Chapter 65: Kate Broussard, 66, Getting the Ball Rolling...

Carole got a surprise call from Kate Broussard, “Come see me Saturday morning.”

“What time?”

“A little before 8 — you can watch Kitty dance, then you and I will visit.”

‘Visit’ — Carole knew what that meant — Kate wanted something from her. But what? A possible job at Miss Kitty’s. Prestige. Good money. The spotlight. Adulation. But also public exposure. She’d have to think about it if that was what Kate had in mind.

It also meant public nudity, licking pussy on stage, and sucking cock in the Blowjob Room. That wasn’t driving her hesitation — it was exposure to the town. That would be the defining element — if and when Kate made an offer.

At least she didn’t have that cunt husband to worry about. But, she would have to clear it with Ritchie. She wouldn’t let him talk her out of it, but she wanted him to hear about it from her, not from the town gossips.

Then she smiled to herself. If she was already at the stage of worrying about her son’s reaction, then hadn’t she already made up her mind?

She waited until Friday night at dinner to broach the subject. He was wearing his usual white boxer/briefs — a habit he’d begun ever since they’d had the photography discussion. Carole had to admit that Kitty was right — Richie was one handsome, sexy package.

And, that package would come into play — one way or another — if she decided to work for Kate. That was a fact of life, and one Carole didn’t try to ignore. Kate had told Kitty she could dance on Saturday as soon as she learned that Kitty had sucked off her son. And Kitty hadn’t hesitated. Carole was not Kitty.

Carole went right to it as they enjoyed red beans and rice — their usual Monday repast. “Honey, I may have a chance to dance at Miss Kitty’s.”

Richie lit up — his face a portrait of genuine delight, “Mama! That’s fantastic.”

Not that many years ago, Sausalito was completely different. Carole would have spoken with embarrassment, perhaps even shame. And it would have been a forced economic decision. Richie would have been mortified. Although like most teenage boys, part of him would have been secretly thrilled at the idea.

Carole held up her hand, “Honey, it’s not — definitely not — a done deal. I’m meeting with her in the morning — it’s only a preliminary discussion.”

“You know how many girls would love to meet with her? Hell, there’s a waiting list to get on her waiting list.” Which the entire town knew about. And which was an unnecessary reminder to Carole of how desirable the job was.

“Well, I gotta admit I’m excited. But don’t tell anyone unless it really does come true.”

“I promise.” Impulsively, he stood up and planted a kiss on top of her head. She noticed the bulge and was tickled that the idea of her stage debut aroused her son.

She said, “But are you okay with it? Hold on, think about it, think it through. Remember what all is involved — besides just taking my clothes off.”

He had an irrepressible grin, “That’s the best part, Mama — the other stuff.”

“God, you’re twisted. But I still love you.”

“And I love you. So much! Say, can you give me a ride in the morning?”

Then Carole remembered — of course Richie would be going to the Saturday morning show — he hadn’t missed one since he turned 14.

“Sure. But you’ll have to walk home if Kate’s not finished with me.”

“She gonna have you undress?”

“Huh, I hadn’t thought of that. Yeah, probably — I mean that’s why she would hire me. Not for my brain.” She winked and whispered, “For my pussy.”

Richie blushed pink with pleasure at the naughty turn. His hand went to his lap as he asked, “Is it bald?”

She looked directly into his eyes, “Bald as a baby’s butt. I like it that way, Richie. My pussy is tiny, like a little girl’s slit.” She held back a grin, knowing the ribald talk would drive him crazy.

Pink turned to red, and he groaned as he shot off in his undies. Carole took pity and decided not to tease him anymore. “Don’t worry about it, honey, I’m flattered. I guess I still got it, hmm?”

He croaked, “You more than got it.”

“Well, go clean up, honey — I’ll reheat your supper.”