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Paula was going out of her mind, she was down to her last twenty dollars and if she didn’t find a steady source of income in a hurry she was gonna find herself out on the street!!! The rent was due in just three more day, no, make that three months rent was due in three days, and even though her landlord had been understanding of her problems, even a nice guy like Mr. Fuller would finally put his foot down sometime, and Paula was pretty sure that time would be this Friday!!! Restlessly she thumbed through the help wanted ads, when suddenly her eyes locked on an ad that read, “Women, Make Big Money Fast, No Experience Necessary, Start Tomorrow, Call 555-4321 and ask for Mr. Zolton”!!! Could this be the answer to her dreams, that she didn’t know, but as her hand reached for the phone, she sensed that her life would be changing forever!?!

“Please, have a chair, Miss Winters,” Ogden Zolton said easily, “I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place!?!” “Uh, no, not really,” she replied softly, “your directions were perfect!!!” “Good,” he replied while leaning back in his chair and lighting up a cigarette, “so tell me, Miss Winters, do you know what we do here, I mean how we make our money!?!” “No, I don’t,” she answered quickly, “your ad wasn’t too specific on anything, except for the fact that the money was good!!!” He smiled for a second, and after blowing out a long stream of smoke, nodded and replied, “The money’s very good, in fact I’d say it was excellent, how does five hundred dollars a day sound to you!?!” “F-five hundred,” she stammered, “did you say five hundred dollars per day!?!” “Exactly,” he shot back, “and there’s a chance it could even go higher!!!” Her head was swimming at the prospect of making so much money so quickly, but her good sense told her nothing was that easy, so in a wary voice she asked, “What would I have to do to earn that kind of salary!?!” “A very good question,” Ogden Zolton replied while getting up from his desk and motioning her to follow him as he opened the door, “let me show you and you can decide if you’re cut out for our kind of work!!!”

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Third of the “Deb’s Tails” series. There are more in the works; Deb has told me several others, I just need to find the time to write them down.

My wife, Deborah, often tells me “bedtime stories” of her sexual adventures. Some of them I know are true, either because I was there, or because she has corroborative evidence. Some of them, I’m sure, are fictional. Others, I’m just not sure about.

I don’t know about the truth of this one. It sounds like the kind of thing she’d do if she were in the right mood, but since I wasn’t there, I can’t vouch for it.

If you’ve ever heard anything about the New York subways, you probably think you know what they’re like. Noisy, obnoxious, and crowded. Most of the time that’s true, but as any New Yorker will tell you — once you get past his pride in living in the least livable city in the country — that some trains can be practically empty if you pick the right times and routes. Many evenings, around 10 or 11, even the busiest routes start emptying out, and by midnight it’s sometimes possible to have a car to yourself.

In all fairness to New York, though, it does have it’s good points. The Circle Line is one of them. It’s a mini-cruise around Manhattan (it is an island, you know!) Any place that’s got a decent-sized body of water has something similar. Seattle has trips around Puget Sound, New Orleans has riverboats running along the river. The Circle Line cruise is really beautiful at night with the city all lit up, but in the middle of winter, you can — and probably will — freeze your ass off.

Deb and I often have separate social lives — an inevitable reaction to work-related gatherings where people sit around and talk shop. What usually happened in New York was that I’d stay home and play with my techie-toys while she was out partying with her colleagues, or she’d stay home with a book while I was out cheering for the Mets. Naturally, that meant a few solo subway rides for both of us, often at somewhat odd hours.

This is the story of one of those trips as Deb told it to me (albeit, with my title).

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The phone rang, and Jennifer jumped. Darlene, her roommate, gave her an annoyed look and picked up the phone. “Hello? Yeah, this is Darlene. Huh? Oh, sure…I have it right here.” Flashing Jennifer another annoyed look, she picked up her math assignment sheet and started to read an assignment from it.

Jenny hugged her pillow close to her, listening to the phone conversation and trying to take refuge in its relative normalcy. It wasn’t him. Thank god it wasn’t him. She pressed her cheek into the soft fabric of the pillow, and held it tightly. Her eyes stared to the side, her mind fighting once again to deny what had happened to her before. It seemed like a dream now, but Jennifer knew it had not been a dream. She could not wake up from this nightmare.

She heard the click as Darlene hung up, and heard her roommate stand. She didn’t look, but she knew the expression that was on Darlene’s face; it was Darlene’s exasperation look, with her eyebrows jagged and her lips pursed together tightly. Jennifer had been seeing Darlene’s exasperation look quite a bit lately.

“You want to tell me what the hell is going on, Jennifer?” Darlene snapped. “I can see being startled by the phone, once, maybe twice, but EVERY FUCKING TIME? What’s gotten into you? You’re so jumpy lately… and you won’t tell me why! What’s wrong, Jennifer?”

Jennifer was silent for a moment. Once again, she was tempted to just blurt out the whole story, about Mark, about his powers, what he had done to her. And once again, she stopped herself. For one, she didn’t want to draw anyone into this beside herself. And for another…who would believe her? Jenny barely believed it herself.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she mumbled.

“What?!? The hell, nothing’s wrong! You’ve completely weirded out on me, Jen! You stay in the room all day, moping around, staring into space. You won’t answer the phone anymore, and it seems to scare you to death whenever it rings…you won’t talk to anyone, you don’t go out anymore…you can’t tell me nothing’s wrong. Give me some credit, Jennifer!”

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My name is ‘Show Girl.’ I’m 23 years old, 5’5″ tall, 115 pounds, and my measurements are 36C-21-34. I’m a natural blonde, with blue eyes and I’m into sexy talking and sexy ideas.

Actually, MY fantasy is to be on a stage with a lot of people watching me dance naked. In my fantasy, the guys hoot and holler, making very lewd and suggestive remarks about what they’d like to do to me in bed. I dance alone for a while, shaking my tits in their faces, or bending over in front of them close enough for them to try to lick my pussy. They all chicken out at the last minute though, and this makes be bolder and hotter the longer I dance.

I have in mind one of those semi-round stages, with a short, straight runway straight out from the stage. I start out dressed in a skirt and blouse, and quickly lose my clothes to stand completely nude before everyone.

While I’m dancing, my pussy gets wetter and wetter, and I feel my pussy cream mixing with the sweat that covers me from dancing under the hot lights. Faces are blurred beyond the edge of the stage, but the men are all intent on checking out my body. As I dance, I get more and more suggestive about what I want. I’ll lay on my back with my legs spread and rock my hips as though I was being fucked hard and fast. Then I roll over and spread my legs and thrust back, showing everyone my wet pussy and sexy ass. This I do with a nice looking guy of about 27 sitting at the edge of the stage. I shove my ass and cunt almost in his face several times. When I get up and dance by him, I can see a thick bulge in his lap, and I know he’s hot for me.

Finally, I see a pretty woman about my age sitting at the edge of the runway with her boyfriend across the table from her. I dance down towards her and lay on my stomach, pressing my large breasts against the floor. I look her in the eye and run my tongue across my lips sensuously, then flick my tongue up and down, showing her I’d like to eat her pussy too. To my surprise, she gives me an air-kiss, and runs her tongue around her lips too.

Excited, I sit up and spread my legs wide, with my ass at the edge of the stage, gyrating my hips lewdly right in front of her. I’m daring her to show me. Then she leans forward, and I hear the crowd hush. Her tongue lightly licks my soaking pussy, and she runs it over my clit, taking me closer to a climax. She leans back and fingers my vagina, and then licks my cream from her fingers, smiling up at me.

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We’ve gone over to Jon’s one evening. Susan is out of town, and we decided to keep Jon company. He made dinner for us, and we brought some good German beer. I’ve had a few glasses of wine with dinner. After dinner, we’re sitting in the living room, just talking, some about art, some about people you and Jon know. It was a long week for all of us and it’s nice to chat with friends and relax. Everyone feels very calm, although you suspect there is some undercurrent of sexual tension. You had teased me before we left home, and now, after dinner, you notice my nipples through my shirt. I’m a little flushed, but it could be from the wine.

I’m sitting at your feet and your hand is on the back of my neck, sometimes stroking my head, almost petting me. I am drifting off a little as you and Jon start to talk about some esoteric part of history that doesn’t interest me too much. I am content to let my mind meander and not worry. I lean back, now, between your legs, and put my head on your thigh. As you lean forward, you reach down and stroke one of my breasts very gently.

At first it is very natural and not conspicuous. Jon may not even notice because he is very intent on the discussion at hand. But as time goes on, you become more and more purposeful, obvious about what you are doing. Your fingers occasionally stray over my [tag]nipples[/tag], even pinching the right nipple, once. I close my eyes to concentrate on the feelings, so I am pretty unaware of how much Jon is noticing. You start fiddling with the buttons on my shirt, and almost casually undo the first three or four. Reaching into the opened shirt, through my bra, you take hold of my ring firmly and suddenly.

“Jon, Alice’s breasts are really very beautiful” you say, almost quietly.

Jon looks confused for a moment about Alice, but then realizes. You or I must have told him that Alice is my bottom name, and your signal that we are playing. It clicks in his head with what you have been doing for the last ten minutes.

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