by Jane Brooke
I’m always testing myself, and usually will put myself in some dicey situations, you know, just to see if Jane still has it. I had a plan tonight to capture Tina, and it involved sex, danger and of course my 357 Magnum Python hand gun.
Anyhow, Wong, the giant Asia 6ft-8 mountain doorman my good buddy had rung me up telling me that Tina had been hanging her dildo at Candy Land lately.
Wong’s street creds are solid as his huge dick must be.
He’s one of those ex NBA monster guys, and came out of the Chinese pro league.
He played for the Utah Jazz for a couple of seasons. With the dick the size of a Zebra, he found little use for it in Salt Lake City. It’s didn’t take long for him to figure out the Mormon bitches there wouldn’t fuck a guy unless he had a bible in one hand and some ass lube and a marriage contract for their three sisters in the other.
No dummy, Wong soon found Vegas sweeeeeet. An odd place where the whores, strippers, runaway’s, crazy young girls, druggie party girls had lined up silicone tits to silicone tits to suck his monster cock and from naked end to end would have made a line of cocaine long enough to hit Bangkok.
Life in Vegas sometimes for a playa can be Fucking Perfect.
When I had toddled up in my Buick, I felt phat, loaded and ready.
Layering a C-note off on Mr. Wong, I got that sexy kind of Chairman Mao smile from him and I did the usual Euro Trash thing. You know, kisses on both cheeks, and got a lot of love back from him. He totally digs my vibe, me being so blond cute and all.
My street-creds are impeccable and everyone knows my word is concrete. People dig that in a wild child.
I was decked out in the usual Jane, PI threads. Black, skin tight leather hip huggers, just above my laser beamed cunt, black camisole sleeveless tank and on my feet were the usual kick ass black men’s, steel toed work boots. I was wearing a knee length black leather jacket, just to conceal my Python magnum stuck into my shoulder holster. I also was wearing my gold chain and small gold cross. I don’t believe in God, but I do love the Latina image of it all.
Vanity, Fuck, I’m working on that, really I am.
It was 1 AM, and the place was kickin’ it.
The dance floor was happening, lots of moon beams eyes from the children of decadence dancing to Usher. That’s how the place rolled.
There were lots of older men dancing with gym boys, and debutant older woman waltzing with semi naked show girls. Lots of the strippers were completely naked, just stilettos, and I recognized a few bull dykes, very stylish, in men’s suits pirouetting around the dance floor with the stunners.
Like I said, there were also lots of Goth, Punk and EMO girls (My fav, there so waifish adorable) with their huge eyes, rimmed in mascara so thick you could pave the Hollywood Freeway with it.
The booths were filled with rich old men and gals, and with them were semi naked boys and girls.
They were drinking Dom, Johnny Walker Black, X-ing and coking and everyone seemed to be having a respectable and lovely time.
At the back lit blue neon bar, racked with the finest liquors on the planet, there were several semi naked girls in heels in G-strings, kissing, grinding and loving each other like sexed up boa constrictors.
All the girls were pierced, lips, noses, tits, ears and clits I imagined. To a one they had Japanese dragons, snakes and Korean calligraphy tattooed down their arms, back, breasts and legs.
I have always been more that a little partial to Goth Girls like the one Glenda from The Bent I fucked the other night. I feel even stronger about EMO Girls.
No one has to tell me I can be a bit of a hooligan at times and over the top with guy qualities.
Therefore I like the femininity of those itsy bitsy little EMO girls. There just so tiny, tits, cunts, height, and they all have these giant eyes. Never could figure that one out.
Anyhoo, I’m joasing on EMO chicks lately because there she is their doll queen tending bar and usually she is transfixed with Moi, well almost.
Her name is Zoe and isn’t that just adorable.
In reality she could be named Sheba the Elephant Girl and I wouldn’t have cared, for look at her.
What? I’m a fucking tramp with the sex drive of an Arizona State Pompom girl I can’t help myself.
There she is. Fuck, she is perfect.
She’s what, 21, 5ft 5, EMO 105 lbs, with those huge mascara/eyeliner raccoon rimmed blue eyes and with perfect skin the color of paper all set off by her midnight colored Liz Taylor hair doo. She’s topless, just a red leather mini skirt hanging low on her tiny hips, tatted everywhere, neck, arms, tummy and back. She’s not like a lot of EMO’s for she’s just pierced with gold rings on her lip, ears, and nipples, which look fucking exotic on her small tits.
I don’t think she has seen me yet, otherwise, and because she has told me over and over that she wants to eat my cunt, and also fuck me nutso, she has ignored me to the moment.
I could see that she was busy as several dyke’s and dominate males, were chatting it up with her at the bar and with two semi-naked strippers.
Blast Jane, the world does not revolve around you, pleeeease.
IT DOESN’T?
So I sidled up to the end of the bar because I wanted to be close to the Scene Area of the club.
On the dance floor, one bull dyke, stylized out in an Armani suit, white shirt, black tie, and men’s brogues’ seemed in love with a topless stripper painted out in a pair of white leather hip huggers. She had those small tits dykes loved so much. The girls looked in love, that’s always a sweet thing.
Peek-a-booing down the bar, I saw Zoe disappear somewhere. I expect for a toot of something white. I don’t do drugs, but most of the kids do.
Checking out the Scene Area and wanting a vodka martini, Stoli will do, I gasped as another femme fatal girl bartended smiled and stood before me.
GOD, she’s Kim this 21 year old British blond Pixie, blue eyes stunner that always has a smile on her fucking Keira Knightly looking face. She’s what I call a whisper girl. Tall, thin like a windswept willow, snow white hair cut in a Pixie cut. Huge lips, small nose, large oval eyes spread wide on her once in a life time face.
I’ve never kissed her before, but that’s on my girl list of things I have to do before I die.
She’s always laughing and has that wonderful sharp British wit, and I have never seen her depressed. Is that at all possible with a beautiful female? Don’t know.
She’s kinda Punk and has a single small British Union Jack tattooed on her stomach on that white skin of hers. She’s got just a few gold piercings’. You know, one on her lip, nose and gold twins on her ears and nipples that are connected to her tits, which are small and fucking amazing.
Topless, and like moa, she’s wearing a pair of skin tight, black leather stove pipe hip huggers which connect to a pair of men’s work boots.
Are we twins that have found each other? I don’t know.
But golly I can taste her skin and lips already as I give her my best Jane smile. You know, adding to my sex bank account for future withdrawals like I’m hoping I will later make with Zoe.
I’m always thinking ahead when it comes to sex, and with Zoe the bartender on my mind, well I don’t want to mess it up.
“Hi Janie, you look like way hot tonight.”
I blush and exaggerate two finger points at me. Kim laughs, nails my eyes with hers and nods seductively at me as I purr.
“Oh you doll. You say that to all the girls.”
I gulp, for you know she’s young and all bullet-proof and such.
I sigh as she wag’s a forefinger at me, and wets her full lips with the pinkest tongue I have ever seen.
I actually feel a fissure cracking through my cunt as she slots her elbows on the bar top, gets a little closer and whispers. “No way Janie.
You’re just so radical. All the girl’s love you’re vibe.”
She takes her hand and wraps it around the back of my head and, then layer cakes my lips with hers.
My toes curl in my boots, and I am positive my leather hip huggers are leaking something on the floor. Her breath held the essence of young violets to it. Her saliva, well it tasted like fucking cum.
She then backed away because no one owns anyone in this New Girl World and because she is respectful of other girl’s turf, she whispers at me. “I don’t want to intrude, Janie. But, I know Zoe is so like wanting to hook up with you. But, I...I...”
I swallow watching her seductive learned MTV moves as she kinda O’s her lips at me. I am semi hypnotized as she smiles like a young Meg Ryan, you know before she put those balloons in her lips.
“But...I...I...crickey Janie, I know Zoe knows, we chatted a bit about it, she’s OK with it...Bu...I’d love to shag you...I...I mean, could you think of me when you have some time, maybe a little lonely...OK my lovely?”
Where in the fuck do I sign on the dotted line?
“Golly Gee Kim.”
Christ I’ve reverted to a coquettish teenager this late in my life.
“Trust me beautiful. I’ve got you on my speed dial, really. But Zoe and me have been dancing a little bit, you understand don’t ya Kim?”
She laughs with that sensational sense of British humor of hers and says. “Not to worry Janie, we have scads of time. Now, the usual, you’re Stoli Martini?”
“Sweet Kim, shaken, not stirred, like Bond.”
She laughs, gives me a wink and strolls down the bar, me, my heart thump, thump, thumping in my chest.
Saved from the guillotine, I reach in my pocket, with draw a wad of hundred dollar bills, peel one off, and slap it on the bar.
I am a notorious tipper, and one of the main reasons is that I have been given a platinum advantage in life, though that advantage was tinged with my beloved parent’s death.
These kids work like coal miners propping up the decadence of the casinos, restaurants and bars and as bell hops, car hops, maid and waiters, etc. I help when I can, and know a C-Note in one of their palms, well that helps pay the rent.
In reality, I give all my bounty loot to this righteous guy Father Bob, who runs the homeless shelter over there off of Martin Luther King blvd.
Fuck, I’m lucky to have the opportunity to do it at all.
“Here ya are Janie, shaken, not stirred, like Bond.”
“Thanks Kim, you are so fly.”
She’s laughs as she sets it on the bar, gets some yips and waves from two naked showgirls down the bar holding court with two older men in Baroni Suits.
She turns and with a wink, cruises away.
As I sip, sip, sip at my iced platinum dream, I notice still no sign of Zoe.
She’s, they say, quite partial to X and coke, don’t judge, can’t afford to, so I turn my eyes to a semi-commotion over to my left.
I’m also thinking about my contract for Tina Barks. She’s a no show so far, but she is a dangerous piece of work, and I have to keep my shit together.
Far off to the left, there is another scene going down and since I love beautiful damsels in distress, I’m quite riveted by what is going down.
Like I mentioned, sometimes the scene at Candy Land is very bondage and BDSM orientated.
If you are a dominate or a submissive girl, well you pretty much can get whatever you need concerning gratification and sex there. Like I said, the place is a very stylish and a respectful club.
Over there in The Scene Room, with a small crowd watching, drinking, and munching pop corn were two females.
One of the girl’s, was a waifish and stunning red head, with arctic white skin, small bare feet and green eyes. She had this long trail of red silk hair falling past her shoulders. She was totally naked, besides leather straps on her ankles and her wrists and her back and butt were pressed against an eight foot inverted wooden teak X.
Using the entire length of the X support for a little support, and from grommets and bolts welded into the floor, she was basically spread eagled. Her cunt was so pink and beautiful it looked like a pink-popsicle.
From her wrists, rising towards the ceiling were two leather straps, VEEING her arms and hands skyward. Attached to her leather ankle straps were two leather ropes, spreading her feet out to an acute angle thus bringing her to her tip toes.
Below her eyelashes, she, like moi and most 2014 modern girls she did not have a single hair on her perfect body.
On her breasts, tummy and mound there were not scars, but faded red stripes left there from some other amazing moment that she had needed to find sexual fulfillment.
I recognized her immediately.
Once when I was at this fab party over their at Desert Inn Lakes and in this opulent mansion I watched as five black basketball players from UNLV (University of North Las Vegas) had gang fucked her on a pool table for about two hours. With her adoring older and loving husband watching, this Mimi doll then, after the hoopsters wore out, fucked herself senseless with a pool cue for about ten minutes until she passed out.
She was clearly Clinical Nympho.
After, everyone had agreed that she had been marvelous, including her doting husband.
Anyhooo, set around her and on various small tables there were talons, belts, canes, crops and whips with leather handles on them. Accompanying them, there was an assortment of pliers, nipple clamps, dildos, chrome S-ass hooks, etc.
It was everything a dominatrix would need to take this submissive princess into the world of pain and pleasure that she sought.
That very dominatrix, dressed in the usual black leather get up, topless, corset, g-string, black gloves and thigh high black boots, was a tall, bust enhanced and wild looking female. Cleopatra’s large silicone breasts were pierced with gold spikes and were perfect if you loved Pamela Anderson and huge and she was 6 ft 1 and quite the exotic female.
She had long raven colored hair falling down her naked and tattooed back. Down each arm and on her back, stomach and breasts she had Thai calligraphy as well as wizards, snakes and dragons stitched into her skin.
Watching I was mesmerized, for I had seen scenes like these before. I always appreciated such showman ship within this world of pain and pleasure that so many demanded to survive within a dehumanized world.
Feeling the buzz, I downed my martini, turned just in time to see another set before me on the bar.
Smiling at Kim, I pushed the C-note to her, got a smile, as I said as she smiled more at me.
“For you Kim. Keep it. Keep I’m coming. More Uncle Benjamin’s I promise.”
Whisking the hundred dollar bill away, she smiled and said. “Crickey Janie, you’re just ALL THAT. Not to worry. See ya.”
Sipping at my long stem of golden liquid honey, I turned just as Cleopatra (that was her name) found a pine crop on the table. She swished it in the air a few times and snapped it on the leather clad table. The red heads eyes blinked hard several time.
Finding it to her liking she moved before the Red Head, whose chin was now in submission and was pressed against her collarbones?
Placing the crop under the lovelies chin, she lifted the does face level with her own. They made eye contact, hard.
“Why are you here? What is your name? How old are you?” Cleopatra asked, none to friendly.
Doll swallowed, and seemed to be fighting tears as her lips trembled.
“I’m, Mimi, 22...I was a bad girl...I cheated on my husband...I...I’m sorry. I need help.”
Lowering her chin, small sobs could be heard tumbling from her throat. Cleopatra, seemingly annoyed, lifted her chin again and tapped her on her closed eyes with the crop.
“Open them. NOW.” She barked, making the ginger gir
l wince.
Eyes now open, and with her ribs pressing again her skin, and her breathing increasing, she leered in seemingly fear at the woman white knuckling the crop.
“Do you think he deserved that?”
“N...No...No he didn’t...I’m so sorry...I...I...Please help me.”
Whipping around with the crop, she pointed to a 50ish man, obviously rich, grey temples, Baroni suit, Rolex watch, sitting in a chair. He was surrounded by about twenty-five or so other fun, stylish dressed loving patrons of Candy Land.
“And is that you’re poor husband there. Is that the man that dared marry such a tramp?”
With her mouth quivering and staring almost ashamed at her husband, she allowed the word to tremble out of her mouth.”Yes.”
Fuck, this ginger doll was good.
Tapping her pink nipples with the crop, Mimi winced as Cleopatra moved close to her face.
“Why did you do it? Be honest now and perhaps I shall be lenient with you.”
A single tear fell down along her porcelain cheek as she remained silent.
“I...I....I...”
“WHY.” Cleopatra snapped as she increased the intensity of the cane on her nipples.
Mimi’s body jolted, as her eyes focused and as the little girl that she was, she bit down on her lip with her perfect white teeth and whispered. “Because I love pussy and cock so much and I am a slut.”
“Yes, I thought so....What is it you want from me?”
“I...I...I want you to help me. I...I want to be a better girl...Please.”
WOW.
The crowd was riveted as I was and I so knew this story so well.
Because I am a bright light bulb I have my own problems thinking of Mimi’s faded pink lash marks
I got lazy once taking down a thug wanted for murdering a showgirl in Reno. He beat on me pretty good, and in an alley, on my butt, bleeding and totally fucked up I had a sec and found my small 38 in my boot holster. I put six caps in his heart, killing him dead.
I was lucky that night.
That’s why I have these light faded scars on my face.
Every girl needs something in this dehumanized world to survive. I know that was the case, before I got my self esteem straight for me. Suppose that is the same deal for the red head.