Chapter 1
The fat, bleary-eyed vultures at the tables guzzled down their Budweisers and waited hungrily for the next big-breasted slut to take the stage.
The juke box blared loudly, the speakers straining as the big bass beat threatened to blow them out of commission.
The air was thick with cigarette smoke.
The stench of stale alcohol and weeks-old sweat lingered in the dim corners of the joint.
The manager, Harry Tudball, had tried to jazz up the sleazy strip club with neon signs.
The red and yellow flickering lights only made the place more gaudy.
A fierce-looking bouncer stood guard at the swinging front doors.
The doors hung precariously from their hinges.
It seemed only a matter of time before they clattered to the floor, making company for the cigarette butts and empty Slim Jim wrappers.
The bouncer stared suspiciously at two grimy Puerto Rican youths tanked full of cheap booze who stumbled through the door.
Bart Pasternak (for that was the bouncer's name) grabbed one of them by the neck and grunted, "Hey, I don't want any trouble from you punks. Understand?"
The youth's eyes bulged from their sockets as the bouncer's thick fingers dug into his neck and threatened to snap it like a celery stalk.
His buddy stared in dazed horror, glad that he had not been the first to walk through the doors.
Julio gasped and choked and begged for mercy, his bronze body wriggling with discomfort.
Satisfied that he had made his authority known, Bart removed his fingers from the kid's bruised neck and shoved him into the haze of cigarette smoke.
Juan skitted quickly after his friend, his eyes quickly avoiding the slab of muscles and flesh that was Bart Pasternak.
They two Puerto Ricans were soon lost in the mob of drunken slobs.
Julio winced as he attempted to rub some comfort into his aching neck.
He found an empty stool at the bar and sat down.
Juan stood by his side, staring at the angry red welts that throbbed on the flesh of Julio's neck.
"Dios mio!" Juan gasped. "What the fuck that bastard have against us? All we want is a good time watching some of these foxy chicks strip off their clothes and wriggle their tits!"
"Seem to me like he ain't got nothing against us," Julio, spasms of agony still wracking the ravaged flesh. "Seem like he got something against me!"
Bart had made his point.
There would be no trouble from the two Puerto Rican youths that evening.
A slimy wisp of a bartender approached the kids and glared at them.
"What you want?" Barney Roidan asked.
He hated his job and it showed.
He hated the drunken slobs who came to the joint.
Fat men too ugly to get laid on their own.
Guys who had to get their sex through the vicarious means of voyeurism.
Barney hated the girls who worked at the joint.
Would-be prostitutes, most of them.
Jiggling their tits up on the stage in the harsh spotlight.
Stumbling around on gaudy highheeled pumps.
Pumped full of speed or coke.
Minds spinning as they traipsed around the stage, grinding their hips and trying to keep their g-strings around their sweaty hips.
Rolling their tongues along their brightly-painted lips.
Spreading their legs and wriggling their asses. They made Barney sick.
He had no idea why he had taken a job at "T & A Galore" (for that was the name of the strip joint).
An acquaintance at a night club had told Barney about an opening when he was fresh from bartending school.
Barney had been ecstatic when Harry Tubal I had hired him.
Visions of mixing Mai Tais had danced in his mind.
His dreams had been shattered when he realized, after the first week at T & A Galore, that the usual order was a Budweiser.
Occasionally, a daring customer ordered a Heineken.
Barney's thumb was sore from pulling up the can tabs night after night. .
He glared now at Juan and Julio, certain as to what their order would be.
They did not disappoint the bartender. "Two Buds," Julio said.
Barney sighed and shuffled over to the bin filled with Buds and ice cubes.
The latest bland pop hit blaring from the juke box was drowned out by the sudden squeal of generic disco music from the stage speakers.
A roar of approval went up from the fuck-hungry slobs at the tables as the red velvet curtains parted.
A luscious Latin tease poked her head out of the opening and batted her false eyelashes.
Applause rose into the fog of cigarette smoke.
Cat calls flew towards the spot-lit stage.
Consuela Cuarto de Encuentro attempted to slink onto the stage.
Her head was spinning from too many toots of cocaine.
Her exposed thighs trembled as she slid from behind the curtains into the blaring spot lights.
Consuela fixed a pathetic little sneer on her face as she strutted before the sea of yelling, clapping ogres.
Their eyes ogled her shapely brown thighs.
Their cocks swelled in their polyester slacks at the sight of her massive breasts hidden behind the lace finery of a frilly black brassiere.
Wails of delight rose from the crowd as Consuela's fingers crept down her thighs and slid around her pelvic bone.
She slid her long, red fingernails into her minuscule black g-string and plucked at the elastic band.
TAKE IT OFF, YOU PUERTO RICAN SLUT!" a rather rude customer called out.
A roar of agreement went up from drunken slobs all over the club.
Consuela ignored the comment.
Her fingers slid from her g-string to her exposed butt cheeks.
She swiveled her hips as her body whirled around.
She thrust her ass into the spot-light, offering the smooth flesh of her butt to the audience for its pleasure.
The audience was pleased with that piece of sexy ass meat.
"LEMME SHOVE MY BIG COCK UP YOUR ASS, CHICA!! " another rude customer yelled.
Juan nudged Julio as Consuela wriggled around the stage.
"Look at them tits," he hissed.
He could feel his thick, young cock swelling in the close confines of his jeans.
Juan winced and shifted his ass on the stool.
He rearranged his underwear so that his stiff rod slid down his leg.
Julio took a sip of beer and stared hungrily at the half-exposed boobs that jiggled in the spot light.
"I sure wouldn't mind sliding my dick between those bazookas," he grunted.
Perfectly aware of all the boners she was causing, Consuela traipsed across the stage in her pumps, cooing and pouting as she slid her fingers over her tits.
Those slender digits rolled over the frilly fabric of her brassiere.
Consuela felt the fervor in the audience hit a feverish peak.
She decided it was time to strip off her bra.
She slid her right hand from her tit and reached behind her back for the clasp.
Her right bra strap crept down her shoulder.
The drunken cries rose anew ...
Meanwhile, in Harry Tuball's office ...
Harry's beady pig-eyes drank down the shapely body of the perky young girl seated opposite him.
Straight off the Greyhound from Port Authority, he could tell.
The girl still retained an aura of neatness and innocence not found in most New Yorkers.
Especially those New Yorkers who made their living in Harry's profession.
Her silky blonde locks flowed down to her shoulders.
Her eyes were wide and as blue as the cornflowers that peppered the fields surrounding her mid-western home-town.
Her mouth was incredibly kissable, yet looked as if many men had not had the pleasure of kissing it.
Her tits stood firm and high under the pink cashmere sweater that stretched over the massive mounds.
Her legs were crossed primly.
Harry barely caught the shape of her thighs under the dainty white skirt that snaked up her knees.
Kathy Koppelheimer timidly cleared her throat.
She caught the direction of Harry's lecherous stare and demurely slid her skirt to a respectable level over her knees.
Her eyes flared momentarily with anger and embarrassment.
Harry fell back in his chair and chomped on a foul-smelling cigar.
Harry Tuball was a flabby mass of pink flesh.
His lardy, sweaty body was forced into a pinstriped suit that hadn't been washed since Nixon had been forced from office.
His eyes were blood-shot and watery.
His breath stank of cheap liquor.
His teeth were as yellow as his shirt.
A crumpled tie wound underneath the collar of that once-white shirt.
He grunted as he rested in his chair, his eyes continuing to take in the lovely sight before him.
Kathy looked at him inquiringly.
'Well?" she said finally.
Her voice was clear and crisp.
Her elocution tutor in Harrisburg, Idaho had successfully exorcised any trace of a mid-western drawl.
Harry's eyes dropped from the slopes of Kathy's tits.
He stared down at the eight by Jen glossy she had handed him.
He picked up the photograph with his fat fingers and reread the resume on the back.
Large roles in the Harrisburg High School's Drama Club productions.
Small roles in the Harrisburg Little Theater Group's productions.
Can do accents well: British, French, German.
Can twirl a baton.
Expert bowler.
Harry's weary eyes stared up at Kathy once again.
She stared back, slight impatience evident by the pinched lips.
Harry shook his head.
This girl was a babe in the woods.
The wolves out there in the audience would tear her tender limbs from their sockets.
It wasn't worth hiring her, no matter how desperate for a job she said she was.
After a quick strut on the stage, she would run out of the spotlight, tears streaming down her face.
Harry felt sure she was a loser as s stripper.
Why was she being so goddamn stubborn?
"Lissen, little lady," Harry grunted, his jowls barely moving as he spoke. "I already told you twice. I don't know how many more times I can say it. You don't really want a job like this. You ain't got the experience for a job like this. To tell you the truth, you're too innocent for a job like this. Them guys out there, they're nothing but trouble. They got all sorts 'a tricks to use to get you inta bed with them. I don't want any rape cases brought against me and the club."
Kathy's pinched lips grew more pinched.
A look of defiance came into her eyes as she straightened herself up in the chair with an air of dignity.
"Innocence does not necessarily imply ignorance," she said primly. "I realize that I am naive to the ways of New York City residents. But I am reasonably certain I shall be able to restrain the advances of your ... er ... customers with my intelligence and ... well, scathing insults. I can assure you that one dose of my acid tongue will discourage them from trying any ... er ... funny business."
Harry chomped loudly on his cigar.
A dribble of tobacco juice oozed out the side of his mouth and trickled down his chin.
He sighed as he wiped it away.
"Hey, I'm sorry babe."
He grunted as he threw the eight by ten glossy across his desk.
"No go," Harry said with an air of finality.
Kathy's indignant, prim manner appeared to crumble before his blood-shot eyes.
She lunged forward in her chair and clutched the edge of her desk, a look of desperation creasing her facial features.
Her eyes welled with tears of frustration.
"Please! Please!" the little girl from Idaho begged. "You've got to give me this job! You've got to give me at least one chance out there on the stage! I arrived in the city a week ago, and am dying of starvation! You've got to give me a chance! Please!! "
Harry Tuball was a conniving bastard of a man.
But he was a conniving bastard with a big heart.
His heart was as big as his body.
As the tears rolled down Kathy's high cheekbones, he found himself unable to throw her out of his office without a chance of what she had termed "stardom on the stages of New York City."
Hell, if she was that set on humiliating herself in public, Harry wasn't going to turn her away.
His entire body rippled as a sigh erupted from his throat.
"Okay," he said. "One chance."
Kathy's tear-strained eyes lit up at once.
Her hands flew from around the edge of the desk as she wiped her tears.
A stream of gratitudes babbled from her lips.
"Thank you! Thank you ever so much!" Kathy wailed.
Her entire body shuddered with delight.
"Oh, how may I ever repay you?! "
Harry looked at her sharply.
He was a conniving bastard with a big heart.
And a never ending lust for hot, tight pussy.
Especially innocent pussy that had just stepped off the bus from Idaho.
Pussy as unspoiled as the potatoes that grew in Kathy Koppolheimer's back yard garden patch.
His cock twitched in the crotch of his polyester suit slacks as he stared Kathy's young body up and down.
She was staring at him across the desk, her eyes wide and eager.
Harry had a hunch her body would be as eager to please as her eyes.
"There is one way you can repay me. babe."
Kathy gasped as Harry suddenly reached under his desk.
She heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down.
"Oh ... my!" Kathy gasped.
Her hand went up to her mouth.
Her eyes almost popped from their sockets.
"Bbut...." she wailed, her cheeks growing flush. "Wwasn't this exactly what you warned me against? Ddidn't you tell me that if any of the customers approached me I wasn't to...."
A cunning gleam suddenly came into Kathy's blue eyes.
She nodded her head knowingly.
"I see...." she said. "This was all a trap. To see if I could really keep all those sex-starved winos out of my panties..
Her firm voice began to falter as Harry slowly shook his head and indicated that his actions were not part of a trap.
"Come around here and suck my cock," Harry growled. "The stiff cock in my hand will show you this isn't any trap. This is the real thing."
Kathy's eyes welled with tears once again.
"But ... If I don't ... if I refuse...."
Harry shook his head with exaggerated sorrow.
"No job without a blow job...." he grunted.
His fingers slid up and down his throbbing tool.
Harry was getting impatient.
His cock was hard and throbbing and ready to be sucked.
"Get your ass over here ... NOW!" he demanded.
Kathy jumped from the chair.
"Yyes, sir...." she said, a new determination in her voice and the tears drying in her eyes. "I suppose I must do what is required if I am to secure a job in this horrid, horrid city of yours."
She stepped swiftly around the desk and stared down at the thick cock waiting for her lips.
Kathy gasped.
"My! It's so ... so ... large!"
"Stop with the comments and start with the sucking," Harry sneered.
"Yes, sir!" Kathy said.
She fell to her hands and knees between Harry's spread thighs.
Kathy dug her fingers into the flabby flesh of the man's thighs.
She stared down at the cock sticking out of the fly in his crotch.
Kathy figured the dick measured at least nine inches in length.
Not having been very good in geometry, she was unable to measure the circumference of the shaft by sight.
But Kathy didn't need higher mathematics to be able to tell that the cockhead seemed about the same size as her fist.
Kathy gulped.
Harry's fingers fell onto her blonde locks and clamped down upon her skull.
Kathy yelped as Harry forced her face into his crotch.
The blood-engorged cockhead slid between her lips and plunged into her mouth.
"Yeah, bitch! Suck my cock!" Harry grunted.
He lifted his massive ass off the chair and forced his rod into Kathy's gaping mouth.
Kathy gagged as the meaty cockhead rammed against the back of her throat.
She rolled her tongue along the mushroom-shaped cockhead.
She hollowed her cheeks and locked the thrusting cock within the moist darkness of her mouth.
Kathy's blonde head bobbed up and down between Harry's flabby thighs as inch after inch of dick meat was introduced into her mouth.
Harry let loose with a Neanderthal grunt and pounded every last inch of cock into her mouth.
Kathy felt the head of the cock pop past the back of her mouth and plunge past her tonsils.
That fist-sized dickhead lodged deep in Kathy's throat.
Panic rose in the young girl's breasts as she found breathing increasingly difficult.
She clawed at the slabs of flesh that were Harry's legs.
Harry slid his cock swiftly out of her throat, leaving only the cockhead lodged between her teeth.
Saliva dripped from Kathy's mouth and trickled down the thickly-veined shaft.
Harry rammed his cock once again down her throat.
In and out that massive cock traveled.
Kathy's talented tongue soon caught the rhythm of the man's thrusts.
She lavished dripping strokes of her tongue over the slab of cockmeat.
Harry threw back his head, his picture the face of ecstasy.
"Yeah! Yeah!" the fat man grunted, loving the feci of that hot tongue whipping back and forth over his rod.
Harry felt his balls trembling with pre-orgasmic delight.
'Take that cock down your throat, bitch!" Harry grunted. "I'm gonna come! I can feel my jism bubbling up! YEAH! YEAH!! "
Sweat trickled down his brow.
His face was bright pink with rapture.
He felt the jism bubbling up in his wrinkled scrotum.
It was only a matter of seconds before he shot his wad down Kathy's throat.
Before he flooded the mouth of the innocent little girl from Idaho.
Kathy's fingers gripped the base of his shaft.
Her fingers tickled the thicket of pubic hairs that surrounded the base of the shaft.
"AAAARRGGHH!! " Harry wailed.
His loins exploded with orgasmic delight.
Load after creamy load of jism spurt from his turgid cockhead and emptied deep down Kathy's throat.
Kathy drank down as much of the funky stuff as she could.
Droplet of come spurt out the sides of her mouth and trickled down her chin.
She didn't stop to wipe them off.
She continued to gobble down the hot wads of come.
Jism spurt down her throat and traveled to her stomach.
Harry forced the last dewy droplet of come from his prick.
He swiftly pulled his satisfied member out of Kathy's gasping mouth.
Kathy fell to the floor between Harry's thighs.
Her face was drenched with sweat.
Her long blonde locks were dark with perspiration.
She wiped a stray strand of hair from her eye s
She wiped the jism from her chin with the back of her hand.
Her tongue darted out of her mouth once again.
She lapped up Harry's jism from the back of her hand.
Kathy groaned.
Her jaws ached.
Her throat throbbed.
Harry grappled his quickly-deflating cock and shoved it into his fly.
He zipped up his trousers. He looked down at the exhausted girl on the floor between his legs. A cruel chortle of laughter escaped his throat Kathy looked up, slightly alarmed. "Wwhat's the matter?" she asked. "Welcome to New York City," was the reply.