Chapter 5: Danny Boy Aubert Came Home...

Danny Boy Aubert came home from school and stopped short at his mother’s expression. Time for The Talk again? “Who died?”. Denise laughed and patted the couch cushion beside her, “Nobody, baby. Jess sit down, I got to tell you something.”

He sat down gingerly, “Something bad?”

“Oh no. No, I don’t think so anyway. Well, that’d be up to you to decide I guess.”

He frowned. What now? Things had been going pretty good in his new school. Some of the kids were all right. He even liked his homeroom teacher, Miss Hebert. Harry.

Denise patted his thigh, “It’s about gym class. Or, after gym class, I guess.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me, describe what happens when Coach Ronnie ... uh, blows the whistle. Is that what he does at the end?”

Shrug, “Sometimes. Maybe.”

“Then what happens? When you finish working out?”

Another shrug. “We shower. Get dressed. I go on to History.”

She slapped his thigh playfully, “More details, Donkey Dick. You turn off the shower, then what?”

He looked at her puzzled, and spoke a little sarcastically, “I put the soap back on the dish. Very carefully. I double-check to make sure the hot water is turned off. Then the cold. I pick up a towel from the top of the stack. Dry off. Get dressed.” Shrug, “End of story.”

“Back up, Bubba. What do you do with the towel?”

He tilted his head at the crazy woman, “Toss it in the hamper. Very carefully.”

“An’ where is this hamper?”

“Mama.”

“Bear with me.”

“Right by the shower.”

“And then?”

“I walk to my locker, open it very carefully, get dressed. Very carefully.”

“Nothing between the hamper and your locker?”

He frowned, “Oh. You have to fill out the Daily Form. You know, sit-ups and stuff.”

Denise leaned down and placed her lips against his ear, “Danny Boy, my love, there are five holes drilled in the wall. The girls can see you guys standing there filling out that form.”

He froze, stunned. “Really?”

“They call it the Peep Show. Been there for years.”

She watched her son’s face as he digested the news. Surprise, evaluation, curiosity. “Kin I look at them?”

“Sorry, no such luck. There’s this black curtain the girls go under. All you’d see is darkness. Or maybe an eyeball.”

“Huh.”

As Denise had expected, he wasn’t upset. She watched as he pictured himself walking to the desk with the clipboard. Standing there, finding his name, filling in the information.

He smiled; it was like the sun rising, “They kin see everything, huh?”

“Yep. Every single inch of you.” She nuzzled his ear again, “Mr. Donkey Dick.”

She pretended not to notice the growing bulge in his slacks.

In a way that no respected economic analyst would recognize, the health of the Sausalito economy could be roughly measured by the number of BJ Room visitors. The fluctuation mirrored — within a week or so — the fortunes of the little town.

Layoffs were reflected in fewer customers at Miss Kitty’s. Some of the regulars visited the BJ Room less frequently. Conversely, when demand for oil was high, and small companies were hiring, the girls were sucking more cock.

Well, the good times had lasted three full months and showed no signs of letting up. Sharon Trudeau broke the news to Sausalito in a small, front-page story. Photo: Miss Kitty’s storefront. Caption: Kate Broussard adds second BJ Room! Copy: Supply and demand. Kate, “One room was simply not enough.” Dancer Gigi Fontenot, “Oh, this is so much better. More efficient.”

It wasn’t a major story because the original BJ Room had been settled law for almost 20 years. But it reenergized the topic around dinner tables, work places, classrooms.

Kate had considered raising the price to $45, but decided against it. A downturn would come, sooner or later. Better to keep things on an even keel.

The second room itself didn’t need any remodeling. It had been a lap dance space and Kate simply added hooks and hangers so the guests could hang up their clothes.

Gigi pointed out the room to the teenage girls who were taking Sunday morning dance lessons, “Another room for us to suck cock.” The girls glanced in, but just shrugged. Settled law.

After she had gotten Danny Boy off to school, Denise often found herself putting on her all-white dance costume — cap, vest, thong, and high-heeled sneakers. She’d crank up different songs on her playlist and practice different moves. She did it with and without the Catwoman mask. Decided she liked ‘without’ better.

She had told Lena about her performance that Saturday afternoon. She knew the woman wouldn’t be the least judgmental; after all she had performed on that very same stage.

In fact, Lena couldn’t have been any more supportive. She insisted that Denise show her the dance routine. Of course it wasn’t the same at home, but Denise still got into it. When the song ended, she stood there flushed from the effort and curious about Lena’s reaction.

She looked Denise up and down, evaluating the 27-year old mom who was now wearing only those sneakers. “Hon, you are every boy’s wet dream. You jess know they’re still beating off to you.”

Denise giggled, and took a sip of chicory, “Do you miss it, Lena? Being up there on the stage.”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? Kate still calls me from time to time, so I get my fix...” Grin, “Jess when I need it.”

“Really?” Denise was fascinated, her nudity forgotten.

“Yeah, she calls me and two other girls. There’s a demand to see granny pussy — you know, for a change.” She gestured at Denise’s body, “As fuckable as you look, some guys like to see a woman they might actually have a chance with.” She winked, “I may be 44, but I still got some things going for me.”

“A lot, Lena, a lot.”

“Okay, so you’re up there on the stage. The Horton girl strips you naked. Then what?”

Denise took a breath, looked her mother-in-law in the eye, and described the rest of the morning in detail. Lena took it all in, nodded, and said, “Next time lose the mask. You’ll feel even more naked.”

Denise nodded thoughtfully, “You’re right, I been practicing without it.”

“Does Danny Boy know?”

Denise blushed deep scarlet, “No, I been putting it off, me.”

Lena didn’t tell her to suck it up and get it over with. She wasn’t the kind of woman to give her son’s wife any family advice. But Denise knew she had to have The Talk with Danny Boy. And soon.

Eulalie, in a typical move that was just one more indication of her genius, called Helen Washington, the school district superintendent.

After exchanging pleasantries, Eulalie said, “Helen, you know about thirty of your girls are taking those Sunday morning dance lessons at Miss Kitty’s.”

“I am aware.”

“How about — and only if you think it makes good sense — letting them earn credits for their extracurricular activities?”

Helen laughed, “Institutional approval for a strip joint.”

“Yes. But encouragement for the girls to do extra work.”

“Oh, hell, I don’t see how it could hurt.”

A few of the Sausalito fathers had been adamantly opposed to letting their innocent daughters get up on that particular stage. Extra credit at school was one less arrow in their quiver.

Her next call was to Cindy Dautrive, “Hon, start showing up at work on Sunday mornings. I want you to video those dance lessons.”

No hesitation. “Sure, you got it.”

Ever since The Talk about the Peep Show, Danny Boy had altered his behavior at home. Denise was pretty sure it was nothing to worry about, but she still asked her mother-in-law, Lena, anyway.

“About all he wears these days is underwear — those tighty-whiteys.”

Lena laughed, “Does he fluff himself up?”

“Yeah, I think so. Maybe. it’s hard to tell, really.”

Lena nodded. She had changed his diapers and bathed him many times over the years. With Danny Boy would be difficult to tell his normal bulge from a self-enhanced one. “And this started after you told him about the Peep Show?”

‘Yeah, mainly. I mean I seen him a million times before, but it’s like all the time these days.”

Lena looked thoughtful, “Denise, I bet anything he’s spending more time after his shower — you know, filling out that gym form.”

Denise giggled, “Yeah, probably.” Shrug, “Can’t blame him, not really.”

“Me neither. If I had what he had...”

“Yeah.”

The next afternoon was typical. Danny Boy came home, undressed, headed straight for the kitchen. This time, instead of sitting at the kitchen table, he leaned against a counter, devouring his bowl of turkey gumbo.

Denise kept a straight face as she watched him fondly. She was wearing her usual outfit — a tee and panties.

Rinse, dishwasher. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Remember that time you tole me ... about girls and ... um, size and ... liking it? Size?”

“Come sit on the couch with me, honey. That’s where we do our best talking.” And where he wouldn’t feel her amused eyes directly on him.

They sat down, side by side, feet up on the coffee table. She placed her palm casually on his thigh and leaned her head on his shoulder. A 27-year old mother and her 14-year old son, “Thinking about size these days, are you?”

Shrug. “Sometimes. Once in a while. Not very often. You know.”

“Okay. Here’s what I do know. Straight talk. Some girls are what you call size queens. They love a big one. Other girls ... if it’s too big, it scares them away.”

“How big is too big?”

“Well ... that depends on the girl. How much experience she’s had. How tight her vagina is.”

Danny Boy caught his breath.

She shifted her head and whispered in his ear, “By vagina, I mean pussy.”

She kept from giggling as she watched his bulge start to throb. She really shouldn’t tease him like this. He crossed his legs. That did nothing to hide his equipment.

“Now as far as penis length is concerned,” another whisper, “And by penis I mean cock, it isn’t so much the length as how thick that baby is. Most girls like a nice fat one.”

He turned it around on her, “Do you? Do you like a fat one?”

She felt her cheeks color. But this was important to him. And ever since Matt had died ... well, she always tried to be open and honest. Her voice sounded thick to her, ‘Yes.” She cleared her throat, “Yes, I do.”

“Oh.” He recrossed his legs.

Denise smiled, remembering, “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Harry snuck down to the girls’ locker room to check you out.”

Danny Boy sat up and stared at his mother. Huge grin, “Really? My teacher? Honest?”

“Yep. She tole Jolene Horton an’ Gigi Fontenot and they tole me.”

“What’d they say?”

Denise started to chide him about fishing for compliments, then changed her mind. She placed her palms on his cheeks, turned him to face her, looked him straight in the eye, “Harry said you got the fattest cock she ever saw. Like a beer can.”

Gigi stood next to Cindy, both nude, in front of the wall of mirrors at Miss Kitty’s. She spoke conversationally, “Hon, Eulalie wants you to fuck Ray-Ray. His first pussy.”

Cindy’s thoughts were on tactics, not morality, not on being told to have intercourse with a teenage boy. “Where?”

“I was hoping at your place. My kids are in and out all day.”

Cindy looked thoughtful, “Danny’s got a job interview up in Laurel tomorrow. That’s over a hundred miles, so he’ll be gone four or five hours.”

“What time’s he leaving?”

“Around seven in the morning.”

“Good, I’ll keep Ray-Ray home from school and bring him by around eight.”

“I’ll get someone to cover for me at Carver.”

Three other dancers listened in, not finding it the least bit odd that the newest dancer would be doing what Eulalie wanted without hesitation.

Jolene remarked conversationally, “Gigi, I thought Eulalie would have you be the first to fuck Ray-Ray.” The other two dancers nodded in agreement.

Gigi shrugged, “She hasn’t told me to. Not yet anyway.”

Cindy was still focused on tactics, “I’ll make sure there’s clean sheets in our guest room.”

Jolene was interested in the process too, “He’ll cum real fast, that first time. Gigi, maybe you should suck him off?”

She shook her head, “Eulalie didn’t say nothing about that. Just to give Cindy to him to fuck.”

Cindy nodded her own head in agreement, “And that’s just what I’ll do.”

Denise waited until her son had scarfed down the after-school sandwich she had fixed him. A huge fried oyster po-boy, cold but still tasty. She watched as he rinsed his plate and put it in the dishwasher without prompting.

“Come sit beside me, baby.”

He pretended fear, “Oh no, not The Talk again.”

Then he saw his mother was serious, wasn’t joking around. “Oh, okay.”

Once again she leaned her head on his shoulder. She had come to prefer sitting side by side when they discussed some subjects. It was sometimes easier for one or the other not to be making eye contact. In this instance, Denise wanted to avoid scrutiny.

“Honey ... um, last Saturday morning ... I ... I danced at Miss Kitty’s? Up on thee stage?”

There was a stunned silence for just a moment, then Danny sat up, turned to her, a huge grin plastered on his face, “Mama!”

So much in that single word. Awe. A newfound respect. Curiosity. A vivid interest.

Denise relaxed, “Down boy.”

He sat back, both of them staring straight ahead. He took a deep breath, “Did you ... I mean ... everything?” His own cheeks were flushed, matching hers.

“Did i take off everything? In front of all those boys? No, young man, I certainly did not.”

“Oh.”

“I kept my sneakers on.”

“Mama!” A don’t-tease-me tone. Not about something this serious.

She talked him through the process. Lunch with Kate at Miss Kitty’s. How she and Marie and several of the dancers complimented her. Encouraged her to give it a try. Picking the music. Evelyn teaching her a couple of moves. The rehearsal.

“Oh, I forgot, I wore a Catwoman mask too. So nobody would recognize me.”

“I would!”

“Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t.”

He snorted as only a teenager could.

“Donkey Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna see my dance costume? I brought it home.”

“Fuck yes!”

“Watch your fucking mouth, Horse Cock.”

“Please.” Again, one word, so laden with meaning and yearning and nuance.

Denise stood up, “Be right back.”

As she gathered the blazing white vest and thong, she grinned to herself. This was fun. Back in the living room, she held up the costume, “Here it is.”

“Mama!”

Pure innocence, “What?”

“Aren’t you going to ... I mean ... wear it?” He nodded vigorously, “Like a model?”

“Oh. That hadn’t occurred to me. I suppose I could. Okay, close your eyes, no peeking.”

He squeezed his eyes so tightly he looked like he was trying to crush his own face.

“Wait a minute, Mister. I don’ trust you, no sir. Stand up and turn your back.”

Instant obedience.

Denise, grinning widely, tossed her teeshirt and panties on the sofa right in front of him. Danny Boy gasped.

“Oh, wait. sec, I forgot my mask. Be right back. In her bedroom, she took her time, lacing up those high-heeled sneakers. Checked herself out in the full-length mirror, winked.

Back in the living room, he was standing there at attention, breathing deeply. She slipped into the vest that covered her nipples, but just barely. Pulled on the thong, made sure it did its job. Just barely.

“Okay, Buster Boy.”

He turned slowly and stared.

He stared. And stared. His voice came out a whisper, “Oh, Mama, oh fuck.”

Before she could savor his reaction, he gasped and slammed both hands over this bulge. Turned redder than she’d ever seen him. He whirled around and scampered off to his room.

Denise was amused. And, a little proud. She put her tee and panties back on and went into the kitchen to wait. Time again for The Talk. This one about nature taking its course; nothing to be embarrassed about; she shouldn’t have teased him so much. She would have to stop giggling though.

For once, Gigi didn’t have any trouble getting Ray-Ray up and moving. Her other three sons were still sound asleep. She smiled at her husband, “Your turn to get ‘em to school.”

“Sure. Where you guys off to so early?”

Gigi beamed, a glorious smile full of warmth and humor, “Ray-Ray here’s getting his first pussy — Mrs. Cindy Dautrive.”

Craig laughed and held out his fist to his son, “Score!”

On the drive over, she nudged her son, “Nervous, Ray-Ray?”

“Yeah. But mostly excited. I hope I do okay.”

“Well, try to remember her clit. And to be gentle with it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Cindy opened the front door, nude and smiling, “Hi there, Ray-Ray.”

“Miss Cindy. Um, Mrs. Cindy.”

Gigi said, ‘He done had his shower, so let’s get this show on the road...”

It had never occurred to Ray-Ray and Cindy that Gigi wouldn’t be right there in the middle of it. She and her son quickly stripped. Gigi noted his erection with approval. No performance anxiety.

In the spare bedroom, Cindy lay on her back and unselfconsciously lubricated her pussy, smiling at her guests the entire time. Gigi feeling a burst of motherly pride, grasped Ray-Ray by the base and slowly eased him inside.

Cindy sighed in almost sisterly pleasure. Neither woman bothered to speak Eulalie’s name; her presence was felt in the room.

Ray-Ray started humping, but not overly fast. Gigi whispered, “Clit.”

“Oh yeah.” He fumbled around and Gigi guided his middle finger to the promised land. Then she stepped back to tape the little adventure.

To Cindy, it wasn’t a mercy fuck — it was more of a favor to Gigi, a gift to the boy. It never occurred to her to feel even an ounce of resentment at being told who to fuck.

Neither woman was surprised that Ray-Ray lasted only a minute or two. When he slowly, slowly pulled out, Gigi casually squeezed the last few drops of cum out. Then she winked at Cindy, pulled her open and started licking enthusiastically.

Cindy teased her friend, ‘Can you taste him?”

“Yum.”

When Ray-Ray had recovered, Gigi lay beside Cindy, holding her hand. Both women grinned as the boy started on round two. Gigi didn’t find it the least bit odd to be watching her own son in action. Cindy didn’t give a thought to the fact she was fucking an underaged boy. Ray-Ray was, simply, enraptured. Only later did he reflect on the fact that his mother was right there. For reasons he didn’t begin to understand, that excited him even more.

When Gigi and Ray-Ray left, Cindy lay there, languidly touching herself. She had half an hour or so before she needed to leave for Carver. She smiled to herself, remembering Ray-Ray’s enthusiasm, his mother’s casual attitude toward all things sexual.

But mostly Cindy was thinking about Eulalie Guidry. Cindy understood on some deep level that the little girl had plans for her. That fucking Ray-Ray and Rémy was just the beginning of ... of what? That she didn’t know. But as she reached down to touch herself, she realized that she not only wasn’t worried, but was looking forward to whatever lay ahead.

She was a wife, a teacher, a dancer, and ... Eulalie’s slut.

After Cindy had been working at Miss Kitty’s for a little over a month, she knocked on Kate’s office door. Cindy was still damp from her recent shower and thought no more about being nude than any of the more seasoned dancers. They’d all seen each other dozens, sometimes hundreds, of times.

Kate smiled, “Yes, dear?”

Cindy plopped down in a leather guest chair, one leg over the arm, “Danny got hired back at the sawmill. Graveyard shift.”

Kate nodded, “He’s low on the seniority list.”