The Foxiest Lady in Alameda County

"Shit!" yelled Starr.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit."

She banged the steering wheel with her hands. Her yellow Pontiac sat dormant on the shoulder of the I80 West freeway. Tears drenched her baby blue chenille blouse. Normally she was very composed and put together, but at a terrible moment like this her emotions pushed her to the edge.

She cared nothing about the Cutlass that nearly sideswiped her. Nor the Highway Patrol officers that slowed to look at her as they passed.

A half-eaten hotdog rolled from the console to under the seat. The smell of beer filled the interior. Was this the end? Could things get any worse than this? Hunted Ghost was supposed to win in the fifth race. The dream that told her so was so vivid, the kind that made you question real life. So why did that fucker come in third?

What crazy lie was she going to have to tell her Bobby when he asked why she didn't pay the car note or buy any groceries? How was she going to hide slipping off the wagon after the two of them made a pact to never drink again?

Starr opened the glove compartment, reached in, and blindly swept inside with her fingers. After pawing dusty papers and loose coins her hands found the small, round plastic bottle. She pulled it out and grimaced, Jemma Dean Brandy.

She thought she had thrown all of the airplane minis away when she forever cast booze from her life three months earlier, but somehow it was always impossible to remember all the bottles. The blonde hula girl on the label still winked an emerald eye at her, same as she always had. Was taking this drink going to send her back on a wild ride like last time?

Fuck it, she thought. Anything is better than this kind of fear and misery. She popped the cap and chugged the contents. She open the passenger window, threw the empty outside, started the engine, and hauled ass back into the lane.

As Starr took the 880 home, the alcohol coursed through her brain. Her throat burned as the fear and worry dissolved. This was nothing. She would figure this out. Even if she didn't have the answer now it would come to her in due time.

All she had to do was relax. And what could be more relaxing than another drink?

The emergency ten she kept in her sock got her a few more airplane minis and enough gas to get home, but then what? Just sit there and wait for her man? Let him come home to a meal of saltines and ramen noodles after working a double shift at the factory? Starr began to panic.

Starr looked in her makeup mirror. Sliver eye shadow stained her cheeks. The glue from her false eyelashes had begun to melt, but her hair was still freshly weaved. Her tits were still double D. Her belly was still soft but small and her ass could hold a shot glass if she stuck it out right. Her tasteful blouse showed just enough cleavage while her Old Navy jeggings revealed her true sex appeal.

Starr wiped off the ruined makeup and pulled off the failing eyelashes. Newly collected, she flashed a wicked grin at the mirror. The foxiest lady in Alameda County smiled back.

She pressed the gas pedal knowing full well that wherever she parked all eyes would be on her. Once she'd been admired and noticed it wouldn't be too hard to find a man to help her out. No, he wouldn't be fool enough to take care of all her financial woes, but he might still buy her some drinks and share a few laughs.

By the time she got home she'd be far too gone to care about anything Bobby might have to bitch about. The only question was where to go.

Frankie's Hideaway was a sports bar on the outskirts of East Oakland. Its chipped green paned and barred windows recalled an older, more violent time in the city's colorful past.

Tina sat at a side table waiting for customers. She was sipping a whiskey sour with her back to the wall and a firm eye on the door. She wasn't expecting trouble at work today, but you never knew what could happen. Last week her friend Ronnie had been shot dead with 9 bullets right around the corner from here. The police seldom came, which was good for business, but too often it made for early retirement.

Things were slow. The tricks wouldn't be getting off for a few hours yet. Might as well settle back and chill for a while.

Frankie, the gray haired owner, gave her a wink. Maybe she could pull some easy money out of him. She turned her head to smile at him. He eyed her up and down deliciously. Tina licked her fire red lips salaciously and drained her drink to the half melted ice cubes. Frankie swiftly built her another and trotted it up to her table.

Tina offered a soggy five dollar bill. Frankie waved it away.

"This one's on me."

"Sit down," ordered Tina.

Her green tinted contacts quickly sized up the beer- bellied former playboy.

"You seem a little lonely tonight," she said flatly.

"I could use some company," he replied.

Tina took a long hard pour of her new drink.

"Cut the bullshit," she demanded. "You want to get fucked."

She grabbed his leg and stroked his dick through his slacks. She rubbed it hard and slow the way she knew he liked it. He throbbed and swelled in her hand.

"You want me to bust open these slacks, shove your cock in my throat and kiss your balls without gagging. You want to sink your head into my titties while I grind my fine ass against your thighs. Now how much company do you need honey?"

"I'll let you know when I get off."

Tina's leopard print acrylics roughly scratched his groin. She stopped stroking and clutched Frankie's testicles.

"No," she said.

"If you want to get so much as a whiff of this fine redbone pussy then you better speak up now.... Now what's it gonna be pops, cold and empty or curled up and comfortable? You know I'll take good care of you."

She slipped a well-practiced Cheshire cat grin on her face.

"Just keep on with it," whispered Frankie in his throaty, pleasure voice.

Tina unsnapped the button on his pants and pressed her right hand under the strap of his boxer briefs. She slowly worked her palms up his meaty member letting the slick juices of his desire lubricate her fingertips. Her newly wetted hand shuffled him from shaft to tip as her thumb massaged deeply along his length. His shoulders and thighs stiffened a little. He drew in air through his teeth.

Frankie's eyelids fluttered as Tina rubbed his dick head like a magic eight ball. She was good with her hands, almost too good. Each sensuous stroke split Frankie's desire between wanting release and never wanting this feeling to end.

He finally made up what was left of his mind.

"Milk me," he muttered. "Fucking milk me."

"Yeah?" answered Tina. "You want me to milk your big, thick fucking cock?"

"Fuck yeah."

"You ready to bust all over my hand?"

"Make me."

Tina's hands worked faster as her fingers coaxed every neglected inch of her trick's pulsing brown snake.

"Who's the sexiest bitch on this block?"

"You are," he panted.

"Say my name."

"Tina," he breathed.

"Now make me hear it."

"TINA!"

An ocean of cum spurted out of Frankie and exploded inside his pants. His moans grew louder with the intense waves that followed. As the last drop fell, he raised his eyebrows and stared at his groin in disbelief.

He raised his glance to Tina as she smirked. She wiped her hand on his bar rag and offered it back to him.

He shook his head.

"No, that won't help much. I have to go to the back and change my pants this time. I'll be back with your money."

He refastened his slacks and got up. He headed behind the bar with a penguin waddle, trying hard to keep the sperm from dripping down his leg. Tina walked to the rest room to wash up.

Starr finished off her third airplane bottle of Jemma Dean as she snaked the Pontiac over the white dotted highway lines. She forgot how bad liquor can mess up your driving when you haven't drank in a while. Wherever she was going had better show up quick.

That creepy looking green bar with the broken neon sign was starting to look a lot more promising.

Starr jerked the steering wheel hard to the left. Her tires screamed as she crossed the double yellow line into the parking lot.

As Starr barreled through the brown swinging bar doors, she stared down the old fat bastard behind the counter.

"Give me a shot of Jemma and keep 'em coming," she bellowed.

Frankie silently cursed himself. Normally he would be happy to see such a fine classy woman walk into an establishment like his, but this certainly was not the right time. If only she had come in five minutes earlier he thought. Then he might have dusted off his old player moves and got himself some real company. Instead, he stood there, hunched over, limp-dicked with a puddle in his pants.

Starr sat on the bar stool awaiting for her drink. Frankie made it quick and scurried off, out of sight.

She took a taste from the cup and scanned the empty room.

Shit, she thought, even the roaches have checked out on this dive.

Without any money left in her purse, the only way to play this was to pound her drink and bounce before that fat bastard came back to his post. She emptied her glass, shook off the burn, and quietly placed the cup back on the mahogany paneled counter.

As she reached her arm out to push open the door, a voice stopped her cold.

"Bitch, do you really think you can just walk out of here like that?"

Starr's jaw fell open when she turned around and realized who she saw. It was Tina standing outside the restroom with open arms and a smile on her face.

"Tee Tee!" she screamed. "I haven't seen you since college."

She ran towards her old friend. Their huge, barely covered breasts squished together as Tina embraced her with a tight hug and kissed her cheek.

Tina let go and looked her old partner up and down. Tall, light skinned, and stacked just liked she'd always been.

"Look at you Big Baby. Hair pressed, freshly dressed, and god blessed.

Guess you finally earned your psych degree?"

"No, I dropped out in my junior year, but it don't matter. I'm a kept woman now."

"Did you marry Bobby Carlson?"

"Not yet, but I'll get him there. How about you, did you ever go back?"

Tina shook her head.

"I couldn't make the tuition, but these days I practice a different kind of psychology. Here comes one of my patients now."

Frankie emerged behind the bar with fresh slacks, two twenties, and a new confidence.

"Frankie honey," she snapped, "would you be kind enough to mix me another sour and a double of whatever this fine lady is drinking?"

The hours passed as the drinks flowed, the regular crowd of working men shuffled in. The laughter grew louder as they talked about the old days, the campus, leering professors, frat parties, and the study sessions that ended with wicked hangovers. Starr's spirits hadn't soared this high in years; however there was one thing that still bothered her.

"Tina, I gotta ask. What are you doing here?"

"Well, clearly sweetie, I am having a drink with an old friend."

Tina looked down at her tattoos, fake nails, matching tube top, and denim mini skirt. "Oh this? You know I have always been about the life."

"I knew you stripped but--"

"Honey, The Clapper Room closed at 2 am and I got back to our dorm by 6:30. What else could you possibly think I was doing?"

"I thought you were out with one of your girls."

"Girls are fine, but men just spend so much more money."

"But you had money, your dad is a deacon."

"My cousin staggered into the club and caught me on stage in a compromising position with a little Miss Nameless. He ran his mouth and nearly split the church in half."

Starr opened her mouth to lecture but Tina waved it shut.

"Fuck 'em," she declared, "and fuck their sympathy, their pity, and their judgment. I'm a professional and I love what I do. Do you remember Sharice?"

"The class valedictorian?"

"Yes, that Sharice. I saw her washing cars over at Budget rentals last week. I probably make more in thirty minutes than she makes all day."

Starr nearly choked on her fourth or fifth double.

"How much money are we talking about Tee Tee?"

"Enough to not have to run out on a little five dollar tab."

Starr hung her head a little. Nothing felt worse than getting called out on your sins by someone who sucked dick for a living. Tina smiled. She was just getting started.

"Enough to not have to buy a $20 Coach bag in the Safeway parking lot."

Starr clutched her purse a little tighter.

"Look around honey. There are dozens of thirsty tricks out here, flush with cash, desperate to cum, and I don't have to holler at a single one. Now, I could pop my ass and fetch an easy five hundred dollars before the sun goes down, but I'm choosing to ignore them so I can sit back and spend some time with you."

Starr shrunk back, humbled. Tina softly grabbed her arm. She nimbly massaged Starr's wrist and hand, giving her a seductive look that held her soul's attention.

"So Starr, I must ask, what are you doing here?"

Starr tried to play it off, but the question cut to the bone. The easy answer was that she came to drown her sorrows after a staggering loss at the track, but why was she at the track in the first place? Bobby gave her a fine allowance that covered all her needs plus a few extras. Why risk it all for a little more?

Yes, she had a dream, but then she dreamed all kinds of crazy shit most nights. Why take this one seriously?

The reality was that she wanted something that could be hers. As much as she respected Bobby as a provider, she hated having to depend on him. Of course she couldn't admit this to Tina.

"I don't know," she lied.

Tina smirked. "When was the last time you had something that was truly yours?"

"What's that's supposed to mean?" She asked

Tina grabbed Starr closer and placed her painted lips inches from her own.

"Don't be so obtuse. You could have fallen in love with anyone you wanted so you chose Bobby? I'll admit, he is handsome, but he is also very simple. You are far too young and sexy to be owned by such a simple man."

Tina looked deep into Starr's pupils. It was a soul charging stare that had held her attention before.

"Do you remember back in school when I taught you how to fuck? I showed you how to hula hoop your hips, twist your ass like a washing machine, deep throat a banana and bring it up in one piece."

Starr remembered. Tina did more than just show her. First she would ply her full of vodka and ecstasy tablets. Then she stripped off her thong, broke out her bright pink dildo and gave a firsthand demonstration of how to work it. She broke out a matching green dildo and made Starr follow along until she could copy perfectly.

By that point both young ladies would be so horny and intoxicated, they would end up finishing each other off.

Starr's greatest memory was the time Tina pushed her into a chair, unhooked her bra, and wrapped those sweet honeydew melons around her face. Then Tina banged her wet pussy with two fingers, curving them slightly to hit Starr's pleasure spots.

As Tina stroked, she pushed her breasts in closer, smothering her. Starr began to sweat and writhe, desperate to breath. Then, as she was about to pass out, her thighs stiffened, her clit jerked, and a flood of the most intense orgasmic pleasure she had ever felt, overflowed her being. Starr tried to scream, but Tina's tits prevented her from crying out.

For the first time in five years, Starr allowed herself to recall just how satisfying those cums were. Sure, she was essentially straight, but there was something about a great set of tits that was still very arousing. She cautioned a sly glance at Tina's, they were just as tantalizing as they had ever been. She hoped her friend wouldn't notice.

Naturally, Tina caught Starr's clumsy drunken leer immediately. She was used to being lusted after and was very aware when it happened. She pulled the edges of her tight, snow leopard printed Lycra (shirt) and adjusted it in a way to give Starr an even closer look at her plunging neckline.

Starr's face flushed as the old familiar heat started a slow course through her groin. She had to do something quick to break the spell.

"I... I need another drink."

she stammered. Frankie, who had been eyeing the pair intently was at their table with a fresh glass moments after the words left her lips.

Starr took a slow causal sip and touched her forehead. For the first time, she realized she was glowing. Tina grabbed a napkin and wiped her brow. Frankie stood by transfixed. Tina shot him an angry glance as he turned and sauntered away to resume his post behind the bar.

A ringing phone broke their concentration.

Starr had wisely chosen to turn her cell off before she entered the bar. She nodded to her friend. Tina dug furiously through her small, pink, shiny hard shelled purse. After retrieving two TracFones, she flipped open the baby pink model.

"Hey baby," she answered.

"You know I'm never too busy for you."

There was a long silent pause as she listened carefully to the other end. She looked Starr up and down slowly while rubbing her chin. She slipped to the door to continue the call out of earshot. Starr didn't need to be a whore to know that Tina was up to something.

A few more minutes passed. Tina flipped the phone shut and put it back in her purse. She approached the table and gave her wickedest smile yet.

"Starr honey," she cooed,

"I need you to come along for a ride."

"Bitch, let go!"

Tina grabbed the silver flask from Starr's hand and took a quick slug before replacing the cap and placing it back in the center console. The BMW's cigarette lighter popped and Tina expertly lit her waiting Newport. She let out an impossible stream of smoke through her nose and mouth before returning her hand to the steering wheel.

Starr's head reeled as Tina piloted the car up the tight Berkeley roads to the hills. For the tenth time that hour she pondered how she got caught up in this predicament.

She had left the apartment intending to buy groceries and took a slight detour for dollar beers and hot dogs at the track. A lost bet led to a couple drinks at the bar and an innocent meeting with an old friend.

Now, she was about to engage in the world's oldest profession with her old sociology teacher. A stuffy, gray-haired prune, aptly named Mr. Pervis.

The plan was simple. She and Tina would make out and suck each other's titties for a few minutes. Once Tina felt Pervis was sufficiently aroused, she and Starr would take off the rest of their clothes. Tina would spank Starr's massive ass a few times. He would lie on the floor. Starr would sit on his face while Tina rode him to completion.

Whatever they made would be split down the middle. It wouldn't fully cover her loss, but it would keep the repo man off her back until she could figure out the rest.

She and Tina had shared a couple of seniors back in their wild college days. So why did this feel so dirty and wrong? Was it the money? Was it because he was her professor? Tina had assured her that Pervis was the harmless gentle trick he appeared to be, but what if he wasn't? Tina also had a way of gaining people's trust and compliance by omitting crucial details until it was too late to go back.

That being said, she was fairly certain that her friend wouldn't put her directly in harm's way. She also knew that the well monied, highly tenured professor had more to lose than she did if something went wrong. Above all else, she needed another drink.

As Starr reached towards the flask Tina slapped her hand.

"No more of that, I can't have you passing out on me."

"Don't worry, I'm cool," slurred Starr.