Chapter 2

We didn’t do much the rest of that night except kiss and cuddle, after butt-fucking there wasn’t really a lot of places to go. It was still fun, although, like I said, I didn’t get to cum ... Dennis did get me off later with his finger, though. I went home that night feeling pretty satisfied and happy. I looked forward to the weekend.

Dennis called me the next morning, before we went to work. He was disappointed, he said his brother wasn’t too crazy about the idea of renting us a room at a motel just so we could fuck.

“He kinda pissed me off...” said Dennis. I was curious, and I asked why.

“I don’t wanna tell you, it’s bad...” said Dennis. That made me really want to know why. I started whining.

“Alright, alright,” said Dennis. “But I warned you.”

“Okay,” I said. “Tell me.”

“He’s seen you up here before, and he knows you by sight. He said he thinks you’re a fox and if he rents us a room, he wants a turn with you.”

I almost giggled. Shit, I was a fox. Any guy would want a turn with me. I wondered how Dennis really felt about it. Actually, it didn’t bother me that much, thinking about it. I wondered what his brother looked like, if he was big and hunky like Dennis.

“Dennis, that is pretty shitty of him,” I said, kind of wanting him to think I was a bit pissed. “What does he mean by a turn?”

“I dunno really, I got up and walked out. He did say he wanted, uhm, to eat your ... your pussy and that maybe you’d ... uhm ... do something for him in return.”

Yeah, like suck his cock, I thought. That was pretty cheeky of the guy. But, that wasn’t as bad as being fucked by an almost complete stranger. I’d almost go for that, sight unseen. I wondered how to tell Dennis to go ahead and do it, without sounding slutty.

“Dennis, let me think about it,” I said, to prepare him. “How old is your brother?”

“Twenty-two,” he said. That wasn’t too bad. At least he wasn’t an old fart. I decided to give Dennis a day to stew about it, and then I’d tell him I’d do it. I wondered how big his brother’s cock was. Maybe ... if his cock wasn’t any bigger, maybe I’d let him butt-fuck me. I’d almost rather do that than suck him for some reason. Call me weird.

“You serious?” Dennis finally said, and I had to hold back a giggle.

“Well, a room would be nice,” I said. “If we could do it on Friday night, and keep it until Saturday noonish.”

“Yeah,” he said. He sounded thoughtful. “Yeah.”

So I went to work, and we had another fun night of kissing, feeling and even a little licking. We didn’t butt fuck, though. That was too involved and exhausting to do every night, I felt. Plus, I didn’t want to wear my butt out. We talked some during the shows, I mean whispered, but we didn’t talk about the thing with his brother. I kinda felt like Dennis was embarrassed about it for my sake. I wished I could just tell him it didn’t bother me that much, although I was still wondering about why it didn’t bother me that much.

After work I spent a lot of time that night thinking about the whole thing, and in the end I decided the same thing, I decided that I’d do it, if Dennis would also agree to it. I wouldn’t fuck his brother, but I’d sure as hell let him eat my pussy and maybe I’d suck his cock. The butt-fuck thing ... I’d just have to see about that. The whole thing made me wonder just what exactly I was turning in to. I hadn’t even gotten my cherry popped yet, and I was thinking of involving more people in my sex life? Crazy. Was I crazy? Was I a sex maniac? I dunno. I sighed and finally went to sleep.

Thursday rolled around. Of all the strange things, Mr. Simple called me and asked me to come in early, so I did. No one seemed to be in the building, and I had to pound on the door until one of the desk ladies finally came and let me in.

Mr. Simple was in his office with the door open, and I tapped on the door. He looked up and motioned me to enter.

“Please close the door, Chanelle,” he said, and I did. I was really wondering by now what this was all about. I was getting nervous. Was he going to fire me, or what?

Mr. Simple is probably in his mid 40’s, I’d guess. He’s not really large, but not petite or whatever you call guys. He’s right in the middle. He’s still got most of his hair, though it’s turning gray. He’s clean-shaven, and he probably was handsome back in his twenties ... but he’s no spring chicken any more. His personality is pretty bland, I thought in the past ... kinda boring. Like I said earlier, he made jokes to me sometimes that maybe just maybe could be taken as slightly improper. For instance, once when I’d complained that all the sitting down on this job made my butt go to sleep, he said I needed a good massage. I assume he meant my butt, because that’s what I was talking about ... and I assumed he meant he should be the one to do it, because he had a kinda leering smile on his face. I just laughed at him. I’m sure that to old farts like him girls like me look pretty hot if they have the nerve to even fantasize about us. I could just almost imagine what his wife was like, he had a picture of the two of them behind his desk and she looked like a whiny shrew to me.

Anyway, where I’m going with all this is that Mr. Simple is about as far from my ideal man as it’s possible to get. I’d take Dennis’s brother, never having even seen him, over Mr. Simple. He was just a sad, tired old man to me.

“Chanelle...” he said, staring at me intently. I felt my butthole pucker up. I had decided by now that whatever this was about, it was not good.

“Chanelle, we have a problem,” he went on, and I nodded, staring into his watery eyes. “I like you and I like Dennis, but something has come to my attention that demands a quick, appropriate response.”

Against my wishes I felt a slow burn start at my forehead and move down. Did he know? Was this about Dennis and I, fooling around? Had somebody seen us and reported us?

“You kids might not be aware of it, but the computer in the control booth has a web camera in the monitor. On a whim yesterday I activated it during an afternoon performance, and I saw some ... very unprofessional activities. I know you two are young and ... uhm ... hot-blooded, so to speak ... but we simply cannot risk members of the audience seeing such behavior.”

My heart sank as I began to burn with embarrassment for real. He’d fucking spied on us! I tried my best to remember what we’d done yesterday ... we hadn’t butt-fucked, at least ... I really wondered what he’d seen.

“Mr. Simple!” I said, leaning forward. I felt like I was almost ready to cry. Hmm, I thought, that might not be a bad idea. I knew well the power of tears, I could get my dad to do almost anything by crying about it. “I’m so sorry! I ... I don’t know what came over me!”

He looked stern, like he thought he was my father or something.

“Miss Tatum,” he said, and I thought, oh no, I’m not Chanelle any longer to him. “Miss Tatum, I hate to say this, but I’m probably going to have to let one of you go. If I keep you, I’ll hire another girl to keep something like this from happening. If I keep Dennis, I’ll hire a boy.”

“Oh, Mr. Simple!” I said again. “If you fire somebody, fire me! Dennis loves this job so much! Please don’t fire him!”

“Well,” he said, “that’s a pretty big possibility at the moment. I’m holding him more responsible for this than you ... I realize you’re just a girl. He should know better.”

I didn’t have time to get miffed over his chauvinistic statements. I was doing major damage control.

“Mr. Simple...” my mind raced. What could I promise him to make him keep us both? Of course, the main thing to promise was that we’d never do this again. Shit. This job would have to go back to major boringness. I hated that. Still, in a way, Dennis and I had outgrown the control booth. From here on, we needed a room and a bed to do what we wanted to do. I went on. “Mr. Simple, I promise you that will never happen again. I’ve learned my lesson. And I really want this job, as much as I want Dennis to keep it, too.”

“Well,” he said. “I hope you can keep that promise. The two of you looked pretty involved, the last few days.”

The last few days? He’d said “yesterday” at first. Had he spied more? I really felt like crying, now.

“Mr. Simple,” I said, “I’m sorry you had to see that. I know I was being improper. I just ... I just can’t help it, at times.”

“Well, I know it’s not easy, being young and ... uhm ... horny...” he said, gulping. I wondered if he felt like he was getting away with major shit, just saying that word to me. I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe ... just maybe I could talk my way out of this ... by saying the things he wanted to hear.

“It’s ... it’s not...” I said, trying to act kind of coy. “And Dennis ... he makes me feel, uhm ... good ... in a special way.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Simple, “I could tell that. He seems very skilled at ... pleasing you.”

I giggled inside. This seemed to be headed right where I wanted it. I’d talk dirty to this horny old man for a while. That might change his mood a little.

“Mr. Simple...” I said. “I trust you. I feel like I can discuss this stuff with you ... stuff like this.”

“Yes, my dear,” he said, and I giggled to myself again. A moment ago he was going to fire me, and now I’m his dear. “I was young, once. I know what it’s like.”

“Did you have lots of girlfriends?” I asked, hoping to get him talking.

“Yes...” he said. “I know that’s hard to believe ... but I was quite the lady’s man...”

“Oh no,” I said, “I believe it. I can believe it!”

That seemed to please him. My mind was racing. How far was I willing to take this? Not that far ... ugh ... I couldn’t imagine making it with a hairy wrinkled old fart like this ... that would be like doing it with my Dad ... Jeezus. I’d tease him a little, but that would have to be enough. Maybe that would be enough to keep me from getting fired.

“Chanelle...” he said hesitantly. Oh shit, I thought. I could tell from the way he was acting this was going to be something big. “Chanelle ... I think I might ... be able to keep both you and Dennis on ... if ... if you might do me a favor ... if you can do something for me...”

Oh shit. What the hell did that mean? A favor? What kind of favor?

“Mr. Simple...” I said, wondering how to find out exactly what he meant. “What do you mean? A favor?”

“Uhm ... some special something you might do for me ... Chanelle ... you are a very attractive girl ... it would mean a lot to me ... to see a little more of you...”

More of me? Did he mean a peek at my tits? Or my pussy? What the hell was he really talking about.

“Mr. Simple,” I said. “Listen. We are both adults. Well, I am, almost. Please just come out and say it ... I’m not sure what you mean, at the moment. Just tell me, I won’t get mad, honest.”

He sighed, and squirmed in his seat. I’m sure he knew he was crossing the line on this one. Hell, I was locked in his office with no witnesses. I could say anything. I could lie and bust his ass good, but of course I wouldn’t pass a lie detector test or whatever. Still, I realized my power over him. But hell, I’m a nice girl, I won’t abuse it.

“Chanelle...” he finally said. “You are very beautiful. I am quite enamored of you. I would love a chance ... a chance to see your beauty ... unencumbered by clothing...”

Ah, he wanted to see me naked. Just that? Just to see me?

“Mr. Simple, I understand. That’s it? That’s all you want?”

“Well...” he squirmed some more. “There might be some ... special things I can do for you ... if you reciprocate...”

I wasn’t sure what that really meant either. I think it meant if I’d do something in return. Something like what?

“Something like what, Mr. Simple?” I asked.

“Uh ... if you might allow ... you might allow me to ... touch you for a few moments...”

“What special things do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, I could ... I could allow you and Dennis to continue your ... uhm ... affair unencumbered, if you could be discreet. And I will promise to keep your jobs for you this fall.”

I thought about that. That really wasn’t all that much, for allowing him to have touching privileges.

“What about a raise, Mr. Simple?” I asked. He did look a little panic-stricken, then.

“Uhm...” he said, “I’m not sure if I can justify that ... that’s quite a stretch, on our budget...”

I laughed to myself. He wanted a lot, for a few simple promises.

“Mr. Simple,” I said. What a worm he was, I thought. He just thought I was going to fall all over myself for this job? Was I? Kind of, I guess. “Okay, Mr. Simple. I’ll do you a little striptease ... but if you wanna touch, it’s a quarter an hour raise, at least. Does that sound fair?”

“Oh dear,” he said, looking pained. “I suppose that’s fair. Okay...”

“Where do you wanna do this? Here? Now?” I said, standing.

“Allow me to secure the door,” he said, getting up and double-checking to see if the door was locked. It was. He went back the credenza behind his desk and laid the picture of his wife face down. I giggled.

“Yes, my dear. Let me sit here on the couch,” he sat, and motioned me towards him.

I stood, unsure what to do next. I felt a little regret, now, at agreeing so quickly. What was I going to do here? I slowly approached, stopping a hand-length away from him.

“Now what?” I finally asked.

He laughed a little at that. “Please strip for me, darling,” he said, leaning back on the couch. I still hesitated.

“Chanelle,” he finally said. “Please understand I am not forcing you to do anything. You may walk out of here right now, and our agreement will be void. Fair is fair, right?”

“Right...” I hesitantly said. Shit. I knew if I did that he’d probably fire at least one of us, if not both. I’d gotten myself into this. I’d felt sexy and naughty and powerful for a moment there when I had realized my power over him. Now it was time to put that power to the test.

“Okay!” I said, trying to sound confident. I was wearing a man’s shirt, and I began to unbutton it slowly. He sighed loudly, and settled a little further down in the couch. As I unbuttoned my shirt I looked down at him, and was shocked to see a large lump in his pants. Shit! I thought. I’m doing that! I’m making him feel that way! It did make me feel powerful. I mean, I know I’m fairly good-looking, and my body isn’t bad at all, but it turned me on a little to give a middle-aged man a hard-on.

My shirt was unbuttoned. I pulled it off and dropped it on his desk. I could see he was devouring me with his eyes. I unsnapped my slacks and let them slide down my legs. Shit, then, I had a problem. My shoes. I finally bent over and took my shoes off, and kicked the slacks away. I stood back up.

“Very beautiful, darling...” he said, smiling. I smiled back at him. I’m sure I looked like heaven to an old fart like him. I imagine I was the cutest thing he’d seen in twenty or thirty years. Maybe ever.

I reached back and unsnapped my bra. I let it slide down my arms a little, still covering my tits. I was moving a bit, by then, like I was dancing, but without music. I could tell his eyes were glued to my tits. I finally giggled and slid my bra down my arms and tossed it on his desk.

The look of raw lust in his eyes was inspiring. I hadn’t planned on taking my panties off, just maybe pulling them down a time or two, but before I knew it they were sliding down my legs. His eyes moved from my breasts to my pussy area, and the smile on his face grew even broader. Damn, I thought. I’m naked. I’m stark fucking naked, in front of this old pervert.

He motioned me to come closer. I didn’t really want to, but I did.

“Chanelle, turn around,” he said. “Sit on my lap. Dance for me.”

Oh shit, I thought. He wants a lap dance. Was this part of the deal? I slowly turned, and squatted down in his lap. I felt him at last, and I gently rubbed my butt against him. Shit. I could feel the lump in his pants with no problem.

“Rub me, baby,” he said. “Rub against me.”

I did that, asking myself why I was following his orders so docilely. I was doing everything he asked. What if he asked me to fuck him? What would I do then? Shit, I told myself, have a little self-respect. Don’t let him boss you around so.

But I did what he wanted, rubbing my butt against his crotch and stomach. I placed my hands on his upper thighs, and just scrubbed my butt into him. I heard him groan loudly behind me, and suddenly I felt his hands in the crease of my thighs as he pulled me towards him even more.

“Mr. Simple!” I said. “Please!”

“Chanelle, I thought we agreed I could touch,” he said. Shit. Did we? I remembered him saying something about touching me ... I wasn’t too crazy about him pawing me, though.

“Mr. Simple,” I said, hoping I didn’t disappoint him too much. “I’d really rather not...”

Apparently he wasn’t taking my gentle no for an answer. His hands slowly rose along my sides, and crept around to my stomach. His hands did feel warm on my skin, and it wasn’t that freaky ... it wasn’t that different from when Dennis touched me. Slowly they rose, higher and higher ... I was almost holding my breath now ... would he dare? Would he touch my tits? Sure enough he did, he clamped his hands on them and squeezed almost painfully.

“Ouch!” I said, and I heard him snort behind me. He was little gentler though, at least. He cupped my breasts underneath, running his fingers along the bottom-side, and at least that felt good. He pinched my nipples, and rolled them in his fingers. He felt me off as good as Dennis had done.

“Chanelle,” he said. I felt his breath on the middle of my back. I even felt his hair touching me. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world. I would die for you. Please, please ... please let me rub your clittoris ... let me stimulate you...”

I almost giggled at his choice of words. I wondered if he’d say “vagina” instead of “pussy.” Probably. Should I do this? At this stage, I thought, why not. The shit I’d already allowed? What the hell was wrong with me? Am I just a slut? I wondered. I realized I was actually having a pretty good time, letting an old man slobber over me. I was kind of getting off on my effect on him. It was sexy to squish my ass in his lap, and feel his erection against me. I wondered if I had a career as a lap dancer. I can do this shit, I told myself. I’m good at this.

“Mr. Simple,” I said, sighing. “I’d rather not get that involved with you...” I didn’t want him to think I was easy. Where would this lead, if I allowed it?

Once again, like I thought he would, he just went ahead and did it. I felt his hand at my waist. I wondered if he was so obsessed with me it didn’t matter what I said. I wondered what might happen to me before this was over.

Well, whatever. It would feel good. Maybe he could get me off. Within seconds I felt his hand, sliding through my pussy hair. He fumbled around a little, spreading my pussy lips apart, and sure enough I felt his touch on my clit. It did feel good. Ahhh ... I thought. Excellent aim.