The continuing sequel to "Team Spirit" By Janice the Dreamer. True to her word, Dr. Hanson removes Honey's addiction, however that leads to some other unpleasant changes in Honey's life. Bob does what he can to solve the new problems. Chapters 30 through 34 of 48. Indicated Rating and Elements apply to entire story. Next update 11/13/10.

TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF
By Meps98

CHAPTER THIRTY

Everything has been pretty normal at the club this week, particularly after the drama from last week. The honeymoon period from my return is starting to wear off. The crowd is still paying attention during my sets, but their reaction is not as lusty. Unfortunately, there is still a line to have sex with me most days, but it isn’t as long. Everyone is starting to fall back into old routines, which is good and bad. I can handle the old routines, I just wish to God that I didn’t have to.

Anthony called me to his office after my last set that Monday evening. I had not dressed yet so I was just wearing a robe and my heels. I hadn’t had my daily dose yet either. Recently he had been giving me the bottled semen, but he had that look in his eyes tonight.

“Come in Honey, have a seat.” I sit in the chair opposite of his desk. He stands up, walks around to the front of the desk and sits on the edge in front of me, one foot on the floor. He towers over me. I look up at him. He is leering at me, checking out the cleavage exposed by my partially open robe. I start to close the robe but he stops me.

“No Honey, leave the robe as is.” He pauses for a moment, slips off the desk, walks around behind me and grabs the collar of the robe. “On second thought, why don’t you take it off. Slip your arms out.”

“Yes, Sir.” I don’t look up at him, just shrug the robe off my shoulders and wriggle my arms out of the sleeves. He pulls the robe up and I raise my self off the chair as the robe slides past my ass and up my back. He walks back in front of me, tosses the robe into the corner of the office and returns to the edge of his desk. I want to cross my arms in front of my breasts but I know Anthony did this to both embarrass me and get a good look at my tits and pussy, so I leave my arms on the arm rests. My nipples are swollen. I hate to admit it but I’m getting turned on just sitting here naked, though it’s mostly because I haven’t had my daily dose of his semen yet.

“There, isn’t that better Honey?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Sometimes I forget what a fine looking bitch you are Honey. Spread those beautiful legs.” I open my legs as wide as the chair lets me. My pussy is getting wet in anticipation. “Yes, a fine looking bitch. A hot little bitch too, aren’t you Honey?” He’s trying to embarrass me again but I’m starting not to care.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir what?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m a hot little bitch.” We’ve played this game before and I know how it ends. I get what I need, in more ways than one. I give him a crooked little smile and slide my hips forward in the seat of the chair, thrusting my pussy at him.

He chortles. “Don’t worry Honey, we’ll get to that in a few minutes but I need to tell you a couple of things first. The Doc has decided to make some changes.” Uh-oh. “She’s going to remove your addiction to my jiz. We’ve all asked her to do it at one time or another and now it’s finally happening.”

YES!

“There’s a trade off here. Nobody trusts you to stay put, so Bob has some kind of tracking device that is going to be implanted in you so that I can find you anywhere you go.” What? Bob did what?

“Excuse me Sir, did you say that it was Bob’s idea to stick something in me so that I can’t run away?”

Anthony grins at me. “Yeah, ain’t that a kick in the head. It was all his idea, though I doubt Doc Hanson would have agreed to get rid of the addiction if he hadn’t come up with this plan. I got to tell you, I really can’t figure this guy out.”

“Me neither, Sir.” I glumly respond. How could he do this? I finally get Amy to release me from being biologically chained to Anthony and he comes up with a different kind of chain. I ought to kick him in the balls.

“The Doc has decided to do the operation tomorrow and I’m taking you over there tonight so you can get ready. She’s also going to do your six month tune up at the same time, kill two birds with one stone. Since this is the last night we’ll have together under the old rules ...” He unzips his pants and steps towards me. My head is level with his crotch. “… I’ve decided to do it old style tonight. Blow me and make it good.” I look up at him. His mouth is smiling but his eyes aren’t.

“Yes, Sir.”

I gently pull his semi-hard cock from his pants and suckle its’ head while stroking it with my left hand. I undo his belt with my right hand, dropping his pants to his ankles. I begin massaging his big balls with my right hand as I alternate licking and stroking the full length of his now rigid cock. After the bad news he just gave me, I wasn’t too enthusiastic about this at the start, but I really need to get him off. I haven’t had a taste for almost twenty four hours. He reaches down and pinches my nipple. I moan around the cock stuffed in my mouth. He doesn’t usually do anything during blow jobs. He pinches harder and I moan again. I start to take him down my throat, bobbing up and down, an inch at a time, swirling his shaft with my tongue. He gives my nipple a twist. I squeal and moan at the same time. He laughs and slides to the left, so he can reach both tits. I keep swallowing his cock as he massages my boobs and rubbing my nipples, forcing more moans from me. I just get his entire cock down my throat, my nose buried in his crotch, when he twists both nipples hard. I squeal again, breaking my rhythm and start to choke. Laughing, he gives another double nipple twist but this time I’m ready. It hurts like hell but doesn’t shock me, so I keep my rhythm going. He begins thrusting his hips in time with my bobbing, it looks like he’s getting ready to blow his wad but then he suddenly stops.

“Come on Honey, I’ve got another idea. Get up.” I let his cock slide from my mouth and stand up. He steps out of his pants, walks around to the front of the desk, opens a drawer, picks up something and tosses them on the desk top.

“Put these on.” There are two black metal paper clamps on the desk. I look up at him.

“Take those and clamp your nipples.” I pick one up, squeeze it open, and attach it to my swollen left nipple. The sharp pain makes me wince and my eyes water.

“Hurry up Honey, I don’t want to lose this woodie.” Anthony is standing there, stroking his dick. I blink several times to clear my eyes and do the same thing to my right nipple. The pain is just as intense and sharp. He comes around to my side of the desk, reaches up and pulls both clamps.

“AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!”

My knees buckle but he doesn’t let go. I fight to stay upright, to remove the tension on my tortured nipples. Regaining my balance, I slowly straighten up, my teeth clenched. Anthony still hasn’t let go of the clamps. He lowers his head to my eye-level, stares deeply into my eyes, and twists the clamps again. On a scale of one to ten … it’s an eleven. My legs go wobbly but I don’t go down. Anthony is laughing like a maniac.

“Very good Honey. You’re one tough bitch.” He lets go of the clamps, grabs my waist, spins me around and pushes me face down on the desk. My ass is up in the air. He smacks it several times with his open palm. I cry out in both pain and surprise. He kicks my legs apart, grabs my hips and plunges his cock to the hilt into my wet pussy. I groan loudly, can’t help myself. He pulls back and slams me again.

“OOOOOHHHHHHHGGGGGNNNNN”

“Like that eh Honey?” He starts pounding away at me. “I’ve heard what you’ve been telling the other girls about Bob.” He smacks my ass again.” That he’s the best lover that you’ve ever had.” SMACK “That no man can match him.” SMACK “Well what do you say now?” SMACK “Who’s your Daddy?” SMACK “Who’s better, me or Bob?” SMACK “Who’s better, huh?”

He’s driving his cock into me like a mad man, pushing me into the desk, my weight pressing my clamped nipples onto the hard surface, each thrust generating new pain. God help me, I’m so hot right now. SMACK. My pussy juices are trickling down my legs.

“Who’s better, Honey? Tell me who’s better, me or Bob?” I’ve got to say something or he may kill me.

“You are Sir ... You are.”

“I’m what?”

“You are the best lover, I’ve ... I’ve ever had.” I need him to keep screwing me, need it so bad. “OOohhhHH FUCK Me, Sir. Fuck me hard please!!”

SMACK. “That’s right Honey! I am the best! I’m the best there’s ever been and don’t you forget it! SMACK. Here’s your reward!”

He lift’s my legs off the ground, impaling me on his cock and shoots his cum deep into my cunt. The spurting of his cock triggers my orgasm and I wriggle and squirm in the air. I can’t feel the pain in my breasts or my ass. Right now, all I feel are waves of pleasure running through my body. Anthony puts me down and pulls out of my pussy. I fall off the desk and collapse on the floor then look up at Anthony. He’s wiping his cock off with my robe, a smug, satisfied look on his face. He throws the robe at my feet.

“Once you’ve recovered from being screwed by the world’s greatest sex machine, go back to your room and get dressed. We need to get to the clinic by 11:00 p.m.” He sits in his chair. “Make sure you tell all your girlfriends about tonight.”

I push my upper body off the floor, bracing myself with my arms locked. “Do you want me to tell Bob too ... Sir?”

His eyes quickly grow large with fear, his mouth slightly open. The idiot hadn’t thought about that.

“No! Ahhh ... No Honey, we probably shouldn’t bother Bob about this ... In fact, you shouldn’t tell anybody. This is just between you and me, OK?” There is desperation in his voice. And on his face.

“Yes, Sir. You know how good I am at keeping secrets.”

“Yeah ... yeah, thanks. Hurry up and get ready.”

I slowly stand, reach up, unclip the clamps from my nipples and toss them on Anthony’s desk. My nipples are numb right now but that won’t last. They are going to swell up and hurt like hell within the hour. Amy will see them, but would probably enjoy the story, so I’ll tell her as little as possible. Not a good start to the evening.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

Honey wasn’t very forthcoming when I asked about the bruising on her ass and nipples. I assume that it was one of my “special customers”. I must remember to ask Anthony for the video. Whoever it was, it appears that he really worked her over. I’ll certainly enjoy watching that one. Right now, she is unconscious on the table in the operating theater next door. I am waiting for Bob’s tracker to be sterilized and then will begin. Unfortunately, Bob’s tracker comes with Bob. He insists on being present during the operation.

“Somehow, Mr. James, I do not think you trust me.” He is gowned and slipping on a pair of gloves.

“On the contrary Doctor, this is one of the areas in which I trust you completely. Your expertise greatly exceeds mine when it comes to medical procedures. However, I have seen this operation performed three times in person and you have only watched a video. I may be able to provide some useful information should there be any problems.”

“This procedure is similar to others involving implanting medical devices. There is no reason to think that there will be any problems.”

“Very glad to hear that Doctor. However, it is always best to have all options available. I will do or say nothing unless you ask for my input. What is the harm?”

“There is no harm, I just prefer to follow my normal routines which does not include kibitzers in the theater.” I do not plan on any funny business during the operation, it is the principle of him not trusting me.

“I assure you, Doctor, I will be there only as a resource. I would never presume to tell you your business. Even if you had some nefarious plan, it would be unlikely that I would recognize it.” He is probably correct about that. I hand him a mask.

“Alright, you can watch but do not get in my way or disturb me. You may not believe it but I do not want any mistakes either. I want Honey to have a long, healthy and painful life. Let’s get started.”

We both don our masks then step into the operating room. It is smaller than ones you would find in your average hospital, but it is well equipped and adequate for my purposes today. Honey’s vital signs are stable and the anesthesiologist, who is a friend of mine, indicates she is ready. Connors is assisting me. I step up to the table, take a deep cleansing breathe and make a three inch incision in her lower abdomen.

Just as I expected, the operation is mostly routine. The most difficult part was running the wire antenna down her left leg. Bob kept his word and remained silent the entire time. He did move around a bit, keeping his eyes on the incision and her vital signs. It has only been forty five minutes since the first cut, not bad for a procedure I’ve never done before. Everything appears to be in place.

“I am ready to close now. How are her vitals?” Before I get my answer, Bob interrupts.

“Doctor, I believe ...”

“Mr. James, you assured me that you would keep quiet. If you can’t keep you promises, you will need to leave right now.”

“I understand Doctor. Sorry. Before I leave, I do have one brief suggestion.”

“And what is that?”

“You might want to turn the device on before you close. Just a suggestion. However, you are the professional, I am sure you know best.”

I can’t see the smirk on his face but I can see it in his eyes. I managed a near perfect operation from a procedural stand point but forgot to turn the damn thing on. He better not try to lord this over me.

“Thank you, Mr. James. I will take your suggestion under advisement.” I reach in and push the panel that controls the tracker. It beeps three times to indicate that it is functioning. Bob reaches into his pocket, removes the receiver, checks the screen and signals thumbs up.

I close up the incision quickly but carefully. I do not want to leave a scar and the injections that will follow should prevent that. Within fifteen minutes, Honey is wheeled into her cell to recover.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

I can’t get my eyes to open. They aren’t stuck or anything, they just won’t open, like they’ve forgotten how. I am breathing, so I concentrate on that for awhile. Everything feels fuzzy, unfocused. Eventually my head clears a little and my eyelids slowly open.

Ah yes, there’s no place like home.

I’m back in my cell at the clinic, laying on a gurney. My arms and legs feel heavy, too heavy for me to lift them. I can turn my head a little but there is nothing to see. I close my eyes again and return to my breathing. Deep breaths. I hear a door open and someone is now standing next to me. They touch my wrist, checking my pulse. I don’t bother to look, just keep breathing. I feel the jab of a needle in my arm, doesn’t really hurt. Whoever it is leaves, closing the door behind them. I think I hear a lock click shut. Deep breaths.

I don’t know how long it’s been but things are clearer, sharper now. I’m wearing one of those backless paper hospital gowns. I can move my arms but they are strapped down to the gurney, same with my legs. I can sit up a little but that makes my left side hurt. The door opens again and I twist my head around to see who it is. It’s Amy. She doesn’t say anything, just lifts the edge of the bandage on my left side, looking underneath. She pulls a white device from her lab coat pocket and sticks it in my ear. After a few seconds, it beeps. She removes it, looks at it and returns it to her pocket.

“Well Honey, your temp is normal so we appear to have avoided any infections, which is no small thing in this day and age.” She checks my pulse and then my chest with her stethoscope. “All your vitals seem fine. You’ve been strapped down to keep you from moving around too much. We don’t want you tearing any stitches.”

I try to talk but my throat is dry and scratchy. All I can do is cough and croak a few words.

“Hold on.” Amy reaches around behind my head and picks up something. It’s a big cup with a straw in it. “Here, sip this slowly.” She puts the straw in my mouth and I suck on it. A splash of cold water hits my mouth. I take three more sips then release the straw.

“How long?” I still can’t talk very well.

“We will have you up and walking before the end of today. I would guess that you will be fully recovered within three days, add two more days to finish your so called “tune up” and you should be back with Anthony by November sixteenth.”

I nod my head, close my eyes and go back to concentrating on my breathing. I feel calm though I know the future is not going to be pleasant. It’s probably the drugs.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

Amy wasn’t lying; Connors came in later that day, unstrapped me and helped me off the gurney. My legs were fairly wobbly, but I was able to slowly walk out of the cell and make a couple of trips up and down the hallway. Connors followed me but didn’t help at all. The pain in my side gradually increased with each step until I finally had to stop. When I got back to the cell, the gurney was gone. I sat down on the cot, swung my legs up, lay down on my back and fell asleep.

She woke me later and we repeated my walk in the hall. I was able to make a few extra laps this time. There were no clocks or windows so I had no idea what time of day it was or even what day. Connors gave me another shot and I returned to the cot. After she left, I lifted the edge of my bandage and checked my stitches. I don’t know a lot about medicine but I’d seen a lot of cuts and stitches in my playing days. Mine looked like they were more like a week old instead of less than two days. I’m pretty sure that I haven’t been here a week and there is no reason for Amy to lie to me about that. It’s probably the work of her rejuvenation treatments. I decide to get as much rest as possible. I don’t usually get a chance to sleep in.

Connors wakes me up three more times and it’s the same routine each time, walk, shot then sleep. There is less pain each time and I walk further each trip. I check my stitches again after the last trip. The cut is almost healed. The stitches seem to be disappearing, they must be the temporary kind. She may be a crazy, vengeful bitch but you’ve got to give her credit. Amy’s a genius when it comes to medical stuff. Too bad she spends most of her time thinking of ways to screw with me.

The next time Connors wakes me, I’m led to the exercise studio. Man, does this place bring back a shit-load of memories. There are some new additions. Now there are mirrors all around and a treadmill. I slowly walk around the room, letting the memories flood my brain. In all the weeks I was here at the clinic, this is the only place I wasn’t doped up. Everything else is pretty much disorganized recollections but I remember this room and all the routines Ms. Baker drilled into me. I could still do them today if I had to. Hell, three quarters of the athletic moves in my current dance routines come from her teaching. I almost expect her to walk through the door and bark out “Now, Number Three! Get ready, okay let’s go!” She was tough but fair. Obviously, she was in on the whole thing, turning me into what I am today, but she was never mean for meanness sake. She just wanted me to be the best cheerleader I could be. A professional all the way. And I didn’t disappoint her. Wonder where she is now? Connors brings me back to earth.

“Dr. Hanson wants you to do thirty minutes on the treadmill. I’ll increase the speed and grade as we go along. You can change in there.” She pointed to the locker room. I open the door and walk in, at least I can get out of this damn paper gown. There are some exercise clothes piled on a bench. I pick up a sports bra and check its’ size. 38DD, too big. I check several others but they are all the same size, so someone screwed up. Well, a lose fit is better than nothing. I slip it on.

It’s tight, just a touch too small. What the hell is going on? I’ve been a 36D for the last three years. I check out my reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that. My tits are definitely bigger, just short of cartoonish. Still firm and high on my chest though. Amy does good work. I finish dressing and everything else is the same size as before, the only change is bigger tits. When I step out of the changing room, I’m wearing pink cross trainers, white midriff top and tight shorts, hair pulled back in a pony tail. Connors smiles.

“Well don’t you look precious. Nice boobs. Get on the treadmill and we’ll start with a walk.”

“Yes, Ms. Connors.” Force of habit. I step on the treadmill and she starts it up. It’s just a regular walking pace which stays the same for about five minutes. No problems so far. Connors pulls a remote from her lab coat and pushes a button. The front of the treadmill rises to about a ten degree grade but the speed doesn’t change. Still not a problem. After another five minutes, she presses another button and it speeds up to a brisk walk. My side still feels OK, no pain. My tits are bouncing around more than I am used to though, guess I’ll have to adapt. The change will probably increase my popularity at the club. Yippee. Another five minutes and the grade goes up to fifteen degrees. Half way home.

It’s starting to get interesting. There is still no pain but I’m breathing harder. At twenty minutes, the speed increases to a jog. The breasts are bouncing around much more now. I concentrate on taking deep, regular breaths. There is some pain in my left side but it’s more general, not centered on the stitches. Sweat is starting to trickle down my forehead, neck and chest. The grade increases to twenty degrees at twenty five minutes. Just five to go. I have to lean forward to keep my balance, which makes breathing harder. It’s not a struggle but getting tougher. I’ll be happy when I’m done. I watch the clock on the wall, which makes time slow down. Thirty minutes finally arrives. I look over at Connors.

She has a tight, evil smile on her face as she presses the remote again. The treadmill doesn’t stop, it speeds up. It’s at a full run now. I point at the clock. She nods her head but says nothing. My breath is coming in gasps now. At thirty five minutes, the grade moves up to twenty five degrees. I glance at Connors. She’s laughing.

I can’t get enough oxygen in my lungs. My mouth is wide open and I’m sucking in air as fast as I can but it’s not enough. My lungs are starting to dry out. The clock reads thirty eight minutes. Screw this. I stop running, letting the treadmill throw me off. I stumble and stagger but manage to keep on my feet. Bent over at the waist, I gasp, unable to speak, as I try to catch my breath.

Connors walks up to me. She’s pissed. “Who told you to stop? You get your perfect little ass back on that machine right now!’

“Hanson ... said ... thirty ... minutes.” I could barely get my words out between gasps.

“I’m the one running this test and I decide when it ends!” She grabs my arm. “Now get back up there!” I straighten up, still breathing hard but I’ve got it under control.

“No.”

“What?”

“No. I’m done.” I start to walk back to the locker room but Connors still has hold of my arm. She jerks me back.

“You’re done when I say you’re done, BITCH!” She pulls her arm back, getting ready to slap me across the face. As her hand comes slashing down towards my head, I drop down on to my hands and knees, breaking her grip and throwing her off balance. I shoot my right leg out parallel to the floor and sweep it around, pivoting on my left foot, knocking Connors’ legs out from under her. She falls flat on her back as I follow through and stand up. She starts to scramble to her feet, screaming at me.

“Why you putrid little cunt! I am going to beat you senseless when I ...” I kick her in the jaw, probably breaking it. She’s out like a light.

That felt sooooo good. Bob taught me that move, along with several others, weeks ago. Never thought I’d need to use it. I go back into the locker room, undress, shower and put on some clean exercise clothes, tossing my paper gown in the trash. When I walk back into the studio, Connors is still out cold. I know that there is a really good chance that I’m going to pay for this sooner or later, probably sooner, but I don’t care right now. I may have to kowtow to Amy and Anthony but not to this little tin dictator.

I walk to the front office. There’s a young, nice looking woman sitting at a large desk, typing on her computer.

“Hello, are you Janet Lester?” She looks up at the sound of my voice. I reach out my hand.

“Yes, I’m Janet Lester.” She says, a hint of uncertainty in her voice as she takes my hand.

“I’m Honey Sweet-Lay.” We shake hands. “Ms. Connors has had a little accident in the exercise studio. Someone may want to go look in on her. No hurry though.” I let go of her hand, turn and walk back to my cell. As I open the door, I hear a lot of commotion behind me. Someone loudly calls for Amy. I step into my cell, close the door and lay back on my cot, a smile on my face. Today has been a good day.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

“SHE DID WHAT?”

I can’t believe what Smith just told me. I hired Connors because she was a competent assistant in the lab but, more importantly, she had a black belt. Her job was to keep Josh Thomas in line, should he ever start to stray. Luckily, he never did except for that brief escape which my careful planning took care of. Honey was even less of a threat than Josh, yet she took Connors down in seconds, leaving her unconscious with a dislocated jaw. Why do I see Bob James fingerprints on this?

Apparently, Honey didn’t even run. She put herself back in her cell and is still there. Sleeping. I have not spoken with Connors yet, not that she can actually speak. She has a concussion and is still groggy. Smith has reviewed the video and given me the highlights. Time to go speak with Honey.

When I open the door to the cell, Honey is lying on the cot, on her back, quietly snoring. I’ve brought a chair with me, which I set next to the cot. I sit down, then reach over and gently shake Honey.

“Time to wake up Honey. I have some questions for you.” I keep my voice calm and level. Best to start out friendly. Honey stirs, stretches her arms and legs, opens her eyes, then sits up.

“Hello, Dr. Hanson. What can I do for you?” There’s that blank, even look again. Thank you Bob James. I can play that game too.

“How are you feeling Honey?”

She cocks her head to one side. “Physically or psychologically?”

“Let’s start with physically.”

“I feel fine.” She reaches down and touches her bandaged left side. “No pain here. I think I’m completely healed.” She lifts both breasts with here hands, lightly bouncing them. “I seem to have picked up at least a couple of inches here however. Care to explain?” Her impertinence is unexpected and undesired, but I will let it go … for now.

“It was a special request from Anthony. Apparently he finds you a bit boring, so he needed something to revitalize his enthusiasm. He thought bigger breasts would do the trick. I can’t say I am surprised at his solution. Most men think bigger tits can solve most any problem.”

She drops her hands to her lap. “Guess I should have figured that one out myself. Anthony’s always been a boob man. I’m surprised he didn’t ask sooner.”

“Oh he did, repeatedly. I just decided to give him an early Christmas present. Maybe I will be there when he unwraps it.” She winces at that. Bob never would have broken his façade. “Now, how are you psychologically?” She smiles slightly, another break.

“The best I’ve felt in the last two weeks.”

“I assume that is because of your unprovoked assault on Ms. Connors.”

“Before I answer that, tell me how long you told Ms. Connors I was to work out on the tread mill.” More impertinence, my patience is running out quickly.

“Thirty minutes.” She falls back onto the cot, arms folded across her enhanced chest.

“Check out the elapsed time on the treadmill, assuming no one has reset it yet, then we can talk.”

OK, that’s it. “I am fed up with your attitude young lady! Just because you look like a seventeen year old airhead does not mean I will tolerate you behaving like one. I have put up with more from you than I should have but that has come to an end, right now. Tell me what happened this instant!”

She props herself up on her elbows. “Don’t listen to me, don’t listen to Connors. Check out the treadmill for yourself and then you’ll know who is telling the truth and who is lying.” She flops back onto the cot.

I swear to God, she really does have the attitude of a seventeen year old girl. Unfortunately, she is correct. Technology does not lie, not if you know what to look for. I do not really need to look at the treadmill, I can review the video tape but that will take time. I also do not want Honey to know about my video collection.

“Very well. I will be right back.”

“I’ll be right here when you do.” Little bitch.

I quickly walk to the exercise studio and enter. There is no sign of a struggle, which confirms how quickly Honey was able to dispatch Connors. When did she acquire those skills? I must remember to ask Bob the next time I see him. The emergency shut down pin has been pulled on the machine but it is still on. I run through the menu on the attached computer, reaching the elapsed time display.

I’ll be damned!

When I walk back into the cell, she doesn’t move, just stares at the ceiling.

“Time?”

“Thirty eight minutes, forty five seconds. What happened Honey?”

She sits up, swinging her legs off the cot, onto the floor. “Connors......”

“Ms. Connors. Show some respect Honey.” She rolls her eyes. I really do have a teenage girl sitting in front of me. I may have pushed the treatments too far.

“Ms. Connors told me that you wanted me to work out on the treadmill for thirty minutes but she ran long. When I pointed this out to her, not only didn’t she stop, she sped it up and increased the grade five degrees. I didn’t know why you wanted me to work out only thirty minutes, but I assumed you had a good reason. After Ms. Connors refused to stop it, I bailed out. She tried to force me back onto the machine but I said no. She freaked out when I said no and tried to hit me. That’s when I knocked her down and kicked her in the mouth.”

“A bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

“Hell yes it was an overreaction. I don’t know what she was thinking.”

“I was referring to what you did Honey.”

“Me? I was just defending myself. She was going to hit me!”

“Honey, you do not have the right of self-defense anymore. If I or anybody I designate wants to assault you, you take it and smile. If you don’t then I will make sure that you regret it for the rest of your long, unpleasant life. Do you understand that?”

She looks at me, eyes blazing with hatred. “Yes, Dr. Hanson, I understand.” She may understand but she doesn’t accept it, not yet. That will come with time and a change in my tactics.

“Unfortunately, Connors was also wrong for not following my instructions. That is between her and myself and none of your concern. I will forgo punishment for now because you thought you were justified in not following Connors directions but you should never do that again. After I have spoken with Connors, she will not vary from my instructions in the future. One last question. How did you acquire the self-defense skills?”

“Bob taught me a few things, just in case a customer started something at the club and Anthony wasn’t around to protect me.”

“Did he teach you to kick people in the head?”

“Yes. He said avoid trouble when you can but if you can’t and have to act, do it first, fast and finally.”

“First, fast and finally?”

“If you’ve got to do something, do it before the other guy gets a chance to get you, do it as fast and hard as you can to finish it quick and don’t have any mercy, do whatever is necessary to completely win.”

“That does not sound very sporting.”

“He said that the only objective in a fight is to win, end of story. Do whatever it takes. If someone is going to get hurt or die, make sure it’s the other guy.”

“Probably sound advice.”

I leave the cell, locking the door behind me. My first stop will be a visit to my office to review the video, then to see Connors and find out if she will tell me the truth. For her sake, I hope she does. I can forgive over-enthusiasm but not dishonesty.

Never the less, it has been a productive day. I now have more insight into the workings of Bob James’ mind than before.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

I stayed at the clinic two more days but never saw Connors again. There were three more sessions on the treadmill but supervised by Smith, who kept her distance. Each one was thirty minutes on the dot.

I managed to get a really good look at myself when changing clothes, Amy was right, I did look like a seventeen year old girl, maybe eighteen. The other tune ups always left me looking young and fresh, taking away six months of the wear and tear my life as a dancer/whore caused. This time it was different. I still had the same flawless, silky skin, long graceful arms, narrow shoulders, wide hips, long legs, perfect ass, delicate hands and feet, narrow waist and flat stomach. My face was still innocent and childlike, with large green eyes, long lashes, pouty lips and pert nose. My breasts were bigger but not sagging at all, firm, round and full, sitting high on my chest with inch long nipples as big as my thumbs. The changes are subtle but there. Without makeup, I could never pass as eighteen, let alone the twenty two my drivers’ license said I was. I’d be right at home as a sophomore in high school. She said Anthony ordered the new tits but didn’t say anything about looking almost two years younger, not that Anthony will bitch about that. The club’s clients won’t object either.

Anthony arrived at noon on the seventeenth to pick me up. I didn’t have any of my normal clothes with me so he brought that tight red mini dress he likes and the red pumps with 4 inch heels. Unfortunately, he didn’t bring any underwear. He just stood there, leering at me as I changed in my cell. I had to be very careful how I walked or sat, not only to avoid flashing people but to keep my boobs from popping out of the dress. It was way too tight. I hope my other clothes fit better. We walked to the lobby where Amy was waiting for us. She was holding what looked like a Palm Pilot or Blackberry.

“Do you have everything straight Anthony?”

“Yeah, you’ll check in every five minutes and then we do a run away test.”

“Do you have your receiver?”

“Right here.” He taps his coat pocket.

“Let’s start then. One word of advice. Bob has been giving our little Honey self-defense lessons. She nearly broke Connors’ jaw. You may want to take the necessary precautions.” Anthony stared at me with narrowed eyes. Then he smiled.

“I doubt that Honey is dumb enough to take me on. Hitting Connors is one thing but going after me is completely different.” He grabs my hair near my scalp and jerks my head towards his face. “Isn’t it Honey?”

“Yes, Sir” I gasp. He lets go of my hair. My head hurts but I dare not rub it. Amy puts her device on the reception desk.

“It was just a word to the wise Anthony. Connors was quite confident too. I will speak with you shortly.”

Anthony takes my arm and walks me out of the clinic. His van is parked right out front. He jumps into the driver’s seat as I climb up into the passenger side. The hem of my dress slides up my thigh, exposing my hairless pussy. Before I can get the dress pulled down, he reaches across the seat, sticks his hand between my legs and fondles me.

“I always enjoy fucking you right after you get out of the clinic.” He keeps massaging my cunt. “You’re so tight, practically like fucking a virgin.”

He’s right about that. Those first fucks are the closest we ever get to making love. All the rest of the time it’s “Wham, Bam, Thank You Mam”. He takes his time with those first post-clinic fucks. I actually enjoy them. Anthony does know what he’s doing in bed, when he bothers to make the effort. Naturally, orgasms aren’t a problem for me no matter who is doing the fucking or how good they are. I do make a special effort on those first post-clinic occasions with Anthony though.

That’s odd.

He’s been rubbing my cunt for at least a minute and I’m not getting wet. Usually I’d be humping his hand by now. This time, nothing. I mean, it feels good and all but he’s not starting to drive me towards a quick orgasm. He pulls his hand back and starts the van.

“We’ll pick this up later. Business before pleasure, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl Honey.” He pats my head, like I’m his pet. We pull away from the clinic, but head away from the club, driving towards downtown. I straighten my dress, getting as decent as I can. We drive around for a few minutes, turning now and then. One time we did a complete lap around a block and then headed west. It was like he was trying to shake someone who was following us but he wasn’t checking the rear view mirrors. His cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket.

“Hey Doc, where is she? ... You’re absolutely right. Talk to you in five.” He flipped it shut. “So far, so good Honey.” He seemed happy about whatever was going on. We kept driving, turning left, then right, then right again. This went one for several minutes with Anthony making turns randomly. At least it seemed random. The cell phone rang again.

“Where now, Doc? ... Right again. In five.” He turned and smiled at me. “This may actually work.” This went on for about a half hour with calls from, I assume, Amy every five minutes. It rang again.

“Talk to me Doc ... On the button. Ready for the runaway? ... OK, I’m pulling over now. I’ll call when I’ve got her.” He pulls to the side of the street and parks.

“Get out Honey.” What?

“Sir?”

“You heard me, get out.” He reaches across me and opens the door.

“I don’t understand, Sir. What am I supposed to do?”

“We’re going to play a little game now, you’ve probably heard of it. Hide and Seek? You have fifteen minutes to hide and then I’m going to try to find you. Get going.” I climb down out of the van, then turn to look back at Anthony.

“Where am I supposed to go, Sir?”

“Where ever you want little girl. Don’t make it easy for me.” He checks his watch. “You’ve got fourteen minutes, thirty seconds.”

I start walking quickly away from the van, my heels clicking on the sidewalk. If he wants to play Hide and Seek, I wish he had let me keep the cross trainers and the running gear. I’m not going to move very fast in this outfit, not unless I want to give everybody a good look at my cunt. He’s dropped me off in the middle of downtown. It’s 12:55 p.m. and everyone is heading back to their offices after lunch. The sidewalks are crowded with men and women in business clothes; greys, blues and blacks. I couldn’t stand out more if I was naked. I’d probably be less noticed if I was naked. The bright red mini dress might as well be a strobe light. Every guy who walks by gets whiplash when they jerk their head around to follow my undulating ass. Anthony said not to make it easy for him so I’ve got to get off the street. Either that or change clothes. Or ... find a place where I will blend in.

I think that there is another strip club just a couple of blocks away. It’s more high class than Anthony’s ... what place isn’t, but I should get in for free, dressed as I am. My big problem is, getting there in time. I don’t have a watch but there’s likely only about ten minutes left and I’m not even sure exactly where this place is, just heard the other girls talking about it. Either way, I’d better keep moving.

Walking as fast as I can, it still took at least twelve minutes to go five blocks. I finally spotted the place, “Gold Dusters”, a block and a half away. Anthony will never look for me there. I’m within one hundred feet of the entrance when his van pulls up next to me. He’s laughing.

“Nice try, Honey. Get in.” I open the door and climb in. Anthony is making a call as I close the door.

“Hey Doc. Got her. A piece of cake. This thing is pretty cool ... No, I saw where she was going and headed her off ... Yeah, maybe if there was a big crowd but I’d get her sooner or later ... Hang on.” He handed the phone to me. “She wants to talk with you.”

“Hello, Dr. Hanson.”

“Hello Honey. Do you see the device in Anthony’s hand?” Anthony holds it in front of my face. It shows a map grid with a blinking dot near an intersection.

“Yes, I see it.”

“That is one of the receivers for the transmitter implanted in your abdomen. That blinking dot is you. I have been following your movements as Anthony drove you around town and he used it to find you after the fifteen minute head start. Bob assures me that this system works worldwide. This is just a short demonstration that no matter where you go, I will find you. Please put Anthony back on.” I hand the phone back to Anthony.

“Yeah Doc? ... She looks pretty unhappy. I’ll see if I can cheer her up later tonight ... Good bye.” He closes the phone.

“Enough of this driving around, gas ain’t cheap you know.” He starts the van and drives back to the club.

I’m too late for the afternoon sets and too early for the evening sets. Anthony is too busy to fuck me right now and he does love being the first, so no whoring until he’s done. I go to my room and try on my few other dresses to see what may still fit with my new, bigger tits. The halter dresses work fine, they just show more of my boobs. The other two dresses I may be able to let out a little bit. I wander down to the main floor and check out the back stage. Candi’s there, putting one of her costumes away in her locker.

“Hey, Candi, how was the lunch crowd?”

“Honey! Where have you been?” She runs over to me and we hug, pressing our breasts together. “I haven’t seen you in a week.”

“I’ve been at my Doctor’s clinic.” She pushes away from the hug, holding me at arms length.

“You’re OK, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m fine now, just a little minor surgery.” She looks me up and down, stopping at my chest.

“I wouldn’t call them minor. In fact, their pretty major. How big?”

“Not sure.”

“Well let’s find out. Drop that top and I’ll get a tape.” I untie the halter, letting the top of my dress down. Candi has her back turned, searching a drawer for a measuring tape.

“Found it .... God Damn!” She had turned around and saw my boobs in all their glory. “Honey, those are magnificent!”

“Don’t you think that maybe they are a little ... you know, too big?”

“Not at all. I know at least a dozen girls who would kill for a pair of knockers like that. Can I?”

“Sure.” Candi reaches out and touches my tits, gently lifting, then bouncing them. She runs her hands underneath, where they meet my rib cage.

“I don’t feel any scars.” She runs her hands around their sides, then squeezes each one several times. My nipples have hardened. She flicks them with her index fingers. I stifle a moan, biting my lower lip. She steps back, letting them fall from her hands. “Honey, those are one hundred percent real. You have a pair of the most beautiful, glorious, teenage tits I have ever seen. They were incredible before but now they are stupefying. What is going on? There are no signs of surgery. Turn around.” She runs the tape around my chest, taking several measurements.

“You’ve gone from a 36 D to a 38 DD+ in one week without surgery, plus they are firmer and perkier. That isn’t possible. The nipples are bigger too.” She stares at me, waiting for an answer.

“Well, you see, Anthony knows this Doctor, she’s a friend of his ... she’s got this new treatment ... and Anthony thought that I could help her test it out.”

Candi’s shocked. “Are you crazy! Experimental procedures just to improve your already perfectly good tits! Did you ask for this or did Anthony force you into it?”

“I ... ah ...asked for it.” I can’t look her in the eyes.

“Bull shit! It was all his idea. 36 D wasn’t good enough for him. He and I are gonna have a talk right now!”

“No! Please Candi! Please, don’t say anything. I’m fine. Really, I am. I don’t need any trouble right now.” I take her hands in mine. “Just leave it be, OK?” She looks at me, a mixture of concern and anger on her face but then she caves.

“OK. I won’t say anything for now, but if he wants you to do anything else, you come see me first.” She reaches up and hugs my shoulder. “I kinda think of you as the little sister I never had.”

“You mean a little sister with benefits?” She laughs.

“Yes, with benefits. Speaking of people with benefits, does Bob know about this?”

“Not exactly.”

“How is he going to react? Wait, never mind, his girl with bigger boobs, I’m sure that will upset him.”

“Don’t be hasty Candi, you can never tell with Bob.”

How will he react? He probably won’t do anything, particularly since I’m not “his” girl anymore, but you couldn’t pay me enough to predict what he would do in any given situation. I pull the top of my dress back up and tie the halter behind my neck.

“As fun as this has been, I gotta go Candi. See ya tonight.”

“Ahhhh no Honey, you won’t. You see, I’m leaving for a little while.”

“WHAT!”

“Calm down, calm down. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d be upset. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“It couldn’t be as bad as it sounds because it sounds horrible. Why are you leaving? Where are you going?” She’s my only real friend in this hell hole and now she’s leaving me. I try to tough it out but I can feel tears filling my eyes.

“Oh please don’t cry Honey. It’s only for three months. I’m going to work in a club in Houston and some of their girls are coming here. Just rotating the stock to keep the customers interested. Houston isn’t that far away. I’ll come visit you. It’s only three months.”

“But what if you like it there? What if you decide to stay?”

“Honey, it’s Houston. Who lives in Houston unless you have to? Don’t worry, I’ll be back, promise. I’ll call whenever I can.”

Fat lotta good that will do, Anthony will never let me talk to her. I sniff, wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, and force a smile. “OK. Only if you absolutely, hope to die, promise to come back as soon as possible.” We hug.

She whispers in my ear. “Absolutely, hope to die, promise little sis.”

I whisper back. “I’ll have Bob track you down if you don’t ... big sis.” We both laugh but I mean it.

She lets me go and picks up a bag. “I have to finish packing. You know, it’s a shame you can’t come with me. I’ve never told you this, jealous I guess, but you are very good on that stage. Every one here knows that you are this club’s best dancer, by far. I don’t know what Anthony has on you, but if you could get out of this roach trap and work some higher class places, you could be famous.” She’s got me starting to cry again.

“Thanks Candi, I appreciate that, though ‘famous’ isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’d settle for normal, any day.”

“You are one strange person, little sis.”

“Never said I wasn’t, big sis.” We hug again and she kisses me on the check.

“Take care Honey. Call me if Anthony starts pushing for any other ‘alterations’. I mean it.”

“I will. You take care too. See you in three months.” I leave as Candi starts to empty her locker. I hope Anthony is in the right mood tonight because I sure could use a good fuck to cheer me up.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

The crowd noticed my new equipment right away that evening and I made sure to put it on full display. I put some extra effort into my sets because I wanted to get my acts down pat. We will see who’s Queen of this stage when those Houston bitches show up. This is my home field, crappy as it is, and no one comes into my house and disses me!

What Candi said stuck in my mind. I never really thought about how good a dancer I was, never compared myself to the other girls. Anthony always made it clear that he expected me to do a good job or else. Even with that threat of punishment, I had to admit that I kept trying to improve, more for myself than for Anthony. It’s that damn competitive streak in my personality. I was born with it and somehow it survived the transformation. I never wanted to be a stripper, but if I’m going to be one, it will be a good one. Thinking back, I remember that I was actually proud of my performance as a Wrangler Girl at the Super Bowl because I was as good as any of the other girls.

In the old days, I thought that I was only good at football but I realize now that I only tried to be good at football. Once a kid shows some superior skills at a sport, he gets special treatment and training. I got on that football escalator and rode it all the way to the top, never putting any effort into anything else. But now it seems that, if I work at it, I can also be a good cheerleader, a good stripper ... and a good cook. After a bit of a rough start, I got to be a pretty damn good cook when I was with Bob. He said that I could be a professional with some training. Football, dancing, stripping are all similar in that they are physical activities but cooking is more mental than physical. It’s possible that I could be successful at whatever I decided to do, within reason. I’m never going to be as good a doctor as Amy, for example, but there’s a lot of stuff that I’m better at than she is.

I was thinking this while waiting for Anthony to get done with his books and come to my room. I had taken a bath and put on some perfume. It was some cheap stuff one of my regulars had given me but it wasn’t bad. I was wearing a black baby doll nighty, black thigh high stockings, 5 inch black heels and no panties. The shoes are hell to walk in but I wasn’t planning on doing much walking tonight. I heard his heavy footsteps in the hall outside my room, so I struck a seductive pose on my bed, waiting for him to come in. The knob on the door turned as I tossed my hair to get that perfect casual, tousled look. The door opens with a whoosh. Anthony always likes to make an entrance. I smile in anticipation of what is to come.

“Damn Honey! You look like you’re in the mood for a good fucking, don’t you?” This is what passes as foreplay from Anthony. It doesn’t matter tonight, I just want a piece of his meat pole. I slowly slide off the bed, my eyes locked on his.

“Yes, Sir. I can’t wait for you to fuck me like only you can.” My left arm goes around his neck, my right hand to his crotch, stroking the growing bulge in his pants. He seems a little surprised at my aggression.

“The Doc did remove the addiction, didn’t she?”

“She did as far as I know, Sir.” I unbuckle his belt, then unzip his pants, letting them fall to the floor. “I just haven’t had sex in six days and really need a ...”, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of his shorts “... good ...”, I jerk his shorts down to his knees, exposing his raging erection “... fucking ...”, I take his cock in my left hand and kiss the tip, then turn my head up to look him in the face “... Sir”. He gulps twice.

“No shit, Honey. Get up there little puppy bitch and let’s get started.” That’s his code word for doing it doggy style. I jump back on the bed on my hands and knees, wiggling my ass, spreading my legs wide, while Anthony steps out of his pants and underwear. I keep wiggling my ass as he removes his shoes but not his socks. Classy.

He climbs on the bed behind me and starts rubbing my pussy with his right hand.

“Aren’t you a good little puppy bitch.” He expects me to answer but not with words.

“Yip, Yip, RRRRwoof, woof.” This is so humiliating, which is why he does it. He pats my ass.

“Yes you are, yes you are.” Just do me already. I need the sweet relief of a few toe curling orgasms. It’s been a shitty day and I deserve this.

“You’ve been a good little puppy bitch so here’s your bone.” He quickly plunges his cock into my pussy to the hilt. Aaahhhh that’s what I’ve been waiting for. I squeeze my muscles to increase the pressure on his cock. He pulls back and slams in again. That’s nice. He starts pumping me and I match his rhythm, pushing back as I keep squeezing his cock with my cunt.

“Oh baby, this is great! You are so damn tight tonight. I ought to tip the Doc for this one.”

Something is seriously wrong. I’m enjoying the sensations I feel but there is no orgasm building. Normally, I would be on the verge of an orgasm by now, maybe even recovering from my first and working towards my second. But this time, it’s just a pleasant, warm feeling. Anthony is doing his normal adequate job but it’s just not working for me. I try to squeeze my muscles harder.

“Oh YEAH HONEY, keep doing that! Hang on!” He grabs my hips, then rolls onto his back, taking me with him. I’m now straddling him, still impaled on his cock, facing backwards.

“Spin around Honey. I wanna see those tits bounce.” I turn around so that I face him, knees at his side. I slip the straps of my nighty off my shoulders, exposing my boobs and start to ride him, pushing up and down with my legs and pumping back and forth with my hips. My new, bigger boobs are bouncing wildly until Anthony reaches up and clutches them. It all feels OK, but nothing more. Anthony, on the other hand, is getting ready to blow.

“Yeah Honey, that’s the stuff. Keep going baby! Oh yeah, Oh yeah ... Uhhhhhh ... Uhhhhhh. Here it comes Bitch!” He grabs my hips and drives up into me, shooting his semen into my cunt. After the third spurt, he starts pumping again, still spraying his jiz.

I got nothing.

His breathing slows and then he pulls out of me. “Clean me up Honey and do it right.” I slip off him and take his semi-hard cock in my mouth, licking and sucking it clean. “That’s enough Honey.” He pats me on the head again. “I’d stay for Round Two, but I’ve got an early morning.” He gets up and quickly dresses. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, head down. He takes my chin in his hand and tips my head up.

“Why so glum? With those new tit’s you’ll be very busy. Lot’s of fucking, lots of orgasms, lots of money. Everyone happy, right?”

I have to answer him.

“Yes, Sir, everyone happy. I’m just sorry you can’t stay longer tonight.” It’s a lie but a good one, stroking his ego.

“Don’t worry Honey, there will be time for more of this later. Neither of us is going anywhere and you are still one first class fuck.” The self-absorbed bastard isn’t even aware that I never came. He walks out, leaving me sitting on the edge of my bed, frustrated at the lack of sexual release.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

It got worse the next day. Anthony was right, I was popular again. It’s amazing the effect a couple of extra inches of boobs has on men. I had sex with ten guys on Tuesday, eight on Wednesday and so on. By the end of the week, it was over forty guys. I had one orgasm that whole time and had warmed myself up before hand with my vibrator that time. At least I was still capable of having orgasms. The sex was pleasant enough, though sometimes painful with a few customers. I had to fake many orgasms to keep most of them happy. All this sex without the relief of orgasms was unbearable. Before, I could put up with it because I knew I would get my own pleasure but now it was just a job. I had to make all these guys happy, get them to cum, tell them what studs they were, and I got nothing out of it, no money, no orgasms, zip. I’d rather be dancing.

The Houston girls were pretty good performers. The crowd loved them because they were new blood but I was still better on stage than any of them. I really missed Candi, more than I thought I would. She was my only friend and ally. With her gone, there was no one to talk to. I could never tell her my whole story but we did talk about some things. Some talk was better than nothing.

By Saturday, I was in a terrible funk. It was hard to get out of bed in the morning. I didn’t feel like eating, bathing, dancing, or fucking. The only reason to do anything at all was to avoid being beaten by Anthony and “doing nothing” almost won. I still had enough pride to prevent the quality of my dancing from suffering from my shitty mood but the sex sure did. Luckily, no one noticed, they weren’t concerned what I thought, just wanted a young pussy to fuck. Sunday was just as bad, if not worse.

I couldn’t go on like this. If Amy had her way, I’d be doing this for the next forty to fifty years. I was ready to blow my brains out after just one week. I had to do something, talk to someone. It sure wasn’t going to be Anthony or Amy and Anthony wouldn’t give me access to a phone to call Bob. I had no idea how to get hold of Candi. I could try to send a letter to her old address and hope she filed a change of address card with the post office. Getting the letter in the mail would be the trick. I might be able to slip it in the outgoing mail or have one of my “customers” mail it for me, if I was extra nice to them.

I managed to write a brief note during a short break late Sunday evening. With any luck, I could convince my last john that night to mail it for me. Turns out he was a barely legal drunk kid, who passed out after ten minutes of amazingly bad sex. So much for that plan. I picked up his jacket and was just about to get Anthony to toss him out on his ass when his cell phone fell out of a pocket of the coat. I picked it up, flipped it open and checked out the display. He had four bars. Yes! I quickly dialed Bob’s number. It rang four times then went to voice mail. Damn it!

“Bob, this is Honey ... Ahhh ... something has changed with me. I can’t go on this way. I really need to talk with somebody.” I start to cry. “Candi has moved to Houston. I’m all alone now. Please Bob. I need you. I’m going crazy here. Please do something, anything. I’m really, really desperate Bob. Please help me.”

I hang up, scroll through the menu to find the history display, delete Bob’s phone number, turn off the phone, put it back in the kid’s coat pocket and then leave to find Anthony.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

“Honey, time to get up and get going.” I knock on her door again. She’s been moving slower lately. I haven’t given her a good beating in some time. We’ve had some rough sex but for real motivation, you won’t do better that a good, old fashioned beat down. I really hate to do it now, just after her recent tune up but if things don’t improve, I may have no choice. I loudly knock again.

“Honey, get moving or I’ll have to go get my paddle and ... ” Her door opens. Looks like she didn’t sleep at all last night.

“Sorry, Sir. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“You better be. It’s Monday and I have work to do, which does not include babysitting you. Get dressed and then go to my office to recharge your transmitter.” Bob says that a full charge is good for twenty days but I’d rather do it weekly, make it part of a routine. He says that doing it weekly won’t hurt it, just that it’s not necessary. I prefer to be safe.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll come get your key when I’m ready.” I keep my office locked unless I’m in it. I nod at her and head to the bar to take inventory.

It’s time to restock after a weekend. I have a decent supply of assorted items in the stock room but can’t afford to keep too much liquor in stock, that shit is expensive, even if you water it as much as I do. I’m just about finished when my cell phone rings.

“Hello.”

“I would like to speak with Anthony please.”

“Yeah, speaking.”

“This is Bob James.”

“Hey Bob, what do you need?”

“I need to stop by the club to speak with you and test Honey’s equipment.”

“I’m kinda busy right now. Mondays are always busy days for me so there really isn’t a good time.”

“This should not take long.”

“How long?”

“No more than ten minutes with you, about twenty with Honey.”

“Why now?”

“It is standard procedure with a newly implanted tracker.”

“Can’t this wait?”

“Not really. Is Honey not available?”

“Yeah, she’s here, well actually she’s getting ready to recharge.”

“I will be as quick as possible Anthony.”

“Alright. Ring the bell round back when you get here. Bye”

I flip the phone closed. I wonder what that is all about. He did offer to check out Honey’s tracking equipment, do a diagnostic to make sure it’s working as advertised. No harm in that. I go back to finish my inventory. Honey walks into the bar, wearing her black mini halter dress and mid-calf stiletto boots. Very nice. I may need to take a late morning break. She walks over to me, her big tits jiggling. Maybe it will be a mid morning break. I reach into my pocket for the office key.

“Here’s the key Honey. Make sure you charge the full two hours, because I’m checking it.” She stretches her hand out and I drop the key in her palm.

“Yes, Sir.” She looks and acts like she’s drugged, slow to react, emotionless, doesn’t give a damn. That beating may be unavoidable.

“Also, Bob called.” Suddenly, her eyes light up and she started to smile then stifled it. “He wants to talk with me about something and check out your tracking system. I’ll send him to the office when he gets here.”

“Yes, Sir.” She quickly trots off to the office, almost skipping.

The bell at the back door rings ten minutes later. I walk to the back and check the video monitor. Bob’s the only one I can see. I open the door and he walks in, carrying a small bag.

“Hello, Anthony.”

“Hey Bob. What’s in the bag?” He unzips it then hands it to me to check it out. There’s a couple of meters and some wires.

“Just testing equipment. I will also need to see your receiver. Right now, I want to talk with you about Stage Two.”

“What’s ‘Stage Two’?”

“‘Stage Two’ is where we get Dr. Hanson out of the business of helping the Wranglers without making things worse. The sooner we end her treatment of their players, the better.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“I was thinking that the best way to do it would be for the Wrangler’s management to believe that it was their idea to terminate her services.”

“Why would they fire her, she’s the reason they’re still winning and saving millions of dollars in payroll.”

“They would fire her if the treatments failed.”

“But they work really well.”

Bob stares at me for a couple of seconds. “My plan is that the Doctor changes her treatments so that they no longer work. If the treatments no longer work, the Wranglers will have no interest in continuing her services. In addition, there will be less motivation on the part of the press to investigate something that is a failure. A story about a medical treatment that does nothing is not very sexy. The more time passes, the less likely there will be any investigation at all. If everyone believes that the treatments are the same but just no longer effective, they may soon conclude that the treatments never worked in the first place and that the Wrangler’s success was due to great coaching, talented players, and a bit of luck with injuries. If you were an athlete, would you rather take credit or give it to a woman doctor? My bet is on the athletes wanting to take credit and minimize Dr. Hanson’s contributions.”

“Hey, that’s pretty good Bob! Do you think the Doc will go along with it?”

“I think that with her ego, we will have a very difficult time convincing her to intentionally fail and then sit there while people criticize her for that failure without saying anything.”

“You got that right.”

“I just wanted to lay the whole thing out for you, to give you a chance to think about it for a couple of days to see if you can find something I may have missed or if you have a better idea. It is always best to get another pair of eyes to review a problem from a different angle.” He looks at his watch. “I have taken up enough of your time Anthony. I appreciate your willingness to hear me out and am looking forward to your comments and contributions.”

“No problem Bob. No problem at all. I’m sure that, together, we can work this out.”

“No doubt, you are correct Anthony. I will see myself out.”

“Wait, weren’t you going to check out Honey’s equipment?” Bob shakes his head.

“You are absolutely correct Anthony. Where is my head this morning?” He picks up his bag. “Where is Honey?” I take the receiver from my pocket and hand it to him.

“Why don’t you go find her. I have to tell you Bob, that is one of the coolest things I have ever seen.”

“That is a common reaction Anthony. I would love to own stock in that device should it ever go public. I will check back with you once the testing is done.” He looks at the screen, swings left and right a couple of times, then heads for my office. I go back to work.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

This is only the second time I’ve had to recharge. I strap a cloth covered, curved, metal plate to my upper thigh then plug it into the wall socket. It has a very slight hum and vibration, gradually warming up. Not at all uncomfortable, kinda pleasant really. It would be great on sore muscles. I have to sit here for two hours, which is boring, but better than dancing, certainly better than sex has been in the last two weeks.

Thank God, Bob got my message. I wasn’t sure he would come. I’d been sitting for about twenty minutes when I heard foot steps coming my way. It wasn’t Anthony, not heavy enough. Suddenly, Bob was standing in the doorway, smiling at me. He knocks on the doorframe.

“Hello, Honey, may I come in?” I’m so happy to see him, I start to cry and choke up.

“Yeess ... Yes ... come in. Oh please come in.” I can’t stand up, my cord is too short. Bob walks in, picks up a chair, puts it next to mine and sits down. I reach over and hug him, hanging on for dear life, sobbing. He pats my arm. We sit like this for a minute or two before he pulls me back, takes a handkerchief from his back pocket, dries my tears and looks me in the face.

“What is going on Honey, you sounded quite desperate.” I told him about all my troubles since my last treatments, the lack of orgasms, the lethargy, the crushing misery my life has become. All this time, he holds my hands, gently stroking them, never taking his eyes from mine.

“I was afraid that this might happen. I am so very sorry about your troubles Honey. I assumed that once Amy changed your biological system to remove the addiction, you would have more trouble with sex. You see, she needed you not only addicted to Anthony’s semen, she needed you addicted to orgasms as well, it was a package deal. Ever since you completed the transformation, you have had a sexually supercharged body. Orgasms came very easily for you, with minimal stimulation. I discovered this when we started having sex. I am good, but not that good. You have never known anything else as a woman, so you accepted it as normal. With the removal of your addiction, you are now a normal woman in every way.”

“You mean this is how women feel all the time?”

“Not exactly. You have spent the last three years on a kind of orgasmic euphoria and now you are going through withdrawal cold turkey. Your orgasms were not better, just more frequent. You can still feel that way again, it will just take more work on your part, and your partners.”

“Oh great, like Anthony or any of the other jerks who fuck me give a rats ass about how I feel. I can’t keep doing this Bob, I won’t last another week.” He reaches out and touches my cheek with his open hand.

“I know Honey. It seems like there is no hope, like it will never get any better, like it will never end, but it will. Now that you know what is happening, you can fight it. You are a strong woman.”

“No, I’m not. I feel like a weak little girl.” He moves closer and hugs me. I hug him back.

“Don’t be silly. You are one of the strongest people I know. I will not lie to you, this is not going to be easy but you can do it, I am sure you can.” He lets go of me and sits back in his chair. “I will see if I can get you a little temporary relief. Now hold still. I told Anthony that I was here to check out your tracking system, so I better get busy.”

He pulled a meter out of a small black bag and ran it along my leg. It beeped several times. He unplugged my charger and then repeated the test. Finally he took the receiver and pushed several buttons. The screen went blank, it buzzed and the screen came back on. He seemed pleased.

“Everything tests within operational parameters.” He put his equipment away. “I know it sounds trite Honey, but things will get better. Right now, you are at the bottom of a hole, looking up. It is a deep hole but you can climb out. I have every confidence that you will beat this.”

It was hard to believe him, everything seemed so hopeless, but Bob hasn’t been wrong yet. If he thinks I can do it, I’ll keep trying, at least for a little while longer. After all, what choice did I have?

* * ** * ** * ** * *

It was almost 11:00 a.m., time for my pre-lunch beer. Customers were starting to trickle in. Business always drops off this time of the year, guess strip clubs and whores just don’t fit the holiday spirit. Maybe I could put a Christmas tree up on the stage and have the girls dress as elves. Bob walks into the room. I wave him towards me.

“What’s the good word my man?”

“The tracker appears to be working perfectly Anthony. I am a concerned about Honey though. She does not seem to be handling her new situation very well.”

“Yeah, I noticed it too. She lacks her old enthusiasm in bed. Some of her regulars have mentioned it. If this keeps up, her regulars may stop being regulars, if you know what I mean.”

“I believe that I catch your drift Anthony. I do think that she will work her way out of her depression eventually.”

“Depression? You think she’s depressed?”

“Probably a little, maybe not clinically depressed. No need for professional help yet.”

“That’s good. We couldn’t let her anywhere near a shrink any how. Care for a beer?”

“It is a little early for me, but sure, why not?” I hand him a Bud and he takes a big swig. He looks around the room.

“The crowd appears to be a little light today, even for a Tuesday.”

“Well, it’s November twenty-fifth, just two days before Thanksgiving. Business always stinks this time of year, it’s hardly worth being open the whole long weekend.”

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving, Anthony?”

“Well, thanks to you, I can actually take a few days off without Honey being a problem. I’m taking one of the new dancers to Cancun for a four day weekend.” He seems impressed.

“Really? Is this a serious relationship?”

“Nah, I’m not that kind of guy. Just don’t tell her that, she may change her mind.”

“What happens to the club while you are gone?”

“We’ll be closed on the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth, then back open on Saturday.” Bob looks a little worried.

“What happens to Honey those two days?”

“I’ll just lock her in her room with some supplies. She‘s got water and a toilet, so she should be good.” He looks more worried.

“Is that a good idea, given her current state of mind? Being locked alone in her room for two straight days could be a problem.”

“It’s a little late to do anything about it now and she’s too old for a baby sitter. I’m not giving her the run of the place while I’m gone.”

“I am more concerned about her being alone than being locked in her room.” I open another beer and take a drink.

“Well, if you’re so worried about it, you take her.”

“Where?”

“Your house. Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”

“No, I was just going to stay home and watch football. The Wranglers are home, as usual.”

“There ya go, she can come stay with you, problem solved. Hell, she can stay all four days and you can keep an eye on her ... or maybe you’re not that worried about her?”

“Now be fair Anthony, it is a legitimate concern, but you are correct, I am the logical choice and I did not have any other plans. When will you drop her off?”

“I’ll be too busy packing. Can you pick her up, like late Wednesday evening?”

“That should work out. I will go tell her about your plans. See you tomorrow evening.”

* * ** * ** * ** * *

It had been a long day at the clinic but I am finally home. The latest shipment from Russia had been delayed and it needed to be processed as soon as possible or it would have gone to waste. I checked the clock on the dash display as I pulled into the driveway, stopping at the automated gate. 12:03 a.m. I pushed the remote control and the gate swung open. There is a quiet satisfaction deep in my soul every time I drive through the gate and see the grand house waiting for me. It was Josh Thomas’s old home, purchased when the bank foreclosed after Josh “disappeared”. Naturally, it was extensively redecorated, eradicating any trace of the bastard. I could have sold his memorabilia for a tidy profit due to his notoriety after those appalling drug allegations. Instead, I destroyed practically everything, relishing every minute, personally taking a sledgehammer to his league and Super Bowl MVP trophies. What was not smashed to bits was hauled to a junkyard and crushed into a cube, which now sits in the back yard. There were a very few items that I kept, a scrapbook of his clippings from newspapers, the Super Bowl rings and his Eastern High jersey. Those are in a locked display case in the bedroom. I occasionally page through the scrapbook when feeling sad, it always cheers me up right away. Tonight, I’m just very tired and looking forward to a good night’s sleep. I parked the car in the garage and enter the house through the connecting door.

That’s odd. There are lights on in the kitchen. I distinctly remember turning them off when I left this morning. I slowly open the drawer of the table next to the door and removed a 9mm handgun, another one of Josh’s possessions I kept. After all, this is Texas. A house isn’t a home without a gun. Moving quietly, I creep towards the kitchen door and peek around the corner, not sure what I would see, if anything.

It is Bob James. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, drinking something. I pull back around the doorway, safely hidden.

I could kill him right now and be completely within my rights. The police wouldn’t even think of charging me. I’ve a license for the gun and he was a trespasser. I pull the hammer back. There was a nearly silent click as it settled in place. Taking a moment to calm my breathing, I adjust my stance, preparing to quickly enter the doorway, aim and fire.

“Good evening, Dr. Hanson. Would you care to join me in drinking some hot chocolate?”

Damn him to hell! How did he know I was here? Without the element of surprise, I could not take the chance. He might have his own gun and is probably a much better shot.

“James, what the hell are you doing in my house? How did you get in here? Do you know that I could have accidentally killed you?” I walk into the kitchen, gun in my hand but not pointed directly at him. He takes a long sip from the mug in his hand.

“You could have tried to ‘accidentally’ kill me. I doubt that you would have succeeded. And, if by some remote chance you had, the resulting involvement of my old associates would have been very ... traumatic for you.”

Great God! I had got caught up in the moment and forgotten about his associates! Still, I need to stay on the offensive.

“You have not answered my questions. How did you get in here and what do you want?” He took another sip.

“This is really quite good. It’s Honey’s own recipe. How she thought to put cardamom in hot chocolate I have no idea, but it works astoundingly well.”

“ANSWER ME!”

He puts his cup down and leans back in the chair. “You should not have left ‘sex change’ as your pass word.” Crap! “It would not have mattered any way. Commercial security systems are ridiculously easy to penetrate. As for your second question, I am here because you will not return my calls.”

The gall of this man!

“I am not at your beck and call! I have been very busy at the clinic. I would have eventually gotten around to returning your calls.”

“Yes, I can imagine that you were quite busy, what with that delayed shipment from Russia and all.”

Oh. Hell. No. What does he know about my Russian suppliers? Time to deescalate this confrontation. I put the gun in my pocket and sit down opposite him.

“What is so important that you had to break into my home to tell me?”

“A couple of things. The first is that we need to start planning a way to eliminate your involvement with the Wranglers. I have a few ideas on this subject and have shared them with Anthony.”

“This is the emergency that forced you to break into my home?”

“I never said it was an emergency. I said that you would not return my calls.” He leans forward in the chair, placing his hands on the table. “You are free to disagree with me Doctor, you are not free to ignore me.” He did not raise his voice but that last statement just struck the ear harder some how, the pitch of his voice, causing a brief, involuntary shudder.

“Fine, I won’t ignore you. It is much too late to discuss this tonight but if you call tomorrow, I will schedule an appointment to meet with you. I promise.”

“That is acceptable. The second issue is that Honey does not seem to be handling the changes to her system very well.” That is music to my ears. What did he expect to happen?

“If I remember correctly, it was your idea to make the changes. Having second thoughts Mr. James?”

“Not at all Dr. Hanson. Her difficulties were easy to predict, as we both know. All options had pluses and minuses. This option had the best ratio. I bring up the issue to see if you have an interest in minimizing her discomfort.” I can barely keep from laughing.

“No Mr. James, I intend to take full advantage of her discomfort. In fact, I plan to increase it several fold as soon as I get back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Stockholm.”

“A conference of some kind?”

“No, the Nobel Prize ceremonies. All current and past winners are invited to participate in several days of dinners, presentations, lectures, programs, panel discussions and the final award ceremony. It is one of my favorite times of year and the primary reason I have been so busy lately, wrapping up lose ends before I leave. Nothing will delay my departure next week. Is that clear?”

“Certainly Doctor. If you had told me this earlier, we would not be sitting here right now. I hope you have an enjoyable trip.” He stands, picks up his mug, walks to the sink and washes it out, inverting it in the sink.

“I have left some of Honey’s hot chocolate in the pot on the stove. It is still warm. I recommend it as a sleep aid. I will see myself out.” He walks to the front door, punches a code into the keypad, smiles at me, opens the door and leaves. He is unbelievably infuriating, but also very good at what he does. I remove the gun from my pocket to unload and store it. I eject the clip.

It’s empty. I swear that it was a full clip when I checked it last month. Yes, Bob James is very, very, good at what he does.

I will clean this up in the morning. Taking a teaspoon, I taste the hot chocolate Bob left behind. Mmmmmmmmm, delicious. I pour the rest in a mug, no reason to let it go to waste.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

I could not wait for my shift to end Wednesday. When Bob told me that we would have four days together over Thanksgiving, I hugged him so hard, I thought I might have broken his ribs. Now I was standing just inside the front door, anxiously waiting for him to arrive. He drives such an average car, I get fooled several times before he actually pulls up in front of the club. I run out as he exits the car. He spreads his arms as I throw myself at him, catching me with no effort and we spin around several times. I feel giddy. I can’t stop smiling and giggling. He puts me down and opens the passenger door for me. I hop in. Once he is in his seat, I scoot as close to him as I can, grabbing his right arm and placing it around my shoulders.

“Honey, I am going to need that arm to drive.” I slid under the arm as he lifts it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m sooo happy to see you.”

“Well, I am very happy to see you also. Let’s go home.” He starts the car and we pull out into the traffic. I settle back in my seat, wriggling until comfortable. I close my eyes and sigh.

“What are we having for Thanksgiving dinner Bob?”

“I was thinking of ordering pizza, how does that sound?”

“Pizza. You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” He laughs loudly.

“Yes, I am. There is a turkey breast thawing in the refrigerator right now. I did not think we could eat an entire turkey ourselves.”

“Well, that’s right but there are lots of things to do with the extra leftover turkey, pot pies, sandwiches, soup, turkey salad.”

“I will keep that in mind for next year but I am afraid we are stuck with the breast this year. I do not want to spend all day cooking though. We need to spend some time visiting.”

“Don’t worry, we will do the cooking together and visit at the same time.”

“Now Honey, you are my guest. I won’t have you slaving away in the kitchen.”

“Oh please Bob. Unless you’ve gotten a hell of a lot better, I’d much rather eat my cooking than yours’ any day.”

“If you insist, Honey. I would not be much of a host if I ignored your wishes, however, clean up is my job alone.”

“Deal.”

It’s hard to believe that it has only been a few weeks since we were last together. It feels like months. We get to his house at 12:30 a.m. I check the fridge, the turkey is thawing nicely. He also has yams, cranberries, potatoes, fresh corn, and a pumpkin pie.

“Where did the pie come from? You didn’t make it did you?”

“No Honey, I bought it at a bakery. We will have enough to do tomorrow without needing to make a pie.” He’s right, as usual.

“That’s fine, but we are making everything else from scratch. I want a traditional, home made Thanksgiving dinner. Do you have flour and yeast?”

“Certainly.”

“I’ll get up early to start the bread and the dressing.”

“How early?”

“Oh, 6:30, 7:00.”

“Then we better get to bed. Your room is ready.”

“Aaahhh....could I sleep with you tonight?” He turns to face me, a smile on his lips but sadness in his eyes.

“Just sleep?”

“Yeah, as you know, the sex hasn’t been so good of late.”

“If you want, you can bunk with me. Maybe we can work on that problem this weekend, when we aren’t watching football.” I’m game if he is.

“Absolutely, football comes first.”

I go to my room, undress and pull a big t-shirt from my dresser. When I get to his room, he’s already in bed. He lifts the blankets and I slide in next to him. He rolls towards me and I snuggle back against him. Reaching his arms around me, he pulls me close. I turn my head towards his. We kiss, holding it for several seconds. This is so nice. Bob breaks it off.

“Welcome back Honey. I have missed you.”

“Me too Bob, me too”. I rest my head on his arm and fall asleep.

* * ** * ** * ** * *

I wake to the sound of the clock radio alarm. Punching the pause button, I prop myself up on one arm. It’s 7:00 a.m. Bob’s not in bed and I don’t hear any one in the bathroom. I do smell coffee. I get out of bed and scuffle to the kitchen. Bob has the coffee ready and is scrambling eggs. I come up behind him, hugging him around the waist. He turns a little towards me and kisses my forehead.

“Good morning Honey.” I rise up on my toes, kissing him on the lips.

“Morning Bob. You didn’t have to get up. I can take care of this. Go back to bed.”

“How could I sleep in knowing you are out here, slaving away? The sooner we get started, the sooner we are done. You may not let me cook, but I can do the grunt work like peeling potatoes. Consider me your scullery maid.” I hug him again.

“My maid, huh? If I had known that, I would have brought you an outfit to wear. It’s really cute. You would look darling in it.” Bob puts his spatula down and turns to face me, putting his hands on my hips.

“You are leering at me, aren’t you?” I smack his ass. It’s as hard as iron.

“Just using my imagination. Can’t blame a girl for that.”

“As long as you remember that it will only happen in your imagination, we will be fine.”

I reach up and gently tweak his nose. “We’ll see about that. Until then, you can start with the potatoes after breakfast. I’ll make toast.”

We have a light breakfast, have to leave room for a big holiday dinner. Bob starts in with the potatoes while I take a quick shower. I really missed these showers. Bob kept my clothes but none of the tops or bras fit now. Looks like I’m going with one of his t-shirts.

When I get back to the kitchen, Bob’s done with both the potatoes and yams, so I get down to business. By 9:15 a.m., I’ve done all I can for now. The turkey and rolls won’t go into the oven for a little while so we take a break to watch the Thanksgiving Day parade on television. When I was a kid, Captain Kangaroo was the host on CBS. They have gone down hill since he quit, too commercial, but I still like to watch anyway, it’s a tradition. I hadn’t been able to watch for three years so I’m happy to get back to it. Bob is less enthusiastic.

“Why are we watching the Radio City Rockettes dancing in the rain outside of Macy’s in New York?”

“Because it’s a holiday tradition.” He’s sitting on the couch and I’m sitting on his lap, my arms around his neck and his arms around my waist. “Now pay attention. The Muppets are next.”

“Starvation in Africa is also a tradition, but that’s no reason to put it on television.”

“You’re just a big curmudgeon, aren’t you Bob?”

“More than you can possibly know Honey. Now what is that?”

“The Precision Briefcase Drill Team.”

“You are kidding.”

“Nope.”

We go on like this for an hour until it’s time to put the turkey in the oven and shape the rolls. When I get back, the football pre-game show is on. Both Detroit and Dallas are at home. They have been the home teams since I was a boy. Detroit sucks this year, like they have every year since I was a boy. They are playing Tennessee today. If that game isn’t over by the end of the first quarter, it will be a miracle. We settle in to watch.

No miracle today. The game is out of hand with ten minutes left in the second quarter. Even I can’t watch it. There is no way I’m going to watch the Dallas game, way too many bad memories. I slide my hand up Bob’s leg and start stroking his inner thigh.

“You were saying something about helping me with my ... Aahhh ... problems in bed.”

“You don’t want to finish the game?”

“No, it’s a terrible game. I can hardly keep my eyes open.” I work my hand further up his thigh. “Maybe you can think of something to help me stay awake.”

“How much time until the turkey is done?”

“Two hours or so. We have plenty of time.”

“Actually that is only enough time to get a good start on what I have in mind.” Two hours. A start?

“What exactly do you have in mind?” I purr. He reaches down and takes my hand away from his leg.

“Honey, I am no sex therapist. That is the kind of professional you need to see, however I may be able to give you a start towards recovery. I think what you need is to relearn how your body reacts to sexual stimulation. To use a food analogy, you were once a microwave and now you are a crock pot. You have changed from fast, quick orgasms to slower building, likely longer orgasms. Both types can be enjoyable but the slower building orgasm can be more complex, more flavorful, if you will, to extend the crock pot analogy.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“When Amy created you, she gave you the ability to achieve orgasms quickly, without much stimulation, and to have multiple orgasms. These orgasms were centered on your breasts and genitals.”

“Well duh, where else would they be centered?” He chuckles at that.

“True, but a woman’s body is much more sensitive than a man’s. You have approximately twice the erogenous zones. You need to learn about your own body, to revel in the sensations it produces, to discover ways to maximize those sensations, to hold on to those feelings and let them bring you the orgasm you think you need.”

“Oh I need those orgasms. They are the only things that made my life barely livable.”

“I am sure they are, but with training you may find that you do not need them as badly as you think. In addition, the orgasms you do have can be better than before.” He takes my hands in his. “Honey, you know that you are an extraordinarily beautiful woman.” I can’t help it, I blush. “You may represent the pinnacle of female splendor. However, you have little experience in this body.”

“Wait just a minute. I’ve had more ‘experience’ in my body than you’ve had in yours, several times over.”

“You are partially correct, you have a great deal of a few kinds of sexual experiences but not the wide variety that is out there.”

“Are you sure about that, because I think that I’ve been fucked just about every way possible.”

“You are probably right, but there is much more to sex than fucking in a small, dingy room with a partner whose only objective is to get his rocks off as soon as possible.”

“What about what we did in your bedroom, is there more to sex than that?”

“Absolutely, we tasted only a few of the available dishes. You just need expand your palate a bit. To use another analogy, most people drive Fords, Hondas, or Toyotas competently and they are happy because they do not know better. You, Honey, are the possessor of a Lamborghini and have never taken a Drivers Ed course in your life.” He lets go of my hands and touches my check with his right hand. “I am willing to give you a few tips to help you get by. We cannot do much more in four days. It is your choice.” He’s offering me the chance to get my orgasms back and maybe more. I’d be an idiot to say no.

“I agree on one condition.” He smirks at that.

“I offer to help you and you want conditions? That hardly seems reasonable.”

“You haven’t heard my condition yet.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“That you let me get you a Christmas present.”

“Honey, how can you get me a present? You have no money and no safe way to get any, short of stealing from Anthony or a customer, which I insist you not attempt.”

“Tut tut, those are my terms, take it or leave it.” The smirk expands into the smile that I so enjoy seeing.

“I accept your counter-offer madam. If you will accompany me to your room, we can begin.” He stands up and offers me his hand. I take it and he pulls me off the couch. We walk hand in hand to my room.

“What do I do first?”

“Get undressed and lay on the bed, face up.” I kick off my shoes, shimmy out of my jeans and panties, then pull the t-shirt off over my head.”

”Well, those are new.” Bob’s looking at my new, enlarged tits. I self-consciously cross my arms in front of them but manage to hide very little. ”I am sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed. “Do you ... like them Bob?”

“It does not matter what I think.”

“Oh God! You hate them, don’t you?” I squeeze my arms harder, trying to make my boobs smaller. Bob reaches out, takes my arms and gently uncrosses them.

“Honey, the reason that I said it did not matter what I thought about your breasts is that part of the process we are about to begin is you taking charge of your own sexuality, not letting others dictate to you how or what you should feel. You need to decide for yourself what you think of your body. If you cannot accept it as it is, then we have little chance of success. So ... what do you think about your breasts?” I had never really thought about them, they were just there. I didn’t have a choice. If I had been born a girl, they would also be just there, no choice. I guess there is a lot in life that happens to you where you have no choice.

“I ... don’t know what I think.” Bob pats my arm.

“That is OK Honey. The first step towards wisdom is admitting you don’t know. We can come back to that one later. Get up on the bed.” I lay back, arms at my side, legs slightly spread.

“The first thing we will do is map your body, looking for erogenous zones. There are two types, primary and secondary. Primary zones are where there is a larger concentration of nerve endings which react to stimulation by swelling slightly and becoming more sensitive. Naturally, this includes your genitalia and breasts, particularly the nipples, but there are other equally sensitive areas, like your mouth, lips, tongue, ear lobes and anus ...” I sit upright quickly.

“Now wait one minute, you never said anything about anal ...”

“Calm down Honey, I will do nothing without your consent. Besides, there is not going to be any sex this session anyway.” I lay back down, disappointed.

“As I was saying, there are numerous primary erogenous zones. There are also secondary erogenous zones, which vary from person to person. A secondary zone is one which an individual finds erotic due to an emotional or mental association, usually because of a memory, past experience or, perhaps, fantasy. All women share the same basic primary zones but secondary zones are unique to each individual and can vary with hormone levels. What I am going to do is slowly and gently touch every square inch of your body with mostly my fingers but possibly my mouth or tongue. You will tell me on a scale of one to ten how each area feels. You need to try and clear your mind of all other thoughts, just live in the moment, let the sensations fill you. I will need to change positions several times, try to ignore my movements. I will also move around at random, so do not try to anticipate which part of your body is next. If you feel at all uncomfortable, let me know immediately and I will stop and move on. I will give all areas equal treatment, your arousal is not the objective, though that sometimes happens. You should probably close your eyes, it helps your concentration and limits your ability to anticipate each new area. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Are you ready for me to begin?” I shift a little on the bed, getting comfortable. I close my eyes.

“Yes, go ahead.”

He gently cradles my left foot in his hand, then traces along the tendon down to my ankle.

“1 ... 1 ... 1 ... 2 ... 2 ... 1 ... 3 ... 3” He touches the sole of my foot, dragging his fingers lightly from the heel to the ball. “3 ... 4 ... 4 ... 5…” Ooohh, I think he is using his mouth to suck on my toes.”5 ... 5 … 6 … aahh ... 7 ... 7” He puts the foot down and I feel the bed move as he changes his position. His fingers tickle the hairs on my right shoulder, causing me to slightly shudder. “5 ... 6 ... 6 ... 5 ... 6” Ooooo, he’s nibbling on my right earlobe “7 ... 7 ... 8 ... 7”.

This goes on for what seems like hours. When he touches my clit, I actually jump. Strangely, the left side is more sensitive than the right, who would have thought it. The longer it goes on, the harder it is to concentrate on each individual sensation, they’re all blending together. Areas that he touched and moved on from are still tingling. When he gets to my asshole, I actually raise my hips slightly, anticipating the penetration. The one to ten scale got dropped after he tongued my right nipple and I moaned “15”.

He’s gently kissing the nape of my neck. “12 ... 12 ... 13 ... 8 ... 4 ... 4 ... 1”

“We are done Honey.” My entire body is buzzing. I push my self up off the bed and look at the clock. It’s only been fifty minutes.

“How do you feel?” I fall back on the bed.

“That was fucking amazing! It still is! I feel like my entire body is vibrating.”

“Speaking of vibrating, let me get something before you get dressed.” He leaves the room as I remain stretched out on the bed, eyes closed, the buzz slowly fading, replaced by a kind of refreshed feeling. I hear Bob come back in the room.

“Raise your hips a little and spread your legs Honey. I slowly push up, my ass rising off the bed. I feel Bob’s hand on my pussy, spreading my labia with his fingers and inserting something warm and hard in my vagina. It pops in.

“Bob, what are you ... oooohhh” He puts another one in.

“Those are Ben Wah balls Honey. They should provide stimulation as long as they are inserted in your vagina.” I roll over and sit up. I can feel them move whenever I do.

“Are they battery operated?”

“No, they are hollow with additional balls inside, that is where the vibrations come from. They respond to your movement. If you clench your pelvic muscles, you can generate motion.”

I give it a try. “Cool”

He smiles. “Yes, cool. Go on and get dressed. We can finish making dinner.”

I slip on my panties. “Why the balls?”

“They are to provide steady sexual stimulation during everyday activities, something you can focus on and, hopefully, enjoy. That stimulation can lead to an orgasm on its’ own, but more often leaves you aroused and ready for intercourse, with orgasms more likely to occur without extra effort on you or your partners part.

“You know that I’m not going to get any help from my ‘partners’, including Anthony.” I pull my pants up. Ah yes, there’s the balls again.

“Anthony may be otherwise occupied, at least for awhile.”

“Why’s that?” I drop the t-shirt over my head.

“He indicated that he was in some kind of relationship with a dancer from Houston. If true, he will have a difficult time maintaining a sexual relationship with you without causing problems with the new girlfriend, unless she is particularly open minded.”

“Strippers tend to be open minded Bob.” I bend over and put on my shoes, giving the balls a squeeze. This could be very nice. “I bet it’s that redhead. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Big boobs but clearly fake, if you like that sort of thing.”

“I will make a point of checking her out next time I am there.” He winks at me. I punch him in the arm. “Oowww. Careful there Honey, that is my turkey cutting arm.” Like I could hurt him with a sledge hammer.

I stick my tongue out at him. ”Let’s go turkey man. We aren’t done yet.”

The thermometer hadn’t popped on the turkey but should any minute. Bob has both a regular and a convection oven so I turn on the convection for the rolls. While it heats up, I put the potatoes on to boil. Now the turkey has popped, so I remove it and set it on the counter. It needs to cool for awhile before Bob can slice it. So far, everything is on schedule.

These Ben Wah balls are weird. I feel them practically every time I move. Most of the time it’s just a feeling of motion but other times they hit a spot and it’s WHOA MAMMA! The longer they are in my pussy, the more I think that I can sorta control them by flexing my muscles, though they tire after awhile. They could be great when I’m dancing at the club, might even volunteer for an extra shift.

Bob’s setting the table. He’s got a holiday centerpiece on the table and Christmas music playing in the background. This is shaping up nicely.

As I hustle around the kitchen, I’m more and more aware of the balls, consciously focusing on how they are moving in me. They create a very pleasant feeling. I catch myself smiling. Man, this kitchen is warm today. Bob’s somewhere else in the house so I lean out of the kitchen to call him.

“Bob, the turkey is ready for you to slice.” He calls back.

“Be there in a moment. I am changing the music.” I go back to beating the potatoes. Bob walks back into the kitchen.

“Honey, do you have a platter for the turkey?”

“It’s right here on the counter.”

He reaches around me and picks up the platter. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“What?”

He reaches up and moves a stray strand of hair behind my right ear. “You have a big grin on your face, which is flushed and ...” he touches my temple for a moment “... your pulse seems to be up a bit.”

“It’s just warm in here, that’s all.”

He chuckles. “It is not that warm, Honey.”

I hand him the electric knife. “Just slice the turkey, I’m almost ready.”

“I can see that you are.” He picks up the turkey, carries it to the work island and starts to cut it in thin slices. He has a smooth, steady technique. It’s almost hypnotic. The buzzer goes off on the stove. I shake my head quickly, snapping back to reality. I had been standing there, watching Bob’s rhythmic slicing of the turkey while squeezing the balls with my pussy, matching his rhythm. The timer was for the dressing. That’s it, everything is ready now.

I put all the food in serving dishes, place them on the table. Bob sets the platter next to the centerpiece, then takes a bottle of wine from the fridge, opens it and fills the glasses on the table while I pour the water. A quick muscle spasm passes through my pussy and I stumble slightly.

“Are you OK Honey?”

“I’m fine. Let’s sit down and eat.” He pulls my chair out for me, scooting it forward as I sit down. There’s another spasm, oh yesss. Bob sits down opposite me.

“It all looks and smells wonderful Honey. Please pass the potatoes.” We trade the assorted dishes back and forth until both of our plates are full. Bob digs in.

“Delicious Honey. Absolutely delicious. You could not get a better meal anywhere.”

“Thanks. The secret is perfectly peeled potatoes.” I take a sip of wine. “This is quite good, what is it?”

“A 2005 California Zinfandel. I like wine but try to drink it only on special occasions.”

“Why is that?”

“There is a bit of a streak of alcoholism that runs through my family. No reason to take any chances.”

“Is that your real family or the family of ‘Bob James’?”

“My real family.”

I’m shocked! That is the first time Bob has ever clearly said anything about his family or his past. I’m afraid to react, but he brought it up.

“Alcoholism can be a bitch. Was it your mom or dad?”

“Mother. Also grandfather and assorted uncles and aunts. That may be far enough removed for me to be safe but I do not plan on putting it to the test, besides I am not a ‘happy’ drunk.” Shit! Does he get abusive when he drinks? I can’t ask him about that. “By the way, what do you think of the Ben Wah balls?”

“Huh? That’s a big change of subjects isn’t it?”

“It is but I couldn’t help noticing that you seem to be sweating a bit, breathing harder and are quite flushed. I hope it is not food poisoning.” He was right. Even while we were talking about his family, I was still pulsing my pussy on the balls, I realized that I was getting closer to coming. I needed to either stop or go and masturbate.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” I start to stand but he reaches out, taking my arm.

“No Honey, finish here and don’t touch yourself.”

“Bob, I can’t do this in the middle of dinner.”

“Sure you can, you have been building up to it for over an hour. Just relax and ride the wave.” He doesn’t let go so I sit back down, not wanting to stop the feeling building in my pussy. I close my eyes and concentrate on working my muscles to keep the balls bouncing. I bite my lip to keep from moaning.

“No Honey, do not fight it, let it flow.”

“Ohhhh K Bob.” I keep pushing it, squirming and undulating in my seat. I want to grab my nipples but Bob still has a grip on one arm. I am getting closer.

“Oh shit, oh shit. AHHHH SHIT. Uuuuuuhhhhhhhh yyyeessss.” Suddenly it hits me hard and I throw my head back. “Oh God Bob uuummmm God DAMN.” I lock my arms against the edge of the table and push back. The chair almost topples backwards but Bob still has a grip on my arm and he pulls me forward. Waves of pleasure radiate out from my pussy for several minutes and then fade away. I slowly open my eyes. Bob is grinning at me.

“Honey, you are going to be fine. If you can do that while fixing dinner, the rest of the weekend will be a piece of cake.” He picks up his glass and salutes me. “Cheers” I pick up my glass and we clink rims.

“Cheers Bob.” I drain my glass. “Was that story about your family true or was it just an attempt to divert my attention.”

“No, that story was completely true.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “I do not know why I told you. It just seemed like the right thing to say at the time.” I think he may trust me more than he knows.

“Thanks for telling me. I appreciate it.”

* * ** * ** * ** * *

When we get up the next morning, Bob offers to take me shopping for some better fitting bras and tops.

“You know that this is Black Friday don’t you? It’s one of the busiest shopping days of the year. Are you sure you want to go out and shop in that crowd?”

“We can wait for the initial wave to pass and go out around noon, the crowds should be down by then but the bargains remain. After breakfast, I have another exercise for you. I am going to give you a full body massage. Your objective is to isolate and amplify the sensations as I proceed.”

“The last time you gave me a massage, you knocked me out. No thank you.”

“Now Honey, that was a completely different situation. I guarantee that you will remain conscious the whole time.”

“Alright, after breakfast. What do you want?”

“How about French Toast?”

“Done and done.”

I fixed breakfast while Bob went back to my bedroom to get it ready for the massage. I added sausage to the menu and was ready in twenty minutes. Bob stuck his head in the kitchen.

“That smells wonderful Honey.”

“It’s ready so grab a plate and dig in.”

I was a little full from yesterday’s big dinner but Bob still had his appetite. He ate everything on his plate and had seconds. My plate was almost empty but I couldn’t eat any more.

“I will do the clean up, you go take a hot shower Honey in my bedroom, as hot as you can stand. I will meet you in your bedroom.”

After the shower, my skin was tingling. I wrapped myself in a towel and walked into my bedroom. The lights were dim but Bob had lit several candles. Soft music was playing, classic I think. There also was some kind of incense, it smelled like vanilla. Bob had spread several towels on the bed.

“OK Honey lose your towel and lay down, face first.” I dropped my towel and crawled on to the bed, trying not to disturb the other towels. “The purpose of this exercise is for you to recognize and enjoy the sensations created by your body when touched. Like the Ben Wah balls, it is not designed to produce orgasms, though an advanced student such as yourself may prove otherwise. The idea is for you to enjoy these sensations even though there is no orgasm. Assuming that Amy has reduced the sensitivity of your system so that you are now a normal woman, you are more likely to have an opportunity to be touched and caressed than stimulated enough to achieve an orgasm. If you can learn to enjoy these less than orgasmic encounters, life should be more tolerable. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“I am going to use a warming massage oil. This is supposed to be more sensual than sexual, though I realize that is a fine line. This should be slow and languid, no quick motions or muscle stretches.” Bob climbed on the bed, straddling my waist, facing towards my head. He reached up and touched my shoulders where they met my neck, gently rubbing with the tips of his fingers, then his fingers, then the palms of his hands, moving in small circles along my shoulders outwards towards my arms and then my upper back.

I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes, breathing slowly and deeply, concentrating on whatever area Bob was working on at that time. By now he was pressing on the small of my back. It was both relaxing and invigorating at the same time, like being both calm and alert. It was similar to being in “the Zone”, what players’ call it when the game seems to slow down and you can’t do anything wrong. Every pass is on target, every pitch a strike, every shot goes in the basket and every swing is a hit. Usually, “the Zone” doesn’t last too long, but the feelings from this massage just keep getting stronger. He’s making long strokes along my outer thighs, moving around to the inner thigh. As he moved up towards my crotch, it was hard to keep from squirming. Bob gently pushed my legs apart and then ran his hands across my ass and down towards my pussy, brushing the labia with his thumbs, causing me to shudder and quietly moan. He repeated that stroke several times and then moved down my legs towards my feet. He stroked both feet from ankle, to sole, to toes. After giving attention to each toe, he stopped and moved up to the head of the bed.

I could feel him close to my ear. “I am going to turn you over now. Just relax and roll as I lift.” I could feel him at my waist, carefully lifting me with his arms under me. As he lifted, I rolled away from him, landing on my back. “That was very good Honey.” He went back to my feet and started back up my body. The oil that he was using left my skin warm and sensitive, a slight tingle persisting after he moved on to another area. By the time he reached my tits, the whole body felt as if it was glowing, radiating a mild heat. He had shifted around so that my head was in his lap and he was reaching down my body, cupping my tits, massaging the sides, circling in towards my nipples, then rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers.

“This is heavenly.” I sigh.

“I am happy you are enjoying it Honey. I am almost done.”

“Don’t quit on my account.” I know that we have things to do but I could spend all day right here. He’s stroking my neck, holding my head in his hands, then rubs my temples with his thumbs. He finishes by running the heels of his hands across my forehead and then kissing it.

I open my eyes and grin. “What’s with the kiss? I thought there wasn’t supposed to be any sex.”

Bob smiles back. “Sorry Honey. I must have gotten carried away.”

I sit up and scoot back, sitting next to him and putting my arms around his neck. “That’s OK, just don’t let it happen again.” I kiss his cheek. “I’ve had massages before, but nothing like that. I’m still warm all over. Did I feel hot to you?”

He laughs. “That is a loaded question. You are always hot to me Honey.”

“Ha. Ha. Says the fully dressed guy to the naked chick sitting next to him. I mean it, I feel like I’m some kind of heater.”

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“No, no, it’s great. I feel so alive. I want to go out and see the world.”

“I am sure that most of the world would really appreciate it if you did that right now.”

“Funny man. Quit goofing around. Is this how I’m supposed to feel?”

“Are you enjoying it?”

“Hell yes.”

“Then it is fine. Reactions vary from person to person but generally the results are the same as yours. I must admit, I have not done this very often and not for some time.”

I kiss his cheek again. “Couldn’t prove it by me. Do we really need to go shopping right now?”

“I thought that you women enjoy shopping.”

“It may come as a surprise to you but I am not like other women.”

He cracks up. “I will admit Honey that I had my suspicions. We can go buy you some new clothes that fit and then come back home to move on to phase three.”

“There is a phase three?”

“Yes.”

“Better than phases one and two?”

“Many women think so.” I hop off the bed.

“You start the car, I’ll get dressed.”

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

It only took me ten minutes to get dressed and ready to go, didn’t have a lot to chose from. Our first stop at the Mall was “Wet Seal”, a trendy store for teens. I may not feel like a teenage girl but I sure look like one. They didn’t have any really special promotions so it wasn’t too crowded. Bob looked completely out of place. No self respecting seventeen year old girl would bring a much older guy with her to this kind of store unless there was something funny going on. Even though I’m technically forty three and Bob probably isn’t yet fifty, neither of us appear to be anywhere near those ages, but Bob looks at least ten, if not fifteen years older than me, hard to tell with him. He could be my father. There are a few girls with their mother’s in tow, however not a father anywhere to be seen. You can find the occasional boyfriend and girlfriend together but it’s mostly packs of young girls, grabbing things and giggling their way to the changing rooms.

Bob’s catching quite a few stares, the disapproving kind, and he doesn’t appear to be comfortable. “Why don’t I stay out here and you go see what you can find?”

I take my arm and wrap it around his. “Not a chance. I’m not going in there alone. Just because I look like one of them doesn’t mean I am one of them. You’re my bodyguard today. Come on.”

I pull him into the store. There’s some kind of techno music blaring. Anthony has used something like it at the club but it’s not a crowd favorite, easy to dance to though. I spot a rack of tops to my left so I head that way, Bob trailing behind. A group of about six girls are already tearing it apart, pulling one off the rack, holding it up against their body while the others give comments. I find a blue satin Camisole style top that might fit. I turn to Bob.

“What do you think?” I shout over the music.

He shrugs. “You know that I would like anything you wear. This is not one of my areas of expertise.”

I frown at him. “You’re a big help.” I put it back, pick up a red shawl collared wrap style sweater with three quarter length sleeves and hold it against me. “What about this one?”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Honestly, anything you like is fine with me.”

“Come on, I need some input here.” I turn to put it back and bump into a blonde girl standing to my left.

“Parents.” She rolls her eyes. “Here, let me look.” She holds it in front of me. “That will really work with your body. Let’s try it on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me towards the changing rooms. I look back at Bob. He’s smiling and waiving at me. I turn my head back towards the girl just as we enter the changing room. It’s one big room, lined with several booths.

“Ahhhh thanks but I can take care of this myself ... uuhh.”

“Brittany, everyone calls me Brit. Phhuuleez, like you’re going to get a useful opinion from your dad. Just try it on. Trust me, I’m good at this. All of my friends say I should be a professional shopper.” I hesitate. She smiles and pushes me gently towards the changing both. “Go on, it’s all good.”

Well ... at least I should get an honest opinion. I close the half-door, lift the t-shirt over my head and replace it with the red top. I adjust my boobs and step out of the booth. There’s another, shorter girl standing next to Brittany.

“Oooooo that’s KILLER! This is my friend Piper. What do you think Pipe?” She cocks her head to one side, looking me up and down.

“Those aren’t real, are they? Cause if they are, I’m gonna have to kill you.”

“WHAT!?”

They both laugh. “Ignore her. Piper is jealous of anyone with large boobs and you qualify, big time.”

“To be honest, I wasn’t looking for something to highlight these.” I point to my tits.

Piper giggles. “You might as well, because you sure aren’t gonna be able to hide them. What else you buying?”

“I was just shopping for some tops and bras.” There‘s a knock on the door to the room.

“Please excuse me, I am looking for Honey James.” It’s Bob.

Brittany calls out “Is there a Honey James in here?”

“That’s me. It’s my ... dad.” Thank God he didn’t say “Sweet-Lay”. I go out to see him.

“That looks very nice Honey. A good choice.”

“No thanks to you.”

“I did warn you, fashion is not my forte. I do have a couple of things that I must take care of today. You seem to be in good hands here. Why don’t you get what you need.” he slips me his credit card “and I will be back by 3:30.” I’m not completely comfortable about that but there’s probably no harm.

“Where will we meet?”

“How about the food court? You can have something to eat while you wait.”

I kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll see you at 3:30 then ... Daddy.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” I walk back into the changing room. Piper is showing Brittany a skirt.

“What was that about?” asks Brittany.

“My dad had to leave so he left his charge card with me. We’re supposed to meet at the food court at 3:30.” They look at each other with glee.

“SHOPPING SPREE!” they shout together.

“Whoa, wait a minute, just because he left me his card doesn’t mean I can go nuts. I spent over four thousand dollars just a few weeks ago and ...” Brittany gasps.

“Four thousand American Dollars?”

Oops.

“Uh yeah ... but that was a special occasion and ... ”

“So like, your dad’s rich or something?”

A third girl walked in, a taller brunette. “Whose dad is rich?” Brittany points to me.

“Honey’s dad is rich.”

“Who is Honey?”

I raise my hand. “I’m Honey. Honey James.” The third girl looks me over.

“Hi Honey James. I’m Sarah Watson. Guess you’ve met these other two maniacs. We’re all together today, just killing time.”

“Sarah thinks she’s the leader, but we just go along with her to keep the peace,” says Brittany. “The important thing is that Honey’s dad has left her with his credit card and won’t be back for almost three hours.” Sarah’s eyes light up.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s get shopping!”

Piper and Brittany each grab one of my hands and pull me back into the store. All of them start roaming up and down the aisles, grabbing items as they go. Once their arms are full, they usher me back to the changing room and I start trying different things on. They picked tunics, hoodies, tees, baby dolls and other styles. I was changing for the tenth time, topless, when I noticed Piper looking in the booth. I froze.

“You’re not wearing a bra are you? I cannot believe those boobs, seriously, I’m going to have to kill you.” Sarah reaches in to grab Piper.

“Pipe, leave her alone. How would you ... GAWD! Brit you’ve GOT to see this.” Brittany sticks her head in the door.

“I’ve got to see what? ... OMG! I thought you were wearing a padded pushup bra! If you don’t kill her Pipe, I will.” By now, my face is beet red.

“Will you PLEASE get out and close that door!” All three of them duck out and the door slams shut. No one says anything for a few seconds, then Sarah speaks up.

“We’re sorry Honey ... really sorry. It’s just ... you took us by surprise, you know. I mean, none of us has ever seen anything like ... you know. We’ve all taken gym and seen other girls naked but ... you ... your ... they’re like totally amazing! But we’re sorry, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, completely sorry!” said Brittany. Piper added her two cents.

“I overreacted and freaked out when I saw, you know. I didn’t mean anything by it, OK?”

“So Honey ... are we cool?” asked Sarah. I finished changing and slowly walked out of the booth.

“Yeah, we’re cool, but knock next time, OK? You may not believe it but I’m kinda sensitive about the subject.” They all say “OK”, so we go back to checking out the tops. After about the twentieth one, I realize that I’m enjoying myself. The girls are actually very nice, despite the peeping incident, and we’re all having fun.

I finally settle on the first red shawl collared sweater, a white cropped cable button front hoodie, light gray short sleeve turtleneck, a white bustier trimmed with black lace and sequins, an ivory scoop neck tunic with butterfly crochet on the bust, and a black cropped cable turtleneck sweater. The last one I tried on was the cropped cable button front hoodie. Brittany was giving me a studied look.

“You know Honey, I saw a denim mini that would work GREAT with that top. Hold on, I’ll go get it.”

“Wait Brit, I just needed some tops and bras. I’ve already got more tops here than I planned on.”

“We’ve got plenty of time, what’s the harm?” She’s gone before I can say anything else.

Sarah shakes her head. “It’s no use, when Brit gets that fashion bone in her jaws, she’s a pit bull. Just go with it.” She’s back in a flash.

“Here, isn’t it cute? Go on, try it Honey” I go into the booth, close the door, skin out of my jeans, and pull up the short skirt. It’s classic faded denim, zip front with two button flap back pockets. I step back out of the booth. Brittany claps her hands.

“Yeah baby, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” The other two nod their heads in agreement. I move in front of the mirror, slowly turning. She’s right, it’s a totally hot look. I swivel my hips several times. They all applaud and whistle.

“Work it baby, work it!” shouts Piper. If she only knew.

“So, what do you say Honey?” asks Brittany.

“You win, I’ll take it.”

“Great! Wait here, there’s this gray scoop neck sweater mini-dress that you’ll totally rock.” And with that, she disappears. I look at Sarah. She shrugs.

“Told ya.”

I end up agreeing to two more mini skirts plus the gray sweater dress and a mini-dress, black, spandex/rayon with a deep V surplice bodice. After “Wet Seal”, we go to “Victoria’s Secret”, where I buy seven bra and panty sets. This time, I let each of the girls come into the changing room with me at different times so they can satisfy their curiosity. It’s worth it just to see the looks of awe on their faces.

Each of them is a very pretty girl. I’d certainly have fucked them back when I was in high school. Brittany is probably the best looking but Sarah and Piper aren’t far behind. Piper’s got no reason to be jealous of girls with big boobs, she’s at least average, maybe slightly above average. We make a nice looking group.

They end up dragging me to a shoe store because, according to Brittany, I simply had to have some boots to go with the denim mini and shoes for the two mini-dresses. I told her that I already had a pair of boots. They all looked at me like I was nuts. Brittany laughs.

“Honey, you can NEVER have enough shoes!” I insist on only one pair, so I end up buying black, mid-calf boots with blocky 3  ½ inch heels.

When finished, I’m wearing the button front cropped hoodie, denim mini, red demi cup bra and matching thong panty with the boots. I didn’t realize that current teenage fashion was this slutty. If I wasn’t with a bunch of other teenage girls, a cop might think I was a whore looking for johns. Thankfully, a third of the girls I saw were dressed in about the same style. I was the best looking by far though … in my humble opinion.

By now it was 2:30 and we had hit most of the stores you might expect to stock what I was looking for. Brit wanted to check out Penny’s but we voted her down. I was tired of carrying all these bags and wanted a break so we went to the food court. There was a Burger King, so I had a Whopper and Coke, Brit had a chicken sandwich and water, Piper two Whopper Jr’s and Sarah two Whoppers, large fry and large shake, all Bob’s treat. We giggled when Sarah gave her order.

“What? I’m hungry! I missed breakfast and lunch because someone wanted to get started early today and then refused to take a break.” She tossed a fry at Brit, who tossed it back at her. Everyone laughed. We talked about the clothes I bought and each of them had ideas about what kind of jewelry would go with each item, possible shoes, that sort of thing. I didn’t tell them about my limited wardrobe and no jewelry except for a few earrings and what Bob bought me. Soon, the questions became more personal. I tried to steer the conversation towards each of them but they had been friends for years and knew all about each other. I was the newcomer, fresh meat, and they were concentrating on me. Sarah took the lead.

“Do you live around here Honey?” I decided that the best way to answer was to go back to my high school days and use them as a reference, at least as much as possible.

“No, I live with my mother. I’m just visiting with my dad for the holiday.”

“They’re divorced?”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

“Since I was little.” They all nod and offer words of support and understanding.

“My parents are divorced too.” Says Brit. “It’s been almost four years. Thank GOD they get along OK. How about yours?”

“Hate each others guts. Well, more like she hates his guts.” Piper scoots closer to me.

“Did he cheat on her?” she quietly inquires. The other two are shocked at her question.

“PIPER! That’s none of our business!” shouts Brit.

“Yeah! She was just a little girl when it happened.” added Sarah. “Besides, we’ve just met Honey. I’m sure she’ll tell us when she feels comfortable enough.” I had to stifle a smile. Piper was pissed.

“Why don’t you all just jump down my throat for being curious.”

“Come on, every one settle down.” I calmly say. “I’m not bothered by the question. I don’t know the answer though.” Brit reaches over and pats my hand.

“Your dad seemed OK, kinda clueless, which is normal for a dad.” She’s talking about Bob. I go with that.

“Oh, my dad is the BEST. Kind, generous, sweet, brave, really smart ...”

“Don’t forget rich. What about your mom?” If Bob’s my dad, Amy’s my mother.

“Absolute total BITCH!” They’re all shocked. “Keeps me grounded all the time, won’t let me do anything, see anybody, works me to death.”

“Jeez, why don’t you live with your dad then?” asks Piper. Good question Piper.

“He’s on the road all the time and they wouldn’t let me stay by myself when he’s gone.” They nod their heads in understanding.

“I know.” grunts Sarah. “They think you’re too young to be left alone, yet you can baby sit the neighbor’s brat kids. What do they think is going to happen, that I’ll throw a big, wild party and destroy the house?” Piper smiles and nudges her arm.

“Didn’t you?”

“First, it wasn’t that big, twenty people, tops. Second, the only one who called the cops was that old lady Johansen who lives across the street and she has a big stick up her butt! And third, it wasn’t the whole house, just the tool shed.” Piper and Brit start giggling, then breakout into full laughter. Sarah initially is frowning but soon joins in. I have no idea what they were talking about but their youthful spirit is so contagious that I begin to chortle and am soon laughing as hard as any of them. Suddenly, they all stop. I go on for a few seconds before I realize they’ve gone quiet. They all have stunned looks on their faces.

“What?”

Brit points to three guys at the counter.

“That’s Jerry Pitman!”

I look where she’s pointing and see three teenage guys in letter jackets. The taller one is in the middle, broad shoulders, blonde longish hair, self-confident attitude. Quarterback, no doubt. The guy on his left is built bigger in the chest, arms and legs, probably a linebacker. The third guy is slighter but moves fluidly. My guess is that he’s a receiver or tailback.

“Which one’s Pitman?”

“The tall one in the middle!”

“OK. Why do we care about Jerry Pitman?” They are all aghast and start telling me about him at one time in hurried whispers. I can’t understand a thing they’re saying.

“Calm down, calm down. One at a time, you first Sarah.” They all lean in towards the middle of the table. I join them.

“OK, you’re not from around here so that explains a lot. He’s just the best, most famous football player in town. He’s set a bunch of records and his team hasn’t lost a game in two years.”

“So you guys are football fans?”

“Eeewww no!” The other two grimace and nod in agreement.

“So, what’s the big deal?” Brit looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“Because he’s a TOTAL BABE, that’s why.” I look back at him. He’s OK, for a teenage boy. Give him another five, six years and we’ll see about him then. From a seventeen-year-old girl’s perspective however, he’s probably an Adonis.

“So, you girls know this guy?”

Sarah gasps. “OH GOD NO! He’s like, famous and everything. We’re nobodies!” I look at Brit. She shakes her head in agreement, as does Piper.

“Look, you guys are not nobodies. All three of you are very pretty and any guy would be lucky to know you or be your boyfriend.” They all blush. “You took a complete stranger and helped her today for no reason other than friendship and kindness.” Brit raised her hand.

“Plus, I really enjoy shopping.”

I giggle. “I really enjoyed the shopping too Brit.” Laughter all around the table. “I’m just saying that you are great girls and I’m proud to know you. Never put yourself down. You are not nobodies!” A crazy idea flits through my head. “Do you guys want to meet Jerry Pitman and his friends?”

“HUH?”

“I asked if you wanted to meet the ‘total babe’ and his handsome friends.” Piper’s mouth is hanging open.

“Yeah sure, but that’s like never gonna happen.” I stand up.

“Sure it will. I’ll just go over and bring them back to our table.”

“Are you CRAZY!!??” Brit hisses. “They aren’t going to come over here.”

“Of course they will, all I have to do is ask.” I adjust my skirt, settling it on my hips. Sarah reaches out and grabs my arm.

“Look Honey, you’re amazingly beautiful and all but you can’t just go and drag them to our table.”

“I won’t have to drag anybody; they’ll walk over here on their own. Hell, they’ll crawl if I tell them. All I need to know is if you want me to do it.” The girls look at each other.

“Do we?” asks Sarah. Brit nods “yes”. Piper shrugs her shoulders. “Sure, why not?”

Sarah turns to me. “OK, we’re in.”

“Fine, you just need to promise me two things.”

“What’s that?”

I hold up one finger. “That you all be cool, no fawning, no hero worship.” I hold up a second finger. “That you remember that these are just regular guys, they are no different than the boys in your classes, maybe better at sports than other guys, but basically the same. You are as good as they are. Agreed?” They all say “Agreed”. Sarah is still skeptical.

“Are you sure you can do this?”

“Girlfriend, the day I can’t handle three teenage boys is the day I quit the stage.”

“What?”

“Never mind. You all stay put. I’ll be back in five minutes.” I reach up, unbutton one more button on my crop top, spread the top to increase the exposure of my cleavage, fluff my hair, pick up my cup and saunter towards the serve-it-yourself drink dispenser, swinging my hips.

My targets have their sandwiches and fries on trays sitting on the counter and are gathered around the drink dispenser, preparing to fill their cups, backs turned towards me. The other two are letting Pittman go first, so he’s probably the Alpha Dog. I get him, the rest will follow. I reach up and touch his shoulder.

“Excuse me, could I squeeze in here?” He turns his head towards me.

“Hey, you can wait your turn like ... ” He looks down, straight into my tits. Frozen in place. I keep my hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him aside so that I can get to the spigots. I create a little room between him and his bigger friend but not too much room. I rub my tits against him as I push my way past and rub my ass against the other guy’s leg while slowly dragging my hand from Pittman’s shoulder, down his arm and resting it on his hand briefly before turning to face the dispenser.

I lean down at the waist, thrusting my ass back, spreading my legs slightly and reach in to fill my cup. I can see in the reflection of the stainless steel dispenser that Pittman and “the linebacker” are staring straight down at my ass while “the receiver” is leaning around Pittman, doing the same thing. None of them think I can see them. I’d like to take as much time as possible, giving them a good, long look, so I start and stop the dispenser several times, letting the foam drop. Every time I hit the trigger, I shake my ass slightly. Once the cup is completely full, I slowly stand up, carefully put the cup to my lips, take a quick slurp and then spill just a small amount on my boobs.

“Ooohhh, that’s cold!” I reach up with my free hand, scoop the spilled drink off my boobs with my index finger, then slowly insert it in my mouth, sucking it clean, while looking Pittman square in the eyes. I put the cup down and hold up both hands.

“Sorry, I’m all sticky, could one of you hand me a napkin?” All three of them dive at the napkin dispenser. Got em. They all get the same napkin, tearing it to shreds trying to pull it out.

“Hey Guys!” Pittman says, holding up his hand. The other two boys stop and he reaches out, removes another napkin and hands it to me.

“Here you go.” I gingerly take it with the tips of my fingers.

“Thank you very much.” I wet it at the water dispenser, rub it across my fingers, across my boobs and into my cleavage, finally wadding it up and putting it in a trash can. I pick up my cup.

“I’m such a klutz, I should probably use a straw.” Reaching up, I pull a straw from the bin, strip the paper off with my teeth, drop it into my cup and suck on it. All this time, I have their complete attention.

“Sorry, I’m blocking your way. Let me slide over here.” I move away from the front of the dispenser, sliding my ass along the railing in front. I stop once I clear the dispenser but anyone who gets a drink will have to press their body against mine. I lean back, lightly perching on the rail, resting my back against the dispenser, pushing my tits forward. I then suck the straw completely in my mouth, slowly bobbing on it as I drink, like I was “deep throating” the straw. Pitman moves in to fill his cup, rubbing his ribs against my hip. He hits the trigger to fill his cup but is looking up at me. The cup overflows, spilling all over his hand.

“Damn it!” He pulls back, but I’m ready for him.

“Here, let me help.” I grab a napkin, wet it, take his hand and wipe it clean. “One hand washes the other, right?”

He just stands there, a big smile on his face, letting me massage his hand with a wet napkin. “Oh yeah, totally.”

I finish and toss the napkin. “There, all clean.” I resume my position and start working the straw again. The other two fill their cups, rubbing against me while doing so. By the time the last one is done, I’ve drank about one third of my drink.

“I need a refill.” I say, repeating my performance at the dispenser, spreading my legs just a bit more. When I turn around, all three have significant bulges in their pants. Well, they are teenage boys after all. A teenage boy has an erection at least eighteen out of every twenty four hours.

“Do you boys have any place you usually sit?”

Pitman looks down at my face and tits, alternating between them. “You mean a table? Not really.”

“I was just wondering if you’d like to share a table with me and my three girlfriends.”

“Your girlfriends? Oh yeah, sounds great. What do you think guys?” The other two are drooling. They may not be geniuses, but they can do the math of three into four.

“No problem Jerry!” “Yeah, great man!”

I lead the way, making sure they all got a good show. The girls are giggling, heads together at the table. I subtly signal with my hand for them to be cool. When we get to the table, Sarah holds up her arm, showing me her watch.

“Five minutes, twenty three seconds.”

“Must be losing my touch. Let’s move over to this bigger table.”

We all shift over to a larger table and sit boy-girl around it. I’ve got Jerry Pitman on one side, “the linebacker” on the other. “The linebacker” is Tony King and “the receiver” is Ken Wallace. Despite their promises to be cool, the girls hang back in the conversation. I should have expected that. The guys are also more than a little intimidated by me. Most boys talk a big game but that’s all it usually is, talk. I get the feeling that Jerry Pitman is the exception. He’s a bit too smooth, trying to charm me. The way that I teased him, I couldn’t expect anything less though. I’m being friendly but neutral. Finally Piper opens up, with Brit and Sarah quickly joining in.

I could blow these guys away if I wanted to talk football. When I was in high school, I’d have thought I’d died and gone to heaven if there was a girl who looked like me and knew football. What I want is for the girls to have a chance at these guys, they all have more in common with each other than I have with any of them. There are some good conversations taking place but the guys are still spending too much time trying to impress me.

I check my watch. It’s almost 3:30. I need Bob to show up to give me a reason to leave. Tony tries to get Jerry’s attention. “Jerry … Jerry … Hey, Jerry.”

I tap his arm and point at Tony. Jerry looks at him. “What?”

“”We’ve got that thing tomorrow night. What about ... ” and he makes a circle motion with his hand around the table.

Jerry looks at me then back towards Tony. “All? Not just?” he tips his head my way.

“Sure. Why not?” Jerry nods his head. Tony raps on the table with his class ring to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies, I have been authorized to invite you to this cities’ legendary post Thanksgiving pre-final blowout. Are you interested?” The girls all gasp. I’m confused.

“Pardon my ignorance, but what are you talking about?”

Brit is practically jumping in her seat. “Honey, every year, there is big party the Saturday after Thanksgiving. It’s never in the same place and by invitation only, It’s like the best party ever and we’ve just been invited!” She starts to clap her hands.

I hadn’t planned on this. “I don’t know. I’d have to check with my dad. He may have plans.” I know he has plans, which I hope means lots of sex for me.

“OH PLEASE Honey!” pleads Brittany. “You’ve got to come! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! What could you do with your dad that is better than this?”

Brit, when you’re five years older, I’ll tell you and you won’t believe it. Sarah catches my eye and jerks her head toward the bathrooms. She stands up.

“I have to go to the bathroom, back in a minute.” I stand up too.

“I’ll go with you.” We walk to the bathroom and go inside. It’s empty. She stops and turns towards me.

“Honey, I know that you’re not from around here, but this is a big deal for kids in Dallas. Only the most popular kids go to this party. I’m talking about maybe two hundred people out of the entire high school population. Until Tony made the invitation, I actually thought it was a myth.”

“How do you know he’s telling the truth now?”

”Because Jerry Pitman is exactly the kind of person who would be invited, maybe even in charge. I also know that Brit, Piper and I would not be invited if we weren’t with you.”

“Wait a minute. I told you that you all were just as good as ... ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you said. And you know that it was bullshit, at least as far as guys and good-looking girls go. I’m a pretty girl, so are Brit and Piper. There are lots of pretty girls; most of them are not invited to this party. You, on the other hand, are otherworldly beautiful. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were an alien or a science experiment. I’m sure that we’re a package deal, you go, we go. You don’t, we don’t.”

“But he just invited everyone. If I say ‘no’, how can he un-invite you?”

“Oh he won’t, not directly. We just won’t get the phone call with the directions to the party. Remember, it’s a secret location. As beautiful as you are, you’ve probably never dealt with many heartless selfish jerks before.”

“You’d be so wrong about that, you have no idea.”

“Then you know what I’m talking about.”

Unfortunately I did, I’d done things like that when I was Josh Thomas. That’s who Jerry Pitman reminds me of ... me. And I was a dangerous guy to be around, not evil but stupid and selfish. “Why do you want to go to this party if you think so little of the people who’ll be there?”

“I’m a shallow person, I’d like to experience how the upper crust lives, plus Brit and Piper would never forgive me if I stopped them from going. If you kept them from going, they probably wouldn’t forgive you either but you wouldn’t be here for them to hate, you’d be back home.”

I started to tear up. “Are you saying I don’t care about them or you? Because if you are, I’ve got to tell you ... ” She reaches out and touches my arm.

“We’ve only known each other for a few hours, but I know you’re a good person. And yes, I think of you as a friend. So do Brit and Piper.”

“How do you know that?”

“What do you think we talked about for the five minutes and twenty three seconds you spent working on those guys, which by the way, was the most impressive display of baggin I have ever seen or even read about.”

“Thanks, it was nothing, you should see me on a good day. Ignoring my seduction skills, I really am in a tough situation. I can’t commit to anything without first talking with Bo ... dad. Plus, if this party is the kind you say it is, there is some danger involved for any girl attending. Now, I’m not worried about me, for reasons you will probably never know, but you, Piper and Brit would be at risk. If something happens, I’d feel terrible.”

“We can take precautions. You and I can keep an eye out for them. I didn’t tell you all this to guilt you into saying ‘yes’. I just wanted you to know the full deal before you decided. We’ll live with whatever decision you make.” I reach out to her and we hug for several seconds. “God Damn! Those tits are real, aren’t they?”

“Shut up. Let’s go back.” We walk back to the table. Jerry stands up and pulls my seat out for me. Ken does the same for Sarah. Nice touch on their part. They could be great guys or total jerks. There’s not enough time to find out the truth before Saturday night, assuming Bob lets me go. Brit is staring at me in anticipation.

“So, are we going? Tony’s been telling us all about the band and food and drinks and bar and ...” Shit! Booze! That’s nothing but trouble.

“Look, I’m willing to go but I’ve got to clear it with my dad first. He’s an old-fashioned kinda guy.” I look at Jerry. “You have no idea what kind of trouble he can cause for someone who crosses him or hurts me.” Jerry smiles. “I’m serious! Think of the worse possible thing and then multiply by ten. You’ll be in the ball park.” Jerry stops smiling. Yeah, keep that in the back of your mind.

Brit points at the concourse. “Isn’t that your dad?” I turn to look. It is Bob. Brit must have a very good memory. People just don’t remember Bob, even if they’ve seen him several times.

“Hang on, I’ll go talk with him.” I stand up and walk out to meet him. We are out of earshot of the others. I kiss his cheek. He looks me up and down.

“That is some outfit Honey. A bit more than you started out shopping for isn’t it?”

“You should see what’s in the rest of the bags. It’s partially your fault you know, you left me at the mercy of a group of teenage shopaholics.”

“You seemed to be enjoying it.” What does he mean by that?

“I think that requires an explanation.”

“I have been monitoring your activities for the last two and a half hours. My business only took about thirty minutes. Since then, I have been keeping tabs on you and your friends.”

“Yes, my friends. You’ve been following us, haven’t you?”

“More or less.”

“Why didn’t I see you?”

“Because I am extraordinarily good at what I do Honey. What do you plan to do about this party?”

“How do you know about the party?” He taps the side of his nose, smiling. Bob can be very frustrating sometimes.

I sigh. “Obviously, I don’t care about going but the other girls really want to and they can’t go without me.”

“Why don’t you want to go, it sounds interesting?”

“In what way?”

“You seemed to enjoy your time with Brittany, Piper and Sarah. In addition, you connected at some level with Jerry, Ken and Tony. This party would give you the same opportunity with a larger group of people. You have not been in many normal social situations since your transformation so the party would be a step in that direction.”

“Please tell me what is normal about a once thirty nine year old man, now seventeen year old girl hanging out with two hundred or so teenagers with an open bar.”

“Well, when you put it that way, there appears to be no reason for you to go. What is your dilemma?”

“The other girls want to go and for them to go, I need to go.”

“Why do you care what they want? You have known them for all of three hours and will likely never see them again after today.”

Jeez! How selfish does he think I am? “Because they’re really nice girls who went out of their way to help a complete stranger who had been abandoned her father. Besides, they already think they’re going but we both know that if I don’t go, they’ll never get the right secret address, which will bum them out to no end. I owe them that much.”

“So, you are attending strictly out of a sense of obligation?”

“Why else?”

Bob looks over my shoulder at everyone sitting around the table, waiting for me to return. “You don’t find any of those young gentlemen particularly attractive?”

“You’re kidding right? They’re children Bob. I could be any one of those kids’ mother ... ahh ... father, oh, you know what I mean.” I look back at Jerry, remembering the impressive bulge in his pants when I was teasing him. He’s probably got a big cock but he’s also probably a “Quick Draw McGraw”. I’ve had enough trouble climaxing lately without dealing with that issue. Besides, I’m so much more experienced than he is, he’d enjoy it much more than I would. Bob coughs politely, bringing my attention back to our conversation.

“What do you want to do Honey?”

“I should go, if only to make sure they’re safe. If this is the kinda party I think it is, there’s gonna be lots of guys on the prowl for easy sex and most of them will be gassed. Do you know that there is an open bar at this dance? Are they INSANE!? Two hundred horny teenagers and lots of booze. That’s a bright idea. Someone has to be there to protect Brit, Sarah and Piper. How the idiots who sponsor this have avoided disaster in the past, I have no idea.”

“They have not avoided it, they have buried it Honey. These are the elite; the rules do not apply to them. If the problem is between two of them, it is dealt with internally. If the problem is with one of ‘us’, we get rolled over.” Bob has a very hard look in his eyes, staring off into the distance.

“Uhh bitter much?” He turns his head back towards me.

“No Honey, not bitter.” A sly smile flits across his face. “I would be bitter if such behavior had gone ... unpunished.”

“That sounds like an interesting story. Too bad you’ll never tell me about it.”

“Who knows, maybe someday I will. As for your current situation, I have a few suggestions.”

We talk a few more minutes and then walk back to the table. I introduce everybody to my “Daddy”, who shakes hands with all the guys, giving Jerry’s hand a little firmer grip, causing him to suck in his breath slightly and grimace. He didn’t rub his hand right away when Bob released him but he did put it deep in his jacket pocket.

“So, what’s the word Honey?” asked Tony. “Are you in?”

I glance at Bob and take a deep breath.

“Yes.”

Brit and Piper jump up squealing and laughing. Sarah is more controlled but has a big smile on her face. Ken and Tony high five each other then turn to Jerry. He just nods and smiles, keeping his hand in his pocket. Tony stands up.

“Well ladies, this has been fun but we have a lot of work to do before tomorrow night. Who gets the directions?”

“Give them to Sarah” I say. “We will be coming together.” Sarah gives Tony her phone number and email address. He writes them down.

“There will be a text message sent between 5:30 and 6:00p.m. tomorrow. We use email as a backup. See you all later, come ready to party.”

The guys say their goodbyes and leave, Jerry’s right hand still in his pocket. Brit and Piper start babbling at each other about how great this is, what they should wear, who would be jealous, how great Jerry was, thanking me and so on. Sarah joined in occasionally. Bob touched my shoulder. I looked back at him and he nodded at me. Time to lay down the law. Bob walks away and has a seat at the other end of the Burger King.

“Settle girls, settle. We need to talk,” I say. Sarah helps calm Brit and Piper down and soon they’re all paying attention to me

“There are going to be some ground rules and they are nonnegotiable. If you don’t agree, you don’t go. Got it?”

Brit is still giddy. “Sure Honey, absolutely, whatever you want.”

Piper chimes in. “You got it Honey, no problems.”

“Don’t be so sure, you haven’t heard my terms yet. First thing, I drive.” No reaction, everyone still smiling.

“Second thing, we arrive together and we leave together, no ‘you guys go on, I’ll catch a ride with Joe Blow’.” Still smiles all around.

“Third thing. No open cup drinks. Everything is a can or bottle, which you keep with you until finished. If you put it down and leave it unattended, you dump it and replace it.” Sarah nods her head but Brit looks confused.

“Why would we only have bottles or cans?”

“Because it’s easier to dope a drink in a cup. There will be guys there looking to take advantage of any unsuspecting girl, which brings me to number four. No booze of any kind.” That did it.

“Oh come on! Who made you Queen?” cried Brit. “A few beers won’t make any difference. I know my limits.”

“Yeah, you aren’t my mother.” added Piper. “What’s the big deal? Everyone else will be drinking alcohol, why can’t we?” I turn towards Sarah.

“What do you say Sarah?” She just sits there, head angled down, thinking. Then she looks up at Brit and Piper.

“Honey’s right, no booze for any of us.”

Brit is clearly upset. “Now you’re siding with her? Why the hell not? We’ll look like total dweebs! I can’t believe this!” She and Piper go on like this for several minutes. I just wait them out. They finally stop.

“You guys done? I’ll tell you why. This isn’t like any party you’ve ever been to. It’s with a bunch of strangers who are used to breaking the rules and getting away with it. You have no idea who can be trusted and who can’t. There will be predators, just looking for fresh meat. The problem is that they won’t be wearing a name tag saying ‘Rapist’. 95% of the people will be harmless, but 5% will be looking to score any way they can. And it won’t be just guys. Some girls will be on the prowl too.” Piper is shocked.

“Eeewwwww, girls?”

“Yep. Either working with a guy or by their self. You’d never suspect that ‘friendly’ girl.”

“What if I’m looking to ... score?” asked Brit.

“Then do it at the next party. Get their name, address and phone number and call them later. It’s just not going to happen tomorrow night.” I lean into the middle of the table and lower my voice. “Look, I know that you’re curious about how the other half lives. This is the perfect time to see for yourselves, but I already know all about the other half. I’ve been to these kinds of parties. If it wasn’t for you guys wanting to go, I wouldn’t even consider it. I’d rather spend the time with my dad.”

Boy would I.

“I’m willing to make sure that you get into this party but I am not willing to put you at risk. You guys have been so nice to me, I don’t know what I’d do if any of you were hurt.” I start to tear up. Sarah reaches out and pats my arm.

“That’s OK Honey, we understand, don’t we?” The other two nod in agreement, Piper more than Brit.

“So, do we have a deal? Sarah?”

“Yes.”

“Piper?”

“OK.”

“Brit?” She says nothing. “Brittany?”

“OK. Yeah, fine.” She’s going to be trouble, I can feel it.

“Just so we are all on the same page, anybody breaks the rules, we all leave, right then. I don’t want to be a bitch about it, but that’s the deal. If anyone thinks I can’t make it stick, remember, I am my father’s daughter and no one fucks with him.” I see just a hint of fear in their eyes. Good.

“Speaking of my dad, these are from him.” I hand a VISA gift card in a card holder to each of them. Brit opens the flap.

“OH MY GOD! This is $200.00! What is this for?”

“He just wants to thank you guys for helping me today. That’s the kind of person he is, generous.” Sarah starts to hand hers back to me.

“This is too much Honey. We helped you because you’re a nice person and it was fun. I can’t take this.” I wrap my hand around hers, the card in her palm.

“Keep it. Buy something to wear for the party. Give it to charity if you want. Remember when we first met. Brit said that my dad was rich.” I lean next to her ear and whisper. “He is.” I release her hand and pat it. She keeps the card. Brit is already on her feet, grabbing her coat.

“Let’s go. I know exactly what dress I’m getting.” I’ve shopped all I can for one day.

“You guys go on, I’ve got to get home. Sarah, you call me when you get the message. I’ll pick you up at 8:00 and then we can get the others.” I give her Bob’s phone number. “By the way, what’s the dress code for this party?” Brit has her coat on and is picking up her purse.

“Just wear the black mini-dress. You can’t go wrong with a little black dress.” We say our goodbyes with hugs all around. They head back into the Mall and I go to see Bob.

“Those gift cards were a nice touch. They certainly helped smooth over any hard feelings about the rules for the night.”

“I owed them at least that much. They saved me from the horrors of post-Thanksgiving shopping for women’s clothes. Most men would say I got off cheap. Now, explain to me how I became your father for the day.” I pick up a couple of bags with one hand and wrap my other arm around his.

“I would be happy to, if you help me with these bags.” He peers into the “Victoria’s Secret” bag.

“What do you have in here?”

“I thought you were following us. Didn’t you see what I bought?”

“Honey, a man needs to know his limitations. Even I could not blend in at ‘Victoria’s Secret’.”

I have to laugh. “Well it’s good to know you have limitations. I’ll be happy to give you a personal fashion show when we get home … Daddy.”

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