Sharon Goes Back to School Ch. 15A

"You're going behind my back to Go?" Shaun was a little pissed at that... Sharon was his.

"No, no, no... I checked, that's all. Go said he's got so many coming in to see her based on the Sexpo he offered to pay for her flight there and back. I guess he's got guys calling and booking ahead right up until he's going to have to let her go home for break." Dave waited while Shaun considered that. When he couldn't wait any longer, he pushed, "C'mon, that was the bet... if I made her a hit at Sexpo we'd take her to the AVN bash... imagine the skilled fringe we can sample, man!"

"A'ight," Shaun had already come to the same conclusion. He had also realized it was likely just a matter of time before their best bitch was a wreck... the bugs running on her family's computers had uncovered a little porn habit her hubby enjoyed. Shaun was a little surprised hubby hadn't realized already that he'd sat in his den watching his wife put out to frat members and pros alike. He hadn't paid for anything yet... understandable considering the flood of fresh meat hitting the net every month. But at some point he might figure it out, and they should be ready with 'alternatives' for Sharon if things went south. "She's keeping up with the increased demand?" Dave laughed.

"Go insists she's a natural; keeps asking when she was a working girl before marriage, because she leaves them panting and begs for more. Hell, he warned me she'd almost worn him out the last time he decided to 'teach her a lesson.' Shaun chewed the inside of his lip at that. The woman they'd ensnared was obviously not a pro, which made him worry.

"Well maybe we should visit our favorite BZ Bitch at work tonight, get us a little taste."

"Can't... Go's got her booked solid.. He's already asked if we'll let her work another day each week until break, I'd almost forgotten to tell you." Shaun frowned again... sometimes Dave forgot it wasn't just about he and his dick. Shaun considered it a sacred trust of the frat, and his friend's decisions made him glad he was grooming other younger members to take over when he finally decided he was ready to go out in the real world.

"Well shit, she's popular here, too. We've got TA's to get off and a couple professors. Plus the winter bash."

"She isn't working the House parties anymore."

"She isn't working the regular parties," Shaun corrected, "But we'll get a great release from this one to help sell her in Vegas." The way Dave chuckled, Shaun knew he needn't say more. But he also made a decision... waiting on this was too risky. He unlocked the cell-- having it lock in a minute was a hassle but it was worth the security-- and scrolled to one of the cryptic nicknames in his contacts.

Like at DOD secured phone, the handset bounced the signal through a prearranged security scrambler another BZ alum had piggybacked onto a Verizon satellite, and the call came back down to a different number... the right person, but protecting the Frat was job one.

"Yeah," Shaun smiled. Samir might still be overawed at the Frat's ability to get hot women, and so his ability to score with said hotties, but he was learning fast.

"When you gonna get more screen time?" Samir considered.

"Scheduled this weekend, why, you need something special?" Shaun bobbed his head, pleased at his brother's ready to go attitude.

"Sorry, man, but we may have a problem with our golden goose." Samir did not speak, "I need you to sit an extra shift or two... tell me if she's doing anything unusual."

"You wanna give me a clue?" Shaun bit back a smart ass response. It was a valid question.

"Sorry, but if I knew you wouldn't have to keep an eye on her... Am I hurtin' your action?" Samir laughed.

"No, bra," Shaun guessed it was the crime tv show set in Hawaii that had increased that little familiarity in the Frat language, "the BZ Bitches ARE my action."

"Well that's why we have them around," Shaun pointed out, then added, "Shout soonest if something strange happens. Otherwise I'll check in tomorrow." He resisted asking the freshman to not say anything to Dave or to 'anyone' in general... that could backfire. Killing the call, Shaun considered whether he needed to reconsider the holiday plans... or push up their schedule. Smiling, he chose to let it ride; it had been the best semester they had ever had... Theirs was on the national radar, and he had not gotten there by playing it safe.

***MISTLETOE

Sharon tried to remember what day it was, much less what time. She had barely gotten any down time from the moment Kelly had called her Thursday while she had been getting groceries. Any thought of some fruits and veggies or a more substantial meal than the yogurt and granola bars she had grabbed along with the 'requisites' had gone out the window... Kelly had informed her Go needed them working Thursday from opening to closing, since they 'wouldn't be able to work' on Friday.

Any curiosity about what that had meant was lost as her week had degenerated into a seemingly unending sexual performance. She and Kelly had arrived at Snake Eyes before noon. Before they had ever taken a turn on stage, Sharon had found herself in the champagne room, entertaining. It was irregular, as was the clipped almost guttural accent of the man rutting into her, but as she arched her back, urging him on, demanding that he 'fuck her harder' she realized it was not an accent that she had not heard recently.

When she had finished getting her apparent admirer off, she had unselfconsciously wandered naked into the common changing room. While touching up her make up, she had asked Amelia, who was changing after finishing a set about the strange accent.

"Dunno," the painfully thin young black woman had shrugged, "There've been a lot of Aussies this month." Sharon nodded-- she had assumed it was related to a joint operation at the nearby army base, and that accent wasn't as peculiar. "Oh," Amelia snorted, after a moment, "You mean that Afrikaner? He wouldn't give me the time of day, but most of them are racist bastards," she shrugged, "Guess he liked slumming coming here... I'm kind of surprised Go didn't have someone beat his prejudiced ass."

"Afrikaner?" Amelia looked at Sharon in surprise, "Yeah... white from South Africa."

"Oh," Sharon remembered the battles over aparteid, when she had been newly married. "Why would someone like that come here?" Amelia shrugged.

"Maybe he wanted to try to win you away from the dark side." Both women had laughed at that.

"Well, if that was his goal, let's just say he left me wanting." Amelia giggled at that. Sharon smiled, selecting another thong and bra set, which she had barely donned before being recalled to the Champagne room and another 'personal dance.' She had learned in the prior weeks to leave the bag with the dwindling supply of the lotion in the drawer at her station, and deftly applied it to her clit after every second or third 'guest.' The day was busier than past night had been, and Sharon had finished four trips to the champagne room before she and Kelly had danced a set. Afterwards, when she had started to head onto the floor with Kelly, who'd been ordered to 'circulate' by one of Go's runners, she had been pointedly informed she was 'already booked,' the smarmy young runner pointing back toward the blue lit room.

It had been an almost uninterrupted string of eager partners, most of whom said little but stared at her as if she was some rare zoo exhibit. More than one mumbled something about 'not believing it was happening,' and several had paused after finishing, asking for an autograph on a DVD or magazine. Though horrified to see pictures of herself in glossy print, Sharon had managed to sign without letting on she was surprised, and had managed to calm herself, after seeing the pictures were all with the mask on or at such an angle her face was not visible.

There had been an increasing number of Caucasians visiting her in the blue room, but until Thursday night, after the discussion with Amelia, Sharon had not really thought about it. Looking around while making the right noises and moving just so, she had realized it as not all of the girls serving more white customers... just her. And with the sudden attitude change and the requests for her to sign things, she had realized before the end of their shift on Thursday what was happening... she had new fans based on her appearing on television.

She had wondered just who could have so much money they would fly to the middle of the country... many obviously from other countries, just to have sex with her. And she had been frustrated... many didn't last as long as her husband, and few were larger than Chris. Panting after she had gotten him off close to midnight, one balding, obese man wiped at his brow, beaming at her.

"Thank you so much," he enthused, "You're amazing... I never thought I'd... Well, I mean... but then I saw you... & I read how you do 'fuck a fan.' I just can't thank you enough." Sharon had told the obviously timid man he'd 'been amazing' and had thanked him before apologizing that she needed to go freshen up before someone else wanted some attention. Instead of becoming angry or wondering if he had left her wanting, the man had bobbed his head, backing away from the seat where they had been rutting, forgetting to zip up until the room's glowering bouncer had pointed it out.

Head spinning, Sharon had rushed down the opposing hall, past the dressing room, to Go's office. He had not been in when she burst in, so Sharon had stepped up, scanning through the mirrored one way glass until she had seen him, handling the crowd, which that night included keeping the small party of obvious outsiders that were secluded near one end of the long stage, as well as the frowning nearby regulars happy.

She had paused long enough to don a fresh bra and panty set, as well as a flimsy shawl before rushing past the waiting runner and out onto the floor.

Her appearance had triggered whistles and cheers from everyone, but especially the knot of anxious white men who had been ogling Glory's routine. Ignoring them all, she had stormed up to Go, barely keeping her voice down as she caught the bolo tie he had been wearing, tugging ineffectually in an effort to get his ear closer.

"I Don't Fuck Fans," she had growled. Go had calmly taken the short fat black cigar from his lips, leering at her.

"Really? Seems to me you've been doing that here since day one." Sharon blushed but did not back down.

"You know what I mean. This is... I can't... You don't seriously expect me to... They're not even any good at it," she had seethed, only the last comment getting the big club owner moving. Swatting her bare hip sharply, he had turned to the staring crowd of her 'fans,'

"Sorry, gents, the little filly wants some special attention from ol' Go," he had winked, moving them both toward the hallway, "I'll try to leave enough for you to enjoy. Hang on to those numbers." The friendly façade was gone before the opaque curtain hiding the darkened hallway had stopped closing behind them; Go's enormous hand caught the back of Sharon's neck and the club owner casually tossed the woman less than half his size against the wall, stepping forward as he did, "You dumb cunt, you think you can..." Sharon's response was not what he expected from the helplessly trapped white wife. It was not what Sharon would have ever considered doing. Spinning back, amplifying the bounce from the wall, she lashed out, clawing at Go's eyes while the same side knee came up impossibly fast. Go's head snapped back, Sharon's painted nails tangling in his beard, pulling several hairs and causing a lingering sting that was almost eclipsed as her knee hammered against his inside thigh. The force of her counter was spent, so that there was no real pain when she shifted higher against his crotch.

"Bastard!" she hissed, starting a second swing with her free hand, Go having caught hold of the right, the fingers still tangled in her beard. Though accustomed to violence, and comfortable with it, the club owner was also wise enough not to react like the ego driven monkey mind that seems to rule all men from 15 to 25 was urging. Taking a deep breath, he spun the irate woman away from him so she could not try to land a second knee. He dropped his arm, effectively clothes lining her with her own arm, and frog marched her to his office, glad that he could get there without going past the dressing room.

Sharon kicked and scratched the entire way, her grunts and aborted cries for help muted when Go lifted her arm, pinning the crook of her elbow over her mouth. He didn't release her, even after he'd gotten safely into the office, throwing the seldom used bolt on the sound insulated door. The married white wife went on struggling for nearly three minutes before she began to calm. By then, Go was smiling in amusement at the spirit she had shown. Sharon was without a doubt full of surprises.

As soon as he sensed her tantrum was done... or at least that she was out of energy, the big club owner spun her away from him and into the heavy leather chair positioned in front of his desk. Careful that he knew where her knees were, in case she had been shamming, he advanced, using his own knee to pin her just short of painfully in the seat. He held himself there, glaring down until the helpless dancer looked up at him. Even then, it was fury and defiance he saw, not fear or deference.

"Are you going to do something stupid again?" he asked, conversationally. After several short breaths, Sharon managed to shake her head. "So I can let go and sit down and we'll talk." Not a question. Sharon just glared. He let go, circled his desk, then sat, leaning back expressively, emphasizing he was not threatened or a threat. "Care to tell me what that was about?"

"You threw me into the wall, asshole!" Sharon's voice was flat. Go pursed his lips... velvet or steel?

"You were putting my business at risk," he answered with the same neutral tone. "I can't have that from anyone... Especially when you're the one making the natives restless."

"Bullshit," she paused, then shook her head, "What are you talking about?"

"You're the one trying to be the next Sasha Blue," he answered, "Get that nice award for being the best new piece of ass on tape, and suddenly you've got a booming fan business."

"So I gathered," Sharon said sourly, "Like I asked for any of it... I hadn't even realized until tonight what was going on." Go snorted derisively, "I'm serious," she growled, "The last asshole mentioned my fucking fans... I don't fuck fans."

"Well, that would be debatable," Go shrugged, "I can assure you the guys who enjoy you are your fans." He shook his head in growing amusement, "So until that last fat turd you hadn't noticed you've been more... popular? What about the Aussies?"

"Who goes on vacation to fuck strange women?" Sharon's naivete was obvious, even after months working her ass as a BZ Bitch. "I just thought it was some joint operation thing at the base... You know, like those Russians who were in around Halloween." Go nodded-- if she was lying she was a world class sociopath, which meant she was not lying.

"So you want me to tell your... chaperones that you don't want to do what they expect you to do?" Sharon paled slightly and shook her head 'no.' "I didn't think so. There's lots of guys clamoring to get inside of you," Sharon shuddered, "I'd be a fool not to take advantage of it. And I'm no fool." He had dropped his feet at the time and leaned over his desk, "Which brings us to that little outburst when we went into the back," he stared at Sharon, hard. She did not quail as he had expected. "That cannot happen again. I won't put up with it. You remember Palomino?" Sharon bit her lip but nodded after a beat. "Good. There isn't anyone who can put this business at risk without there being consequences. If it means dragging you home and fucking you on the island in your kitchen... making you beg me for it while hubby watches, that's what I'll do. Do you understand me?" Sharon's face was ashen. She swallowed and nodded. "Good. I'd hate to lose a spitfire like you... You're going to go far little Mrs. Synn." Sharon opted not to argue, merely nodding, which Go took as a good sign.

"Besides," he could not keep from teasing her, "What was your last straw out there? That they do not get you off?" Sharon blushed, but managed a nod. "Well, that's a lesson for you, too... And it's news to me, 'cause you've been convincing everyone of them they're the first stud to ever make you cum. So you're doing good. I'll see if we can't find someone to volunteer to make sure you cum before you go home, all right?" Without really thinking about it, Sharon had nodded. She was aware suddenly then that she was almost impossibly horny... If Go just pushed it inside of her she'd...

"You could take care of me right now," she heard herself say, fingers playing with her aroused nipples through the thin fabric of the bra. He chuckled.

"Oh, that's tempting, little one, but there's a table full of guys you have to get off before our regulars take offense at the visiting team. Now go out there and shake that fine ass." After she had obediently left his office, Go opened an unlocked drawer in his desk, and carefully retrieved the small bag of tablets that was kept carefully hidden behind a false back. He separated a pair, called for a margarita rocks, and after crushing the tabs carefully stirred them into the drink before carrying it down and setting it at Sharon's station with a note on which he had scrawled, 'To one of my favorite girls, keep up the good work' and was signed with his heavy 'Go.'

Sharon had returned from getting the next visiting fan off a few minutes later. Having had nothing to eat, she wrote the spins she got almost immediately off as being just the tequila. Though staying focused to put on her best performance was more difficult with the next mousy fan, she was delighted to find that it felt good as he thrust into her... in fact, by the time he stiffened, finishing up in the requisite condom, she was on the edge of her own orgasm, and managed a small climax by pressing her sex almost savagely against the hapless man's pubic bone. The man was blushing fiercely by the time her shudders had subsided, and seemed delighted at the experience, hastily tucking a $100 bill into her bra, which had remained on through the act.

Instead of being sated by her pleasure, Sharon found herself in almost desperate need of more, and had rushed to be ready for the next 'guest.' She had entertained not just the men flying hundreds and thousands of miles to visit her, but the men enjoying other dancers in the champagne room the way she moaned and thrashed, welcoming the stranger's thrusts. Her arousal built with each successive fan, and when Go's runner had come to tell her it was time to get ready for the set with Kelly, the drug addled, lust hazed housewife had nearly refused.

Instead, she had stripped down more quickly than the pair usually did, and by the middle of the second song was atop the smaller younger woman. After energetically grinding their sexes together into the final chorus, Sharon had managed a handstand, levering her torso up by anchoring her heels high over head on the pole, plunging her face into Kelly's bare sex. Sucking & licking hungrily, she had voraciously eaten the younger woman while fingering her own insatiable sex, hips bucking and gyrating in time with the third song. Unable to keep her concentration at the actual sexual advance, poor Kelly had been reduced to panting, moaning, and trembling by the song's end. While the crowd went wild, Sharon had wiped her young lover's juices from her face and had licked her lips suggestively as one of the bouncers slipped up onto the stage and carried Kelly into the back.