Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so
we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.
Whore
I went on my way to Vegas,
to become a whore.
That wasn't why I started
or what I saw in store.
I got stranded in a desert town,
so what was I to do?
But hustle drinks for money
and dance a hootchy-koo?
And Bob he fucked me,
and not like I know it sounds
But had his own plans for me
him and the other clowns.
But fate doesn't fool so easy,
not for Bob and his dirty fucks
So now I'm here in Vegas
Mister, that's fifty bucks.
===============================================================
Chapter One: Showing Skin
===============================================================
Susan had had nothing but bad luck. It was an incredible
coincidence that everything could go wrong at the same time.
Sure, she had seen the signs telling her to turn off her air
conditioner, but fuck that, it was HOT. Carrying water was for people
lost in the 1800's. So what if it was a desert? It was five hours to
Vegas. This was the 21st century.
Then the car had started making those funny noises like someone
under the hood wanted to get out. When it wouldn't go anymore, she
had to sweat in the heat for more than ten minutes before a Nevada
State cop stopped and called a wrecker for her.
Her ordeal had left her parched and stranded in some nameless
Nevada border town which consisted of about five shacks people called
homes and a rambling collision of running roofs and add-ons that
served as service station, general store and bar. She immediately
went into the latter to slake her thirst.
She usually despised beer, but she didn't think there was enough
liquid in a Black Russian to quench her thirst. By the third one she
didn't mind the spoiled taste so much and she had confirmation that
her kidneys were working again.
She came back from the surprisingly bug-free restroom in a
remarkably good mood. She guessed she had underestimated the kick that
beer could have. She ordered another and this time even her opinion
of the flavor had changed. She couldn't ignore the taste, so she had
decided to live with it.
The world should have ended on that note. Susan was in as good
spirits as she would be for a while. The downward slide began when
Goober, real name Horace, from the gas station peeked in to find her.
"I got real bad news about your car," Goober said.
"What? You've got to wait for a part?" Susan asked.
"Oh golly no, unless you want me to order a whole new car,"
Goober said.
"Why? What's wrong with mine?" she asked, becoming apprehensive
that Goober was smarter than he looked.
"I never have seen a car so seized up as yours," Goober told her,
"It's like it melted into a block of solid metal. You sure you didn't
hear the fiercest of clanging and chinging afore it stopped?"
Susan didn't really remember. What she recalled was that the car
had stopped running and that had pissed her off, but she was glad she
could think again because all that noise had stopped. But she didn't
distinctly remember it as 'clanging and chinging'.
"I don't recall anything like that," Susan said, "But can't you
just put a new whatever in there and make it run?"
"You love this car dearly or something m'am?" Goober asked.
"No, I just need to get to Vegas," Susan said, "What do you
mean?"
"Well, the engine, which is the whatever I'd have to put in
there, run you about $1,200 if you aren't too picky about the one you
get and it'll take me at least two days to get the one out and put
the new one in. I suspect that's worth about a grand, but I'll do it
for ya for $500 'cause I ain't busy," Goober explained.
Sixty bucks an hour was pretty good for a waterhole mechanic.
Susan had calculated that before he had offered to cut it in half. She
could do math like that, she was just ashamed to admit it. She had a
bad feeling before the mechanic went on.
"And that's silly, because if all you want is to get to Vegas,
I got an Chevy that'll get you there that I'll sell you for $500 right like it
sits," Goober proposed.
"How exactly?" Susan asked, catching the smell of a skunk in
this convenient offer to sell her a junker and keep her- for all she
knew- perfectly useful car for himself.
"It's a '92. Didn't say it was a looker. I just know it runs
fine," Goober said.
"And what do you do with my car?" she asked.
"I could keep it for you. Or I could haul it into Jean and sell
it for parts if you want," Goober offered.
It really didn't make much difference in any case. She didn't have
the $1,700. She didn't have the $500. And she wasn't going to use
her father's credit card and let him know where she was.
She was out on the limb on this one. She was too drunk to make
big decisions anyway, she decided.
"Can we talk this out in the morning?" she asked.
"Sure," Goober said, "Now about the tow..."
"How much do I owe you?" she asked.
"Don't you got one of those little cards that pays that stuff
for you?" Goober asked.
"You mean a credit card?" Susan was a little nervous now.
"Naaaw, I know what a credit card is. One of those automobile
cards," Goober corrected her.
Susan didn't know. She flipped through the cards in her purse and
Goober pointed when she hit the right one. He wrote down the number and
finally left her to her tipsy musings.
"Is there any place to get a room around here?" she asked the
bartender.
"I got one in the back," he said.
"How much?" Susan asked.
"Depends on how much I like you." the bartender said.
Christ. Would it never stop? That was as blatant as it got.
"First, what's your name?" She asked.
It was Bob.
"Bob, I'm tired. It looks like I'm going to be drunk and I don't
really want to have to fuck you for a room," she told Bob.
He laughed.
"Have you got that wrong," he chuckled. "My might not be as
pretty as you or a as you, but she's bigger than either of us
and she'd beat the shit out of us both if we tried. Anyways she's
good to me."
"Then what do you mean about liking me?" Susan asked.
"Well, I've noticed that seem to drift towards a bar that's
got a looker like you in it," he started, "I'd like you plenty if
you'd hang out right here, especially later and let that pull of nature
drag 'em in."
"I get the room if I'm your B-girl for the night?" Susan was
incredulous.
"Near as I can come to puttin' a name on it," Bob said, "But you
don't have to go flirtin' with anybody. Just put up with some from
them."
"And I have to drink iced tea all night?" she asked.
"Hell no," Bob laughed again, "You get all the drinks you want
full strength. I've noticed that the pull gets stronger when there's
the whiff of drunken puss... er, a tipsy lady in the air."
It didn't change her plans any. She would have probably spent
the night drinking there anyway. It was an easy deal to make. She was
sure she'd have the best smelling drunken that had ever been in
this town.
-----
She was indeed a phenomenon. She tried to drive them away and
couldn't. Instead of flirting or even enduring the flirting of the
men, she was holding court with her withering rejections of any fool enough to approach her. It was a big hit with the crowd.
"But what would we do about the cat?" she replied to one
suggestion of a trip to his place.
"What cat?" the about to be ripped one said.
"I supposed it would take a pretty mean to have coughed up
a hairball like you," she disposed of him.
The rest caught the comparison to this hairy and roared. Her
victim even laughed himself.
It was like a floor show. And she was packing the house.
A while later she had a moment of weakness, which Susan blamed
on a number of things other than herself, chief among them her
intoxication.
"No, toothpick, but I'll keep you in mind if I need to pry
something from between my teeth," she had said to one tall cowboy.
An 'Oooooooooo' went up from the crowd at the evident change in
her demeanor. He was the first one she hadn't slammed.
He was the last as well. And he was still standing around as the
night got later. He was pretty, but it would set a real bad example if
she started screwing them.
If she had to pick, she'd pick him, but she didn't want anybody
else getting the wrong idea. She decided to take a break and grab
herself a minute to cool off. She asked Bob to show here the room so
she could get settled.
"It's that door just to the left off the john," Bob said as he
gave her a key.
"Is that the only way in?" she asked, "I don't really want to
drag my luggage through the bar."
"You got luggage?" Bob was surprised, "If I'd known that I'd
have charged you like a tourist."
The remark passed over her drunken head at the time. She moved
her suitcases from the trunk of her car to the room and then went
back to entertaining the troops in the bar.
She knew she had stepped out to get a nice breath of hot, dusty
desert air as the place was winding down. She knew she had dry gulched
the tall and dragged him to the back way to her room when no
one was watching. She knew but the memory was foggy enough she wasn't
going to admit it.
She feigned surprise when she woke up with this tall drink
draped all over her in the morning. She didn't blame him. She blamed
the booze.
Only her method of conquest was something she wanted to forget.
Whatever his name was made wild whoopie when he got the chance. He was
not at all inhibited about whooping when he rode her like a cayuse on
the range. And he had all these quaint terms to throw around
and she rolled him over and got on top of him to be the rider for a
change.
"Ease up on that bridle! That's it, let it out and watch the big
boy go," was one she remembered from a particularly auspicious moment
for her.
He seemed to like the way she rode him and tried to match her
rather than enforce his own rhythm on her. He did help when she was
getting herself off and he was urging her in terms.
For him it was: 'Ride 'em cowboy!' as he arched and tried to buck
her off when she paid him back by riding him hard to a gushing climax.
But that was her secret.
"I don't remember anything bad abut you, so it's not like I'm
pissed, but I'd like to be alone if you don't mind," she told him and
left him hopping as he tried to pull on his boots outside her door.
Three cups of coffee later, she remembered Bob's crack about
having luggage. She wanted to have a talk with that boy.
On her way from the general store/lunch counter/games emporium she
passed Goober by the service station. Her best choice was a mathematical
equation: not much money + some money = more money. She told Goober to
haul her car to Jean and sell it for her. She'd pay him out of the
proceeds.
Worst case, she should be able to get a bus ticket or something
that would get her on her way to Vegas. Only it meant she had to spend
another night. She'd have to talk a little nicer to Bob now.
"I just remembered that crack about luggage and I want to talk to
you," she confronted Bob.
"I'm sorry. Just being truthful," Bob said. "You come in by
yourself all in a hurry to get to Vegas. I guess I was wrong."
"Darn right you were wrong. One of those suitcases is costumes
because I'm in a hurry to get to Vegas to become a showgirl," she
informed him haughtily.
"Got a job waiting, do you?" Bob asked.
"Well, no," Susan admitted, but added "But I've got the talent and
I don't think I'll have any trouble finding one."
"Now there you go misunderstanding me again," Bob said, "I wasn't
mocking your aspirations one bit. No sir. I was just thinking busy
thoughts again."
"Okay, what's the deal?" Susan asked, by now knowing Bob's busy
thoughts were usually about making money.
"I looked out over the packed place last night and I saw a vision,"
Bob started out, "There was dollar bills where all those faces were
supposed to be. If just the rumor of a woman can bring 'em in like that,
then we should be able to charge them, say 10 bucks a head, if there was
to be a show in here."
"What kind of show?" she asked.
"What kind of show do you do?" Bob asked her back.
"I do dance steps and routines with props," Susan said.
"You sing?" Bob asked hopefully.
"You wouldn't want me to," she said, "but I guess I could put some
sort of routine together for you."
"They would pay to watch anything you do, I guess," Bob said.
"You want me to take off my clothes, don't you," Susan caught the
implication in his tone.
"Now want you to is a mite strong, but I know it would get the fightin' to get give us their money," Bob said. "And it ain't only my
greed I'm thinking about. You know how those stripper gals rake it in
with tips and all."
She had resolved herself to work topless in the late shows anyway.
But that was different. It didn't bother her to be naked and have look at her. It was the crazy things they thought when they saw a naked
woman. In Vegas, she wouldn't have that trouble. Here, she'd be asking
for them to think like that and be standing close enough they could try.
But that was only one issue. She thought of the money being stuffed
in her garter. This was getting to be a mathematical equation as well.
What was a little slap and tickle on the way to her dream? Paying her
dues- that's what it was.
She really wanted to blame Bob for getting her in this predicament
as she trembled behind the curtain, but he had been a dear. In the
initial discussion she had missed the part about him splitting the cover charge
with her.
Every pair of beady eyes that was making her shake as she prepared
for her grand entrance was worth $5 to her. She saw $250 easy. Well, not
easy. She still had to propel herself into the makeshift spotlight and
do her show.
Finally she had to do something. She shook the curtain in the
signal for Bob to start the show. The music began. The time for pondering
was over. The music hit her cue and she burst out from behind the
curtain to be hit by the spotlight.
Skip the three steps to the front of the stage and rock those hips
like the music wants you to. The raucous calls and loud applause made it
hard to hear what the music wanted, but Susan figured it didn't make
that much difference if they were that excited.
Anyway, they wouldn't be able to hear it any better than she was.
She knew the routine well enough. She burlesqued a cheerleader's cheer
in the mock-up of a cheerleader's costume she had assembled.
That classic skirt that always fantasized as covering nothing
had been replaced by a scarf hung on the bias and tied at the hip. Susan
reached for that tie as she ground her hips at the men.
They appreciated the G-string she was wearing underneath very much.
It was only when she began to toy with the knot holding her top together
that their collective gaze rose above her navel. She teased them as long
as she could before she pulled it off to show the tiny triangle bra
under it.
They were waving money already. She thought that she'd at least have
to show them something before they started that, but she didn't
question their generosity. She gave everyone that wanted to donate
about ten seconds of personal smile as she paused her undressing.
By the last shows of the night Susan was feeling the rush of having
so many adoring clamoring for her. It was easy to be as seductive
she could in that atmosphere. She broke at least a couple of laws in her
last show of the night.
The had snuck a few unauthorized feels before, but she had
jumped back or otherwise shown that it was unwelcome. Even before her
last number, she had relaxed that policy. For the other part, she
dispensed with the under part of her costume entirely for her final
number which featured her in a bathrobe.
She had intended to wear the G-string, but in her exhilaration
she felt the deserved to see some for all the money they had
given her already. She never did shed the robe, but she gave the a good look at everything they wanted to see.
She also relaxed her concern about their touching her. She was
fondled and occasionally probed until she had to admit she had gone
beyond gratitude and was getting turned on by their hands and fingers.
She was feeling pretty desperate when she finally left the stage
tired and very, very horny. She didn't want to pick from the crowd that
had just been feeling her up, but she wasn't sure there was any other
choice. Then she saw her toothpick at the back.
"You mad at me for throwing you out?" she walked up and asked.
"Hell no," he said, "I ain't complainin'."
"You want to come back and let me apologize to you anyway?" she
invited.
"Did you like it when I was dancing for all those men?" she asked
him when they were in bed.
"I liked your dancing," he said and kept easing his cock to the
hilt in her cunt.
"Didn't you like the way they were all putting their hands on
me- and in me?" she teased him.
"I couldn't feel that. I like it better when I'm putting me on you
and in you," he said and fucked her harder.
Well, the thought was still turning her on. All those strangers
touching her- she'd never know whose fingers were inside her, who
rubbed over her anus. They were unknowns that had given her thrills
she'd always remember. She was glad there was a hard dick filling her
up, but that was only an engine driving her real high of remembering
the lust the had for her as she danced.
"Damn! I bet you made a bundle tonight," he said as they lay
together between sessions.
"I wanted to get laid so bad I never looked," Susan admitted. "But
it will help out when I decide how to get to Vegas tomorrow."
"Vegas? Why didn't you say so? That's not even two hours down
the road. I'll run you over there myself," her offered.
Even if he wanted her to suck him off all the way there it was a
reasonable show of gratitude for the ride. Not that she'd suck Goober
off for the same ride, but it wasn't like this guy was a stranger.
"That frees my mind to think about other things," she said, "You
ready to ride again, Lone Ranger?"
In about a minute of kissing he was ready to ride roughshod. He
turned her like a rag doll as he fucked her from every direction. He
started squatted behind her as she lay on her side. As that got
interesting, he crawled half-way over her bottom leg and pulled her other
leg up to fuck deep into her as she lay like a willow laying on her
side.
The top leg kept going toward her chin until she found herself in
her own crouch as he fucked her from behind. The thrust from every angle
as he turned her took its toll. She came as he bored deep into her,
bouncing her cheeks as he slapped into her ass.
He let her wriggle on his cock though her pleasure and then
reached down to lift her with his hands glued to her breasts. She hung
like a frog hooked between its wide-spread legs as he held her up and
squirmed more than thrust his cock into her cunt. The feeling of flying
was a wonderful complement to her post-orgasmic haze.
Then he turned her some more and she had to arrange her own legs
so that his arms would keep her from falling. There was a fire in his
eyes when she had nearly completed the full circle on his cock. He laid
her torso down and pulled her right leg over to rest on his left
shoulder. Her other leg hung and he paid it no mind.
Susan very much had the feeling of spinning out of control as she
hung by one leg with him bouncing her mightily. Her other leg, her
breasts, her butt, all bounced in the air as he pounded into her with
the abandon of his growing need.
But at the moment, he dropped everything and fell over her. He
landed and drove deep and reached up to gather her in his arms.
"I want to plant it right," he said as she gave her the last short
strokes.
She hugged him back with her arms and legs as she felt him jerk
and deliver his inside her. He had given her a good one and she
was glad he seemed so drained by the load he had just pumped into her.
It had hardly been a dream, but it had worked out okay in the end.
She wouldn't have minded going straight to Vegas, but she had the chance
for an experience she would have never had otherwise. It made her a
little sad to say goodbye.
Bob had made about $300 on the gate and $2400 in bar revenue and
was very sorry to see her go as well.
She had her own $300 from the gate and a bit over $500 in dollar
bills that had been stuffed in her costume. It wasn't a bad haul, but
she had dreamed of dancing in Vegas for so long.
=============================================================
Chapter Two: Dualing in the Desert
=============================================================
She called him Bob and he didn't offer a correction. His
name didn't much matter to her anyway. They had some laughs and would
probably never see each other again.
He was a happy little camper as the tooled across the open space
toward the mountains that cradled Vegas. He had all sorts of quaint
stories about cowboying in Nevada.
She found it typical when he said he was getting low on gas and
they'd have to pull in and get some. What wasn't typical as far as she
was concerned was that the place he picked was in the middle of nowhere
and looked like a desert outpost.
He explained it was a friend's and they had a tank of gas
out in the back. He invited her to come in with him while he got the
key to unlock the gas.
It was the last explaining he would have to do. She had just
stepped in the door when two grabbed an arm each. They dragged her
into the room and she saw there were three more sitting around.
"You got the part about her being a looker right, but you're the
only one that knows if she can fuck like you said," the in the big
chair said.
"Maybe she'd like to clear that up for us," the on her right
put in.
"Maybe her opinion isn't required," said the on her left.
"How about it, honey, you want to prove your boyfriend isn't a
liar?" the first one asked.
"You're not really asking me, are you?" Susan answered.
"Sure," he laughed, "It just don't mean we're going to listen."
"I'd rather just do what you want than have you me," Susan
said, realizing her chances against six of them.
"Then the are going to let up on you and you can show us how
co-operative you're going to be," he grinned.
It was flat stupid to mess around with them at this point. She could
struggle and get slapped around or worse, beat up, and they would still
rape her. The smart play was to get it over as easy as she could. If
she played along it might even get them hot and make her ordeal shorter.
She didn't tease at all as she stripped off her clothes. Blouse,
cut-offs, bra, panties, shoes, all hit the floor one after another as
she got down to what they wanted. She stood with her hands at her sides
so they could see what they wanted to see.
"She's real smart anyway," the first guy said and then asked Susan,
"Who do you want to fuck first?"
"I thought that'd be you since you seem to be the leader," she
said.
"Real smart like I said," he said as he stood to open his pants,
"but I don't think we have to form a single file line."
He sat down with his pants around his knees and his dick laying
limp in his lap.
"You suck this and we'll see if we can't think of something to
shorten your delay here," he grinned.
They left her alone long enough for her to suck their leader to
a fine erection. Then he lifted her head up and turned her around. He
pulled her so she backed up and sat down on his cock. Only then did a
second come forward and push his cock into her face.
It was a lot more of a trick than it looked to have a cock stuck
in you from either end, Susan found out. She didn't have to worry about
the cock in her fucking her, but as she concentrated on the cock in her mouth, the bouncing from below made it tough.
Too many times that cock jabbed places that made her choke. It
wasn't her idea of fun. Not that any of them was interested in her
enjoyment.
"Give me some room," the under her demanded and then pushed
her forward when the in her mouth backed off.
If it was tricky before, it was hold on and hope now. She was
clinging to the with his cock in her mouth for support and that
made her vulnerable to his thrusts into her throat. The big boss aided
him by fucking her vigorously from the rear. All she could do was hold
on and wait for them to finish.
"If you were off, it wasn't by a lot," the leader said when he
finished with her.
That report didn't dampen anybody's ardor to fuck her. The she had first had been replaced earlier as the leader's energy
had made him in her throat and a second stuck his cock in her mouth.
Now he wanted something different. He pulled her forward so she
tripped over the table in front of the couch and took advantage of her
topsy-turvy pose to roll her over.
She hung with her head and shoulders on the floor as he yanked on
her legs like she was a wheelbarrow and began to fuck her upside down.
Her neck was craned uncomfortably as she looked up the steep angle of
her body and watched him fuck her at the awkward angle.
"God damn it! Somebody pick her up and help me or I'll hog it all
day," the finally called in frustration.
His threat energized a couple of the and they lifted her as he
asked. In another place, time and world it would have been an interesting
sensation to be rocked through the air like a battering ram and
shoved down on the man's hard cock. It was the same sensation, but
nothing about this was interesting. She was compliant to make the best
of it, but it was still a gang-rape.
It was the last time she only had one cock in her. When that had finally filled her with his jizm, the other two laid her on the
vacated couch and fucked her top and bottom.
That too would have been interesting if it wasn't rape. Then came close to synchronizing several times as one lay over her face
and fucked her mouth and the other lay between her legs and fucked her
overflowing cunt. The cocks stroking into her in unison might have been
exciting if she was in another mood.
She was bounced back and forth on her hands and knees between two
kneeling for the next treat. It began to blur into a tribulation of
choking on cock and being rudely probed from behind as they fucked her
and then passed her onto another willing pair.
They had to be on their third time around the circle when the
bullhorn clicked loudly on and the demands echoed in the little shack.
"Everybody freeze! We've got you covered! Raise you hands and don't
move!" the orders echoed inside the house.
The bullhorn was a cue. As it began to roar, the door burst open
and two cops with shotguns charged into the room. Two more came in the
rear. They were all caught with their pants down. In Susan's case, she
added with her out to the brew.
She thought cops were supposed to look away when they found a
woman in an embarrassing position. They didn't. She couldn't say they
were leering at her, but they were sure looking.
They found her clothes and let her dress, but they didn't take
their eyes off her for a second. When they took her outside handcuffed
like the rest, she found out why.
"We got the description of the truck you fled in back in the town
where you tried to dispose of the stolen car," the trooper told her. "It
was dumb luck Hanley spotted it parked outside. Then you helped us
by being so busy while we called in back-up."
"Busy?!!" Susan fumed, "They were gang-raping me! I just wanted a
ride to Vegas."
She broke down sobbing.
It was a long, sobering ride back to the jail in Jean. Susan didn't
even try to explain her situation. She knew the cop wouldn't believe
her. She only answered questions about her rape allegation and agreed
to press charges.
It was all bullshit anyway. Stolen car? Daddy was going to have a
hard time making that stick. She wasn't a runaway teenager. She was an
adult that didn't want to marry the cross-eyed pervert her daddy liked
and had a dream he didn't condone. He wasn't powerful enough to change
her mind.
The interesting part came out in the interrogation. Her feelings of
fierce independence had the law on their side. She hadn't considered that
her father's influence only extended to controlling his own things. She
was braced for a squabble in front of a judge and ready to make
such a case that the judge would side with her.
None of that would be necessary. The investigating officer was
puzzled as he took down the facts in the case.
"So you are Susan H. Nentez?" he asked her a third time while
staring at her driver's license.
"Yes. Who did you think I was?" Susan pouted.
"And this Arthur- ahh- Arturo Nentez is you husband?" he asked.
"No. He's my father," Susan told him.
The deputy rested his hand over his mouth and tapped his pen on
the report.
"And the car you sold was titled to Susan H. Nentez?" he asked.
"Yes, daddy gave it to me years ago," Susan said, growing
impatient with these repetitive questions. "I don't see what the big deal
is. It was broken anyway."
"Frankly, I don't either," said the detective and closed the file.
"I think we've got a case of too quick on the trigger here."
She was led back to a bench in the hall along the interrogation
rooms and told to sit there for a moment. It was no surprise to see her
father lurking back by the sergeant's desk. He must have driven right
over when they traced the car. She wished he hadn't come, but she sure
had a few things to tell him.
The detective that had questioned her came back wearing a kindly
look on his face.
"I think we'll have it all straightened out in a minute," he said.
"I think it's all a big mistake. We're checking with California BMV now."
There was a disturbance in the main area behind the detective.
When he turned, Susan could see past him to where her was causing
a fuss as he tried to get at her. She shrank back instinctively.
"She's my daughter!" he was shouting, "You can't keep me from her!"
"Come on. I think this will be fun," the detective motioned to
Susan.
"You have to face him sometime," he pointed out when she didn't move.
She thought the detective had a strange idea of fun, or didn't
know her as she resigned herself to the confrontation and
followed him.
"There you are, lady! Think you can just run off when you
want to? You see where it's got you now, don't you?" he started right
in on her.
"Now calm down and step back," the detective told him.
"Who are you?" Arturo asked with an imperious stare.
"I'm Detective Fuentes and you have no right to shout at this
woman like that." he said quietly.
"No right!" Arturo got even louder. "She's my and I have
every right. Just like I have the right to have her thrown in jail."
"That's another thing..." Fuentes interrupted and then paused as
he read a paper one of the uniforms handed him. "We were having a little
confusion before, but I think this clears it up."
"What do I care about the incompetence of this department?" Arturo
fumed.
Fuentes ignored the insult and turned to Susan instead.
"You have my deepest apologies for this incident," he said.
"Why are you apologizing to her? She's the car thief!" Arturo was
livid.
Susan thought she saw a ghost of a smile before the detective
assumed his bland face and turned to Arturo.
"Not according to this paper, sir," Fuentes held up the page he
had been handed. "The California BMV confirms that Susan H. Nentez is
the title holder of the car in question."
"Of course it's in her name, but I bought it!" Arturo blustered.
"Then you have made a false report of theft. I'm afraid I'll
have to put you under arrest," Fuentes said.
Arturo was much quieter and much more pale as he asked, "Arrest
me? What for?"
"I told you the charge. Making a false report of a felony," Fuentes
said and then turned to Susan and asked. "Do you want us to hold him?"
It wasn't strictly her call, but Fuentes was having fun letting
the air out of a big bag of wind. He thought it would do them both good
to have the shoe on the other foot for once.
Susan wasn't too afraid of him to say what she meant. She just
didn't want him to overhear. She leaned close to Fuentes and whispered
in his ear.
"Can you lock him up for a little while and then let him go?" she
asked.
"Jenkins, put him in the holding cell awaiting arraignment,"
Fuentes said to an officer.
The thing was they were too good, Fuentes explained. If they hadn't
found her so quickly, the rest of the data would have come over and they
would have been able to clear it up at the scene. They wouldn't have
arrested her for stealing her own car.
Given that they had interrupted that gang of before they could
do worse to her, Susan was inclined to excuse their faux pas. No longer
a suspect and willing to forget the matter of false arrest, Susan found
the police were very, very nice to her.
They told her they might still call her to testify on the rape
charge, but a search of the house had come up with enough contraband
to bring a lifetime of charges against the anyway. The gang wasn't
unknown to them and they were grateful she had given them the excuse to
both hold them and to search the premises.
Fuentes showed her a special kindness when he went to see the
chief with her. He kept referring to the little matter of false arrest
as he cajoled the chief into holding Arturo for 24 hours and then
dropping the charge with a warning. He also extracted permission to
drive Susan to Las Vegas for her inconvenience.
She was finally there! The strip was blinding even in the direct
light of day.
Fuentes wouldn't leave until she found a room and he had a place
to put her luggage. She could afford it. She had the money to last until
she was on her way.
Then it occurred to her what the cop really wanted. Well, he had
been very nice and he wasn't ugly either. She had been too excited at
finally being in Vegas to think about thanking him.
"You know, you probably need a rest before you make that long
drive back to the border," she purred as she slinked toward him.
She put her hand straight down on his cock and gave it a little
hug.
"I'm really grateful and I'd like the chance to thank you," she
cooed.
"Oh no, you got the wrong idea," Fuentes backed up hastily, "I just
wanted to get you settled. You can't wander up and down the strip
dragging those bags. It's not safe or smart. You're a good-looking woman
and all, but I'm not like that."
"You don't like girls?" she asked, confused that his cock had
popped to attention in her hand if that was the case.
"Oh no, not that either, I tell you you don't know how hard this
is to walk away, but Gloria would be so upset," he said.
Damn. The good ones all had women. Her opinion of the detective
went up, but she had been ready to fuck him and felt a bit let down.
==============================================================
Chapter Three: The Hard Choad
===============================================================
"I was a good dancer. I was, but it's hard to learn a bunch of
revamped steps for the next show and then learn a whole new routine
every week. And there's a lot of competition.
"I was glad I danced for those because it made it easy to
take a job in one of the nudie places downtown. But, you know, there's
never enough money to live on in a town like this. Too many shops, too
much excitement. And I don't even know if my would still give me
money. Not that I'd take it anyway.
"I like to fuck. And those in the desert showed me I could
take a lot and still be okay. It wasn't hard making a date where I
worked from time to time. I don't think the management minded. Actually
I think they think it's good for business. As long as no one gets
caught.
"I started coming to these places when I wanted to get a little
more volume," she said and stood up in the bluish light.
Six people having an orgy played across her chest and stomach as
she blocked the booth's screen.
"Speaking of which, I think you've blown your first hundred on the
story of my life," she said abruptly. "Now give me fifty bucks or I don't
even open your pants and get it out."
###
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