Chapter 2
The longer the trial dragged on, the worse things seemed to get, Cindy found. The dent in their front fender of the car, which had happened in a parkling lot the weekend before, was shown to be positive proof that it was their car which had hit and killed the child. When posed in a line-up where he was the only big, dark-haired man, Tom was instantly identified as the driver of the hit-run car by several witnesses. The public uproar over the many recent hit-run offenses forced the newspapers, the judge, and the jury to find a scapegoat, and Tom was it.
The young lawyer friend whom Cindy first contacted to get Tom out of jail, realized that his client was innocent, but proving it was another matter. When it became obvious that the case was going to be subject to wild notoriety and intense news media coverage, they were forced to hire a well-known criminial lawyer to defend Tom. This seemed to indicate that Tom was really guilty, but Cindy and their young lawyer felt it would give him a better chance of being acquitted. At the courthouse, and around their home where Cindy still lived, there were mob scenes and threats of violence.
And worst of all, Tom's employer told Cindy in all honesty that he would have to fire Tom, at least until he had been cleared of this terrible crime. The company was suffering from adverse criticism for having an employee who could commit such a horrible crime. Cindy found that even many of their friends were no longer friendly as the evidence kept piling up against Tom.
Their landlord strongly suggested that Cindy find somewhere else to live, before a mob of angry citizens took the law into their own hands and tried to burn down the building in punishment for her husband's crime. The ultimate shock came when Cindy realized that all their savings had been completely wiped out and they were broke, with no evidence of any more money coming in, from anywhere.
Something had to be done, and quickly. She had to get a job; not just any simple cheap job, but a job that would pay enough to finance their lawyers' fee as well as keep her going, until Tom's innocence was proved. But what could she do? She had no specialized training of any sort, and no wealthy or influential friends who could help.
In searching through the help-wanted ads one day, she saw that a big nightclub just outside town was interested in hiring dancers. Cindy had always loved to dance, and the ad didn't say what kind of dancers they wanted, so she took a chance and went out to be interviewed. The "Skyway Club" was a big old building, two stories high, near the airport, and the signs outside blared their biggest attraction "Topless Dancers." Cindy almost turned back then, but she figured she had come this far, she might as well go in and find out more about the job. There might even be some other job available there, one that she could perform without sacrificing her honor and her modesty.
There were other girls waiting to see about the jobs, and it was an hour before Cindy was called into the manager's office. He was medium sized, in his forties, and had blondish hair above a pock-marked face. Cindy was wearing a mini-skirt and a tight sweater, to show off her curved feminine figure at its best in applying for the job. The manager's eyes surveyed her with professional expertness as he said, "You're cut, all right, kid. My name is Sam. What's yours? Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
"My name is Cindy," replied the girl, fearful that he might recognize her from the photos of her which had appeared all too frequently in the newspapers in connection with Tom's trial. "I don't think we've ever met before. What kind of job do you have open?"
"Topless go-go dancers. Come over here, Cindy," he ordered, still studying her face and figure. "I never forget a face. Maybe I've seen your picture somewhere?"
"No. I don't think so. I'm not in show business or anything like that," she said, walking slowly toward him. "But I really need a job. Preferrably one that pays well."
"So does everybody," said Sam lightly. Then without warning his hands reached out and grabbed firmly into her out-thrusting breasts which were so boldly displayed within her snug sweater.
"Ooh. Don't do that!" gasped Cindy, pushing his hands away as she quickly stepped back.
"Don't panic, kid. It's nothing personal," Sam assured her. "I just have to make sure that all those nice big bumps are yours. Some girls try to make the grade by wearing padded bras, so I'll hire them. Then on the stage they turn out to have nothing bigger then bee-bites on their chests, and that won't satisfy the customers. Now let me see the rest of you."
"What? What do you mean?" asked Cindy.
"Pull up your skirt, so I can get a look at what the customers will be paying to see. You seem OK but I have to be sure I'm not hiring a dud or a freak," Sam told her bluntly. "That's right, Kid. Those are cute panties, and what's in them looks OK, too. Now let me see your idea of go-go dancing."
Obediently Cindy began to twist and thrust and turn rhythmically, her long hair floating and flowing in time to the quick meter. She had always enjoyed dancing, especially with Tom, for the exercise was exhilarating, and the action made her aware of her body and sent the hot blood coursing through her thrillingly.
Sam's eyes hungrily followed her movements and he licked his lips as he said, "That's OK, kid, but I want to see what the cash-customers will be seeing. You saw the big sign outside, it says topless dancers, so that's what I want to see. And with your skirt off, too."
Cindy stopped her wild gyrations and stared at Sam for a moment as she pondered this problem which she had feared would arise. She needed money terribly, not only to live on herself, but to pay for lawyers to prove that her husband, Tom, was innocent of the crime he was accused of. She didn't want to expose herself before this tough cynical nightclub manager, and Tom would be furious at her for even considering it, but Tom's freedom was even more important. As long as she didn't do it willingly, and as long as she didn't do the Real Thing, it would probably be all right, since it was in a good cause-Tom's freedom.
Slowly she raised her sweater over her head and shrugged out of it, while Sam's gaze lewdly devoured her big firm unsupported breasts. "Now the skirt," he ordered in a tense excited voice, and she reluctantly unzipped and stepped out of the brief garment, to stand before him clad only in her snug tiny panties and her high-heeled shoes.
Rather than pose before him in her near nudity, Cindy began to twist and swirl again in her go-go dance. She was acutely conscious of her bare breasts bouncing and quivering in time to her motions, and each movement seemed to thrust her pussy into exaggerated prominence, but she knew she would do anything-well almost anything-to get the money she so desperately needed to save her husband.
"OK, that's enough, kid," said Sam finally. "Come over her so we can discuss hiring you."
Cindy reached for her discarded skirt and sweater, but Sam said, "No. Just like you are. I want to inspect the merchandise I'm hiring. You've sure got what it takes to please a man, kid."
With fear and shame Cindy slowly approached him as he sat in his big chair. His hands began to fondle her high out-thrust breasts and Cindy did not dare protest too vigorously for fear of antagonizing him and losing the job. Now he was caressing her slim waist and rounded hips, and his fingers were clasping into her pertly rounded smooth buttocks making her squirm in alarm and humiliation. When one of his hands slipped between her thighs and began to finger the narrow band of her panties, Cindy backed away from him quickly, saying, "No. None of that. I want a job as a dancer, that's all. My husband wouldn't like you doing that."
"So you're married? I hope he appreciates what you've got for him to play with. If he lets you come here for a job, both of you must know what to expect," said Sam cynically, again reaching out for her. "Both of you ought to know that deals like this are signed on the dotted couch, so to speak."
"I didn't know that," said Cindy in fright. "And my husband isn't home now. He's away for a while. That's why I need this job so badly."
"So the Army got him. That's too bad," snickered Sam lewdly. "That sure is tough for him, being taken away from a cute little broad like you. I'll bet he sure misses you and what he can do with you."
"And I miss him too," said Cindy defensively, and then blushed as she realized the meaning Sam would put on what she said. "I mean, I love him, and I won't do anything bad with anyone while he's away. I love him."
"OK, so you don't want to put out, and cheat on your boy-friend. But you need dough, lots of it, and quick. How do you expect to get it?" demanded Sam, still letting her exquisite young body occupy most of his attention. "I'm not a charity organization here, you know."
"How much do your dancers get paid?" asked Cindy hopefully. "If I dance topless, that is?"
"You dance topless or you don't dance here," said Sam firmly. "I'll pay you twenty bucks a night, working ten o'clock to two, fifteen minutes on and half an hour off. You can eat around midnight, on the house, and I'll supply your costumes."
When he saw Cindy's disappointment as she calculated her income, Sam slowly added, "I know you're not going to get rich dancing, even with your terrific build. But if you want to play things right, you can average two or three times what I pay you."
"Doing what?" asked Cindy fearfully.
"Just being nice to the right people. People who can appreciate how wonderfully you're stacked, and can show their appreciation with generous amounts of dough."
"What do I have to do?" asked Cindy again.
"That's up to you, kid. The more you do and the better you do it, the more generous these people will be. I can introduce you to the right people, but from then on, it's strictly up to you. I'm no pimp. I just try to get people together who may have the same interests."
Cindy was silent for a moment, shocked by the crude filthy deal being offered her. She was about to turn it down bluntly when Sam continued, "You got to admit, kid, that this will be a perfect set-up to advertise what you've got, and get paid for doing it. Whether you sell it later is up to you, but you keep saying you need money, so I'm offering you an easy way to get a lot of it quick."
"Easy way?" gasped Cindy. "Why, I'd be nothing but a whore, doing that."
"You said it. I didn't," replied Sam calmly. 'While you think it over, come here a second. I want to show you something about how it can work."
Confused by all that was happening to her, Cindy unthinkingly stepped toward him, and instantly his hands clutched tightly into her firm bulging breasts. She gasped in pain and emotional shock at this new offense, but Sam's hands could not be brushed away from their powerful grip into her sensitive flesh.
"I just want to show you a sample of what you can do, kid," his voice was hoarse and raspy with tension as his cruel hands dragged her down to a kneeling pose between his knees. "You just go down on me now. Give me a good blow job and I'll show you how easy it is for a broad with your assets to make dough quick. I've seen and played with a lot of dames, but you're the best so far. You do right by me, and I'll sure do right by you, kid."
Before Cindy could actually comprehend what was happening to her, she found herself kneeling submissively before Sam's seated figure, with his hardening penis thrust into her protesting mouth. His hands held her head in position, and when her hands came up to push his organ out of her mouth, he encouraged her, "That's right, kid. Use you hands on me to help jerk me off. Makes it easier for you, and feels terrific for me, too. Now use your tongue on the end. Christ, you're exciting to see and feel. Oooh, it's wonderful the way you do it, kid. I can't wait."
What Sam mistook for superb oral technique, was really Cindy's ineffectual struggles to escape. It had taken her time to realize that this was actually happening to her, and then her frantic efforts to expel his organ from her mouth, as well as her frightened gestures with her hands to escape his grip on her head, had provided the special thrills that sent Sam's passions soaring into orbit. Before either of them really expected it, he was ejaculating copiously into her mouth.
The shock to Cindy was horrible, but all she could think of was that she hadn't been tricked into doing the Real Thing. This was awful and shameful, but at least she was still faithful to Tom and her love for him. It was another of the terrible tragedies that had befallen her recently, but she would have to bear up under it, and keep working hard to save him and their wonderful marriage.
As Sam's grip on her head relaxed, Cindy struggled to her feet, looking wildly around for escape. Sam pointed and said, "The bathroom is in there." And she fled to that sanctuary and privacy. Her thoughts were whirling with fright and horror at this most recent calamity on top of all their other troubles. It had been horrible and disgusting, but, at least, it hadn't been the Real Thing. She couldn't have stood having THAT done to her. It would have ruined everything for her, and made life and the future not worth living. Tom would never want her again if she had let anyone do the Real Thing to her.
Frantically she rinsed out her mouth and washed her face and hands, trying to remove all evidence of what had happened. When her flesh was clean she began to feel as if her soul had been cleaned a little, too. And she had resisted as well as she could, so she need not really feel guilty. She certainly hadn't wanted or enjoyed it at all. And the marks of Sam's fingers still showed as painful bruises in the smooth creamy tissue of her breasts, reminders of what had transpired.
Trying to hide her near nakedness, Cindy came slowly and embarrassingly out of the bathroom to find Sam smiling at her as if they were the best of friends. She grabbed her skirt and sweater and hastily put them on, not daring to look at him until she was decently covered. She was about to blast him with her hatred and restement, and tell him she wouldn't work for him, no matter how much he paid her, when Sam broke their silence.
"Kid, you're even better than I thought. You're terrific, and I know what I'm talking about. To make sure you keep working here dancing, I'll raise you to thirty bucks a night, even before you start. And to show you how well you can do on your own here, between sets and after closing, here's something to prove how well I liked the way you went down on me. The way you pretended to fight me, made it so damned thrilling, I even went off before I expected to."
Automatically Cindy took the bill he offered her and her mouth gaped open in surprise as she saw that it was a fifty. Fifty dollars for less than five minutes work. It was terrible and disgusting work, but the money would help free Tom must as well as if she had earned it in some conventional dull job. And Sam had offered her thirty dollars a night for dancing. Admittedly it was shameful and immodest, dancing with her big breasts bare and bouncing, but it was still thirty dollars toward Tom's freedom. It was awful, but she wasn't being forced to do the Real Thing. She wouldn't and couldn't do that. Doing the Real Thing with anyone but Tom would ruin everything for her, she knew. Through her whirling confused thoughts, Cindy realized that Sam was talking to her.
"... So I'll expect you back her tonight in time to start work at ten, kid. I feel sorry for your boy-friend in the Army, missing the use of all your goodies, but if you play ball with me, I can make sure that you make out damned well in the money department. I can steer lots of nice rich guys to you, and keep the creeps away from you. We'll make out fine together, kid, as long as you play square with me around here, and really give it hell in your dancing."
Cindy knew she was being dismissed, and she was glad of the chance to get away. With a little silence and privacy, maybe she could figure things out. God know she needed money. Not for herself, but for Tom. But how far should she go to get it? If she just took a regular job, like a clerk in a store, she couldn't earn anywhere near enough to help Tom. But if she peddled her youthful feminine beauty-if she did the Real Thing-with anyone but Tom, her marriage wouldn't be worth anything anyway. It was a terrible problem for her to solve. It looked as if she was bound to lose, no matter what she did. Cindy cried quietly to herself all the way home on the bus.