robinson by. We need your help.”

The word ‘we’ registered with Rosie.

Darlene had the woman ride into downtown on the back of her little Vespa. The teenager understood on some primal level that Rosie was adrift. That she was incapable of making rational decisions. Darlene was acting on good-faith principles — the poor women was miserable and obviously needed the kind of help that only Kate Broussard could provide.

As they walked into Miss Kitty’s, the two thong-covered dancers up on the stage barely registered with Rosie. Obviously she’d had never set foot in the establishment, but sins of the flesh were hardly on her mind.

Darlene led her upstairs, and Kate welcomed Rosie warmly. Darlene gave Kate a one-minute summary and showed her the eviction notice.

Kate took it all in, and held Rosie’s hands, “I’m going to fix this. Not your marriage — that cocksucker’s out of your life.”

Rosie nodded dully.

Kate tapped her cell, “Ronald Mouton, please, it’s Kate Broussard.”

A minute later, “Ronnie, how’s it hanging? Listen, Sausalito Savings owns the mortgage to Dick and Rosie Robinson’s house ... yes, that’s it — Orchard Street. I’m bringing it up to date and paying the next two months in advance.”

Rosie gasped.

That settled, Kate looked at the woman, “Next — Dick. Do you want him to go to jail?”

Rosie reeled back in her chair. She stared, blinked, trying to get her head around the concept. “Uh ... he’s the father of ... oh my ... no ... I mean ... he was always a good ... um, no, no ma’am, I don’t guess I do.”

Kate tapped again, “Rémy, Dick Robinson has stolen money from his family and his church. Put a trace on him, run him down, put a scare into him, and shake the fucking tree. Get as much money back as you can.”

She listened, nodded, “Also he has a 15-year-old girl — Sally Pruitt — with him. Make sure she’s okay, and bring her back if you think it’s best.”

Kate turned to Rosie, “Here’s a thousand bucks to tide you over.”

“I can’t pay ... how can I...”

Kate had had a long-term plan for the woman from the instant she heard the story. Rosie was attractive although the frumpy clothes and lack of makeup muted her appearance.

“I’m going to hire you, Rosie — just until you are back on your feet.”

“I won’t ... I can’t...”

Kate held up her palm, “Rosie, I understand your church’s opinion of me. But Mosby probably isn’t feeling very charitable toward you. Not since Dick stole from him.”

Small voice, “No.”

“You have kids in school, so the hours you can work are limited. For now anyway. So, I’ll hire you for two jobs. You were a schoolteacher before you got married, right?”

“Yes ma’am. English, John Lee Hooker.”

“Very good. Darlene has all these 14-year-old waitresses at Contrary Mary’s. And she wants them to get their grades up, right Darlene?”

The first she had heard of it, “Exactly right, Kate. They have to maintain a C average or they’re gone. But we want to raise that to a B if we can.”

Darlene smiled at Rosie, “There’s a private room — and you can go over their homework, tutor them, prep them.”

Rosie was nodding along, “Yes. Good. As long as I’m home when my own kids ... you know, get home from school.”

Kate nodded briskly, “Yes, yes, we’ll work around your schedule — family comes first. Now, your second job will be right here. You’ll be a lunch waitress — don’t worry, you won’t be on stage. Just serving po-boys and drinks — mostly beer.”

“I’ve never...”

Kate spoke kindly, “Rosie, it doesn’t matter what you have or haven’t done. Your life has changed. Now, I understand how working at two Godless establishments could be uncomfortable at first.”

“Yes ma’am. An’ I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just so much all at once.”

“If I remember correctly, I never did see you out in front here — protesting with the rest of your congregation. Carrying signs and the like.”

“No ma’am, I never did that. I do believe that this place is sinful. But I never thought it was my ... um, my duty to try to close you down. Your reckoning will come in another life.”

Kate smiled, “As will everyone’s. Or it won’t. Now are you onboard?”

“Yes ma’am, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Left unsaid, although all three of them understood it, those two part-time jobs wouldn’t begin to earn enough to pay Kate back for the mortgage payments and cash advance.

But Kate had her vision — one day this pious, religious woman would be baring it all on stage. And, sucking cock in the BJ Rooms.

Kate later told Darlene, “We’re going to use a different game plan with Rosie — no coercion, no threats, no lofty promises. We’re going to manipulate with kindness. I want her to want to get naughty.”

“Yes ma’am — you got it.”

“What do you see yourself doing with her?”

Darlene paused to think it through. “My girls shower and change in that back room. So Rosie will be seeing a lot of flesh. I guess I want her to get used to seeing all that bald pussy, day after day.”

“Good. And?”

Darlene paused again — she was learning to organize her thoughts before speaking to Kate. “The girls all chatter among themselves — who’s reaching under their skirt, how much cum they licked up in this guy’s car, that guy. Penis sizes.”

Kate nodded.

Darlene grinned, “Rosie will get an eyeful and an earful.”

“That’s right. And pretty soon, what was once shocking will be just everyday, Wait a couple of weeks and then have a couple of your girls fool around with each other in the shower,”

“Fingers only?”

“For now.”

Kate knew that Rosie’s first day at Miss Kitty’s — wearing a skimpy costume — would be challenging for her. Physically, mentally, emotionally. So she would wait a week or so to let the young mother settle in at Contrary Mary’s.

Unlike finding a ‘virgin’ mom for “Son-Fuckers”, there was no calendar-urgency with Rosie. She had become Kate’s personal project, although getting the girl naked and licking pussy on stage dovetailed nicely with Kate’s overall sexualization of Sausalito.

Darlene met with all of her little waitresses individually and in small groups to tell them about their new tutor, “I expect you to be polite, to listen to Rosie, to do as she says. Start bringing your homework in each school-day. This is now part of your job — get your grades up.”

“Yes ma’am.” “Yes ma’am.”

No one argued with Darlene — the girls had dream jobs and were the envy of their friends.

The Reverend Emanuel Luther Mosby had forbidden his congregation from going into Contrary Mary’s. The ban was issued the day that the waitresses started wearing thongs. Not even CUNT thongs.

“That restaurant is an abomination, an affront to Christian values! It’s temptation personified, appeals to the weakness of the flesh, it’s filled with whores and sinners.”

With that background theme running through her head, Rosie Robinson climbed the old wooden steps to Contrary Mary’s and shuffled inside, head lowered.

Darlene, following Kate’s instructions, tried to put the woman at ease. She gave her a tour — restaurant and bar, bandstand, kitchen, the attached-deck out in back.

Rosie stared, momentarily startled at the sight of three waitresses. One wore a CUNT thong; the other two had on white skirts that barely covered their little butts. Rosie quickly looked away without commenting.

She had had all night for the consequences of Kate’s generosity to sink in. She wasn’t going to be evicted. She had money for groceries and utilities. She now had two jobs — certainly not ideal ones — but even Rosie understood how difficult it was to secure employment under Kate Broussard.

So, she was determined to get through this nightmare and do her best to earn Kate’s respect. She owed the woman so much. Not just financially, but in the warmth of Kate’s welcome. Her immediate understanding of, and sympathy for, Rosie’s plight.

But, back in the private room, during the shift change, Rosie was shocked at the sudden and casual nudity as the girls showered and changed clothes.

They stood around gossiping and giggling, toweling each other off, and were seemingly unaware of their bare bodies. Rosie quickly averted her eyes, but couldn’t help noticing — the whispered conversations among her fellow church-goers were true — these girls had no pubic hair. It was like they were proud, were flaunting their vaginas.

And, Rosie quickly learned that another rumor was true — the girls not only masturbated customers out in the parking lot, they discussed it as offhandedly as if they were talking about the latest weather forecast.

But, to their credit, they had brought schoolbooks and homework assignments to work with them. And, they were polite and attentive. Darlene had put a desk and two chairs in one corner of the room, and that was where Rosie settled in and began her first morning of tutoring.

Unfortunately, her chair was back against a wall, so she sat facing the showers. But, head down, she had her new responsibilities, and she would ignore the discomfort as best she could.

By the third day, she was — not comfortable with the ribald chatter — but no longer shocked.

“How much cum did he shoot?” “Not much, it jess kinda dribbled out.”

“Is it true about Tee-Tom’s cock?” “Yeah, poor guy — only ‘bout three inches.”

“I had Mr. and Mrs. Boudreaux on table six this morning.” Much laughter, then, “I bet she fingered your pussy more than he did, right?” “Acourse.”

Rosie found the impromptu comments by the girls’ mothers to be even more startling. Several of them came to Mary’s to give their daughters a ride home after work.

Her very first morning — her first! — two of the moms were watching their daughters shower and one said, “I still don’t understand why Eulalie won’t let ‘em suck cock.”

“I know! Handjobs — it’s like they’re back in Carver Elementary. Honestly!”

“When I was their age...”

Giggle, “Me too — if I didn’t swallow two or three loads after school...”

Rosie, head down, turned a page in her notebook and tried to concentrate on English Lit.

But, credit due, the little girls were mostly conscientious. Almost unfailingly polite. Better behaved even than some of the Sunday School kids she used to teach. Back before Dick ... back when she used to go to church three times a week ... back before...

During Rosie’s second week at Mary’s, Lisa Petrie sat down at the desk for her 15-minute lesson. Fresh out of the shower, she had a towel wrapped around her head, but was otherwise naked.

She was tan all over — obviously she sunbathed in the nude.

“Um, Lisa?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Er, don’t you think you should put something on?”

“Oh. Okay.”

One pleasant surprise for Rosie — every morning, Darlene gave her an envelope with cash. Rosie’s share of the tips that were split evenly among the girls, the cooks, busboys, and, now, Rosie.

Darlene explained the policy, “My girls get to keep the jack-off tips — but we share everything else.”

“Sounds fair.” And to Rosie’s surprise, it did seem fair. Although she tried not to think about what went on in all those parked cars. She learned through observation, that each little girl casually picked up one of the bottles of lubricants on her way to the parking lot.

Almond oil, eucalyptus, sesame, orange blossom — apparently each waitress had her own favorite. Rosie was curious about one thing, though she later wished she hadn’t asked.

Why did each girl use mouthwash when she returned from the parking lot? Rosie had picked up by osmosis that the girls weren’t supposed to do use their mouth to do that. So, mouthwash?

Little Chloé Bardot explained, “Darlene has us lick up the cum — boys like that.” Shrug, “It’s not as good as sucking cock, but it’s a little something extra.”

Rosie stared at the petite 14-year-old and thought, “She looks younger than my little Babette — and Babette’s only 8.” At the same time, Chloé’s words took a moment to register. Rosie wasn’t naive, certainly wasn’t slow, but she had led a sheltered life. Among similarly sexually-conservative friends.

What struck her — in addition to the starkness of the girls’ dialogue — was its casualness. Any and everything involving sex was apparently on the table. For both the little girls and their ambitious mothers.

But through it all, the girls were so nice to each other. They genuinely seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Rosie could have seen through the charade if they had been faking it. She had to admit that, besides all the nudity and sexy chatter, Darlene’s girls were simply fond of each other.

Rosie quickly understood the pecking order. Snagging a job at Contrary Mary’s was a huge accomplishment. But graduating to Miss Kitty’s was the real deal — the big leagues. And, as she was learning, those girls who turned 15 and did make the leap, were joined on stage by their mothers.

Rosie had heard the rumors, but had discounted most of them. Apparently, the church gossips had understated the audacity of the activities at both establishments. The first couple of weeks at Contrary Mary’s had been eye-opening — an unanticipated walk on the wild side.

The watershed moment for Rosie came on a quiet Monday afternoon. The buzz in the back room was palatable — the little girls were whispering and giggling wildly.

“What’s up?”

Lisa Petrie was standing in front of one of the full-length mirrors, topless, fluffing her pink nipples up. She was almost breathless, “Mrs Aubert brought Danny Boy in — and they’re at my table!”

Little Chloé Bardot ran her fingers under the waistband of Lisa’s skirt, and tugged it higher. Lisa turned her back to the mirror and nodded, “That’s better.” Rosie could see the bottom of her tan butt cheeks. Lisa pulled on a crop top, lifted a foot onto a chair so she could check out her bare pussy, and rushed out.

Chloé could see the confusion on Rosie’s face. She winked at the tutor and made a circle with both hands, “Danny Boy Aubert has the biggest cock in town. Me an’ Mama saw it at the Jack-Off Contest.”

She shook her head in amazement, “I wonder if I could even get it in my mouth?”

Rosie could feel her cheeks burning. She had seen two penises in her life — her husband’s and her son’s.

Chloé scrolled through her photo album and showed a clip to Rosie. It was Danny Boy Aubert at the annual Jack-Off Contest at John Lee Hooker. It showed him naked standing at the free-throw line, smiling to himself as he stroked.

Rosie gasped as she watched one, two, three, four, five, six, seven globs of cum fly through the air. It was not only her first exposure to Danny Boy, but her first glimpse of what would be called pornography anywhere else.

Chloé cheerfully explained, “He didn’t win, Danny Boy. But Mama tole me it was a lot more cum than most. I guess Joe-Joe Lafayette shoots the most of all the boys. Even more than Danny Boy.” There was a touch of awe in her voice.

Rosie said, “Oh.”

The little girls, giggling to themselves, made several trips by Danny Boy’s booth. To flirt, to show off, to fantasize.

Rosie called for a short recess — it wasn’t possible for her charges to concentrate on homework right then. Cindy Bélise rushed in, breathless, “Mrs. Auber took them out to her car!”

“Oh My God!”

“Lucky Lisa!”

“I’d give anything...”

A few minutes later, Lisa strolled in, a huge grin plastered on her face. She was immediately surrounded, and had questions firing at her from all directions.

She held up her palm and giggled, “Mrs. Aubert filmed me!”

Gasps, laughter, and applause as Lisa scurried to her locker and pulled out her cell. Seven girls crowded around her and suddenly erupted in cheers. Chloé said something to Lisa who nodded and said, “Acourse.”

Everyone was watching Rosie as Lisa tapped on the clip. Rosie stared — appalled, fascinated, unbelieving, unable to look away. Lisa and Danny Boy — they were both naked and kneeling in the back seat. Lisa’s hands looked tiny as she stroked lovingly and knowingly.

Rosie gasped out loud as he exploded — splattering a delighted Lisa all over her smiling face. Rosie couldn’t look away as Lisa scooped up his cum and fed it into her mouth. In the background a woman — obviously Mrs. Aubert — said, “Good girl. There’s a little more under your chin.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Rosie’s face was flame red as she watched Lisa use both hands to squeeze out the last couple of drops. Which she licked up.

Chloé, who had become sort of a self-appointed Rosie-whisperer, explained to Rosie, “Darlene won’t let us suck them off, but it’s okay to lick it — to, you know, get the last of the cum.”

A distinction that Rosie noticed had the other little girls nodding in agreement. It was important to follow the rules.

It wasn’t until Rosie was back home that she realized that Chloé had forwarded the 40-second Danny-Boy film clip to her. Oh my. Well, she’d delete it. But first she had to fix snacks for her own two.

That night, alone in bed, she tried to stop her mind from wandering over to Danny Boy Aubert. She tossed and turned. Then, blushing furiously, opened her cell and scrolled. My word — the size of that, that thing.

Rosie almost never masturbated — it was a sin. Sex was for procreation, not pleasure. Yet, she found herself reaching under her cotton nightie. Reaching between her thighs, reaching for ... for something she didn’t quite understand and couldn’t articulate.

It was physical release, sure. But also more than that. In addition to her body’s needs, there was a psychic yearning, the likes of which she’d never experienced.

Well, she’d pray on it. In the morning.

But, when morning came, she had to scramble to get her two ready to catch the school bus. And then it was on to Miss Kitty’s for her first day as a waitress.

At least she was psychologically better prepared for that job. She’d seen naked girls every day at Contrary Mary’s. Yeah, rumor had it that there was more than just nudity up there on the stage. But she didn’t have to look. Yeah, she had to wear a skimpy costume. But at least everything would be covered.

On the drive to downtown, she didn’t once think of Danny Boy Aubert.

Kate greeted her warmly, understanding how nervous she must be. “First things first — Wendy’s going to do a makeover, so it’s back to the dressing room.”

“Yes ma’am.” Gulp.

It was around 9:30, and Kate explained, “My 10 o’clock show is moms and daughters — it’s pretty wild. Then my lunch crowd starts drifting in around 11 — just normal pole-dancing. Usually.”

“Oh.”

Rosie was startled to see Chloé Bardot and her mother, Bernadette, in the dressing room. They wore thongs and were topless for the moment. Both were leaning forward, applying makeup.

Chloé brightened, “Oh, hi Mrs. Robinson — you remember my Mama.”

Bernadette shook hands, “Welcome to Miss Kitty’s. It’s your first day?”

Rosie could only nod.

“You’ll be fine — everyone’s real friendly.”

Chloé giggled, “Real friendly.”

Chloé’s presence wasn’t an accident. Darlene had told Kate, “Rosie watches Chloé at work. She looks away, but her eyes keep darting back.”

“Interesting.”

The next thing Rosie knew, she was naked. She could feel the heat in her cheeks, her heart racing. But no one seemed to pay much attention.

A woman named Wendy and one of her assistants laid Rosie down, and went to work on her. Rosie had easily figured it out — she would have to wear a thong. And, having seen all the bald pussies at Mary’s ... well, it didn’t take an Einstein to know what was coming.

This Wendy and Kate talked about her as if she weren’t there. Kate said, “Do her hair tomorrow — I think a Dutch bob.”

Wendy squinted her eyes and nodded. She curled her fingers parallel with Rosie’s chin, “About here?”

“A little shorter, maybe another inch.” She winked at the still-naked Rosie, “For your debut this morning, you’ll be blonde.”

“Blonde?”

Wendy pinned Rosie’s hair up, put some kind of net over it, and carefully fitted a blonde wig on. Rosie stared at herself in the full-length mirror, her nudity momentarily forgotten.

Chloé said, “Looking good, Mrs. R.” Bernadette nodded, “Real good.”

Rosie was staring at her face. She never wore makeup, not even lip gloss. She could hardly recognize herself. The expertly applied foundation, a little concealer here and there. A touch of color highlighted her cheekbones. The lipstick — it was toward the pink side of red, and made her mouth look so much fuller.

Kate studied the woman’s body with a practiced eye. A slender body, pale — no tan lines. Perky boobs about the size of oranges. Nice, small waist. Tight little butt. Her now-bare pussy added to the youthful look. Kate thought, “What a waste — she’d kept herself hidden all these years.”

Rosie was still staring at herself, turning her head one way, then the other. Then Wendy’s assistant helped her into three-inch heels. Rosie said, “Oh.” Then, “I’ve never worn heels.”

Kate, ‘You’ll get used to them, dear.”

Rosie practiced — walking back and forth, wobbling a little. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mirrors — she loved her new look. It was like she’d become a different person. A new person.

Kate understood that the physical transformation would make Rosie’s first day in public a little easier. Kate was bemused, but not surprised, that the modest woman had forgotten her own nudity and was lost in the moment.

Then Chloé held out a pink thong and brought Rosie back to Earth. “Oh.”

Chloé helped her into it, and gave her a little pat, “There, all covered up.”

“Oh.”

Rosie stared. Technically, it was covered. But she looked — and felt — so naked. She took a deep breath and let it out. Repeated. She had known the day was coming, had imagined it and dreaded it. And knew that she wouldn’t — couldn’t — back out.

Little Chloé, self-appointed guardian, helped her into a lacy bra. Fastened the snap in back. She patted Rosie’s butt, “God, I’d fuck you.”

Bernadette, fastening her own bra, nodded in agreement, “Me too.”

Rosie, despite her newness to the scene, despite her naivety, understood that the crude comments were heartfelt compliments. Earnestly meant to convey positive feelings.

She smiled faintly, and managed a “Thank you.”

The 10 AM show would have gone by in a blur, except for one image that became seared into her brain. A few customers sat at tables and ordered coffee and croissants. But most of them — including 10 or 12 women — crowded around the four sides of the stage.

The music was so loud, but she got used to that. She was trying not to look up at the brightly-lit stage, trying to concentrated on not tripping, on not spilling coffee.

But a sudden roar from the audience made her look up. She gasped out loud.

Bernadette was cradling Chloé — both stark naked — by the butt. The little girl was leaning back into her mother’s chest with her thighs spread.

Rosie stared, unable to tear her eyes away. A woman, a customer, was leaning forward and blatantly licking Chloé’s vagina. The cheers grew louder as the little girl closed her eyes and shivered to an obvious orgasm.

Rosie heard a roaring in her ears — and it wasn’t from the boisterous crowd.

Then the show was over. Several men, and three women, sat down to order coffee and pastries. Rosie mentally shook her head, trying to focus on her job.

Four men smiled at her, thanked her, tipped her. And patted her butt. Rosie was no longer in a daze — she was fully aware of the attention she was garnering. And, hadn’t been surprised when they got a little handsy.

One of the women — not the one who had licked Chloé — smiled up at Rosie, “New?”

“First day.”

The woman smiled, folded a ten-dollar bill lengthwise, and tucked it into Rosie’s pink garter. She said, “You’ll be fine, hon,” and patted her thong, “You got a great rack.”

“Uh, thank you.”

Chloé and Bernadette stopped by on their way out. Chloé patted Rosie’s butt, “Looking good, Mrs. R.”

“Uh, thank you.” That image — that forbidden image — popped into Rosie’s mind. She blushed deeply.

Could Chloé read her mind? The little girl winked, “I love working here. You. will too.”

Blushing, “Well, maybe. We’ll see.”

As Kate had told her, the lunch crowd was made up mostly of retired guys living on pensions and Social Security. “For ten bucks they get a po-boy and a beer. And get to see some flesh. Rosie, it’s the highlight of their day so be extra friendly.”

“Okay, sure.”

“Most of them will tip you a dollar — and feel generous about it. It’s not much, but it adds up.”