G.W. Bush - The Texan Butcher

Wednesday March 7th 2007

I have no idea where the past eleven months have gone since leaving Houston; but I'm pleased to acknowledge my home town is still there, even if it does have the highest pollution levels of any city in the US! Since pulling out all those months ago, I've been gettin' me an education. Teaching myself all the things that they don't tell ya at school. Not that I'd have been listening even if they did ... but that's besides the point.

Anyway, anyone checking out my Blog in the hope of getting an update on my (s)exploits might just be a mite disappointed. 'Cos now I plan on writing on somethin' completely different. If G.W. Bush ain't pissed you off any yet, I gotta ask where you been livin'?

From now on, I'm gonna be concentrating on making sure that anyone who stumbles across this Blog knows that I'm a patriot that wants to see G.W answer for the crimes that he perpetrated as the Governor of my home state and the genocide that he has committed in our name in both Afghanistan & Iraq ... and is now fixin' to do Israel's biddin' in Iran.

Yep, in the past eleven months, this gal got herself educated and she's a spittin' blood. With anything upto a million people killed (& countin') by US forces around the world since 9/11, and gettin' our troops gettin' their asses kicked in Iraq, you'd think that G.W. might be thinking that Iran don't look quite so appetizin' ... but then again, it ain't George that's calling the shots, is it? The boy ain't nothin' more than Daddy's puppet, with Dick Cheney calling the real shots, along with his buddies Rumsfeld & Wolfowitz.

Once I was blind, but now I see ... and I'm gonna do whatever I can to spread the word!

Getting Out of Town

It’s Sunday afternoon and I just returned from The Woodlands. The past twenty-four hours have been really quite amazing. Saturday afternoon was pretty much a repeat of my previous encounter with Angela but things heated up when Malcolm unexpectedly came home on Saturday evening. Well, Angela told me that he wasn’t scheduled to return until Sunday evening but I’m not really convinced that they were being totally honest with me. Not that I’m complaining; I could have always walked out and just come back home …but I didn’t.

Anyway, you’re gonna have to wait for a few days before I get to post the account of my time with Angela and Malcolm because right now I’m getting packed and we’re headin’ to Oklahoma, first thing in the morning. I am not coming back into Houston until after the Easter weekend. Call me paranoid, if you like but I just ain’t gonna put my girls in any kinda risk.

It’s two weeks since I wrote to the Chronicle and to the local Radio and TV stations. They apparently think that I’m full of shit, as I didn’t get a single reply from any of them. Still, what the hell, I need a break and it’ll be good for the girls to get a change of scenery. So I’m gonna sign off for a few days and wish you all safe and happy holidays.

New Sensation

The past few days have been very relaxed, I was able to spend some time with the girls and took them to see Ice Age 2: The Meltdown on Wednesday evening. What a really great movie! I could never really get excited about animation but movies like Shrek and Ice Age have changed all that. The girls just loved the little muskrat... and his never-ending quest to keep possession of his beloved acorn …so funny!

As we left the AMC movie theater on Dunvale, just south of Westheimer, I realized that we were just a stone’s throw away from the restaurant where I’d had dinner with Jim on Monday evening. Memories of the post-dinner sex came flooding back and I wondered whether I would hear from him before he returned to Paris. I smiled to myself as I recalled the expression on his face when he eventually realized that I had put the condom on him ... with my teeth. It took me a long time to perfect that little trick; the guy in my local store must have wondered what I was doing buying all those bananas!

For a while, I considered calling him ... but pushed the thought away. Men always like to think that they are calling the shots, especially when they are paying for the privilege ...and I didn’t want to spoil the illusion for Jim.

I drove back up 290 with the girls asleep in the back of the car; they looked so contented. I hoped that it would always be the case. Despite my somewhat unusual lifestyle, I want to preserve some semblance of normality in their lives. I know that this sounds somewhat contradictory but I think it helps keep me focused. So far, it has definitely played a part in keeping me away from some of the more extreme aspects of Houston’s shadowy twilight zone!

The ring tone of my phone snapped me out of my daydream, just as we were passing the intersection with the Beltway. My guardian angel must have been watching over me ever since I turned off the 610 loop; because I had no conscious recollection of driving the last few miles. I shook my head sharply to bring me back to reality and reached over to my purse for my phone. I half hoped that it would be Jim calling to arrange another dinner & sex session ...but it wasn’t him ...it was Angela. Shit, I hadn’t seen or heard of Angela since Thanksgiving last year ...but I guessed why she was calling.

I had originally met Angela at Greenspoint Mall on I45, while shopping for some new lingerie in Victoria’s Secret. I had been in the store for about twenty minutes when I sensed that I was being watched. There were only a few other people in the store and a tall striking brunette, with a hard tanned body, had caught my attention. She smiled as we made eye contact and immediately started walking over to me; her eyes appearing to widen as she drew closer.
“Wow, you are just beautiful,” she drawled, “I’m sorry for staring but I just couldn’t take my eyes away from your gorgeous figure.”
I confess that this wasn’t the first time something of this nature had occurred but it was the first time by another woman!
“Why, thank you,” I replied, looking her straight in the eyes, “I appreciate the compliment.”
“Would you like to join me for a coffee?” She asked.
“Sure,” I said, without any hesitation. I sensed that this might develop into something interesting ...and I was not to be disappointed.

Angela was in her mid-thirties, a little taller than me and she clearly kept herself in good shape. She was wearing a light blue silk blouse with short sleeves, revealing powerful arms. The tight khaki shorts hugged her butt and showed her legs off to perfection. I learned later that she worked out for at least two hours every day; it certainly showed!

Over coffee I learned that Angela lived in the Woodlands, a beautiful area just a short drive from Houston International Airport (IAH) and about twenty minutes from the Mall. She was married to a Banker, who apparently spent the week traveling throughout the U.S. and his weekends on the golf course. Basically she was one lonely lady. She told me that she had been propositioned many times at her local gym but had resisted the temptation because she wanted to stay loyal to her husband ...who had the really nerdy name (her words) of Malcolm.

After our second coffee, she asked if I’d like to go back with her and share a hot tub. It just so happened that at that time the girls were spending a few days with Robbie’s mother, so I thought, “Why not.”

Back at her beautiful home, nestled in the trees deep in the sub-division, I went into the garden while Angela disappeared into the kitchen. I was surprised to find that the water in the hot tub was already at the perfect temperature.
“Do you always keep the water heated?” I asked naively.
“Only when I’m going shopping,” she smiled, flashing her eyes and pouting her lips.

It was quite clear that Angela's idea of staying loyal only applied to other men! It had been a while since I had been with another women but this was to be a totally new experience.

I heard the cork pop as Angela opened a bottle of champagne. Without any further hesitation, I stripped off and walked over to the hot-tub, which was bubbling away on the patio. Most swimming pools in Houston are constructed with an integral hot-tub but Angela’s was completely separate from the pool; located in such a way that it was not overlooked by any of the adjoining properties. Angela came out onto the patio just as I was easing myself into the steaming water.
“You look absolutely amazing, Teeze,” she said, almost drooling.
I smiled at her as she placed the bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes on the small table by the hot-tub. She filled the glasses and immediately pulled her silk blouse over her head, revealing a fine pair of silicone enhanced 36C’s. She reached behind her back with her left hand and flicked the catch of her bra. As the support was removed, I swear that her titties did not drop by even a fraction of an inch. Stepping out of her shorts and panties, revealing a beautiful Brazilian trim, she reached back for the champagne flutes and walked over to the tub. Angela was the owner of one well-honed body. She was evidently very proud of it ...and rightly so! Her many hours of investment at the gym had been well rewarded as she could easily have passed for being ten years younger.

Once she was seated in the tub, she reached over and passed one of the champagne flutes to me.
“To new friends,” she toasted.
“To new friends,” I repeated, chinking her glass with mine.
After taking a sip from her glass, she placed it on the rim of the tub. Then reached for my glass and put it alongside hers. Leaning forward, she reached into the water and took hold of my hands; pulling them towards her and placing my hands on her breasts. As she did so she asked me to stroke her nipples. As is often the case with surgically enhanced breasts, the implants cause a loss of sensitivity around the breast but the sensitivity of the nipple can sometimes be significantly enhanced. Although this is not the case if the implant is inserted by cutting around the nipple. Angela’s boob job was one of the best that I had seen. The implants had been inserted via a small incision just under each armpit, leaving no marks anywhere around the breast. She said that her husband had imported the implants specially, from Switzerland. I’m sure he appreciated the result ...I sure did!

Angela threw her head back as I gently flicked her nipples with my thumbs, while lightly stroking the outside her breasts with my fingers. We remained in the hot-tub, stroking and kissing each other for almost an hour before she eventually suggested that we might be more comfortable in the bedroom. Making love with another woman is so different; the average guy thinks he's a stud if he sustains perhaps fifteen to twenty minutes of foreplay but then, one way or another, wants to ejaculate ...then falls asleep ...or gets dressed and leaves! With a woman, the foreplay can last for hours.

Once in the bedroom, Angela laid me on the bed and started by kissing my toes. As she worked he way up my legs, I could feel myself dripping in anticipation. As she reached my pussy, she gently licked at my clitoris, drawing it out to meet each flick of her tongue. It felt as though the juices were flowing out of me like a river in spring melt. Angela then treated me to something that I had not experienced before. As she continued to eat me, she pushed her finger deep inside my pussy, pulling the juices out of me and running her moistened finger right up the crack of my butt. Then just when she sensed the moment was right she eased a finger into my ass at exactly the same moment as she pushed another finger into my vagina; all the time flicking her tongue tantalizingly over my swollen clit; producing the most amazing sensation. I arched my back pushing up to meet the rhythm her fingers, relishing the effect of them moving around inside of me. I could feel the orgasm rising from somewhere in the depths of my being; Angela increased the rate at which her tongue flicked and started to move her two fingers in and out of me, like a train gathering speed.

When the moment of truth arrived, it was like an orgasmic tsunami sweeping through me, over me, under me, around me …again and again. Angela kept going until I begged her to stop; I just couldn't take any more of her pleasuring. The waves of orgasm sweeping through me were so powerful that I collapsed in tears as the ecstasy subsided. The whole experience was absolutely mind-blowing; an amazing new sensation. How could I ever repay her?

I needn’t have worried; Angela knew exactly what she wanted. All I had to do was follow her lead. I believe I experienced another mini-orgasm at the moment I inserted my two fingers into her; just as she had shown me a few minutes previously. Feeling her contract her vaginal and anal muscles around my fingers simultaneously was truly indescribable. Meanwhile my mouth was overflowing with her juices; so much so that there was a small pool collecting on the bed around her tight sun-tanned ass. When Angela eventually achieved her orgasm, we had been having continuous sex for almost two hours. Something I had never achieved with a male partner ...well, not without chemical assistance!

And now she was on the phone asking me if I’d like to spend some time with her at the weekend. I assumed that Malcolm, her husband, was going to be away on business or at a golfing weekend; anywhere other than Houston. I began to feel horny as the memories of my last visit to The Woodlands came flooding back. I didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic, so I told her that I’d have to check my diary and call her back when I got home.

When I hung up on her, I looked down to check my speed and realized that I was doing almost ninety. The excitement of another session with Angela had apparently extended to my right leg!

Friday pm.

Well, it’s now late afternoon and I haven’t heard from Jimbo, so perhaps Monika was right and I had stretched his budget just a bit too far for him to hook up with me twice in one week. Still, he’ll be back in town in a few weeks time and I’m sure he’ll want an encore.

Meanwhile, I’ve just arranged for the girls to have a sleep over with some friend’s tomorrow night and I’ll be heading back up to The Woodlands.

Client Entertainment

Having met the girls at the school bus, I took them up to the play area for an hour or so before dragging them back the apartment. It was a pity we had to leave as they were having so much fun. Houston is really pleasant at this time of year; temperatures in the mid seventies and a low level of humidity. It is a real pleasure to be out of the house. So different from the height of summer, when the combination of heat and humidity forces everyone inside the house, the car or the Mall! How or why the hell anyone lived in Houston before the advent of A/C (air-conditioning), I can only begin to wonder. They had to have been runnin’ from somethin’ …or some-one!

I fed the girls a little earlier than usual, as I wanted to be sure that I had plenty of time to make myself pretty for Jim. From the time I get in the shower ‘til the time I walk out the door, is normally no more than one hour but tonight I wanted a little extra time. I chose my favorite outfit of li’l white figure-huggin’ dress, white cowboy boots and topped off with a light blue chiffon scarf. Although the dress is knee length, it highlights my best assets to perfection! I combed my hair out and toyed with the idea of tying it back but eventually decided against it,just letting it fall over my shoulders.

Fortunately, I don’t use much make-up. In the first instance this means that my face is low maintenance during the evening and also insures that I don’t look that much different if or when I wake up alongside someone the following morning. Tonight though, a little rouge was in order as was a touch of lipstick …just to set things off.

When Monika walked through the door at 7.30pm, she took one look at me and said, “Damn, girl…ain’t you a sight…somebody’s in for a real treat!”
I looked over to her and smiled. Jessica piped up and said, “Mama’s always looks so beautiful when she’s goin’ to meet a new man.” She paused and then added, “I just hope that one of them might come home with her and take care of us one day.”
As she finished speaking, Tabitha leaned over and gave her a hug and I heard her whisper, “It’s OK Jess, Mama and me will always be here for you,”
What did I ever do to deserve such sweet girls? They really are so wonderful. I smiled and let my gaze linger before rushing over to them and pulling them both towards me in a family hug.
“I love you guys so much,” I whispered, my head in between theirs, absorbing the moment.

Monika clapped her hands together, “Come on Teeze, you’d better get out’a here and get your butt along to that fancy French restaurant…go on now, move it,”
I grinned at her and pulled away from the girls, kissing each of them on the cheek as I did so. Monika had it all under control. Bless her.

I parked the Olds’ at the Galleria and took a Cab for the short ride along to the Restaurant. This was the first time that I had been in a cab since my ride with the Slimeball but I pushed the memory of that experience out of my head. I didn’t want anything to spoil the sense of anticipation that was building up inside of me as we drew closer to the restaurant. It may surprise some people that anyone active in an S.O.B. (Sexually Oriented Business) can have such feelings. I guess that it depends upon whether the sex is sold gratuitously…or whether it is only made available to carefully selected customers.
Of course, I absolutely understand that some people will have some difficulty relating to this differential; for many people the thought of money being exchanged for sex is apparently abhorrent. Although having said that, it is my experience that those who shout loudest normally have the biggest skeletons in the closet! Anyway, you’ll have to take it from me … there is a big difference. Consequently, I make sure that any customer, who I elect to sleep with, knows very well that I do so because I want to. OK, so he (or she) has still gotta be prepared to pay for the privilege but it is definitely not gratuitous sex!

Jim was sitting in the bar area as I walked into the restaurant. The moment he saw me he climbed straight down from the barstool and walked over to me; the little smile on his face giving away that he had not been totally confident that I was gonna show up. He took my hands and kissed me twice on each cheek…very French I presume. Then he took a pace backwards, looked me up and down, let out a sigh and swooned, “Hey Tallulah-Sue, you look absolutely stunning.”
“Why, thank you, sweetie,” I replied before leaning forward and whispering, “By the way, you may call me Teeze, if you’d like.”
Jim smiled, then attempting a Texan accent, “Why, thank you ma’am, I do believe I’m honored.”
If only he knew…!

Once at the table, he suggested that he order for us both. I was really impressed when he ordered the food in French. The waiter, who was either French or French-Canadian, didn’t seem too impressed with Jim’s accent but I still thought he was cute for tryin’.

Over dinner I sat and listened as Jim told me all about his life in the oilfield. Apparently he worked for Schlumberger, which was interesting ‘cos Robbie’s mama used to work for them once upon a time. I asked him what his wife thought about all the traveling he was doin’; and more particularly, all the time that he was spending in Houston? He shrugged, took a long deep breath and said, “We’ve been together a long time, the kids are both in High School (I appreciated him using a term that I could understand, ‘cos I don’t think they call it High School in France!), and now,” he paused, “We do our own thing.”

He went on to explain that oilfield wives have a pretty good lifestyle and tended to make the most of the situation, even if it was somewhat less than perfect.
What the fuck is it with these women, I thought to myself. Personally, I’d rather have my freedom than stay in a relationship that’s dead on its feet! But hey, everyone to their own…

Jim’s story was so familiar, especially amongst oilfield husbands … there are plenty of them in Houston …and I should know! Although one day perhaps, I might get to hear what an oilfield wife has to say about it.

I didn’t get the impression that Jim felt sorry for himself; neither did he give the impression that he expected or wanted me to feel sorry for him. It was just the way things were … and he was trying to make the best of it. I told him that he might want to consider being honest with himself and his wife …but he just shrugged and quickly changed the subject. I guess I don't cut it as a Relationship Counselor!

As the evening wore on, things lightened up and we started to find that we had some things in common; not least that Jim was a fan of Stevie Ray Vaughan. Although he admitted that he had never heard of him until he first came to Texas …but now he was hooked. The evening was going well and I stepped in before Jim ordered a third bottle of wine… I had plans for him and I didn’t want him stuck in neutral!

We had been playing footsy under the table for a while and I was stroking his hand whenever he placed it on the table. Eventually, he caught on … God; men can be so stupid sometimes!

“So, where would you like to go,” he inquired.
“How about your hotel,” I suggested.
He thought for a moment, then leaned over the table and said, “Teeze, you know what; I’d love to take you back with me …but I’m not sure I can afford you.”
I took his hands in mine and leaned forward so that our foreheads were almost touching, “Well, what do you think I’m worth,” I probed.
“That’s why I don’t think I can afford you,” he said, sighing as if in disappointment.

I took his answer as the compliment that was intended;letting go of his hands, I leaned back in my chair …and waited.

After what seemed like an eternity but was probably only about twenty seconds, he looked up and said, “How does five hundred sound?”
I hesitated, purely for effect. I would have accepted three hundred from Jim but he was clearly of the opinion that I was worth more …and who was I to disagree?
I nodded my agreement to his proposition, then stood up and suggested that he pay the check while I went to the bathroom. He smiled and immediately delved into his jacket pocket to reach for his wallet.

Back at his hotel which was some way down 59, I followed him into the lobby as discretely as possible; arriving at the elevator just a couple of seconds after him, so that it would not be immediately obvious that we were together. Once in his room, I made for the mini-bar and took out the small bottle of champagne; passed it to Jim and suggested that he open it while I go into the bathroom and get myself ready. Once inside, I undressed, with the exception of my little white lace panties.

I opened the bathroom door and adopted a practiced pose in the doorframe, sillouetted by the bathroom light, just as Jim was pouring the champagne into one of the two glasses he had placed on the bedside table. He looked up…and his jaw hit the ground.
“Wow, Teeze, you look absolutely incredible,” he exclaimed, while the champagne ran over the brim of the glass, flooding the top of the bedside table and dripping onto the floor.

He put the bottle down as I walked slowly across the room. I walked on my toes so that my height was enhanced and my calves, thighs and butt were kept taut. Keeping my head back so that my breasts looked about as pert as can be … for 36 Double D’s!

Without saying a word I placed my hands on his shoulders, looked briefly into his eyes and then gently ran my fingertips down over the front his shirt as I sank to my knees. He was stroking the top of my breasts with the backs of his hands as I reached up to unbutton his shirt. I started to undo his belt-buckle with my teeth. The clasp at the top of his pants and the zipper were swiftly dealt with so that I could ease his pants down by gently pulling on them at his knees. His manhood was already straining against his underpants in the anticipation of what was about to occur. I leaned back and reached for the waist band of his underpants, sliding it carefully over the top of his throbbing helmet. As soon as he was exposed I opened my mouth as wide as I could and took his penis as far back into my throat as I could manage without gagging. Jim was of no more than average size, so this was relatively easy for me …it’s rather different when I’m with The Rocket!
It always impresses a man to look down and see his entire length disappear down my throat…and tonight was no exception.

“Oh my god…oh, sweet Jesus…that’s so good…so very fucking good.” Jim whimpered.
As I eased him out of my throat, I brought my tongue into play; wrapping it around him until I reached the rim under the helmet. Jim tasted really good, he had obviously made sure that he was ultra clean…just in case.
I let the fingertips of my right hand reach up until they gently nudged the sensitive area immediately behind his scrotum; while my left hand squeezed his right-hand butt cheek.I let my left-hand index finger just nudge gently against his anus…and braced my throat for the involuntary pelvic thrust that I knew was about to follow. As he thrust back into my throat, I gripped the base of his penis, so that I could control the rate of his ejaculation, if he came too quickly. I needn’t have worried, it was clear that Jim wasn’t about to rush the experience.

I sucked, licked, stroked and caressed his balls and dick for all of ten minutes…, while gently pushing the tip of the middle finger of my left hand into his ass, easing back each time I felt his penis start to go into the pre-ejaculation convulsions. Then it was time for my party-piece; I took a condom secreted in my panties and slipped it into my mouth, in one smooth practiced action; placing the condom on Jim’s penis as I took him deep into my throat one more time.

I stood and pulled Jim with me as I moved towards the bed. I lay down, arching my back so that Jim could remove my panties. He made as if to go down on me but I was ready and wanted him right away. Normally I would have welcomed some tongue attention on my pussy but tonight I was hot and didn’t want any more delay in getting Jim inside of me.

Although Jim was in his late thirties, he had a good body. Not particularly muscular but certainly not flabby. He eased himself on top of me, keeping his weight off me, placing his hands either side of my head and pushing up, with his arms at full stretch. I felt him ease into me, thrusting deep; I pushed my hips up to meet him, heightening the impact of his thrust.

I knew that he wasn’t going to be able to last too long, so I asked him to stop and hold still and to try to take all his weight on his arms and his toes. I then pushed myself as far onto his dick as I could manage, without knocking him over, and started to contract my vaginal muscles in time with his pulsating penis. It’s actually very difficult for a guy to do this, as they want to thrust forward, especially as they get closer to their orgasm but Jim was very disciplined and held still.
I kept this up for about ten minutes before I felt the moment of orgasm rising in Jim’s throbbing member; finally giving him permission to thrust himself into me as far and as fast as he wanted. His face contorted as he screamed, thrusting once, twice …a dozen times before he let fly and I felt the tip of the condom filling up inside me.

Eventually the post-orgasm spasms stopped and as his arms gave way, he collapsed on top of me.
“Teeze, you are absolutely bloody incredible…that was one of the most amazing orgasms that I’ve ever had …ever!” He added for emphasis.
Well, I took that with a pinch of salt, ‘cos we all know that every male orgasm is the ‘best they’ve ever had…don’t we?

Jim rolled on to his side and we held each other for a further twenty minutes or so. I could feel his heart-rate slowly returning to normal…the last thing I needed was a coronary on my hands. Don’t laugh, it’s happened more than once …not to me but to a least one girl I know and most famously to the guy who played bass with The Who, when he was visiting Vegas! I guess that most man would probably say something crass, like, “What a way to go.” But consider the girl that’s gotta deal with all the shit afterwards! Not funny.

I slid out from under Jim and went into the bathroom. I don't really know why but I didn’t feel like staying the night. I’d save that for another occasion. I jumped in the shower and heard Jim come into the bathroom. He was still taking deep breaths, so I knew he was still savoring the experience. I waited until he left the bathroom before climbing out of the shower. I had left my clothes in the bathroom intentionally. This avoids the need to walk back into the bedroom naked …unless I choose to do so.

Jim looked disappointed when he saw that I was dressed but didn’t protest. I told him that I wanted to be home for when my little girls woke up in the morning. He nodded. I think that this was probably an aspect of family life that he realized he had missed out upon. The oilfield might pay the big bucks but it definitely don’t seem to respect the family!

Jim saw me glance at his jacket. He took the unspoken hint and reached for his wallet. He took out five one hundred dollar bills and even smiled as he handed them over to me. That’s what I like … another satisfied customer. I knew he’d be back for more; I had simply whetted his appetite.

The cab ride back to the Galleria was fortunately without drama. It was still relatively early and I was in half a mind to stop off at Cover Girls on the way home …but I resisted the temptation and drove straight to the apartment. Monika was asleep in my bed, so I just curled up on the sofa.

Jim is going to be in Houston until the weekend. Somehow I think there’s a good chance I’ll be hearing from him before he takes that flight back to Paris. I guess it’s just a case of whether his expense account can stretch to another evening of Client Entertainment before he leaves town.

Working the Magic

The last few days have been something of a recovery process. Recovery from the shock of learning that my own Government might be planning to nuke to shit out of Houston, just so’s they can start another fucking war ………….. as if we aren’t getting our butts kicked enough in Eye-raq!

It seems that what I learned from the Trancer at the Rocket’s party is actually old news. A couple of people sent me Emails directing me to web-sites which show that this story has been around for a while. Not that that makes me dismiss it outa hand but it does mean that if those sick mother-fuckers in Washington still decide to go ahead with their plan, they won’t exactly be able to claim that it was perpetrated by the Eye-ranians ……… or that they didn’t have any prior warning!

Either way, I’m still taking the girls up to Oklahoma for the Easter Vacation. Somebody already bombed the Murrah building in Oklahoma City, back in 1995. They say that lightning don’t strike twice, I sure hope they’re right!

That’s all I’m gonna say on the subject ‘cos I don’t think that too many people are reading my blog to hear about my thoughts on American politics. Although once upon a time, I didn’t really care what was goin’ on outside Harris County but with so many of my customers being from outside the good ol’ U.S. of A., I’m starting to realize that it just ain’t possible to ignore all the shit that is going on in the world …….. or the fact that many people from overseas seem to think that most of the shit is actually down to the U.S.A. in the first place!

Meanwhile, back in North West Houston, I spent the back end of last week really spoiling the girls. Jess & Tabby were so surprised that I wasn’t working that they asked me if I was sick?

The girls wanted to go swimming on Saturday but it’s still a bit early in the year for the pool in our apartment complex to have warmed up, so I took them to the zoo instead. They got so excited and the highlight of the day was watching the Monkeys get fed. Watching the antics of these amazing creatures had us laughing for the rest of the afternoon. In the evening, I took the girls to the Hard Rock Café on Texas Avenue. Man, we ate so much; we could hardly walk when we left the restaurant. The girls fell asleep in the car as we made our way back up 290. I could see the girls in the rear view mirror, curled up together in the back of the car; they looked so cute.

We slept real late on Sunday morning; so late that Monika came knocking at the door to see if we were alright. It was opportune that Monika appeared at the door because I had to ask her to look after the girls in the evening as I had received a call the previous evening from one of my regular customers who was visiting town and wanted to know if I would be working this evening.

Regular customers are a Dancer’s bread and butter. The more Regular Customers that a Dancer has in her Address Book, the more consistent her income. Turning up a Club on spec’ may mean hustling all night for just a handful of dances, especially if there are a lot of girls working but only a handful of Customers actually walk through the door. However, once I get the opportunity to sit with a Customer, it is usually me who decides how long I stay with them.

You know, I get really fucking annoyed with those feminists who say that Dancers are exploited. Well, Ladies, I’ve got some real hot news for you; somebody might be getting exploited but it definitely ain’t the Dancers! My skill is trying to determine how much a customer is prepared to spend while he is in the Club. Some of the younger men may have a limit of $100 bucks for the evening; which will get them four beers (two for the girls and two for him) and four dances. If this is the case, I will maybe do just one dance and then move on in the search for richer pickings.

How do I find this out? Well, I like to sit down and have a chat with the customer for a few minutes before getting my titties out!
If the guy asks, “What kinda beer you like, Honey?”
It’s probably not gonna get too serious!
On the other hand, if the question is, “Champagne or a shot?”It could be the start of something big!

The guy who called me, Jim, visits Houston at least once a month. Although Jim lives in Paris, he is actually British and I just love his British accent; I get all moist just thinking about it! The first time that I sat with Jim was also his first visit to Houston and I made sure that he was properly initiated on his first visit ……… now I was his first port of call whenever he arrived in town.

Monika agreed to take care of the girls from 4pm; So this gave me plenty of time to get myself ready and make sure that I was looking my best for Jimbo.

Jim was already at the Club when I arrived. He had landed at IAH on the late afternoon flight from Paris, collected his rental car, driven to Sugarland, checked in to his hotel, showered and driven straight out to Cover Girls. Boy, he was keen ……… a real good sign!

My favorite waitress, Martha, was working so I slipped her $10 and asked her to make sure that Jim’s glass was kept topped up through the evening. The name of the game is to keep the customer happy ……… but not so happy that they got drunk! Martha is an absolute master at keeping a customer at exactly the right level of intoxication and on Sunday night she was working her skill to perfection.

For the first thirty minutes or so, I chatted with Jim; letting him tell me what he’d been up to in Paris over the past few weeks. Apparently he has kids at the British School and they had just returned from a Ski trip in the Alps. I skied one time, when a customer took me to Banff in Canada for a long weekend but he was more interested in ……..oh, I’ll save that story for another time. Anyway, once Jim was comfortable, I suggested that he needed to unwind after his journey and that I should dance for him. I decided to take it real slow; I calculated that if I played it at the right pace, it could be a very rewarding evening. After a couple of dances, I suggested that we should move up into the VIP area. Martha found us a table in a particularly dark corner and went off to get the required bottle of champagne.

The VIP area was already filling up, which was unusual for a Sunday evening but this was a good sign as it meant that nobody would be taking any notice of anyone else. My first dance for Jim in the VIP lounge set the tone for the rest of the evening. No-one takes any notice of the ridiculous ‘Three-Foot Rule’ in the VIP, so we could get real close. Like most dancers, I use my butt and my titties to maximum effect; keeping Jim rock hard from the time I start dancing ..... until the time I sit down. Always keeping him at the point where he craves more.

My best achievement, with any one customer, was when I managed twenty-four dances over a period of three hours before finally letting him cum in his pants ……… and boy did he cum! Tonight, I was gonna make sure that Jim was on the point of burstin’ his balls and then I was gonna’ let him fly.

Over the course of the evening, we managed to sink four bottles of champagne and I gave him fourteen really hot dances but by eleven o’clock, the time difference was catching up and he was getting real tired; so I decided to gave him a dance to remember.

He was already hard and I could feel him throbbing as I slid my body down the front of his shirt and down his pants. When my titties were level with his penis, I put my hands on the sides of my breasts and squeezed my fleshy mounds around him. He was leaning back in the chair and thrusting his groin into my chest. With his dick firmly pressed into my boobs, I massaged him until I could feel his pulse begin to accelerate. He let out a moan as I released him and stood up. I smiled; I knew that I had him exactly where I wanted him. I turned and gripping the sides of the chair, I gently lowered myself until I could feel his erection nudging my butt. Then gently rocking my hips, I clasped his throbbing member in my butt cheeks. The effect on Jim as I clenched my cheeks in time with his throbbing hard-on gave him no option but to thrust his hips forward in involuntary spasm. Just before he was about to lose control, I turned back to face him. His face was distorted in ecstasy and he was almost whimpering, “Tallulah – Tallulah …….. don’t stop …….please don’t stop.”
I put my finger to his lips as for the first time I reached down to feel his manhood with my hands. He let out a moan as I gently rubbed the front of his pants, then almost without warning; he arched his back and thrust his hips forward, pushing his groin into my hands. I could feel the power of the ejaculation, powering each jet of sperm into ………..his underwear!

Jim let out a massive sigh and said, “Tallulah-Sue …….. that was fucking incredible.”
In the next moment he confirmed that my efforts have all been worthwhile, by asking ……. almost pleading, “Tallulah-Sue, what are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Why, I do believe I’m meeting you,” I replied seductively.
With that, Jim went off to the bathroom and I knew that I had secured tomorrow night’s income, in addition to making almost three hundred bucks tonight.

Well, I'm gonna be meeting up with Jimbo in a little while. He's taking me out to dinner at a fancy restaurant on Westheimer and then ....... well, I might just let him fuck me .......... if he's got enough money!

Now please don’t ever tell me that it is the Dancer who is being exploited!

Stop The Nuke

My head’s been really spinning the past few days. I started this diary so that I could write about my experiences as a dancer. I certainly didn't plan on getting caught up in this kind of crap ......... but it's pretty damn tough just to blow it off and carry on as though nothin's happened.

I really still don’t know what to make of the story that The Trancer shared with me at the Rocket’s party, the other night. There is no doubt in my mind that he genuinely believed what he was telling me, but if he didn’t know what to do with the information …………what the fuck am I supposed to do with it?

OK, so I can leave town with my girls but how can I get the word out to my family and friends without them thinking that I’ve gone loopy? They know that I dabble in a little bit of coke, every once in a while; so they’ll just think that I’m suffering from paranoid delusions. Well, perhaps I am ………… but I also know precisely what I heard the other night!

Yesterday afternoon I sent Emails to the Houston Chronicle and a bunch more Emails to the local Radio and TV stations. I directed them to my Blog but I'm sure they won’t take anything that I’ve written too seriously. I just hope that someone has sufficient curiosity to go check it out. After all, if the media doesn’t have the resources to investigate the possibility of something serious going down over the Easter vacation ……..who does?

And before anyone suggests that I go to the cops ……….. don’t even think about it. They’d wanna know all the details of the party and I ain’t about to share any of that with those nice boys down at HPD. I could tell you a whole bunch of tales about the boys in blue ……………but that’ll have to wait for another time.

Mind you, I'm sure that if the boys in HPD suspected that something might happen to restrict their donut supply, they'd put everyone on the frickin' case!

Right now, I’m still tryin’ to get my head around the possibility that my own Government could even contemplate pulling a stunt like nukin’ Houston, just so they can pin the blame on those pesky Eye-ranians. If the U.S. Government wants to bomb another country, that’s one thing ………. but creating the reason to do it by killing a whole bunch of American citizens is just fucking sick!

What kinda psychos we got running this country that they could even think up such a scheme?

Later

Holy shit, I sat back down at the keyboard a few moments ago to carry on writing up my blog, when I have received an Email telling me about the following article:

NWO Master Plan - Nuke Texas?

This calls it exactly as The Trancer explained it to me. According to the date on the article, it was published on Monday March 27th; the day after I learned about it from the Trancer! Now that’s frickin’ spooky!

Anyway, go take a look at the article and make up your own mind.

You know what has just occurred to me? If the Newspapers, TV and Radio all run a story based upon this web article, it might help make sure that it just doesn’t happen. Not in Houston …………. nor any other American city. Even if anyone was planning to carry out such a horrific deed, they wouldn't have the balls to carry out the plan if it’s plastered all over the media. What do you think?

Perhaps we really can make a difference!

If there is anyone out there reading this, please Email the Houston press, TV and Radio stations, asking them to investigate this situation. Maybe they won't find anything ....... but consider the possibility that just by having them snoop around a bit, it might help prevent a mushroom cloud appearing over the Houston skyline.

Y'know, this whole sorry affair really makes me annoyed. This is my fucking home. I’m a fucking Patriot …….. which is more than can be said for the sick psycho who thought up this bullshit.

But I’m here to tell you that I’ll be north of the State Line well before the Easter vacation.

Anyway, that’s all I’m gonna say on the subject ‘cos I gotta make sure that I earn enough money to take the girls on that Easter vacation. So it’s back to work for me tonight.

Meanwhile, if anyone reading this blog finds out anything else on this subject, please post a comment or send me an Email.

Y'all have a nice day now.

Nuking Houston ……. what the ……?

Well, I was expecting to write about the action at the private party after The Rockets game but there is something far more important than the sex and drugs stuff that was going on around the room. I’m still in shock. I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or just leave town; maybe even leave the country! I’ve spent some time in Europe in the past few years, so at least I’ve got a passport; which is more than can be said for about eighty per-cent of Americans.

Most Americans think that they are so worldly but in most cases they don’t know shit. They have no fucking clue. You’d be amazed at how many Rednecks actually believe that America rules the world. They think that our military can go anywhere and take care of business. Their attitude to human life is un-fucking-believable. I was watching Fox News a few weeks ago, on the TV behind the bar in the Club. The newsreader was talking about how a couple of U.S. soldiers had been killed so the marines attacked the house, where they thought the guy responsible was holed up.
Apparently they launched a missile at the house and then burst in and killing everyone in the house; four women, six children and the guy they were huntin’ down.

The three Rednecks sitting at the bar, each with a bottle of Bud’ in their right hands (which probably made a change from their dick!), let out a whoop.
“Yo, go boys go …….. our marines are just so fucking awesome,” yelled the guy in the middle, as he punched air with his left fist.
These assholes made me wanna throw-up. Too young for Vietnam or the first Gulf War and now almost too old to be at risk of getting drafted, should the need arise, in this one. They had no fucking clue what it was like to be in a war zone and no real interest in anything except Uncle Sam kicking raghead butt ………. until one of their brothers or sons gets killed. Then it’s a different ball-game!

I often sit with customers who are from overseas and they tell me that the American government is seen as the global bully. They say that on an individual basis, the Americans are real nice people but collectively we are not exactly gonna win any popularity contests! It was so different before 9/11 but just about everything has changed since then. What makes it really worrying is that I am beginning to realize that things might not have happened quite as the Government told it ……… as I found out the other night!

I had gone along to the Rockets party at the invitation of Sherry, one of my few dancer friends. I had known Sherry and her partner, Brad, from a long time ago. Sherry and Brad had once owned a real nice house in Northwest Houston but now lived in a room at Motel 6. It’s a long story and one that I’ll get around to telling another time but for now I wanna stay with the events of the other night.

Sherry had told me that there would be a couple of the Rockets at the party, along with a few friends and business associates. We were going along at the invitation of one of the business associates who wanted us to make sure that the Rockets were ‘well taken care of’ ……… do I need to spell it out?

I asked Sherry how many girls would be there ‘cos I didn’t want to piss off my own Rocket by screwing around with one of his team-mates. Sherry assured me that I could just, “Come along and look pretty.”

It was gonna be an easy three hundred bucks. I just had to make sure that Monika was OK to look after the girls for the night and get them off to school in the morning. Once this was sorted, I was on way.

When we arrived at the hotel, we made our way to the Penthouse Suite, which rented out at over a thousand bucks a night. The Concierge gave a knowing wink as we passed his desk, on the way over to the elevator. An elevator that went directly to the Penthouse. Sherry had apparently been given the special code to activate the elevator 'cos she went straight to the keypad on the wall and punched in the security number that changed every time a guest checked either in or out. As the elevator glided up to the top of the building, I turned to Sherry and told her that I didn't have a good feeling about this party.
"Relax Teeze, it'll be fine," she assured me, reaching over to my hand and giving it a squeeze as she gave me one of her clenched lip smiles.

The elevator came gently to a halt and we walked straight into the suite, which was absolutely enormous. It covered the whole of the top floor of the building and had panoramic views over Downtown Houston. The two kingsize beds in the main bedroom were both occupied, as were the two queen size beds in the second bedroom. The party had apparently been going for a while as there were people milling around in various states of undress.

To the left of the sitting area, there were some steps leading up to a mezzanine with massive glass-encased hot tub. The furniture in the sitting room had been pushed back against the wall, to create a dance area where three girls, all topless, were gyrating to the sound of Stevie Ray Vaughan …………. a Texas legend.

There was a half dozen or so other girls sitting around chatting with various guys. It all looked quite civilized and relaxed. Sherry introduced me to the Host, Zack; who was at least six foot three and dressed in a Tux but had his bow-tie untied and his shirt unbuttoned to the navel. The classic look of a guy who had been partying for quite some time ........ but had yet to get down to any serious action!

Zack looked me up and down, smiled and said,"Hi Tallulah-Sue, glad you could make it."
Sherry stood on her tippy-toes to get as close to Zack's ear as possible and said something which made him laugh. Then he clapped his hands together and said, “OK girls, you know what to do. Enjoy.”

With that he turned and walked straight over to a guy who was sitting in the corner of one of the massive sofas. The guy sitting down had a glass clasped tightly in his hands and looked as though he was in a kind of trance; just staring at the floor. I saw Zack lean over and whisper something in his ear. The guy didn’t flinch or show any indication that he had heard anything of what Zack had said to him. As he stood back up, Zack appeared to shrug his shoulders in a gesture of resignation.

Zack saw me watching and beckoned me over. Leaning forward so that his mouth was just an inch from my ear, he shouted, “He needs some company ………… he thinks something real bad is gonna happen in Houston over Easter.”
“Like what,” I screamed, so that Zack would hear me above the music.
Zack shrugged again. “He won’t say but he ain’t exactly the life and soul of the party tonight. Why don’t you sit with him a while and see if you can snap him out of it.”
I nodded, then Zack was away, heading for the main bedroom, pulling a stunning looking black girl with long legs and enormous breasts, along with him.

I helped myself to a glass on Moet. As I poured a glass from the magnum on the side-table, I saw what looked like a sugar bowl alongside the champagne. It was actually full, almost to the brim, with cocaine. Either none of the party were using the powder or someone was making sure that it was always full. I guess the latter! I stuck my right index finger in my mouth, to make it moist, then dipped the finger into the bowl of coke. Rubbing the powdered finger on my gums, as though I was cleaning my teeth, then running my tongue around my gums, licking up any residue powder, relishing the unique taste of high quality cocaine. Now I'd be in real good shape for an hour or so.

I turned and walked slowly over to the sofa where the Trancer was sitting.
“Hey Sugar, how y’all doin’ tonight,” I said in my sexiest voice, placing a hand on his knee as I sat down beside him.
No response.
“Come on Honey, why don’t you share your troubles with Tallulah-Sue. I’m a real good listener, y’know.”
After about thirty seconds he turned to look at me and said, "You don't want or need to hear what I've got to say."
"Why don't you give it to me straight up, I doubt that you got anything that could really shock me," I cajouled. "Come on now, what's it all about," .
He paused for about twenty seconds and then blurted out, "Those mother-fuckers are gonna nuke Houston.”

It took me a few moments to take in what the Trancer had just divulged.

“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to sound re assuring. “Osama won’t get near us again anytime soon.”
“That’s just it, “he said without any hint of emotion in his voice. “Osama never got anywhere near us in the first place ...... and now they want to make everyone believe that the Iranians are a big threat to Uncle Sam. So they’re gonna set off a nuclear device in the Port of Houston .........and blame it on the Iranians!”

“Who’s they,” I enquired naively

“The American Government ………. George Bush ……. Dick Cheney …….. the whole fucking sick cabal. That’s who,” he said, looking at me as though I was a real dumb shit, for not knowing! I might be blonde but I am definitely not dumb!

“No fucking way …………. you gotta be shittin’ me,” I said, falling back into the sofa as the shock and horror at what I had just heard, sunk in.

This guy has to be either fucked-up or crazy …………….. or perhaps both. Why ever would the American Government want to do such a thing? I decided to humor him. I asked him his name but he told me it would be safer for me if I didn’t know.
This was getting ridiculous. It was like being caught up in some kind of …………… then the penny dropped. I smiled as I looked around and said, “OK, I got it, where’s the camera. You almost had me going then ……… I almost fell for it.”

He looked up with what seemed like resigned desperation in his eyes and said, “Baby, you better believe that I’m genuine twenty-four carat serious about this.”
“So why don’t you tell somebody,” I enquired.
“One simple reason,” he said, emphasizing every word. “They’d either think I’m crazy …….. or they’re in on it.” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “I may have put you at risk by telling you any of this …….. but it’s burning me up, so I gotta tell someone.”
“Who are you anyway ………. how come you know all this?” I probed again. Although I was beginning to think that the guy was some kinda nut.
“That don’t really matter,” he intoned. “I just sorta stumbled across it when I was lookin’ at somethin’ that didn’t really concern me …………. but now I’m scared fucking shitless.”

“How about I do a dance for you,” I offered, as I started to stand up and remove my top in a single motion.
He put his hand on my arm and said, “It’s real nice of you, Honey, but I just ain’t in the mood for any kind of frivolity. I really gotta think about what I’m gonna do with this.”

Over the next couple of hours, I managed to learn that the supposed plan is to set off an old Russian nuclear device sometime over the Easter vacation period, in the middle of April. When I asked how the bomb would be brought in to Houston, he explained that it is currently hidden aboard a freighter that’s tied up in or around Texas City.

“What do you think all the bullshit evacuation was about last year, when Houston was supposedly threatened by Hurricane Rita?” He asked.
“To get away from the storm?” I suggested. "The Government didn't want another N'Orleans on their hands."
He let a little smile come to his face and taking a really deep breath said, “Baby, that was just a practice run for the real thing. They wanted to know the capacity of I45 North, 290 and I10 west, when all six lanes are used to evacuate the good citizens of Houston."

Man, my head was spinning. If this was true, I needed to make sure that the girls and I were a long way from Houston well before everyone started hittin’ the roads for the Easter break. Alternatively, he was just some fucked-up junkie tripping way out in la-la land …… but he was pretty damn convincing!

“You said something earlier about Osama not being responsible for 9/11. What’s that all about?” I enquired, trying to get away from the thought of Houston becoming a nuclear wasteland.
“How many towers collapsed on 9/11?” He asked.
“Two,” I replied without hesitation, ‘cos I knew I was right.
“Wrong,” he said. I looked at him inquiringly.
“Three,” he said, holding up three fingers of his right hand. “Another tower called Building 7 collapsed just after five o’clock but no plane ever hit that building.”
“Hey, I think that I heard Charlie Sheen say somethin’ about that a few days ago ……… but they said that he was just a crazy ex-coke addict,” I offered.
“That’s exactly what those mother-fuckers in Washington want you to think, so's you don't take no notice of what he says; but when you get home, you go check it out on your computer,” he instructed.

“I just can’t believe that our government would ever do such a thing …….. not killing Americans,” I said shaking my head.
Just then the music stopped and my companion leaned over to me and what he said next sent shivers all the way down my spine.

“The greater the crime perpetrated by the Leadership, the less likelihood there is that the people will ever believe that their Leaders are capable of perpetrating such an event.”

He paused for effect, looked me right in the eyes and asked, “Do you know who wrote that?”
I shook my head.
“Hitler ……….. and G.W. fucking Bush is our Hitler.”

By now, I had heard enough. I stood up, just as Zack was emerging from the bedroom, shrugging his jacket back on his shoulders. He saw me and smiled.
“How’d you get on?” He inquired.
“He’s really fucked-up,” I said looking at the guy over my shoulder. I turned back to Zack and said, “I’m sorry but I’m not feeling too good, I gotta leave.”
“OK, Baby …….. it’s not a problem. Thanks for coming along ……….. maybe we’ll see you again?”
I nodded and Zack thrust two one hundred dollar bills into my hand. Sherry had told me I'd get three hundred but I was leaving early and I hadn't even got me tits out, so I guess that two hundred was reasonable.
I smiled and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. He seemed like a sweet guy.

When I reached the Lobby, the Concierge asked if everything was OK. He was probably surprised that I was leaving so soon!
“I’m fine, thank you,” I assured him. “But would you mind calling a cab for me?”

On the way home I reflected upon what I had just heard. It was probably just the ramblings of a fucked-up junkie …………………….. but what if he really had stumbled on to something? What if he was right and Houston was going to bear the brunt of some faked terror attack, just so's we could blame it on the Iranians and then go bomb the crap out them, just like we did to those Iraqis.

Somehow, I think that I might just be takin’ the girls up to Oklahoma for Easter.

Joe's Crab Shack

The last few days have been almost dreamlike. It seems so long since I was able to spend consecutive days with Jess & Tabby. Not through choice, you understand; it’s just a simple fact of life that if I don’t work, we don’t eat or have a roof over our heads.

Since I walked out on him, Robbie, the girl’s father, has not contributed a rusty dime to the runnin' of this household. Everyone says that I should divorce the loser and get him to pay maintenance for the girls but I can’t be assed to go through all the legal bullshit; especially when I know that he’ll never pay anything anyway! I can’t remember the time when he last actually worked. His mother still gives him pocket money for booze and cigarettes. Although he won’t admit it, I know damn well that his mother pays the rent on his trailer and the note on his truck. So what’s the point?

I first met Robbie, while working at Wal-Mart in North Houston, almost ten years ago. I had been living and working in Houston ever since I finished grade school. There’s no work for women in small town Texas, so you either get married, get pregnant (not necessarily in that order) or leave town. The future for most of my classmates was pretty much mapped out long before any of them were even thinking about leaving school. Nobody was under any illusion about goin’ on to High School, let alone College or University. Occasionally, one of the Farm boys would go to Texas A&M but you have to wonder what sort of degree they would study when most of them could barely write their name! But I guess that’s why everyone makes fun of the ‘Aggies’.

Living in the country meant that you had to grow up real fast. Most of the kids had some kind of responsibility by the time they were nine or ten. For the boys this would entail working on the farm, either in the fields or helping to maintain the farm machinery. For the girls, it was washin’, cookin’ and general house work. By the time a girl was in her teens, she was expected to play her part in what my Daddy used to call, “ …..keepin’ those workin’ boys happy.” A country expression for what the city folks call fuck-buddies.

Most of the folks that I grew up with would probably never live more than ten miles away from the town they were born in. Maybe one in five would venture into the city occasionally but this would be treated like a major expedition. One in fifty would eventually go live somewhere else in Texas, probably Houston. Not by choice but simply because there was no work/women/men (delete as appropriate) available locally. One in a hundred would eventually go live in a state other than Texas but nobody would ever consider leaving the good ol’ U.S. of A. ………. even for a vacation! After all, this is God’s chosen country, so why would they ever want to leave? Fuckin’ losers!

As the School Bus pulled to a halt, I could see the girls jumping up and down with excitement ………. just because I was there! Of course, in many respects this is real sad but a girl’s gotta do ………what a girl’s gotta do. I could see the girls reaching up to the rack above their seats, grabbing hold of their school bags and start running down the aisle of the bus, all in one movement. I heard the Driver shout, “No running on the bus.”
I saw the driver reach for the handle to open the doors and the next moment the girls were leaping at me from the step of the bus.
“Mommy, Mommy …….. you’re home,” Tabby screamed as I caught her in mid-air.
Jessica face was covered with a smile that went from ear to ear. I felt a tear welling up as I appreciated the magic of the moment combined with the realization that regardless of my good intentions, this was still going to be the exception ……… as opposed to the rule.

As we walked back to the apartment, the girls were both telling me what they had been doing at school. Jessica had been out walking in some fields and looking at all the Bluebonnets coming into bloom. Memories came flooding back; memories of running through the fields and the woods, seeing nothing but bluebonnets for as far as the eye could see. The State flower of Texas is stunning at this time of year. Tabitha had been model making and was describing the Native American teepee that she had been building. They were soooo excited.

Back at the apartment, I ran them a bath and told them that we were going to Joe’s Crab Shack for dinner. Their excitement reached fever pitch as they splashed around in the bathtub; water pouring over the side of the bath ........ but I didn't care about the mess. I looked at them and realized how fortunate I was to have the opportunity to raise the girls. Most girls I know look upon motherhood as a chore or an endurance test but I see it as an honor and a privilege. I may not be a text book Mom but I give it my best shot.

Joe’s Crab Shack was heaving. At least twenty people waiting by the Greeter, trying to talk above Bluegrass music blaring out over the P.A. I had invited Monika to come along and she was keeping tabs on the girls while I was getting a table organized. As Joe’s was a regular eating place for us, I knew the guy on the door so we managed to jump the line. When the people waiting showed signs of annoyance that we were getting in ahead of them, he just turned to them and lied,” I’m sorry…….. but they booked ahead.”

We had a really great evening; soured only by a guy who recognized me from the Club. Dressed in typical Red-neck evening attire of neatly pressed jeans, western shirt with bootlace tie, shiny shit-kickers and topped off with the ubiquitous Stetson pushed back on his head. He had obviously had about three margaritas too many had reached the stage where he thought that he was six feet tall (he was actually barely five feet six) and bullet proof. I had seen him earlier out of the corner of my eye but he had now spotted me, on the way back from one of his many bathroom trips. I could see him lurching towards me, looking for all the world like a man on a mission.

“Hey, Tallulah-Sue,” he slurred as he leaned over and wrapped an arm around me.
“Hey Billy-Bob, how y’all doing,” I knew what was coming next.
“You wanna come party with us tonight?” he drooled.
I could see the look of horror on the girls faces as the thought flashed through their minds that I might be about to leave them. They had good reason to be concerned because on many other occasions the invitation to party had been all it would take for me to head out the door…….. but tonight was different.

“You know, I think I’m gonna take a rain-check on that invitation, Billy-Bob.” I replied as I tried to look sweet ……… if not particularly innocent.
“Ah, come on Tallulah-Sue, you know you wanna get some of this.” He said, leaning back, legs askew and grabbing his crotch in his right hand and shaking it up and down. So much for Texan courtship!
I leapt to my feet.
“You’d better get the fuck away from, you drunk son-of-a-bitch. Can’t you see I’m with my family?” I spat.
The Manager came rushing over and asked whether there was a problem.
“Too fucking right there’s a problem,” I shouted so that I could be heard above the incessant Bluegrass ……….Flatt & Scruggs had a lot to answer for!

The Manager didn’t wait for any further explanation; he got in front of Billy-Bob and started maneuvering him towards the door. Billy-Bob’s protest soon subsided when he saw the size of the gorilla on the door. His attitude changed immediately. I saw him attempt a smile and wave towards me but I ignored him and sat back down, heaving a sigh of relief that it didn't get too ugly in front of the girls.

The Manager came over a few minutes later and apologized for the incident; asking if the girls would like to have an ice-cream …….. on the house.
The girls screamed with excitement at the thought of imminent ice-cream; whilst Monika leaned over and with a deep frown on her face said,
“Teeze, you really know how to attract the drama …….. you need to be a bit more selective in choosin’ your friends!”
I nodded but decided that I best not say anything.

When we got home, there was a drunken voicemail on the phone, from you know who but at least he seemed to be trying to apologize. That’s the problem with the frickin' Rednecks, nice as pie one minute; monsters possessed by a rampant hard-on the next; then back to sweetness and light once the alcohol wears off.

As I tucked the girls up in to bed, I was determined that I would not work for a few more days. A commitment that I was able to sustain until Sunday night .........but then I got a call inviting me to join a private party with The Rockets!

Honesty and Responsibility

I woke up this morning just as the first rays of the dawn burst into my bedroom. I stretched across the bed and realized that both my little girls were in bed with me. I hadn't felt them crawl into the bed so I had no idea how long they had been there.

I looked at them both laying there, fast asleep, lost in their own dreams. They look so beautiful and I miss them so much when I'm working but I try to make up for it, whenever I have the opportunity to spend time with them. Their father is a complete loser. I walked out on him a little over five years , taking the girls with me, after he had slapped me around one time too many. What is it with these fucking red-necks? Our government bitches about the way that other nations treat their women, well maybe they should check out what goes on in the good ol' U.S. of A. before getting on their high horse. Texas rednecks turn on the charm while they are a courtin' but as soon as they get you up the aisle, they think they own you. Robbie was no exception. Although his mother still takes an interest in the girls and looks after them whenever Monika is busy, they rarely see their Daddy. I wish it wasn't like that ....... but that's the way it is for now.

Whenever I leave to go to work, the girls always ask if I will be back home when they wake up in the morning. I can only ever say that I'll try...... but I never promise. It seems to make it a bit easier for them if they do wake up and I'm not home. It also means that they are really excited when I am there. Sure, it's not the ideal way to raise kids but such is 21st Century life for a single mom in Houston, Texas. I do realize that I'd be in a world of hurt if it wasn't for Monika and often count my blessings that I have such a wonderful neighbor.

Seeing the girls laying there ..... so angelic ......so peaceful. A wave of emotion sweeps right through me and at that moment I know the meaning of unconditional love. I want nothing more than to be able to provide a safe and loving home for them. I couldn't bear the thought of them having to endure the trauma, either physical or emotional, that dominated my own childhood.

The hypocritical moralists down here in the Bible-belt, would condemn me for being a single (separated) mom, who works the club scene and dabbles in drug-enhanced sex from time to time. The big difference is that what I do, I do openly and readily accept that I am responsible for my actions and for the lifestyle that I lead.

Those who are quick on the draw to criticize are often in denial about the shadow side to their own character. It is not unusual to be sitting with a punter in the clubs who has driven from the other side of the city, to try and make sure that they don't run in to anyone who might recognize them. The vast majority of my customers are married but I doubt that any of them tell their wives that they're off to a Titty-bar for the evening! I have one regular customer who only comes to Cover Girls when there is horse-racing at the track by the beltway; telling his wife that he's, "....going to the races."
He is then able to explain that he is a few hundred bucks out of pocket 'cos he lost a wager or two with his buddies! The fact that this particular guy is always telling me about his involvement with his local church just adds to the hypocrisy.

Much of the business in the clubs is conducted on expense accounts; with many customers dressed in standard Houston business attire of Dockers and Polo shirt (jacket only necessary in the winter months). The more senior they are in their respective companies, the more they can spend on Client Entertainment. Junior guys might manage to stretch it to a couple of Table-dances, whereas a vice-president can run-up a tab of a few hundred bucks, without breaking a sweat. I often wonder if the owners or shareholders of Houston based companies have any idea how much of their money is invested in the Houston club scene! There are many occasions when multi-million dollar business deals are finalized after company deal-makers ensure that their prospective clients are taken good care of by carefully selected dancers.

When I first started out, I would occasionally work at Treasures on Westheimer. It was the deep in the dimly lit alcoves of Treasures where Anna Nicole Smith first met the 88 year old oil tycoon, J. Howard Marshall, in 1994. Although he died a year after they got married, I'll bet he died a happy man!

Oil company executives make up a big chunk of Treasures clientele. Senior managers of a company called ENRON would often be amongst the first to arrive in the evening and amongst the last to leave. On more than one occasion, they were spending so much money that they were able to persuade the Club Manager to let them have a private party after every one else had left the club at 2.00am. Such an arrangement would usually entail at least a dozen bottles of champagne being bought just before the lights went up and the Club Manager being given an enormous tip! The girls who were sitting with the group would normally be asked to stay on but if any of them had to leave, there would more than enough willing replacements readily at hand. The ENRON guys really pushed the envelope (as they used to say ...with boring repetition!), living life in the ultra-fast lane and taking self-gratification to new heights.

One of the top ENRON guys, an oriental gentleman, who reportedly sold his ENRON stock for almost $300million was a regular face on the club scene. So much so that he ended up leaving his wife for a dancer. I didn't know the dancer personally but she had to know what this guy was like because everyone knew that he would take girls back to his office and fuck them on his desk. These guys thought they could buy anything they wanted ......... and for a time, they were probably right.

I remember one occasion when Karry, a stunningly beautiful dancer at Treasures, got really annoyed one night, after one of the ENRON group had asked her to give him a blowjob.....right there, at the table! She stormed into the locker room and screamed, "Those fucking shit-heads; if only their dicks were as big as their egos!"
Man, did we laugh.

When ENRON went bust, in 2001, we used to joke that it was due to their massive bar and dance tabs at Treasures. We knew that we had lost a lot of high-rollin' customers ....... but they got what they deserved.

It was only later that we learned how many people had lost their life savings thanks to those greedy assholes. We felt a bit guilty at how much money we used to make from the dances (and sex) that we would give these guys ..... but in the great scheme of things, it wasn't even a drop in the ocean.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not being self-righteous. God knows, I'm reliant on businessmen for most (or perhaps even all!) of my earnings. It's just the lack of honesty coupled with the way that these guys live out their personal and business lives, which I find to be a fucked-up contradiction. Sure, my Mom thinks that I work as a waitress and my Dad doesn't ask any questions (but only because he knows that he might not like the answers!), but somehow my lifestyle just seems so much more .. honest!

The alarm clock starts beeping and jolts me back into the NOW. I reach over and shut it off, gently calling the girls names to bring them out of their sleep. Tabitha, the eight year old, is first to open her beautiful blue eyes.
"Mommy, you're home!" She says as she gets to her knees and throws her arms around me. Jessica is now stirring. When she sees Tabby wrapped around me, she jumps up and launches herself at us. We all fall back on the bed in a great heap and start giggling. These guys are just so precious.

We only have a half hour before they need to be at the bus-stop. Jess looks longingly at me and asks if I will still be home when she gets back from school. When I promise that I be there to meet them off the school bus, both girls give me an extra squeeze.
Tabby looks up and says, "Mommy, you know ....we really miss you when you're not here."
"I know, baby." I reply, as I feel the tears welling up in my eyes. But before the emotion can really get a hold of me, I let go of the girls, clap my hands and say, "Come on, let's go; you girls have gotta get some breakfast and be at the bus in less than 30 minutes."

We pile out of the bed. The girls go off to their room to get dressed, while I breeze into the kitchen to prepare their breakfast and packed lunch. I realize that I have been sleeping for almost seventeen hours. I feel refreshed and re-vitalized. The experience with Slimeball Cab Driver seems as though it was weeks ago. Anyway, I'm definitely not gonna let that bullshit drag me down. Once I've had the opportunity to take a long hot bath, I'll be in great shape.

I leave the girls cereal on the breakfast bar and go back into my bedroom to slip into my sweats. At twenty-five after seven, I'm chasing the girls down the stairs and running after them as they head to the bus stop; hopping, skipping and laughing. It's real good to see them so happy. I'm real glad that I made enough money from my night with the Rocket that I don't have to work for a few days.
We get to the bus-stop just as the bus is pulling up. The girls both turn and wave as they climb aboard. I walk alongside the bus, keeping pace with them as they walk down the aisle towards the back of the bus. They get to a seat just as the bus starts to pull away. I wave and blow them a kiss. I see them stand up and turn so that they can wave to me through the rear windshield. We keep waving until the bus turns the corner at the end of the street.
Such simple pleasures; every women should have the opportunity to experience these little moments. It makes all the other bullshit in life seem worthwhile.

As I walk back to the apartment, I'm already thinking about the treat that I'll give the girls when they get home this afternoon. I reckon that they'll enjoy eatin' dinner at Joe's Crab Shack.

Meanwhile, I'm gonna have a real long soak in the bath.

Slimeball Cab Driver

The cab ride from the Marriott back to Cover Girls was the pits. The ride should have taken no more than 20 minutes but this was not to be a normal cab ride. Most of the Houston Cab Drivers are really nice guys and can almost always be relied upon to get a girl home ………. regardless of how fucked up she might be when leaving the club. With somwhere between 1,500 and 2,000 dancers working the 120 clubs, in and around Houston each day, this is a big chunk of business! The first hint of a problem and the cab company would be black-balled by all the clubs in the Houston area. That said, you’d a thought that getting a cab in the middle of the morning would be a damn site safer than anything on offer at 2.00am. This was not to be the case today!

Unfortunately, when I jumped in the van with The Rocket the previous evening, I was still in my dancing gear. This always seems like a good idea at 2.00am but is a bit of a giveaway when you are trying to get home the following day. Actually, if the truth be known, there is another reason I was still in my dancing gear.

After the last dance, most of the guys will finish their drinks and head out to the parking lot. Some guys will hang around the parking lot waiting to see if they can get lucky with any of the girls but a few of the regulars will hang around the bar waiting to see if any of the girls ‘want a ride home’ ; the established euphemism for carrying on the party elsewhere. In reality, it is a much smaller percentage of dancers that work the after hours scene than most people realise and there are always more guys looking to carry on partying, than there are girls available. The Rocket had caught my eye right at the end of the evening so I only had time to give him one table-dance, in the VIP Lounge, before the lights went up. It may have only been one dance ……… but boy, what a dance. He was seriously hot to trot! His hands resting gently on my hips, I barely had to bend my knees before feeling his manhood nudging against me. I quickly realized that the reason he held my hips was to stop me descending too quickly ...... which might have brought tears to both our eyes!

The price of entry into the VIP Lounge is a bottle of Champagne (at $80-200 a bottle!), so we had barely touched it. It was at this point that he suggested that we go to an hotel to, “Finish what we’d started.”

My first reaction was that I was tired and needed to get back home but then he pulled a small pastic bag out of the breast pocket of his polo shirt and dipped his little finger into the white powder. He held his finger under my nose and I snorted his finger clean, almost pushing his massive pinkie right up my nostril in the process! He repeated this with my other nostril and I knew instantly that I wouldn’t be goin’ home ....... anytime soon!

Now came the decision as to whether I went back to the locker room to get changed into my street gear or just went with him as I was. The downside of going into the locker room was running the risk that he went off with another dancer while I was getting changed! This would happen quite often, particularly if any of the girls who regularly worked the nightshift had not managed to secure a John for the night. These girls would go out to locker room before the last song, get changed into their street gear and be ready to approach any loose punters hanging around the bar, immediately the lights went up. This might seem a shitty thing to do but with a few notable exceptions, the majority of the girls who work the after hours scene have a serious habit to fund. Which also means that they have a tendency to get pretty agrressive if they think they will lose out on a high-rollin' John. Although I am rather partial to using coke when I am in party mode, I never use the stuff when I am on my own; which also means that I rarely have to pay for it!

I knew that I was on to a good thing with The Rocket and I didn’t want to run the risk of losing him, so I decided to head straight out with him. Knee-length boots, short skirt and tight top; showing plenty of T&A does not look a bit out of place at 2.00am ………. but it is a bit of a different ball-game at 11.00am!

As soon as I got in the cab, I knew I had drawn the short straw. I should have relied on my intuition and jumped straight out ……….. but I didn’t. We hadn’t even got to the beltway before the cab driver started coming on to me. So, I work the clubs ……… I’m a dancer, ………occasionally I play in the after hours scene; …….. so what exactly makes this asshole of a cab driver think that I want to mess around with him? Fortunately, I didn’t give him my home address as I was heading back to Cover Girls to pick up my car. He doesn’t let up the whole way back; constantly insinuating that I should take care of him when before we get to the club. I just sat in the back and curled up in the corner of the seat …….. what a fucking slimeball!

As he turned off the beltway at the 290 intersection, I didn't notice right away that he turned onto the northbound exit, when we should have gone south. Once I realized, I looked up and met his eyes in the rearview mirror. I asked him what he thought he was doing? I saw his eyes widen in expectation as he said, "I know a quiet place where you can take real good care of me."

"Turn this fucking car around, right now," I screamed as I rummaged in my purse trying to find my phone. I found the phone at the bottom of my bag. Why is that whenever I need anything from my purse in a hurry, it's always at the bottom? As soon as I found the phone, I hit 911. It just rang and rang. Where the fuck was the emergency operator when you needed one? Although it was probably only about ten seconds, it felt like I had been hanging on for a couple of minutes. I hung up and threw the phone back into my purse. I saw that we were approaching an exit. I asked the driver to take the exit and do a U-turn, so that we could head back to the club. With that, the mother-fucker hit the gas and moved into the outside lane. Now I knew I was in trouble. The next exit was only a couple of miles further on, so I leaned forward and told the driver that if he didn't take this exit, I'd jump out of the moving vehicle. This might seem like a desperate measure but you don't have to go too far north-west on 290 before you are in the boonies ........ and then who knows what he might do?

He pushed the gas pedal even further to the floor. Instinctively, I leaned over his right shoulder and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. I could feel the rush of coke fuelled adrenaline searing through my body; giving me the strength to wrestle the wheel and guide the car onto the shoulder.

"Stop this fucking car, right now," I bellowed in his ear, "Stop the car right now or I'll fucking wreck it."

I felt the car slow down but gripped the wheel with all my strength until it came to a complete halt.
"What the fuck are you playing at, you sick mother-fucker," I spat. He looked a shaken. He definitely had not expected me to make a lunge for the wheel.
Still leaninmg across the middle of the bench seat and holding on to the wheel; I felt my eyes narrow as I whispered, "Unless you want me to report you for attempted rape, you fucking psycho, you'd better turn this car around at get me to my destination .... in one piece."
He let go of the wheel and holding up his hands said, "OK ....OK.....you got it. I'm really sorry."

I eased my hands away from the wheel and lowered myself back into the corner of the rear seat. I took the phone out of my bag and held it so that psycho-driver could see it in his rearview mirror and said with as much venom as I could muster, "One false move, buster, and I'll call the frickin' cops."

"OK ....OK," he repeated as he moved the car back onto the freeway. He signnalled to take the next exit. He was now really agitated; all the earlier bravado had vanished. I guess that he knew that he had made a big mistake.
"You won't report me, will you?" He pleaded. "I've got a wife and a couple of kids ....."
I interrupted him, "Well, you should have thought about them before you pulled this bullshit on me."
You could have cut through the atmosphere in the cab with a Bowie knife, the silence was deafening!

When we arrived at the club, I told him to drop me at the front door. The last thing that I needed was for this dip-shit to see me get into my car. As soon as the cab came to a halt, the club doorman, Sammy, opened the rear door and said cheerily, “Hey Teeze, how y'all doin’.”

Everyone called me ‘Teeze’; originally it was T.S. but this got shortened to Teeze. I liked the familiarity of it but I always insisted that the punters called me by my full name.

I felt a wave of relief sweep over me when I saw that Sammy was working the door this morning. Sammy was known as '3M' (Mexican Man-Mountain), easily weighing in at around 300 pounds .... and it was all muscle. Sammy was respected by all the girls, mainly because he had never tried to take advantage. Some of the girls had tried to seduce him but he never succumbed to temptation. He was a regular at the local Catholic Church and was married with three lovely kids. You might ask what a guy like Sammy was doing working the door of a titty-bar …….. well this is Houston, Texas and as Sammy would say, “ Someone’s gotta take care of you gals ……. and it might as well be me!”

As I climbed out of the cab, Sammy could see immediately that something was wrong.
“Hey Teeze, what’s up …….you OK?” he said, looking first at me, then the cab driver. The cab driver took one look at Sammy and hit the gas. The tires squealed as the cab swung out of the parking lot. The rear door clipped a concrete post by the exit and slammed shut with a huge dent in the middle.
Sammy looked at me, eyes wider than a coked-up redneck, “What the fuck was all that about?” he said, holding his arms out in an expression of disbelief.
“Mother-fucker was trying it on all the way back from the airport,” I replied; trying to sound dismissive.
“Anyway,” I sighed, “At least he didn’t hang around for the cab fare!”
Sammy looked exasperated, “Man, you gals really push your luck sometimes ……. it’s a good job I’m here to take care of you.”
I leaned over, kissed him on the cheek and gave him a big hug.
“Thanks Sammy, you’re a real hero,” I gushed.
He went bright red and as he broke into a great beaming smile said, “Go on, get your cute little tushy out’a here.”
I smiled back and ran towards the main door, to go get changed into my street gear, before heading back to my apartment. Sammy really is a gem.
Sammy called out after me,"Did you get his number?"
"Forget it," I called back, "It's all over now ........ and there's no harm done."
Sammy turned and shrugged, "I hope you're right Teeze ...... I just hope he don't pull that shit on no-one else!."

Fifteen minutes later, after a good cry in the locker room, I’m climbing into my 1990 Oldsmobile Cutlass Convertible. Andy, the day-shift manager made a token effort to persuade me to work the afternoon shift. He was short of girls and had just taken a call to tell him that a bunch of Halliburton oilfield hands were planning on coming in during the afternoon. Although these notoriously rowdy roughnecks were always generous, I knew that I was on borrowed time. Andy could have gotten me some more coke but I really needed to catch a couple of hours’ sleep; especially if I was going to be in any kind’a shape to meet my daughters off the bus at 3.30pm. Not to mention that I was still shaking from the experience with the psycho cab-driver!

Actually, the liklihood of me being in any fit state to meet the girls off the school bus was diminishing rapidly. Exhaustion was creeping through me. I knew that once I succumbed to the physical and mental demand for sleep, there was no chance of me waking this side of midnight. I was sooo beat. The effects of the two lines of coke were wearing off and I was fading real fast. When I got back to the apartment, I called into my neighbor to settle up with her and thank her for baby-sitting the girls. Monika had been a dancer herself for many years, so she appreciates the nature of the work and the unpredictable hours! She was still dancing on her 40th birthday but she was now nearly fifty. Her own daughters were both dancers but were apparently working in Denver. Houston was a bit too close to home for them! Monika gave me a hug and said, “Teeze, you look like shit,………. you look like you need a hot bath and some sleep.”

I managed to raise a smile and told her that I felt at least as bad as I looked but I decided against mentioning the cab driver incident. I needed sleep and Monika would have wanted to know all the gory details; before giving me a lecture on the stupidity of not taking my street clothes to the hotel with me!

Monika offered to meet the girls off the bus, feed them and entertain them until it was time for them to go to bed. I told her that I wouldn’t need to work for a few days and gave her a couple of hundred bucks. She smiled knowingly and said, “Don't you worry, Honey. You just get some beauty sleep ......... or you won't be attracting those high-rollers any more!”

I knew the girls were in good hands with Monika and reflected that I was blessed to have such a good neighbor. I climbed the stairs to my apartment. The bath would have to wait until the morning. I was in bed and away with the fairies just a few minutes later. I just hoped that I wasn’t going to dream about slimeball cab drivers!

I'll see the girls in the morning.

The Houston 'Rocket'

I could hear a siren going off somewhere in the distance. At first I didn’t react, just treating it as background noise; just like any another siren on an emergency vehicle that’s a couple of blocks away, on the way to deal with another trauma in the suburbs of Houston. You hear it but you know that it has nothing to do with you, so you just get on with whatever it is you’re doing. The moment that I made the sub-conscious decision to ignore the alarm it seemed to become more urgent …….. then it seemed to be right alongside me …….. then on top of me ……….. I came back into the waking state like I was being sucked down a tunnel and dropped back into my body. The realization hit hard; I open my eyes, only to be overwhelmed by a feeling of exhaustion. These fucking lucid dreams are driving me to distraction. Every fucking night, it doesn’t matter how tired I am, it seems that as soon as I fall asleep, I enter into another world ……… another reality ……….. another life. A life which seems determined to ensure that I wake up feeling as though I have not slept in weeks! Mind you, if the truth be known, I am not exactly living what one might term a normal life!

As the image of the room starts to come into focus, I am aware of a musky odour and recall that I never made it home last night. I have been working the Clubs for almost five years now and although I hate to admit it, I have lost count of the nights (or mornings!) that I don’t actually get home in time to get the kids ready for school.

Easing myself out of bed, I feel the hand on my shoulder pulling me back under the duvet. I feel the power and urgency in the grip as I am hauled gently but firmly towards the muscular physique of the guy who offered to ‘drive me home’ from the club at 2am this morning. It would seem that we didn’t make it home! Thanks to a few lines of coke, we partied for at least another four hours. I ache all over from the acrobatics that we had to perform last night in an attempt to get my partner of the night to orgasm. Any thought of sleep was out of the question for either of us until he had achieved his magic moment; for him because he had his image and reputation to protect ………. and for me? ……….because I have an image and a reputation to protect! Of course I know its all bullshit………. but for the time being at least, this is the life that I have. I was going to say chosen to lead but that would not be strictly true. It’s the life that I happen to find myself in at this particular juncture. I’d be a liar if I said that I wasn’t enjoying it at some level ………….but screw all that for the moment…. right now, it would seem that I need to satisfy my big, black seven foot three inch lover one more time before I can get home and catch a few hours of real sleep, ……….prior to meeting my kids off the school bus at 3.30pm.

Holy shit, these basketball players are big boys …….. if you catch my drift! About half of the team are occasional visitors to the club, with big money to spend on a good time. Needless to say, I saw a few pissed off faces glaring at me when I climbed into his black & gold Custom Van …… but I’ll deal with that later. For now, I have to take care of the task in hand …….. literally and metaphorically!

Without the delaying effects of the coke, it doesn’t take more than a few minutes to complete the task. This guy is so huge and so athletic that he is able to keep his almost entire weight off of me as he takes great care not to penetrate me too far. To be fair, this particular hunk of prime beef is one of the more considerate local sportsman ………he at least makes an effort to give the impression that he wants his partner to get as much pleasure as he himself derives from the situation. He is also one of the few who will automatically use a condom; although this may have something to do with the fact that he has a wife and three kids at his million dollar home on the edge of Memorial Park! The wives of these guys are either oblivious as to what is going on when these guys are ‘out of town’ or shut it out of their minds and just accept that it is the price that they have to pay to maintain their pampered lifestyle ………………… and they call me a Ho!

The ‘Big Man’ is heading towards his crescendo …… I tighten and relax my vaginal muscles around him in concert with his thrusting. As his pace quickens I arch my back and go into my peak moment routine. I learned long ago that there is a direct relationship between the perceived intensity of my moment of 'arrival’ and the amount of cash left on the bedside table at the moment of departure! It never fails to amuse me that however much I exaggerate the final moments of sexual ecstasy, male vanity will always ensure that they hold on to the belief that that have just been responsible for giving me the most amazing orgasm …….. ever! Sad …..but true.

The Big Man falls off of me a sinks in a heap alongside but after just a few seconds of near hyper- ventilation, he’s heading for the bathroom ……. I smile at the sight of his over-sized but now flaccid manhood looking absolutely ridiculous with the extension of the condom hanging off the end ………. the teat of the condom wafting around his knees. He smiles back, oblivious to what is really causing my amusement, blows me a kiss and disappears into the bathroom. My gaze follows him as I look up to take an admiring glance at his muscular butt.

Somehow I doubt we will be sharing breakfast together….. in fact, he will be more concerned about getting out of the hotel without being seen with me in tow. This didn’t seem to bother him when he checked in just before 2:30am this morning but now he is viewing the world without the benefit of the Champagne and Coke bravado that possessed him when we arrived.

He and all his sporting compatriots are extremely fortunate that the press boys do not delve too deeply into the personal lives of these local icons. The asshole hacks that work on the Houston Chronicle are just as likely to be found in the clubs trying to get their rocks off, on the cheap. The pro sportsman will spend an average of $1,000 for every hour that they are in the club, whereas the hacks expect the same level of attention for less than $100 ……… for the whole fucking evening! Then they wonder why none of the girls want to sit with them ……….. fucking losers!

The ‘Big Man’ lopes out of the shower. His physique is truly exceptional; his black skin glistening with what appears to be a hint of gold mixed in with the water drops sparkling in the early morning sun, which is now streaming in through the window of the Marriott Hotel at Houston Intercontinental Airport. I cannot help but watch him; a long way removed from the flab of the majority of loud-mouthed, uncouth Rednecks that form the mainstay of the punters at Cover Girls. He walks over to the chair where he had laid out his clothes with the care of a British butler. Not really surprising when considering that the casual appearance of his tight-fitting sweatshirt and designer jeans belie the fact that they are hand-made and probably cost in excess of a $500 a piece ……. more than the value of my entire frickin’ wardrobe!

He sits down to slip on his hand made loafers ($1000+ a pair), then stands up and reaches into the right rear pocket of his jeans and pulls out a wad of folded notes. Without even bothering to count it, he throws the wad onto the beside table and walks towards the door. It’s as much as I can do stop myself making a grab for the wad but I just prop myself up on one elbow, casually letting one breast hang out over the top of the duvet, smile and gush, “Thanks big fella’ you’re one real gent. ......... Will I see you again?”

He smiles back but doesn’t answer and walks over to the door. As he opens the door, he turns and says, “Thank you, ma’am….. that was one hellava night …..now you make sure your cute lil’ ass is out’a here by midday and I’ll see you again ……..soon! Now y’all have a nice day.”

With that, the door closed behind him and he was gone. As soon as I heard the door click, I couldn’t hold back any longer and dived across the bed to reach for the wad of notes. I unfolded the wad and started to count the $100 dollar bills. One, two, three ……….. fucking jackpot! $1,000……… not bad for a night’s work, especially when added to the $1,400 earned in dances and tips earlier in the evening. At least I can pay the baby-sitter for last night and the rent for the month ….. which was due a few days ago. The exhaustion hits me and I am just about to give in to it and fall back to sleep. I lean over to put the cash back on the bedside table, when I see a small baggie on the floor beside the bed. It’s about half full (or half empty if you prefer ………but I’m an optimist!). The Big Man had lost it the night before, even accusing me of ‘hiding’ it! I hadn’t but now I had a source of energy to at least get me home.

I emptied the contents of the back out onto the glass coffee table, reached for my purse and tipped the entire contents out onto the sofa, in my rush to find a phone card with which to get the white powder lined up. I could feel my heart-rate increasing with the anticipation of the pending fix. As soon as the powder was divided into two neat parallel lines, I took one of the ten crisp $100 bills from the bedside table, flattened it out and rolled it up; leaning forward and moving the ‘straw’ up to my right nostril in one practiced action. Pushing the index finger of my left hand hard up against my left nostril, in one deep breath, I snorted a whole line in one fell swoop. I fell back into the sofa and waited for the wave to rush over me. It took about five seconds to feel the full force of the rush. A few seconds later, I was good to go. They don’t call this stuff ‘Columbian marching powder’ for nothing!

It is always good to take a long hot shower after a night of coke enhanced sexual activity …….. and this morning was no exception. The buzz from the unexpected top-up had given me the energy to get my butt movin’. Once showered and dressed, I went back to the coffee table and snorted the remaining line up through my left nostril ........now I was really good to go!