Chapter 5

When I drove up from Florida all the way out to Las Vegas, I was driving a 10 year old Chevrolet Caprice. It had about 200,000 miles on it and I had picked it up about 5 years ago at County Government auction for $1,200 bucks.

I really loved that car.

I had been screwed so many times in the back seat of that car that it almost felt like a boudoir to me. It was solid black and sat low to the ground on tires and wheels that set me back almost the price of the car itself.

I didn't realize when I bought it that it had been used for a few years by the Sheriff's as an unmarked car for the anti-drug squad. All I knew was that when I went on an appointment into some tough areas to do an hour of private dancing or special massage therapy, I could see the night people start to scatter like flushed birds. A lot of my clients were surprised when I started pulling out all the accessories for a full body massage on some of these sessions. I was a certified massage specialist and always carried my license with me when I went on a massage appointment.

Sometimes the guys would be very blunt and tell me,

"Forget about the massage, doll, just grab ahold of "Mr. Big Boy" and make me feel good."

I was very good at giving guys a happy ending and I was very persistent to come to a good conclusion for any guy that requested it, no matter how old they were or how unattractive. I have to admit that when I saw a guy with some nice equipment, I did my best work and I didn't care if they went over on time because I was working for myself and not some jerk who took my money.

You have to remember I was only about 19 or 20 when I was doing this shit and I sometimes thought with my pussy and not my brain.

Anyway, there I was in Las Vegas with time on my hands and I was pulling in some good money just talking BS with people on the phone. I had a nice pad with a backyard and everything and every once and awhile, this Indian guy (American Indian) would screw my pussy so good that I am certain the neighbors thought there was a serial murder taking place.

I saw an ad in the paper while I was eating waffles at the 24 hour pancake place. They were looking for "Attractive Models $500 a day". You had to be over 18 and willing to take orders. It sounded like it was right up my alley. The ad had that little green dot that showed the newspaper had verified the client and they had a valid phone number and address for contact. I all of a sudden had this urge to make the extra $500 bucks because I wanted to send my sister some money for the kids for Christmas.

It was a woman's voice that answered the phone.

I couldn't help but think this sweet sounding broad would make good money on the night time phone job I was working because her pipes had my pussy fluttering and I am not even like that at all. Well, I mean, not deep inside. I had eaten a lot of pussy in my professional career but I seldom went looking for it because I loved cock too much.

I guess what I really liked about it was hearing another female whimpering and groaning when I was giving it to her good with my tongue. It was almost like playing a musical instrument and getting real good at it. I had gotten a little too close to a couple of older women and sometimes the way they obsessed on me scared the shit right out of me. So I concentrated on young, inexperienced things like I was only a few short years ago.

"We are right on Flamingo. The stucco building with the flat roof. Suite 210 and 212. Bring a bathing suit. 2 piece if you got it and make sure you don't wear any powerful perfume. The boss just hates it."

I had to smile at that. I had the same phobia myself. Sometimes, the girls at the "all nude, all the time" dance club wore some stuff that would gag an elephant.

The waitress put my check down on my table.

I always sat in a booth. I couldn't stand the counter or a table with my back unprotected. I guess I was a little paranoid about that kind of shit.

Her name was Sally. She looked like a Sally. Her hair was a little out of kilter and her lipstick needed a steady hand to draw the edge.

Sally was a good waitress.

She usually chatted with me when it was not too busy and this morning was no exception. I reached up and pushed her hair back a little bit to show off her pretty face a little better. I was surprised to see her blush at the touch of my hand. You would think a pretty female working as a waitress in Las Vegas, the City of Sin, had a pretty good handle on all things sexual and erotic in nature.

My recent thoughts about the subject of girl on girl relationships must have been tickling my pussy hairs because I found myself checking out her upstairs equipment and how much junk she was packing in her trunk. The upstairs was a little on the smallish side, but that was OK with me. Her waitress uniform was tight enough for me to see she had a delightfully curved butt formed into a perfect double scooped heart.