Clean Slate

* * *

"I'm just not sure about this one." Megan had four years on Tori, and an absolutely slamming body to boot, but the little manager wasn't about to be intimidated. "I'm not seeing enough coverage for the Health Department." She looked emotionlessly up at the furious Megan. "You know better."

"Fuck you, Tori," Megan spat. "I know what I'm doing." The rest of us just stared at her, that sublime body of hers putting the rest of us to shame, unable to take our eyes away. "I just bought this shit at Secret Whispers. What am I, not going to wear it?"

"Meg," Tori told her, shaking her head. "That ain't coverage, girlfriend. The Health Inspector..."

"If he comes in, I'll just fuck him," Megan announced with lofty confidence. We all stifled laughs. It was the garter belt that was giving Tori fits. The thigh highs clung to Megan's smooth, muscled thighs with their wide strip of blue lace; a matching thong hid her pussy, though barely, but the garter belt... "See? Lace." She plucked at the sheer fabric over her butt, ignoring the fact that it gave out halfway down her crack.

"It's a losing battle," Brittany told me sadly while the two argued. "City Council just keeps passing ordinances. They don't want nude bitches selling food." She shrugged. "It's just prudishness, but they keep passing these laws and we keep skirting them."

"The Health Department is bound to shut us down eventually, but before they do?" Jennae grinned slowly. "Everyone's going to make a hell of a lot of money."

"I'm going to have to say no, Meg," Tori said firmly, turning away. "That's it. It's my ass if we get shut down."

"Yeah," Megan raged, "your ass. Your skinny little ass. That no man would be caught dead fucking." She was as pissed as I'd ever seen anyone. "Jealous much?"

"Go home, Meg." That piping little voice wasn't wavering, and I felt a surge of perverse pride; something had made Tori brave, and it was probably me calling her Yellow Fever all those years ago. "Come back if you want, but that outfit won't fly." She glanced over at me. "That's you off the hostess station, Lisa. I'll take it myself."

"Okay." I liked Meg, so I made sure not to sound excited, but the hostess never got tipped like the wait staff, regardless of the equal-share rules in the handbook. It didn't really matter, anyway; the word was that Dr Amy was already recruiting Megan to work down on the South Side, in the "chiropractic clinic" everyone knew was a whorehouse. I remembered Ben's eyes in my interview and wondered whether I'd get approached, too. And whether I'd accept if I did.

But in the meantime, I had money to make.

* * *

I cried out, my hair feeling as if he was tearing it out from the roots; Tony wrenched my head around and down, down over his sweat-slicked body, until his cock filled my view. I was certain he'd pulled a muscle in my neck. He started to speak, and might even have gotten a word or two out, but I couldn't hear it through the violence of my own orgasm, and I didn't need to be told anyway; I stooped over his body, ignoring the sudden shocking emptiness in my pussy, and opened my mouth wide just as his cum spat out with shocking force, straight up my nose, splattering my face; his hand was there, shaking me by the hair, making sure I didn't flinch when the second load struck my eye, and then finally he was painting my tongue as we both panted our way back down.

* * *

"Hi, boys! Welcome to Cheeks and Company..." I trailed off. Holy fuck. I was standing next to one of the booths in that toddler-size polo shirt and a pair of fishnets over a bright red silk thong. And three teachers from my old high school were staring back at me over their menus.

Well, fuck me running.

Instinctively I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, which I'd spent a lot of time doing in high school when talking to teachers, especially men. I know not all of them were perverts, but it never cost a girl anything to be careful. I've never really liked dirty old men, but in fairness these three weren't old. Or at least, they hadn't been when I'd been in their classes.

And one wasn't even a man.

"Oh my god!" At least Mr Bacon had the grace to look as embarrassed as I was, even though I'd never had him as a teacher. Across from him, Mr Taylor (the history Taylor, not the math Taylor) just gaped at my pussy.

"Well. What have we here." My glance shifted to the middle, where Ms Torrey was grinning smugly at me. She was the one with the drinks menu. I was shocked to see her there, not only for the obvious reasons, but because she was the first woman I'd ever seen in the dining area.

Huh. I'd never, ever have pegged her as a lesbian.

"I think, unless my eyes deceive me, that I'm looking at Lisa Roche. Graduated... six years ago? Maybe more?" She smirked, five feet even and flat as a board and reputed, for years, to be a teacher that had all sorts of sex with all sorts of students. "I'm glad to see you prospering, Lisa." Bitch had failed me twice, in two different algebra classes. The second time, I'd gotten a 59.2 and she hadn't rounded up.

"Hi, Ms Torrey. Mr Bacon. Mr Taylor." I gulped hard, very conscious of my nudity, my mojo gone far away. What the fuck were they doing here? "Um. Can I get you guys something to drink?" No, of course. Not enough. Not nearly enough for them to forget they were looking at a former student's ass.

"Uh, diet Pepsi." Taylor looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.

"Yeah," Bacon said hollowly, looking belatedly away. "Same, I guess."

Torrey, though, just grinned up at me. "Why, sure. How about something a little more interesting." She glanced down at the drinks menu. "This one looks exciting. The Rum Balloon-Knot?"

"It's a top seller," I announced, on autopilot, "but we're all out of the Superiorita 1996 Dark they make that with."

"Oh!" A smirk twitched at the corner of Torrey's tiny mouth. "Heavens. Whatever shall I do instead?"

It took me a moment to realize she was waiting for me to recommend something. I slapped myself mentally upside the head; get it together. As uncomfortable as this was, these people represent tips! "I like the Strawberry Rimjob, Ms Torrey." I managed a brittle grin. "It's best if you add a hint of mango for an extra dollar-fifty."

"Of course it is." She completed her smile, transforming her whole face. "Well then. I guess you'd better come back and give me your most expensive Rimjob, then." She giggled.

"Sure." I reached down deep and summoned a wink for the rest of the table. "I'll be right back with those." I could feel their eyes boring into my ass as I walked off, having to concentrate to put some sway into my hips.

She sidled up to me some time later, as I took refuge near the POS beside the bathroom hallway. "So," she sighed, her tiny form settling next to mine. "I wouldn't have thought I'd see you at a place like this."

I decided to be honest. "I could say the same to you."

She nodded, surveying the room. "Yeah. If we'd have known this was this kind of place, we'd have chosen somewhere else." I saw her lean forward, staring hard into the far corner. "Wait. Is that Vicky Nguyen over there?" She gave a low whistle, not really needing the answer. "Didn't you two have... well, we'll call it 'antipathy,' back in high school?"

"We'll call it that." I made like I was punching numbers into the machine.

"Must be awkward."

"Look, I need to get back to work, Ms Torrey. Did you need me to bring you anything else?"

"Maybe," she sighed, leaning back to look squarely at my butt. "You'd be shocked to hear what Bacon and Taylor are saying about you."

I felt the bitter sneer spoil my face. "I doubt that."

"They're right, though," she went calmly on. "Bacon says he'd eat your shit just to put his dick where it came from, which I thought sounded about right." I shuddered. He wasn't an overwhelmingly attractive man. "I should know, too; I've been fucking him for about five months now."

"Ooh." I felt I should giggle, so I did. The fuck was she telling me this for?

"I'll be honest, just between us girls," she went on. "It's getting kind of stagnant."

"It's none of my business, Ms Torrey."

"Of course it isn't. But it could be." I looked quickly at her as she wrote her number on a pink post-it. "All my affairs get stale around this point, to tell the truth. You know what would help?" She leaned toward me, our shoulders touching, and stuck the note to my nametag. "You, coming in to lick his balls while he fucks me." She searched my face, her voice very low. "Ever had a woman? I think you'd have a great time with him and me."

"Oh my god," I blurted faintly. No. I liked dick, and nothing but dick.

"Think about it," she finished, shrugging. "If you're into it." She smiled indulgently. "I read what it said on the menu, but if you don't mind..." and then my old algebra teacher's hand was whipping down fast, digging hard into the flesh of my butt, her fingernails just millimeters away from my asshole. I stifled a yelp. "I just had to do it, Lisa. You're one juicy little package, as I'm sure you know." She winked. "Take care, Lisa. Oh, and Mr Taylor could use a refill on his drink." She cackled as she strolled away back to her table, leaving me scarlet-faced and breathless.

I shuffled from the restaurant that night having thrown some loose pajama bottoms right over my fishnets. My feet were killing me; I wasn't used to high heels anymore, and Tori liked us to wear them. Even $412.44 in tips, in addition to the paycheck money quietly accumulating via direct deposit, wasn't enough to perk me up; for the first time, I felt exploited. Gina Torrey's fingers on my butt had squeezed deeper than she'd thought.

Tony didn't pick up on my way home, which was just as well; I was exhausted, and barely remembered getting back to my shitty little apartment. What amazed me more, though, was that he still wasn't picking up even after I woke up, restored and chipper, in the late-morning sunlight. "Weird," I told myself, but then I took a quarter of last night's tips and headed over to Secret Whispers. They were getting used to me there now.

"Hi, babe." The woman behind the counter, Shanna, was an equal-opportunity flirt, and for an instant I looked at the deep, firm young cleavage she'd put on display and I swallowed, remembering Torrey's question. The chick was dripping sex. "Back for more?"

"Hey," I replied coyly, wondering what it would be like to slurp at another woman's vag. I trembled a moment, which surprised me. I hesitated, staring straight into her libido, and then I shook it off. "Fuck. Sorry. Hey, I'm looking for... well, you know what I'm looking for. I work at Cheeks and Company."

"Yup." Shanna was already hopping off her stool. "You told me last time. No worries." She led me straight back to the tights, her head twisting casually over her shoulder. "They're not hiring there, are they?"

I looked instinctively at her ass, in a tight pair of striped pants. "You? Probably." I smiled at her.

"Aww. That's sweet." She smiled, a very toothy one. "I'd get myself into trouble there."

"I already do, Shanna," I winked. "Trust me. You get over the guilt real, real fast." She laughed pleasantly, and to my great shock I felt my pussy stirring.

"Here you go. Tights for days." She leaned against the rack. "Stockings are over there." She glanced at the front of the store and saw nobody. "Hey," she went on quietly, with a twinkle in her eye, "wanna see?"

"See?" I was fingering the sheerest pair of tights in the rack, wondering what color thong I should wear underneath. I cocked my head. "See what?"

She giggled. "My butt." She didn't wait for an answer, popping her button-fly and flipping her waistband down over her ass. There was a thong there, but only barely, and as she peeled down her pants I felt my mouth go dry. The thing was gorgeous, all lush and creamy, that perfect peachy shape. And, of course, the girl wasn't even slightly shy about showing it. She arched her back deeply, pushing her cheeks out at me. "Still just 'probably?' Or more like 'definitely?'"

"Fuck," I said low and slow, glancing all around. "You're what my manager would call smackable."

"Mmm," she purred, wagging her ass. "I like that. Let me know if you need me in the changing room." Fuck me. My ears were ringing. I found myself wondering, as she slunk coquettishly back toward the counter, whether she had a strap-on.

I knew what was up with me. I was in heat.

I was all the way back on my game that night, flirting shamelessly, upselling like a motherfucker, and hearing cash-register sounds in my head every time a customer made lingering eye contact with my mound, most of which was fully exposed behind the brand-new sheer purple leggings Shanna had sold me. Nobody I knew came in, which was easier: I could be whatever I wanted to be, and tonight I felt like a fucking goddess.

Tony hadn't left a voicemail when I got done, nor was he answering, and this time I was annoyed. In firm, eager contrast to last night, I was horny as hell. I thought a moment about taking care of things myself, but one of my guilty little secrets is that I'm a piss-poor masturbator. I've just never had much practice; when I get horny, I've never had problems finding a handy male, but I really wanted Tony.

But tonight, none of my usual extra fuck-partners was the first thing that came to mind. Instead, I found myself digging a pink post-it out of my wallet and staring thoughtfully at the phone number there.

* * *

I woke with the taste of iron filings in my mouth, and it took me several moments before I identified it as the remants of what flesh tasted like. Wet, hot, shivering flesh, flesh covered by other peoples' fluids.

A lot of flesh.

I stumbled to my bathroom and shoved my mouth under the faucet, slurping at the stream of tepid water, scratching furiously at my hairless pussy as I did so. There was a great deal of dried muck down there, and only some of it was mine. My sheets would be stinky too, I reflected as the water ran across my cheeks. I'd barely made it home in the predawn, staggering into bed naked and sticky.

I was sore, in that delicious way that told me I'd had one too many orgasms, if there's any such thing. My muscles had spent much of the night tensed and shivery, and when I'd finally relaxed there was still that dull, achy cramp deep inside. When I sat on the toilet, it felt like I was pissing Tabasco sauce.

But a cup of coffee and a shower worked the usual magic, and I'd just collapsed onto my stained sofa with my remote in my hand when my phone warbled. I frowned; the goddamn thing was on the table at the other end of the sofa, and I'd finally reached a fragile state of equilibrium, but then the phone prodded me again and I lunged across in a burst of energy and swept it up. The caller ID made me roll my eyes.

Fucking Tori Nguyen. She texted a lot; she was not a woman able to stick to a simple work schedule.

I thumbed my way into the texting app and settled back to see what that little bitch had to say, surprised to find that she'd sent me a video. Odd. The little timer at the bottom of the vid said it was about three minutes, and the thumbnail was too dim to see much. So I launched it open and sighed as the thing started.

I frowned, squinting, the video taking its sweet time resolving itself, but I soon figured out what it was: a precarious cellphone video, taken from what looked like a bedside table beside a lamp and a scrunchie. I peered closer, seeing motion and hair, and then suddenly I flinched back when the hair turned into Tori's upside-down face, tossing itself back to stare at the phone with a weird expression of lust mixed with glee.

Ah. She was getting fucked.

Must have sent it to the wrong name on her contact list, I decided, settling back more comfortably on my couch; probably meant to send it to the guy. I couldn't really see him yet in the intense shadow from the bedside lamp, but the look on her face certainly showed me what he was doing to her. Slowly the shapes on the badly-shot video made themselves clearer. Her shoulder, slim and muscular like the rest of her, then down past that to her little tit with its quivering brown nipple shaking to the rhythm he was slamming her with. I heard audio now, the breath catching in Tori's throat, and then she was groaning with her eyes closed and her hips moved up slightly and then I saw it.

Down between their bodies, coming suddenly out of the shadows, I fixated on nothing but the solid fleshy column rising and falling out of her slit, banging her at a horrific rate as she gasped into the phone. "So good," she whimpered, her eyes opening briefly to stare into mine. "So fucking good in my cunt."

"Yeah," the guy gloated, breathless, and I froze: it was Tony. "Just like old times, Tori, you hot fucking bitch." She was twisting, her face a mask of ecstasy, visibly trying to hold back her screams. "You're such a good whore. Cum on that fat cock, you slut."

"Holy shit." It took me a moment to realize I'd said it out loud, and even then I couldn't look away, the two of them locked together in harsh, urgent fury; I could see the exact moment she came, her almond eyes wide and eager in the camera, her mouth a black hole while my boyfriend's head dipped to her chest and he sucked on her nipple. Their moans, increasingly erratic, burned themselves into my brain, and finally I shut my eyes until I heard him groan, that familiar sighing groan I'd heard so many times as his cum splattered across my skin.

"Fuck, baby." He was getting up off her on the tiny screen, kneeling, and I could see his glistening dick bouncing, barely softening. "Jesus Christ, you're still fucking amazing. Come shower with me."

"Sure thing," she purred. "Just a sec." She stretched languorously, and I saw the image in the camera stir chaotically as she moved; finally it settled back down, Tori bouncing on her own bed, and I was staring transfixed at her grinning little face, peering at me on her phone with her legs spread and her pussy front and center beneath her ridiculously close-trimmed bush.

She nodded at me, smiling, still sweaty, and let me watch as Tony's cum began oozing back out of her snatch. Fuck. She clawed a single quick finger through there, showing me the gob at the tip of her finger before sucking it clean. "I love hooking up with old boyfriends," she murmured, still with that piping little lispy voice, glancing over her shoulder with a mischievous smirk. "See you on Monday, Lisa. You're working a double." I heard the shower come on in the background, my man's voice telling this sly little bitch to come join him.

"Oh, and Lisa?" She winked at me, his sperm still bubbling out of her. "You wanted a 'clean slate?' Well, now you've got one." She winked again, then reached forward and shut off her camera.

* * *

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