Life had gone downhill in the six years since Katie left.

She knew she would have lost custody of Molly to me, so she packed up and headed who knows where, taking my precious eight year-old daughter (and life savings) with her. They got posted on a milk carton or two, and that was that. I tried my best to accept that I'd never see either one of them again.

A few things changed after the split. I worked odd jobs, kept myself fed, grew a beard. Got tired of working on my feet and took a long-haul trucking gig a couple years ago. I've been doing all right. Never got seriously involved with anybody after Katie, though. That small part of me that doesn't hate her kinda wishes I had her back.

Not the Katie that left, but the girl I fell for back in high school. We met when we were 14. Went steady all the way into our early 20s, then got married. God, she was gorgeous. Looked twenty-something since junior high. She used to buy us beer. Never needed an I.D. with those tits. Nobody behind the liquor counter ever suspected any teenage girl would be sporting a set of double-Ds like hers, and that sandy blonde hair, that smile... damn.

She was a wild one, but as soon as Molly was born, things started to change. She never really lost the baby weight, and felt kinda self-conscious about it I suppose. Shit I didn't care. Them titties filled out to god knows how big. Drove me nuts all the way through the pregnancy, and I poked her every chance I got. I loved it all, big round tummy, lactating... but after the birth, things tapered off fast. We were both tired from taking care of the baby. She mistook my exhaustion for disinterest, and got even more reluctant to let me near her. I was too tired to fight about it, and she figured I didn't care. It was all downhill from there...

Anyway, everything in my life had quieted down til last week. I pulled into a bordertown truckstop in the upper-midwest, with a pretty popular strip club adjacent to three or four cheap motels. This wasn't my regular route, so I wasn't sure if the dancers would work (ahem) "overtime" like they do down south, but given the number of motels in the area, I figured it might be a safe bet. I booked a room, then headed for the nudie bar. Once inside, I grabbed a six-dollar bottle of beer (damn!) and took a seat along the back wall where I could check out all the action but wouldn't have tramps hitting me up for another dollar every 30 seconds.

I was not impressed with the lineup. They had plenty of girls alright, 3 working the center main stage, and four more on single platforms toward the corners of the room, but nobody tripped my trigger. I was about ready to go when I heard a ruckus from alongside the center stage. Seems the guys up front could see the next girl coming out before the rest of the room, and as she emerged, the hoots and hollers grew exponentially. The corner-stage girls might just as well taken the next 15 minutes off, as all eyes were on the buxom little redhead skipping along the runway in ponytails, a white blouse, plaid skirt, knee socks, and black patent leather pumps.

It's hard to gauge the height of somebody on stage, but unless the other dancers were absolute Amazons, this girl couldn't have stood more than 5 feet tall. Her face was so innocent and youthful that you might have taken her for a twelve year-old, were it not for the 38-D melons dancing beneath that white blouse.

"Gentlemen..." the disc jockey bellowed atop heavy-metal renditions of nursery rhyme music as she climbed into the lap of a grey-haired gentleman stageside. "... she ain't old Mother Hubbard... but she's givin' THAT old dog a bone... let's hear it for Cassandra!"

This girl's youth was lethal. She sucked her thumb, played with stuffed animals, skipped, paraded, twirled and played. While I'd seen other women attempt this act with varied degrees of success, nobody had ever pulled it off like her. They usually looked old, desperate, and stupid. This girl had it all down, the pout, the hair flip... and none of it looked rehearsed. It seemed as spontaneous as a girl in her own bedroom might act.

I'm not sure when, or even how I ended up moving forward and sitting in one of the 'sucker-seats' beside the runway, but I did. I had to get as close as I could to this girl. She could have every single in my wallet. Every large bill and credit card, too. Hell, take my truck baby, here are the keys...

We made eye contact. Her head cocked to one side, like a puppy does when it hears a squeak. She smiled a hauntingly familiar smile. "Katie..." I thought for a second, then common sense took over. No way in hell that was my Katie. No diet regimen, no plastic surgeon could have peeled nearly two decades off my ex-wife. The more I watched her, the more differences I noticed: no birthmark on her butt, she was definitely shorter, and Katie was something of an introvert. She might have taken that stage in high school with enough beer in her, but she wouldn't be walking straight, let alone dancing like THAT.

I found myself staring at her face for nearly the whole act. My attention wasn't lost on her. She kept coming back to me, making eye contact, and smiling. God, that smile. I realized I hadn't tipped her yet. I pulled out a twenty, and one of the business cards from the motel I was staying at. I scrawled my room number on the back, and a quick note saying "A girl like you, I'd pay just to be able to talk to." When I looked up, she had stripped down to her bra & panties. They had teddy bears on 'em. Nice touch, I thought.

I kept making eye contact. Her body was killer, but I wanted her to know I was sincere. She bent forward to take the twenty in her cleavage, but just before I could tuck it in she undid her bra snap. It flung forward, landing on my head like a hat. The natural way her tits jiggled and sagged on release made me certain they were factory originals, not a Dow-Corning upgrade. This girl was genetic perfection.

She covered her nipples coyly, as though she was surprised her bra had let loose. Her small hands lifted those awesome tits back into their prominent position, offering that magnificent cleavage once again. I slid the bill and business card between them. She enveloped my hand and leaned into my ear, whispering "That kinda money could'a gotten you a lap dance, handsome." I kissed her gently on the cheek and replied, "Maybe later, baby. Come see me. Please."

I hoped I hadn't sounded desperate. I stood up (thankful that I could), swigged the last of my beer, nodded to her and winked, and headed out the door. No need to stay and spend more money. It wasn't gonna get any better than that.

Back at the motel, I spent the next few hours watching the ceiling, the clock, and the ceiling again. It was a half an hour past bar-time. I figured all along she'd be a no-show, but I couldn't have slept if I'd wanted to. I kept seeing her face, then Katie's face, then hers again. I remembered the first time Katie and I had sex, in her bedroom, surrounded by stuffed animals and her in that junior-high cheerleader getup.

I rubbed my hardening cock through my pants remembering how thrilling it was to know her Mom or Dad could walk in on us at any... <KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK>

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest as the rapping at my motel room door brought me out of my reminiscent fantasy and back to the real world. I was out of bed in a flash, and at the peephole. My god, it was her! The stripper! Cath... what was her name? Cassandra, that's it. Jesus, she really showed up! Okay, man... deep breath...

I opened the door and said the coolest, most clever thing I could come up with:

"Hi."

"Hi!" she smiled, her hand patting my cheek as she sauntered in. Almost three in the morning and she had more bounce in her step than I would the next day at noon. Ah, youth.

"You look really familiar-" we both froze in mid-sentence, amazed that we'd said the same thing to one another in unison. She giggled. I smiled.

"You first" I offered.

"Have we ever... I mean, do I know you from somewhere?" I didn't know if that high-pitched voice was part of her character. Maybe she was still playing the little girl role.

"I don't know... I don't think so," I pondered staring at her face again. "You do remind me of somebody. Someone I was deeply in love with years ago, when we were both just kids."

"Aww," she patted my face again. "That's sweet." Her other hand took my neck and guided me down to her as she stood tippy toe to give me a kiss on the cheek. I turned my face directly toward hers, and she initiated a second kiss, on the lips. Her tongue danced between my upper and lower lips before invading my mouth and entwining with my own. I broke away, just inches from her face.

"I meant what I wrote," I said. "I'd be thrilled just to get to know you."

"I knew you did," she replied. "And that's why I'm here, doing this. There's something about you. You make me feel... I dunno... safe, I guess."

I kissed her again, this time probing with my tongue. She sucked and nibbled it eagerly. I chewed passionately down the side of her neck, helping her slide her coat off. As it hit the floor, I was delighted to see she'd put the schoolgirl uniform back on.