Falling Ch. 06

"Don't worry," Darryl assured me. "Some of the dancers make more than I do, with tips. Jenny could make a lot more." He winked.

"Look, I don't care if she is a slut," I heatedly replied, ignoring the twinge inside. "Listen carefully, Darryl." I grabbed his balls for emphasis. "You will give Jenny the same base pay as the highest-paid employee doing basically the same job. You will not skim, or force her to report, tips any differently than any other employee."

"Oh fuck, that's nasty!" exclaimed the meat delivery driver, who was smearing his jism around on Jenny's face, ignoring her extended tongue. He was looking at the cook, who was holding Jenny's legs up to provide better access to her ass, which was gripping his cock tightly.

"Yeah," the cook agreed, punctuating a thrust. "My girl would never do this. Working here just got a whole lot better!" They both laughed breathlessly.

I looked back at Darryl and squeezed until I had his attention again. "You will not -- I repeat, not -- take advantage of Jenny. We both know she has... needs." I had them too, but unlike her, I didn't have a predatory working environment. "Like you said, in private between consenting adults is no big deal. You will not pressure her, or allow anybody else to pressure her, to do anything she doesn't want to do." Frankly, that seemed unlikely, but I was covering all the bases.

"And if anybody pays you, or anybody else, to be with Jenny, you will make sure every penny of that gets to her. She is not a whore, and you are not her pimp. Got it?" I gave him a squeeze for emphasis.

"Jesus, yes!" Darryl yelped. "I got it!" He extricated himself from my grip. "You must be one hell of a saleswoman," he commented, while rubbing himself gently.

I was strangely touched by the backhanded compliment. It was reassuring to know I was more than just a good fuck. The thought reminded me of the other reason we were there. "Listen, Darryl," I said, trying to sound conversational, "do you know any of the girls who are, um, decorated down here?" I gestured vaguely at the front of my skirt.

"She wants a pussy ring," shouted Jenny from the desk. I hadn't realized she was paying any attention to us.

All of the men were looking at me; it was a little embarrassing. The attention was gratifying, but I wanted it to be because they wanted to fuck me, not because they thought I was kinky or something. I put up my chin and prepared to bulldoze ahead. "Can you just tell me?"

"C'mon, y'all, get back to work before somebody calls the cops," Darryl announced. "Don't you have some BBQ to start, T.J.?"

The guys all looked pretty fucked out, so they didn't put up too much resistance before pulling up their pants and filing out of the office. Jenny looked totally delectable, suffused with a just-been-fucked glow, and it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

Apparently I wasn't the only one who thought so. "Jenny, I need my desk back and you're purely distracting," Darryl drawled, not unappreciatively. "Why don't you run down to the break room and freshen up, and then come back so I can get you on the books again."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Jenny crowed, suddenly finding the energy to bounce to her feet. "You're the greatest -- both of you!" She skipped over and gave first Darryl and then me a quick hug and a kiss. "I'll be right back!"

I savored the faint taste of semen as I watched Jenny retrieve her shorts from the floor and pull them on. She bounced a few times to get them all the way on, which did really nice things to her boobs, and then scurried out of the office, still topless. I presumed the break room was nearby.

"Women," Darryl muttered as he sat down in his chair and surveyed the wreckage of his desktop, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. After a moment, he spun around opened the top drawer of a small filing cabinet sitting against the wall. He retrieved a three-ring binder from it and held it out. "Here, you can start looking at these."

Curious, I opened the binder and found a full-page color picture of a naked girl. She was smiling and holding a blowup of her driver's license. "What is this?" I asked, slightly nonplussed.

"My dancers," Darryl replied, looking up from a second binder. "You wanna ask about getting' a piercing, only makes sense to ask somebody who's got one, right?" He started flipping through his binder again.

"Yeah," I allowed, following the logic. "But what are these for?" I pressed, waving the binder.

"Avoiding complications," was the terse reply. Darryl saw my expression and continued without prompting. "Look -- what was your name again? Linnea?" I nodded. "Linnea. Running this place isn't a picnic. Some girls think they want to do it, until they get up in front of a crowd. Some lie about their ages, or their names. The government gives me shit about hiring illegals; can you fuckin' believe it? One girl turned out to be a guy!" He shuddered.

"This here clears through all that crap. I know she's serious and somebody my customers will be willing to pay to look at. If the cops come around, I can show 'em a girl is willing and legal." Darryl laughed. "Or leastways had a good fake id!"

I smiled unwillingly and turned my attention back to the book. Navel piercings were common, and one woman had studs in her nipples. I sat down on the corner of the desk, fascinated by the variety of forms and attitudes on display, and beginning to understand the attraction of pornography.

Every picture was superficially the same: an attractive smiling woman holding a blown-up copy of a license next to her while standing nude in front of the door to Darryl's office. The vibes were all over the map.

Cathiryne -- where did parents learn to spell? -- looked like a cheerleader, although her birthday made her 19 at the time the picture'd been taken. She looked so innocent, it was easy to imagine her mouth forming a round "O" and her heart tripping beneath her perky little tits as she felt her first cock press into her firm body. I started dripping as I fantasized about being the first person to taste her pussy. Alas, she was decorated only by a small flower tattoo above one ankle, and I turned the page.

My eyes grew wide when I looked at Dawn's picture. She was darkly complected, obviously Hispanic, and the rings stood out in sharp contrast to her smooth skin. They were everywhere: ears, nose, nipples, navel, and in rows down both sides of her vulva. If that weren't enough, she had rings on all her fingers, at least a pair of toe rings, uncounted hoop bracelets, and a thin metallic choker. "What about Dawn?" I asked.

"Which one?" Darryl asked, looking up.

"Valenzuela," I said, showing him.

He shook his head. "Why would you want to mess yourself up like that?" he asked. "She moved on. A little too edgy for us poor cowboys -- we like our women wholesome-looking, you know?"

A few pages later I found Veronica and shifted again, wishing I could touch myself through my skirt. Her smile was broad, but the knowing look in her eyes and the way she held her body were invitations to carnal submission. She reminded me somewhat of Stacey in her fey moments, when I'd felt she could lead me to some dark place inside myself where I might not emerge. I licked my lips breathlessly and forced myself to continue browsing.

At some point I felt a soft breath near my ear and realized Jenny was leaning over my shoulder. "I've seen Bekka dance," she whispered. "She was pretty hot."

I nodded in agreement, but turned the page.

"Hattie," Darryl said decisively, slapping a hand on the page for emphasis.

"Hattie Watson?" Jenny exclaimed in disbelief. "No!"

Darryl smirked and displayed the open binder. I felt Jenny's bare breasts pressing against my back as she leaned further forward for a better view.

A young girl looked up at us, tanned and vibrant. She held her license like she might a sign for the fundraiser carwash, and if Hattie looked like the girl next door, her expression held a challenging note. She was shaved bare, which I liked, and a small ring hung neatly at the apex of her rosy cleft. I noticed the photo was dated two days after her eighteenth birthday.

Jenny began laughing hysterically, clinging to me. "Oh no," she gasped, only to break out in giggles again. "Hattie!" Finally she collected herself sufficiently to add, "I never saw her here!"

"She only danced one night," Darryl said with a wicked grin. "You didn't start 'till way after. Know her?"

I looked back and forth between them, wanting to be let in on the joke.

Wiping a tear from one eye, Jenny filled me in. "I went to school with Hattie. She was so stuck-up! I mean, her father's the minister at First Baptist since forever, and she was president of the Purity Club. I can't believe she was a dancer here!"

"Neither could her Pappy," chuckled Darryl. "He was in the next day, swearing up a blue streak, and promising I'd burn in Hell if she ever set foot in here again. Never seen either of 'em since." He considered the photo again. "Purely a shame, if you ask my opinion."

"She's probably still grounded," Jenny giggled. "Oh please, let me call her! I know she'll tell me where she got it done."

We looked at each other; Darryl shrugged. "Well..." I temporized, thinking I really didn't want to cold call somebody about that.

"Goody!" cheered Jenny, stooping to pick up the cordless phone from where it had fallen off the charger on the desk.

"You know her number?" asked Darryl, speaking for both of us.

Jenny looked at us, wearing only a few stray droplets of water and her cutoffs, which were unfastened sufficiently to give us a glimpse of her pubic curls. "Please," she said, looking at us like we were morons. "Who do you think was vice-president of the Purity Club?" She started dialing.