When we were 18, as birthday presents, we worked two stripper joints in the city. Never in my life had I made 500 in a night. No fucking, just blow jobs, and lots of booty rubbing. Joann was lesbian and sometimes, well, I needed a massage. She used men. She always did. I need her now. I need my baby sister too. She died when I was young. There was this terrible fire, and Billy saved me and not her. Joann was ebony to my light. She had blue eyes and was odd but beautiful. She said her granfather was African, not a negro, as she called him. My hands revived and I counted the ragged skull plates in her skull to make sure Joann was alive and intact. I did not want to lose her. Now, she was much older, and I imagined her as I did her mother screaming at kids. I wanted to smell her as I did when we would come home late from fucking some smelly men. I really loved men, and hated that I did. If I could smell her pusssy now, at least that, then I knew I would be reassured. I imagined that I. Her pussy was already oily at the thought. The diamond bracelet around her wrist and matching pendant had been presents too—from the gangster. For her loyalty to him!! Men were such assholes. *** Grace sat in the Pinot Brasserie, sipping her martini, lost in her thoughts. It was the first time she’d returned to the Venetian restaurant since her visits their with Lauren over three months ago. It comforted her, somehow. Going shopping had certainly cheered her up, too. A woman could always rely on retail therapy! And if she had overspent on the skimpy lingerie, who cared? She wanted to look good for Samuel tonight, and his son. Just in case… It would be simply fabulous if Lauren joined her at the club. They could resume their singing duo… well, in part… she needed to keep her top of the bill solo spot for when the paying public forget all about her and Lauren’s sex tape and another opportunity to be signed with a record producer presented itself. Samuel had promised it would. Just give.
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