The Strip Ch. 08

It all sounded so simple. But then, Kay Kristen had a way of making the complicated sound straightforward. While she put complete faith in Dan to produce the poses and shots they wanted, she still managed to preside over affairs like a mother hen in the background.

Nothing escaped the Agency Head's keen eye.

"Let's do this one naked," she drawled from her position towards the back of the small set. The hotel's outdoor pool was ideal for the shoot, with the temporary, cloth screens doing their job in keeping out all prying eyes, despite the high level of interest from male and female guests alike.

"Naked?" Lauren gasped, staring across at the sophisticated brunette, then swivelling to look at Rachal and Jimmy. The two lovers just grinned back at her.

In fact, the way Rach raised her eyebrow suggested she was looking forward to the experience. "Could be fun," the exotic beauty smiled, glancing at her boyfriend, before swinging her gaze back at Lauren. "Don't you think?"

"Don't worry Lauren," the Agency Head called, her high heels sounding deliciously decadent as she made her way across the white stone towards the threesome. "Dan's experienced at this sort of thing, the photos won't show anything they shouldn't. But it'll provide a nice contrast to what we've done so far. And they'll be sexy—very, very sexy."

"Oh… Okay…" the blonde nodded, swallowing her objection. If everyone else was cool with this, she had to be, too. Anyway, why not? Rach and Jimmy were both hot, but so was she!

"Here, babe," the exotic model said over her shoulder, those luminous, almond shaped eyes smiling mischievously. "Come here. Rach has something that'll make the session even better—"

Even as she made her way over to the table next to the black haired model, Lauren knew what it was. She sooo needed the hit, too.

The beautiful model quickly laid out two lines of coke on the small white table next to her. With her glossy black hair hanging in silky waves around her face, she brushed away a lock, hooking it behind her right ear before rolling up the ten -dollar bill. She led the way, eagerly snorting the first line.

The blonde hesitated for only a second before grabbing the bill and following suit. The hit yesterday had boosted her confidence, and as she glanced across at Jimmy's now naked body, something told her she'd need that support again.

Rachal's boyfriend looked superb—tall and toned with that rich, smooth, tanned skin. And that cock. Not quite as big or as thick as Demetrius', but right now she'd give almost anything to have it inside her.

She'd go mad if she didn't have sex soon.

"OK, girls," Dan called from his position beside the pool edge. "Off with the robes and get those pretty little asses over here."

***

Samuel was as good as his word. Grace was about to become an angel. It meant everything to her, the key to the door that would lead to world stardom. Grace Lane—Superstar!

The tattoo parlour was a curious looking place. It looked out of place somehow, perched right on the corner of the downtown intersection. Stepping out of the limo, she tentatively walked the few steps to the tall building. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't this. Green paint peeled away from the large door as she gently pushed it open. What the heck…

The bearded giant of a man grinned at her nervousness, his warm smile belying his grizzly features. "Come in Missy," he told her, resting both hands on the veneered counter in front of him. It seemed he could read her thoughts. "The place ain't much to look at, but I'm the best around. That's why Samuel uses old Sam. Don't be shy, Missy—come in, come in."

The nervous woman tentatively walked towards him across the bare wooden floorboards. This was surreal. She'd expected grandeur, not a run down building.

"You're Grace?" the bald giant continued, "Pretty little thing, ain't you?"

She didn't speak, the knot inside her stomach telling her she was having second thoughts. Don't be stupid, she told herself. It's just another test. Samuel liked his tests—and she'd make sure she'd pass this final one with flying colours.

"I've heard all about you," his deep voice boomed. "Some say you could be the best angel, yet. What'd'you think, Missy?"

"I've no idea," she told the bear of a man. If he were trying to overawe her, he'd be disappointed. She was Grace Lane after all, and she could be the best of all the angels! This bearded giant needed to understand she was no pushover.

Her eyes swept down his body as he raised the flap in the counter and emerged her side. For someone in his fifties, he was remarkably well preserved. The sleeveless grey tee shirt with its washed out design on the front allowed a clear view of the tattoos all over his muscular arms. She adored tattoos.

"Some time since I've made someone an angel," he muttered, his dull eyes never leaving hers. "It's in my hands, y'know?" He gave that smile again. Somehow the stained, smokers teeth suited him. Everything about the man told Grace he'd seen the world… and experienced most of it, too.

Her eyes followed his lumbering gait as he walked over to the entrance, his heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor with each step. Reaching out a large, grubby hand, he swung around the sign. The simple action of closing to the outside world made her shiver. When he locked the door, the loud click of the key reverberated from the top of her head to the tip of her toes.

"Don't want to be disturbed, do we, Missy?" he boomed with a knowing smile. "Follow me and do as you're told and we'll get on just fine."

Do as she was told? Didn't he realise who she was… Even as it tried to lodge in he head, she dropped the thought. She was more than up to this, she told herself, imperiously flouncing past him into the larger room.

He made no attempt to hide the way his eyes drank in her body as she passed him. "Okay, Missy," he grinned as he reached out, his large, hairy hand gently squeezing her right breast through the thin, red tee shirt. "One tattoo goes on your left ass and the other one goes here."

The shocked star stepped back, her eyes blazing in anger as she pushed his arm away. It made no difference to the bear.

"No offence, Missy," he grinned, his tongue flicking across his thick lips. "But I'll be touching you soon enough anyway, y'know? Just think of me as your doctor. Now why don't you slip off that top for me? Let me see them tits—"

Her doctor? Grace felt her chest heave—was that arousal? Going braless had seemed sensible in the circumstances. But she hadn't expected her nipples to harden at the thought of exposing herself to this stranger. She decided to undress in style, as if that would show him who was in control. In one swift movement she pulled the singlet clean over her head, exposing her round naked breasts to his gaze.

"Nice, Missy," he approved, his dull eyes watching her firm breasts bounce and then settle. "You've got have got the prettiest tits I've seen in a long while."

Her hard nipples hardened further and this time, when he raised his hand to cup her breast, she made no objection. The feeling of his cold, squeezing fingers felt surprisingly good. His eyes held hers until he saw the flicker of arousal. With a gentleness that belied such a giant, his thumb gently brushed against her extended nipple, flicking it once, then again.

"Your titties are too tense," he grinned. "Sit here, Missy."

She almost stumbled backwards into the heavy chair. As soon as she was seated, he was at her again. "Y'don't mind, do ya? I gotta relax 'em." Leaning down, his hot breath hit her flesh a second before his long tongue snaked out across her nipple. "Good?" he asked, staring up into her cloudy eyes.

Her lips quivered as the giant's warm mouth sucked in her nipple, his calloused hand caressing her other swell. It was all she could do to contain a moan.

There was no letting up. His gentle tongue stroked the pliant, yielding flesh beneath it, her hard bud swelling in his mouth. The feeling of his rough beard around her soft skin somehow added to the feeling of arousal and she sank back into the chair, now openly submitting to his attentions.

For such a rough, old guy, he certainly knew what to do with his mouth and tongue. She let out a low moan and her hand found the top of his shaved head.

It was his cue to smile up at her again before pulling away. "I think that should do it, Missy," he told her, his dull eyes boring into her excited browns as he reached for the drill. "Now for the tattoo. Titty first."

Grace gritted her teeth throughout his work. He worked quickly, with the minimum of fuss. Gradually, her apprehension left her—the experience wasn't quite as painful as she'd anticipated. He was as good as he'd boasted.

Finished, his hand was back on her swell, squeezing and caressing as if examining his handiwork. Except his eyes never left hers.

"Feel good, Missy?" he asked, though she was unclear whether he was referring to the tattoo, or his caressing hand. "Okay, now for your ass. Strip!"

The brunette gingerly stood up; her face a mixture of excitement and arousal. Sliding the black jeans down her legs, she deliberately turned away from him to allow the giant to feast on her ass. The skimpy red thong left nothing to the imagination. Why not? He'd be tattooing her there in a moment.

"On the table," he directed, his hand caressing her asscheeks as she settled herself. "Very nice, Missy," he murmured, lingering for a few seconds too long on her soft flesh.

***

Holly was relieved. Despite the long day, her mind hadn't yet switched onto the cards. The late afternoon break offered a chance to get her mind together. Images of yesterday's hit had stayed with her, especially the mistakes. The brunette who'd acted as decoy had seen her. Not her face, the balaclava had seen to that. But her eyes. Even in the dark, that was dangerous.

Then there was Daniel. She'd gone to watch the end of the poker day, partly to give herself an alibi in the unlikely event of something unexpected. But she'd intended fucking him again. The adrenalin from the kill had still been with her and he would have provided the outlet she needed.

But his unexpected departure had put paid to that.

The woman she'd seen leaving his room this morning explained everything. She'd been on his way to surprise him after her breakfast with Chad, and had almost reached the room when the redhead had emerged. In twenty-four hours, Daniel and the woman had gone from breakfast in the restaurant, to his room. She must be quite a girl!

Despite her irritation, it was for the best. She needed sex, yes, but too much attachment to the same person spelt danger. Her vibrator had satisfied her last night. Tonight she'd seek someone new.

Her poker frustrations during the day were compounded with three fairly quick moves to different tables. She hated that! Mid-tournament table moves were always unsettling, but her current state of mind made it even more annoying.

Being card dead hadn't helped either. While she couldn't complain after her first day's play, her impotence was frustrating nonetheless. Particularly as one of the tournament chip leaders was seated to her immediate left. The tall Texan had been pretty effective at bullying the table it, stealing pots with constant big pre flop raises and subsequent 'betting on the come.'

The break just couldn't arrive soon enough.

***

"You like that, Missy?" the grizzly tattooist asked, his hand drawing small circles across Grace's newly tattooed ass.

The singer didn't answer. She knew she should move, but somehow she was mesmerised by the pleasuring hand. That it felt rough on her smooth ass only added to her enjoyment. The thought of being helplessly taken by a dirty, rough, old man was somehow incredibly arousing.

When his fingers slid under the back of her thong, she involuntarily widened her legs. Instantly, two fingers slid easily along her skin and into her wet, willing vulva. Her body jerked as he expertly masturbated her, amazing herself with how quickly and easily she was giving herself to this bearded old man.

She heard herself moaning at his incredible touch and raised upwards, allowing him more freedom. Soon, she knew, she would lose control and then the sweetness would overcome her—

"Turn around," his deep voice growled, just as her climax closed in. His hands helped her onto her back, and then ripped the thong from her body.

Grace moaned as he threw the torn garment across the floor. His roughness was an aphrodisiac. His strong hands gripped her ankles and yanked her long legs apart. When she felt the coarseness of his beard slide between her thighs, she came there and then.

The contractions running through her body made no difference to the older man. His eager lips spread over her exposed labia, sucking up her juices. His tongue swirled against her clitoris, teasing it to full, aching attention as ripples of shameful pleasure radiated through her body. The way he tongued her confirmed her earlier thoughts that he knew exactly how to please a woman.

Grace moaned aloud, abandoning herself completely as his touch radiated through her. She was nearly there again and desperately wanted him to take her over the edge a second time. But he had different ideas. Easing himself to his feet, she saw he'd already released his impressively thick penis.

"This is your initiation, Missy," his deep voice drawled as he swung around and took her place on the narrow table. "All angels get initiated by old Sam," he told her. "Suck it first, Missy."

She did, willingly, letting out a low growl as she ran her slippery tongue across his round, purple head. She licked it as if licking ice cream from the top of a cone. It was only when he reached for her silken hair that she sucked him inside. She put on a show for him, her brown head enthusiastically bobbing as her mouth ran up and down the shaft.

"Oh, fuck, Missy," he groaned, running his fingers through her hair.

Grace pulled away, giving the bearded giant a playful grin. She was no longer Grace Lane, Superstar. She was a slut—his slut. A slut in heat! She traced her expert tongue along his length, bathing it in saliva before taking him back in her mouth. This time, she smoothly took him down into her throat, her lips wrapped around the root.

"Oh, fuck!" he rasped again.

Grace deep throated him until she felt his balls tighten. Pulling away immediately, she took his shaft in her hand and gripped it tightly. She shook her head. Not yet…

She allowed the bear of a man a few seconds to recover, watching as his breathing returned to normal and the tightness in his balls relaxed before continuing the exquisite torture. She sucked him slowly, gently, running her lips up and down his throbbing member. It was like playing with dynamite. He was close. She could feel it. And she loved that anticipation.

He grabbed hold of her hair as he tried to hold back. Every time she felt him close, she eased off. She tried a different technique each time she returned. She sucked his balls. She corkscrewed her head. She tormented him once again with her throat muscles. The brunette singing star took him to the edge and back five times until she knew he could stand no more. Only then did she climb across him, replacing one set of lips with another.

The feeling was intense as he easily sank inside her wet body. She effortlessly slid all the way down onto his stomach, bringing an aroused grunt from her man.

"Okay, old Sam," she whispered as she leant forward and bit his earlobe. "Get ready to be fucked by an angel!"

He responded with another grunt as his hands grasped her buttocks in an attempt to steady her. She ignored the attempt at control, increasing the pace of her undulating thrusts. She needed this and knew from the low moans beneath her that the giant wouldn't last long.

"Can't hold back," he gasped.

She dropped a frantic hand to rub her stimulated clitoris, sprinting to catch up with him. She heard him croak underneath her and suddenly felt his hot seed splash inside her. Rapid bursts fired against her inner walls. She exploded, too, burying her head against his broad shoulder to drown her low wails of pleasure.

"You're an Angel now, Missy," he gasped as she collapsed on top of his half dressed body. "And you're the best Angel yet."

***

"You want to what?" Big Eddie screamed across the bar, his voice rising even above the music. Ignoring the stares from those around him, he used the back of his hand to wipe away the spittle hanging from the bottom of his lips. The staff had more sense than to look across at their boss when he was in this mood, but the sudden stares from customers told him to control his emotions.

That wasn't easy. This redheaded bitch owed him fifty g's and here she was, in front of him, telling him she was quitting the club!

What the fuck was going on? Wasn't it bad enough that he'd been waiting all day for news of Desmond? The gangster had been forced into calling his police contacts and neither had got back to him yet. Something bad had happened, he just didn't know what. Maybe his number two had been taken in for questioning?

Nerves frayed, he sneered at Rosie. "You ain't quitting the club, you bitch," he snapped, pushing his face into hers. "Not with what you owe me. No… fucking… way!"

The fact she didn't actually owe him a cent never entered his mind. The friends who'd taken part in the poker scam had paid him back. Naturally enough, that was the arrangement. Minus a few dollars for their troubles, of course. But that wasn't the fucking point. This dame thought she owed him fifty thousand bucks, and yet she was trying to walk out on him! Trying to make some sort of deal!

She must have shit for brains. No fucking way!

No one crossed Big Eddie and got away with it. No one! If they hadn't been in the middle of his club, he'd have her by the throat right now. Make her beg for forgiveness. Well, the fucking bitch would be begging him soon, because he was about to make her life a fucking misery. Just as soon as he found out what was going on with Desmond, she'd get his full attention!

"Listen," he snapped, pushing a finger into Rosie's chest. "I'm the one who—"

"Phone call, Eddie." It was a voice from the bar that interrupted him. Pedro. It was a brave thing to do. "Police Department," the bar manager added.

That was code for his contacts at the police. Johnson or Wilson. It meant an unofficial call—something to do with Desmond. At fucking last!

"You fucking stay there," he snarled at Rosie, his face curled in anger as he jabbed a finger into her chest again. "Transfer it to my office," he spat at Pedro, turning on his heels.

***

Tell him in the bar area, Carly had suggested. That way, he can't try and harm you. Not with witnesses around. That girl was smart. She was becoming a good friend. Despite the fact that she didn't understand what made Rosie tick.

What was it she'd said? You are cut out for this. Watching you dance on stage, seeing you around other men—you come alive, honey. This is what you were made for, we're much more alike than you think.

The spiky haired woman was as wide of the mark as it was possible to get. But her advice on how to deal with Big Eddie had been valuable. Stay in the bar until he comes out of his office. Then hit him with it.

The brunette knew her way around, knew the way things worked. She'd been so right. Rosie had never seen her employer in such a rage. How stupid she'd been to think he'd understand. Men like that never understood. He was from the same stable as Charlie.