The sky looked like somebody had taken a white pebble board, masked it off, put some ultramarine blue in a thin wash, then dropped some Payne's grey into it. The close foreground of the sky was a dark and angry mixture of blue and grey; almost black, fading into a soft grey at the tops of the trees in the distant. The hunter green trees bled into the sky, creating an image of incoming rain in the distance.

About a third of the way up from the bottom of the painting, silver over red greyhound bus seemed to arise out of the stained cedar deck that surrounded it on three sides. The buss and deck were surrounded with a sea of monstrous Madam Wu Hostas on three sides, and a row of five foot tall Cannas along the back of the bus.

Stationed just in front of the cedar deck was a 1985 Yamaha FZ750 with mat black finish that looked more like suede. "Who the fuck lives there?" Mike wondered. The black fazer was there for a number of reasons. In one sense, it was like the old grandmother that puts a black Stetson on the back ledge of her '96 Honda Civic; hoping that thieves will not mess with a car owned by some mean asshole. On the other hand it was like someone with a drug house surrounded with pit bulls chained to dog houses around it. What had been put there to discourage intruders became something of intrigue to Stephanie.

Pamphlets to the tourists stated that the Cabot Trail was a scenic asphalt road around the island that could be driven in about eight hours. Going around the highway on a dry early morning Stephanie had done it in two; with the foot-pegs leaving trails of sparks and never much getting out of third gear, she had mastered this salvaged titled monster without her mother even knowing it had been ridden.

In the old days, good guys wore white hats; the villains wore black. In this modern story, the demon can be heard coming over a hill in a guards-red 930 slope nose Porsche Targa. The six Weber carburetors ultimately channel the used gas into six exhaust manifolds that narrow into two "megaphones" with several baffles; no mufflers. It's not loud, but the sound out of the exhaust sounds like a Harley Davidson twin engine with timing that has been set to 7° of advance that usually sets off almost all of the security alarms in an underground parking structure.

Knowing this, Mike turns off the engine as he comes over the hill and coasts a couple hundred yards before coming to a stop next to some trees at the edge of the Continental Bus property.

The back door opened. A tall rangy figure emerged.

Stephanie was leaving home at six in the evening, anxious about this evening's run. From tomorrow on, they would be two-a-days and she would have to be much more determined to wake up when the alarm went off. She would be in a new school this fall. Anxious to make new friends and al little nervous also about being a freshman, She wanted to get started off right. She had been notified about summer conditioning for Cross Country practice. The school coaches knew nothing about her previous experience. For all they knew, she was just another fourteen-year old freshman trying out for cross country for the first time like any other young girl her age.

Stephanie was a tall, lanky girl who didn't look like she could stand. She reminded people, driving by and watching her jog, of a young foal just trying to stand. Her legs were long for her age. The rest of her body would undoubtedly catch up later. Although they were long, the experienced coaches could see the well defined leg muscles had lots of potential. Nobody knew that she had used a fictitious name at the KU Relays and had run a distant second to Ali Cash, who had come within a couple of seconds of a national record in the 1600m and 800m high school division. She had faked a name so as not to use her high school eligibility.

Steph had her backpack with her regular running gear, towel and a change of clothes. She was heading to practice, which was several miles away. She had taken the back way through the forest. She wore lumberjack boots which were laced to the top, just below the knees. The boots had heavy canvass "pockets" with lead weights around her ankles to strengthen her legs. Her shorts were Levis cut practically to the crotch with small slits up the side. Her pockets had been cut and shortened so they would not stick down below the hem of the shorts.

Her red and blue checkered lumberjack shirt fit like a glove and was tucked into her shorts. Her sleeves were rolled up above her elbows. Her medium sized melon breasts hardly moved when she ran, but her long-stemmed pink nipples pushed out against the oxford fabric and left little to the imagination about how big her breasts or nipples were. If her mother knew she was not wearing a bra, there might have been an ugly scene when she left the house. Stephanie was young enough to be somewhat oblivious to the provocative image she presented, and her mother was undecided on just how much attention she should raise to her daughter's dress. If she wasn't aware of the sexuality she was presenting, should her mother make it an issue? Jenny was undecided for now.

Stephanie was wearing a Kansas City Chiefs baseball cap. Her ear buds and music from her MP3 Player kept her oblivious to any events around her.

Mike had parked just beyond her house on numerous occasions. He knew by now what her route would be down to the highway. He gave her a head start of about twenty minutes. He turned around and headed down to the highway. He saw her emerge from the trees and head down the Cabot Trail to town.

When Stephanie had left, there had been just a few drops of rain; hardly enough to tell whether it was rain, or dew shaken loose from the leaves in the forest. By the time she was halfway to the highway, the rain had become a fine mist; not enough to drench her, but enough to make her blouse almost transparent.

Mike pulled up alongside her. He slowed down and rolled down his window. "Can I give you a ride down to the High School?" He asked. Stephanie pulled her ear phones down around her neck. She wouldn't ordinarily have taken a ride, but couldn't tell if the rain was going to stop or get worse. She hadn't really heard him, but she knew the drill. Everybody offered her a ride. She recognized Mike as her Mom's employer. She was ordered to stay away from strangers, but decided he was someone familiar to the family. Not wanting to offend him, she nodded and turned for the door. She slid uneasily into the red slant nose 911 Targa.

As Mike roared off, the acceleration was so quick she could hardly raise her arms to clasp the five-point seat belt. The back of her head pressed into the headrest. She had never been in a car like this, and the other high school girls would be impressed to see her get out of this sports car.

When they arrived, her blouse had dried enough that her nipples were no longer showing through wet fabric. Mike stopped under the entrance canopy. The other girls were seated in a big circle in the grass. They gawked at the rookie runner getting out of this $100,000 sports car. Was she from a rich family? In any event, she had their attention.

"I can pick you up after practice and take you over to see your mother at work. When she's done, you can ride home with her." Stephanie waved goodbye and nodded. She didn't know much about her mother's work; what did she do and where did she work? Jenny had been secretive about details of her work. In fact, Jenny had been very secretive about everything.

When Stephanie was done with cross country practice, she had showered and changed clothes. She had changed from the track outfit she had been issued back into what she was wearing when she got out of Mike's car. She sent a text message to the number he had given her, so she sat down in the grass with the other girls until she heard the faint whine of the Porsche as it went through the gears. The girls all smiled when it came around the corner. "Lucky rat bastard!" several of them thought as they waved goodbye to her.

Stephanie was pleased with her day. They were just supposed to loosen up and run four miles. Loosening up is never a casual experience. It is supposed to be, but the girls are all in undeclared cliques. The girls, who were the best cross country runners last year, ran in front. If anybody tried to stay with them, they increased the tempo until the herd thinned out.

The underclassmen soon learned you run with your own group, or it would be a dead run if you tried to stay with somebody outside of your group. Stephanie knew, but chose to ignore the school tradition.

She ran with the head group; the girls left from the cross country varsity team that had not graduated. Stephanie acted like she was struggling to keep up, and ran at the tail end. The girls were determined to show her who was boss; and gradually increased the tempo, until it was an all-out, full-fledged race. The girls' race is only a couple thousand meters, and their practice was easily twice what they ran in a race.

The girls were going all out. They were trying to kill themselves to get distance from this new girl who seemed to be struggling to keep up. Why didn't she just fall back? Stephie played with them for a while. She waited until there was about 1,000 meters to go, then slowly increased the tempo until she passed; then once she was ahead, slowly increased some more. She gave them a chance to try to keep up for a while, and then just smoked them. She was out of the shower and dressing when they got to the locker room. It was pretty quiet for a while.

Somehow, they knew they didn't have the full story on this gangly fourteen year old freshman who walked off and left the varsity cross country team and was driven off from practice in a red slant nose Porsche convertible.

Stephanie was a little giddy about how her day had gone so far. Now she would get to see her mother and see what she does for work. They roared down the highway and turned into this large gravel parking lot on the outskirts of town. What was this? This was no restaurant. Her mother worked in a restaurant, didn't she? This was a gentlemen's club; Guinevere's is what the big flashy sign said. It had a picture of a very provocative woman who was almost naked; was that her mother's picture? Suddenly Stephanie did not like the feeling she was having.

Mike escorted Stephanie into the club. It was very dark. Once through the vestibule, there was a large room with amphitheater seating. At the bottom of the amphitheater, was a stage. There was a beautiful young girl of about twenty who was dancing and leaning against a pole. This was a strip joint! Her mom worked as a stripper? How could this be?

Stephanie was stupefied. Mike sat her down at a table for two on the top tier. They could see the stripper performing. Beyond the aisle they were sitting by, were a series of large couches. A number of naked girls were straddling some men and grinding on them. They would sit facing the same direction as the men and grind their asses into their obvious erection.

Stephanie was horrified. Did her mother do this too? Soon, Stephanie saw her mother come out of the dressing room. She was wearing high-heeled suede boots that zipped up the side and came to just below her knees. She had a very snug silk dress that barely covered her ass. How could she bend over or sit? The bottom was unbuttoned to just below her crotch. The top was unbuttoned to the bottom of her breasts. Her breasts were exposed from the sides and her long stemmed pink nipples could be seen from the right angle. She was carrying a small tray with several drinks on it.

When she came to a table, she would drop to her knees and set the drinks on the table. The men could easily see most of her breasts. Jenny did it this way, because if she bent over, they could see her butt or vagina. She had no panties. The men would always playfully flip the back of her dress up, or pull her down on their laps. If she sat there, soon the hands would creep up under the dress.

Jenny saw mike at the table on the top tier, and started towards him. He was sitting with another girl she didn't recognize; a new hire? Suddenly Jenny froze. She recognized the girl; it was Stephanie, her daughter. What was she doing here? Jenny didn't even know her daughter knew where she worked. Oh, God! She was practically naked in front of her daughter! It was too late to hide.

Stephanie pulled the ear buds out of her ears, coiled the wires; disconnected them from her cell phone and laid them on the table.

Steph, honey, what are you doing here? How did you get here? Mike did you bring her here? Please take her home. Mike smiled.

"Stephanie, honey, this is where your mom works. I went through her back pack and found an enormous amount of money; tons of fake passports, driver's licenses, and birth certificates. She has undoubtedly crossed the border with you illegally. She does not have your dad's permission to take you out of the country. I understand from an investigator that she has taken and sold property that does not belong to her. She can go to jail for a long time and will lose custody of you to your dad. How does that sound?"

Stephanie and her mom looked at each other. Jenny was a little confused. She thought she had bought his silence several days ago with her humiliating performance at the birthday party. She had paid for it on the couch. She had paid for it several times with Mike's business friends. What did he have in mind now?

"Stephanie, honey, tonight is Initiation Night. All the new girls are going to get initiated. Unfortunately you are the only new girl I have hired tonight. For starters, I am going to have you give your audition dance next. If you can't cut it, I will call the authorities and you and your mother will be going home; without the money; without anything. Your dad will meet you at the border."

"Please, Mister, I can't have my mom go to jail. We left for a reason. It will kill my mom if we get split up. Please give us a chance." Stephanie pleaded as her eyes teared up.

Mike took Stephanie's hand and escorted her down to the stage. With one hand around her waist and the other holding the microphone, Mike introduced her to the audience; "Ladies and Gentlemen; Boys and Girls of all ages. Tonight is Audition Night. Unfortunately we only have one new amateur here tonight. Please show your appreciation if you want her here as one of the new regulars. " The crowd roared. Stephanie stood motionless; petrified at her situation. The music started. The wailing saxophone and the heavy drumbeat indicated it was clearly a striptease. She had seen the girl before so there was no misunderstanding what she had to do.

Stephanie stood there; her mind racing. What could she do? Stephanie had worked for a magician in Kansas City since she was about twelve. She had seen all of his tricks. Would that work? Stephanie tried to mix what she had seen the stripper do, and what she had seen the magician do.

She put her ear buds and cell phone on the floor at one end of the stage. She did a pirouette or two, trying to end up at the pole. She was still quite a ways away. She took her baseball cap and threw it in the air, spinning it as she threw it. Another pirouette. Stephie moved her head forward and extended her arms out on each side of her. The hat landed on her head. The crowd roared. Can I get away with this, she wondered?

Stephanie spun around and dropped to her knees at the end of the stage. She reached out and took a man's cigarette. She stood and turned her back to the audience. She turned her head sideways; showing the cigarette in her mouth.
With her hands extended straight out to each side of her, she turned her head away from the audience; then back. The cigarette was gone. The audience cheered. She turned her head away; then back. There was the cigarette. The audience went wild. "Maybe I can get away with this." She thought. More pirouettes. Polite clapping. More pirouettes.

Now the booing was beginning. "Take it off! Take it off," came the chant. Stephanie new she had to do something or she and her mother would be in trouble. Her blouse was a man's blouse with long tails. She made a few turns and ended up on her knees again in front of another man seated at the end of the stage.

Stephanie tried to force a smile as she spread her legs. She grabbed the man's hands and placed them on her waist. The old man almost had a heart attack as he hastily began to unbutton her cutoff jeans. Nobody could really see the tears start as she turned around and got on her hands and knees. The old man tugged down her shorts. Stephanie had no panties, and sat back down with her butt on the floor between her ankles.

Stephanie turned sideways, stood and let the cutoffs drop to her ankles. She stepped out of them. Desperately tugging at her shirttails, she spun away to the music. "Take it off! Take it off!" came the chants again.

Stephanie didn't know how to procrastinate this much farther. She turned sideways to the audience and slowly slid down into the splits; one leg in front of her and one behind her. She could still keep her shirttails around her. "Take it off! Take it off!" Stephanie braced herself with her hands on the floor at her sides. She arched her head back as far as she could. She raised her back leg from the knee down and touched her head with the toe of her boot in a pose like the spin made famous by Tara Lipinski. The crowd cheered.

"Take it off! Take it off!" Stephanie's eyes teared up as she reached for her top button. The crowd cheered. One-by-one, she slid the buttons through the eyelets. Stephanie looked out desperately into the audience, looking for her mother. Could her mother get her out of this? She could see that somebody was seated at one of the front tables with her mother in his lap. He had her arms pinned behind her with one hand. The other was buried between her legs under her mother's skirt. She had a look of helplessness as they had her pinned on his lap. She had a look of despair and anguish; not being able to help her daughter, and knowing that she was sitting exposed to her daughter and the rest of the audience with two fingers sawing in and out of her clit. Tears were running down her mother's face and her shoulders and stomach were shuddering.