Two in Vegas

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Best friends find adventure - and surprises - in Las Vegas.
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ChazThain
ChazThain
221 Followers

Jodi and I have been friends all our lives. Growing up, she probably spent as many nights at my house as she did at home. My Mom called Jodi their third daughter. We shared nearly everything from 5th grade on -- everything but Jeremy Elder, the biggest hottie in our class.

We fought over Jeremy our senior year, but neither of us ever became his "steady." Too bad his daddy got him a scholarship at BYU about the time we graduated and then he left town for good. A week later Jodi got snotty and bragged that she had balled Jeremy the night before he left -- and he promised to come back for her.

Hah! As it happens, he screwed me in the back seat of the same car the night before he nailed Jodi. And you know what? Yeah, he promised to come back for me, too. You guessed it. He never came back, never called, never even sent a postcard. We were so mad at Jeremy we soon got over being mad at each other.

Among the things Jodi and I shared was a dislike for life in Twin Falls. So it's kind of funny we were both still in town three years after high school. Oh, I had been to State for two semesters and gotten good grades. But college wasn't for me -- mainly because I had no idea what I wanted to study. I felt like I was wasting Mom's money, what little there was.

I always thought Jodi was smarter than me, but she never even went to State. Her Dad died when we were 15 and her Mom couldn't afford to send her to college. She stayed home and worked and took some classes at juco.

There we were. Both 21. Both still living at home. Both working at nothing jobs. There were plenty of guys to be had in Twin Falls, if you were willing to "party," which meant drinking, toking and -- sooner or later -- spreading your legs. But most of the guys had no more idea where they were headed than me and Jodi. We weren't thrilled with the idea of "settling" and having babies in a rented mobile home on the edge of town.

Then one Saturday Jodi slammed open my Mom's back door to find me making iced tea in the kitchen.

"Get packed," she said.

"Packed for what?"

"Las Vegas."

So I packed a couple of bags and we left that same afternoon, driving as far as Salt Lake. I was between guys at the time and Jodi didn't even bother to call the guy she was dating. A couple of days later we were jammed into a ratty room in a long-stay motel, cooking on a two-burner stove and looking for work.

It's amazing how fast I got a job cocktailing at a casino on the Strip. What's more amazing is the costume they had me wear. The first couple of days I felt like a hooker with my boobs hanging out. But I soon got used to the tiny skirt, revealing top and heels. Most people seemed not to notice that I was half-naked, and after awhile I stopped feeling self-conscious. I also learned to use Band-Aids on my nipples to keep them from standing out like bullets in the air-conditioned casino.

Guys hit on me all the time, but I was used to dealing with that. I enjoyed the attention, if I was in a flirty mood, but the other girls told me the score. Nice guys don't come to Vegas looking for Miss Right. And I learned to call Security if somebody got too obnoxious. I remember one middle-age jerk who did a double-take when he saw me, then ditched his wife somewhere and came back. He didn't even take off his wedding ring! He must have thought he was such a stunning specimen I'd swoon into his arms. No chance!

Jodi got a job dealing blackjack and our lives settled into a comfortable groove. With our salaries and tips, we were making more money than we could ever hope to make in Twin Falls. We moved to a two-bedroom apartment in a nice complex with a lawn and pool. We fixed up Jodi's car, bought a stereo, good furniture and even pictures for the walls. I got a set of pots and pans and started COOKING! My Mom would have croaked!

Eventually we got the same nights off and spent a lot of evenings going to movies, shows or just exploring Vegas. What a wild town! We met guys everywhere and rarely had to buy a drink. Jodi was always the one who decided which guys we partied with, and which ones got to stay the night. She's very picky -- says I have no judgment -- and she almost never let guys stay over.

"I'm the brains of this outfit," she would say, "and you're the tits."

There's nothing wrong with Jodi's boobs. Her 32Bs are beautifully rounded with tiny pink nipples. She's just sensitive because Jeremy used to call her "Skinny." I think she looks like a model -- pretty, and tall for a girl, with gorgeous, long legs.

I'm the average type. You know, 5-feet-5, 135 pounds, with a bit of an hourglass shape. People are more likely to call me "pretty" than "beautiful." And my tits ARE pretty good, at least as far as guys are concerned. I wear a 34C.

The good times lasted more than a year. Neither of us wanted to spend our lives in casinos, but the work was easy and the money was good. We shared expenses and always seemed to have plenty left over for clothes, CDs or show tickets. We spent a week in California, once, doing all the tourist stuff. We both dated occasionally, nothing serious, and had friends at work and the complex.

Then disaster struck.

I was leaving work one day, just stepping off the curb, when an idling car slipped into gear and lurched forward. It knocked me down, gave me a concussion and broke my leg. It wasn't a complicated break, but the pain was pretty bad. I woke up in the ambulance, then passed out again. I woke up the next day with Jodi at my bedside. She was great. She took care of everything, dealt with the doctors, handled the paperwork, made sure I got my medication on time.

When they finally sent me home, Jodi was in charge again. She got me home and settled, cooked, fed me, cleaned, helped me in the bathroom -- embarrassing. I leaned on her for everything -- a true friend.

My leg continued to heal, but a few days later I woke up feeling hot. I turned up the AC. Jodi left for work and I fell asleep, tossing and turning. I woke in a couple of hours, burning up. The sheets were soaked with sweat. I took some aspirin and that helped. I fell asleep and woke up a few hours later, hot and drenched in sweat again. I took off my clammy nightshirt and took more aspirin.

Jodi called. They wanted her to work a double shift. I told her I was coming down with a cold, but would do fine until she got home. Not.

When Jodi finally got home she found me lying on the sofa, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, shivering and delirious with fever. She dialed 911. I was soon back in the hospital. Pneumonia. For two weeks. When I got home again I had lost 15 pounds and was weak as a kitten. Again the load fell on Jodi. She took great care of me, but her work suffered and she got fired. She wouldn't have told me, but she had to explain why she was spending all day at home.

A week later I felt strong enough to get out of bed and get myself a glass of water. But when I walked into the living room it was bare! All our furniture was gone, including the stereo, the pictures from the walls and the dining room set. I shouted for Jodi.

"Where's all our STUFF!" I cried.

She came out of her bedroom, looking haggard.

"It's gone," she said, her voice flat, her beautiful blue eyes defeated. "I had to sell everything to pay the bills. We're broke."

"Broke?" I was stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"How could I tell you, as sick as you were? And what could you have done, anyway?"

That was our low spot. She helped me back to bed and we laid there, holding each other and crying until we were cried out. Then we took stock. Our rent was paid to the end of the month. We still had our bedroom furniture and clothes, Jodi's 10-year-old car and half a tank of gas. Our food would stretch for a couple of weeks if we ate pasta twice a day.

"We're skating on thin ice," Jodi said wryly. "Keep taking those antibiotics. If you have a relapse we'll have to sell the car."

"What about going home," I asked timidly. She made a face and turned both thumbs emphatically down. I knew her family was a big reason Jodi finally left Twin Falls. They wanted her to marry like her sisters, get religion, have kids. She wanted none of it. Jodi was too much of a free spirit, always going her own way.

Not to mention, Jodi's father molested her for awhile when she was maybe 13 or 14. She almost never talked about it, but from the little she's said I don't think he actually raped her. Bad enough he sat on her bed and fondled her late at night, his fingers squeezing and poking. He choked her when she tried to turn away, so she learned to close her eyes and think of something else.

She finally told her Mom what was happening, but her Dad denied it and her Mom called her a lying slut. Her sisters were older, and had already left home. Then Jodi told a teacher at school. The police talked to her Dad, but didn't arrest him. He moved out for awhile, then moved back in. He was killed that same year in a one-car rollover out on 93 -- drunk as a skunk. Her Mom blamed Jodi for her father's death, so they weren't on the best of terms.

My father had died when I was 12. Cancer. After I left home my mother moved in with my sister and her family, struggling to control her diabetes. If we went back to Twin Falls, we'd both be living with married siblings -- and probably wind up sleeping on their living room couches. I made a face myself.

"Bad idea."

"We'll think of something," Jodi said determinedly.

Later that day there was a knock on the door. It was our neighbor Jennifer with a pot of homemade soup.

"My GOD, I've been worried about you!" Jennifer exclaimed. "How ARE you! Besides thin as a RAIL, I mean! You're so LUCKY your tits don't disappear when you lose weight!"

Before I could answer, she noticed the absence of furniture.

"GIRLS! Where are all your THINGS?!"

"Pawn shops or the used furniture store," Jodi said wearily.

"You poor BABIES! The doctor bills cleaned you out?"

Jodi told the whole story while Jennifer listened closely. Jenn was our best neighbor, always dropping by to give me a cooking tip or advise Jodi on car repairs. She was one of those EMPHATIC people with an opinion on everything, but I loved the positive spin she put on life.

Jenn was also a bit of a mystery. Or maybe not so mysterious after you get to know Vegas. Early on we suspected she was a high-priced call girl. About 30, she lived in the nicest apartment in our complex, though she didn't seem to have a job. If anybody asked about her work, she laughed and said she was a consultant, but I know she never went to college. Jenn carried a pager and cell phone, even at the pool, and she came and went at all hours, always dressed beautifully.

One day after we'd known her several months, she came over for iced tea. In the course of a long conversation (she loved to talk), she confided that she was, indeed, a fallen woman. Jodi wasn't even surprised, but there was enough Twin Falls in me to be shocked. Still, I felt more sympathy than outrage.

"Jenn, you don't have to do that!" I protested. "You're smart, you could take classes and get a good job!"

"BABY!" she laughed. "I could have a Ph.D and not make the kind of money I'm making. I own part of this apartment complex and I've got a six-figure stash in an offshore account. I paid off my mother's house in Arcata and there's a shoebox of cash buried in her crawl space. I've even got health insurance."

"But isn't it ... horrible?" I asked.

"Not the way I've got things set up," she asserted. Jodi looked doubtful and I'm sure I did, too.

"Look," she said, leaning forward. "I got into this because I was desperate, but I'm NOT a victim. This work isn't for everybody, but I turned it into a good thing for me.

"I figured the agencies make the real money in this business, so I peddled my ass just long enough to start my own agency," Jenn said. "It was hard at first. Other agencies tried to take me over, but I made sure I was a moving target. My girls stayed with me because I gave them a bigger cut, took care of their health and was really concerned about their safety. And I figured a way to get the police interested in my competitors. Now some of them have left town, the others have backed off, and I'm one of the biggest agencies."

"Speaking of police?" I prompted.

"The cops know there's going to be working girls in Vegas," she explained. "How can there NOT be, with all the men and money coming here? They just want to keep it out of sight and honest. No ripoffs. No unhappy customers."

"What ABOUT the customers," Jodi asked.

"They're just men ... or mostly men," Jenn laughed. "The key thing is to control the situation from the beginning and never give up control. You just have to find out what they want, give it to them and be sweet about it. It's more an acting job than anything."

After we knew her secret and didn't give her the cold shoulder, we were better friends with Jenn than ever, visiting back and forth. She never talked about her business except when Jodi asked questions. But Jodi was always curious about everything.

So it was no great surprise when Jenn pulled out $500 cash and insisted we take it as a gift. Jodi resisted for awhile, but we wound up taking the money.

"Thanks Jenn, this will keep us going for another couple of weeks," she said. "Now I've got to see about finding a cheaper apartment, and getting my job back."

"I can work, too," I declared, but Jodi just rolled her eyes and Jenn chuckled.

"Baby, ANYBODY can see you still need more time. A full shift on your feet would put you back in the hospital." Then she paused thoughtfully, looking from me to Jodi.

"If you two ever want to make good money in a hurry, some of my girls have come up with a good gimmick. They don't even have to screw the clients!"

That remark was followed by an uncomfortable silence, and Jennifer soon went home.

That night Jodi and I were talking around bedtime when she said, "I wonder what Jennifer meant about that gimmick her girls came up with."

I had wondered about that comment myself, but didn't say anything.

The next day, Jennifer helped us get a one bedroom apartment in our complex. I was gaining strength, but was no help moving. Jodi and Jennifer did it all while I slept on Jennifer's huge, plush couch. And that night we had carry-out at Jennifer's dining room table.

"What's that gimmick you were talking about?" Jodi asked.

"Gimmick?" Jennifer said.

"Yeah. The gimmick that lets your girls make tons of money without doing it."

"Oh. I didn't mean they didn't have SEX! I said they didn't have sex with the CLIENTS!" Jennifer exclaimed.

"Well how does THAT work," Jodi said, wanting the details.

"It's great," Jennifer said. "The girls go to a client's hotel room and put on a show. Some of my kids do a girl-girl show, some do a girl-boy show and I have a couple who do solos."

"What do you mean by shows?"

"Two girls, or a girl and a guy, have sex and the client watches. It's a turn-on, but completely safe. Sometimes it's several clients. The Japanese especially like to watch in groups. Or it's a client and his wife. About half want girl-girl shows."

"And the client pays to just watch?" Jodi asked, amazed.

"Not always," Jennifer said. "Some clients just watch, most jack off and and some pay extra to join the girls."

"Lesbians?"

"My girls? NO!" Jennifer laughed. "A couple are bi, but most of my girls are straight. But they like money and they decide how far they'll go. And for $500 they're willing to be flexible."

"Five hundred bucks apiece!" Jodi gasped.

"Well, I charge $500 for a two-girl show and I keep 60 percent for the agency. The girls pay their expenses and split the rest. And they keep all their tips. Tips can be BIG!"

"What expenses?"

"Clothes, toys, cab fare. That's about it. I make ALL my girls see the doctor once a week and they pay for that, too."

"What do you mean, clothes and toys?" Jodi said.

Jenn explained how her "employees" designed an act, or several acts, with costumes to match. Sometimes clients asked for a girl and a guy, sometimes for two girls dressed boy-girl. Other times they wanted two girls dressed as men, or both dressed as women.

"But what do they actually DO for the clients," Jodi insisted.

"The plain fact is," Jenn said, "the more you do, the more money you make. The wilder the act, the bigger the payoff. Masturbation and straight girl-guy fucking pays the least. But I've got a pair of girls who've worked together for a year, adding new tricks all the time. They've got this VERY hot B&D act that makes ME soak my panties. Last week they cleared $5,000 in three shows!"

Jodi's eyes bugged out of her head when she heard that! I was wondering what a B&D act was, exactly, but felt a little flushed, myself.

"Nobody would pay $500 to watch some guy boink me," I muttered.

"We're not going to split our money with 'some guy,' " Jodi said, looking at me with exasperation. "We're going to put together an act with the two of us, you and me."

"HEY! Wait a minute! I'm not having sex for money," I protested.

"Listen goofy," said Jodi. "Don't you see? We can make a month's rent in a couple of nights of easy work."

"I could get you started," Jenn chimed in. "My regulars are always eager for fresh faces."

They both looked at me. For a fleeting second I wondered if they had cooked this up between them, but I knew Jodi wouldn't go behind my back. There was a long silence before Jenn told us to think about it and left.

I brought up morality and Jodi argued me down. I brought up legality and Jodi argued me down. I brought up danger and disease and self-respect, and Jodi argued them all down. I could tell she'd been thinking about this for some time.

Finally, three days later, I was reduced to weak protests about my lack of acting ability.

"Listen," Jodi said. "You won't HAVE to act. You can just be natural and I'LL do the acting. And we can practice here at home until it feels natural."

"How is it ever going to feel NATURAL? You don't know any more about doing it with another girl than I do!" Jodi gave me a long, doubtful look. Finally she said, "Jenn said she'd help us out. She's our expert. She can tell us what her clients like and how to do it."

I never really said, 'Yes,' but I finally quit saying, 'No,' and Jennifer was soon coaching us on costumes and scenarios. But she wouldn't tell us what to say. I begged her to give me a script, something I could memorize, but she insisted that would ruin the whole thing. I was so afraid of freezing and not being able to talk!

Then we had what Jenn called the walk-through, really a dress rehearsal. I was at our apartment, wearing the dress Jennifer selected. She gave me a tube of lubricant and told me to make sure my pussy was well-prepared. I almost gave up the idea when I saw myself in the bathroom mirror pushing lube up my twat. Instead I hung a towel over the mirror.

Jodi dressed at Jennifer's apartment ... something about a surprise. I was sweating nervously when the doorbell rang. Some surprise! I knew it was Jodi standing there with Jennifer, but nobody else would have known her. She looked like a fresh-faced, young boy in Dockers, loafers and a loose shirt, with her hair cut short and slicked back.

I let them in and Jenn began directing the action. Her scenario wasn't much different from what happens on a third or fourth date ... or at least what guys want to happen on the third or fourth date. There was a little small talk, some awkward hugging, then Jenn told us to kiss and I froze, like I knew I would. Jodi never hesitated. She even touched my lips with her tongue, but retreated when I didn't open my mouth.

If not frozen, I remained pretty wooden while Jenn walked Jodi through the steps of fondling me through my clothes, undressing me and undressing herself. I think a guy would have paid more attention to my tits. I didn't feel aroused. I didn't feel anything except a warm flush of embarrassment and confusion.

ChazThain
ChazThain
221 Followers