JackpotChapter 2
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Jackpot: Chapter Eight free porn video
Disclaimers & Warnings: This tale includes, elements of BDSM, and a healthy sprinkling of verbal humiliation. Readers who are offended or triggered by such material are advised to proceed with caution or bail out now. © SheriffBart 2020. All rights reserved.
Feedback is welcome. Enjoy!
~~~~~ Chapter Eight: Sin City Trisha ~~~~~
“Come on, Trisha ,pick up. Why aren't you answering? Dammit, voice mail again. I haven't heard from her for at least, what, seven days now?”
“What? Haven't heard from who?” Lilly and I were seated on the living couch watching Scandal on Netflix and she was only half listening.
“Trisha. The girl I picked up at the casino. The last time we talked, she was just a few hours from Vegas. Now I can't get her on the phone. I'm starting to worry about – hey, a text! She got my call. Hold on.”
“She says she's been working and hasn't been able to talk when I called, but...she has a break coming up. She'll call me in a few minutes. Thank God, I was starting to worry. The last time we talked, she was still at a truck stop in Arizona, and....you're not listening.”
“I'm sorry Honey, it's just so intense. You really have to pay attention. Can you just fill me in after you talk to her?” She gave me a sheepish smile that was completely transparent, but still twice as powerful as kryptonite.
“Okay, no problem. Enjoy the show. No spoilers.”
“Uh-huh.”
I went to my Sanctum Sanctorum to take the call I'd been anticipating for over a week. While I waited, I couldn't help but flip to my photo album and gaze again at some of the pics from our first encounter.
Such a gorgeous young woman. Beautiful, smart, and sexy. How lucky can you get?
She's working. That's great. That means she made it to Vegas and isn't sleeping on the streets. She's gonna be okay.
Of course she's gonna be okay. She's young, determined, smart, and beautiful. And I've been praying for her every day since I met her. She'll be fine.
I wonder what she's doing? Cocktail waitress? Hotel receptionist? Domestic? She'd look awesome in one of those casino cocktail waitress outfits. Fishnet stockings, skin-tight corset, plunging neckline...
Quit thinking like a perv, Frank. Just because she's a sex-positive young woman doesn't mean she's going to get a job where she has to dress like a chorus girl every day. Maybe she got a job at the front desk, or at a Pizza Hut somewhere. She might be working at a call center for all I know, selling used car warranties.
Still...she would look awesome in that cocktail waitress uniform. I wonder—Oh, there she is.
“Hi Trisha! I'm so glad to hear from you. I was starting to worry.”
“Hi Bart!” came the ebullient reply. She sounded relaxed and happy.
“How are you? I assume you made it to Las Vegas. What are you doing?”
“I'm fine. More than fine, I'm having the time of my life. Yes, I made to Vegas. Phil kept his promise. He dropped me off on the strip at the MGM Grand. That's where his delivery was. Of course, when I walked into the lobby with my backpack, they thought I was checking in. It took about fifteen minutes for me to get the guy at the front desk to realize I had just landed in town and was looking for a job. He directed me to HR, which was about a mile away in another part of the building. Jesus, that place is frickin' huge! I had no idea there were hotels that big.”
“Yeah, they're like little cities unto themselves. It's hard to describe the scale of those places until you've been in one.”
“Tell me about it. So anyway, I finally find the HR department and the lady takes one look at me and she's like, 'perfect! We have an opening for a cocktail waitress. You can start right away'.”
“Ha! I knew it. I was just thinking about how good you'd look in one of those tight little uniforms. Am I pa-sychic, or what?”
“Uh, well maybe partly psychic. It didn't work out.”
“What? Why, what happened?”
“Well, it was okay for the first couple of days. They put me in the main casino and assigned an older lady to train me. Beth. She was really nice. And it was okay. I mean, I made really good tips. But geez, the air. Have you ever been in one of those places? Oh, right. Never mind. Chocktaw. So anyway, the air in those places is lethal! I try to take care of my body. Volleyball taught me that. These places, I don't know how anybody works there and doesn't die of lung cancer.”
“Yeah, the second-hand smoke is pretty bad.” I recalled having to hold my breath sometimes as I made my way through a casino on the way to a convention hall. “Some of the Wynn properties have filters over the gaming areas to pull the cigarette fumes out of the air, but it doesn't always work.”
“Yeah, that's what Beth said. She's a smoker herself, so it doesn't bother her. But after a day and a half, I'm like, 'I'm sorry I gotta get outta here. I'm hoping to go to college on a volleyball scholarship. I can't play volleyball if I can't take three steps without hacking up a lung'.”
“That's a good point. I hadn't thought of that. You're still determined to get back on track aren't you?”
“Damn straight I am. That bastard may have ruined my shot at Southeastern, but he can't mess with me here. I'm gonna get where I wanna go, even if I have to work my way through school as a stripper.”
“Say what?”
“Well, yeah. When I told Beth about the smoke and all, she's like, 'well honey, with a face and a body like that, you could be an exotic dancer. They make a lot more money. I used to do it but I got married and my husband was like, 'no way, you're not dancing anymore. Get another job'. So here I am'.”
“So, I took her advice and went and applied at Centerfolds. It had a different name when she worked there. Something about overcharging credit cards and the old owners had to sell. Anyway, it's pretty nice. It's right across the street form the Hard Rock Casino and, get this Bart. They offer free limousine rides to bring guys in. And these guys..are loaded. And they love to spend money. On me! And the other girls of course. Beth said she used to make over 60 thousand a year! I've already made over twelve hundred dollars my first week!”
“Awesome! That's great Trisha. I'm glad you landed on your feet. But, as much money as that sounds like, you still have to pay for rent, food and utilities. Have you checked into housing costs there? I'm sure it's not cheap.”
“That's the best part. I've got a roommate! Beth still knows some of the girls who work there and she hooked me up with one of the cocktail waitresses. She's really sweet. Well, I don't know if you'd like her or not. She's... kind of different.”
“What, does she have three eyes? Is she a Lithuanian power-lifter?”
“No, she's just...she's not a girl, girl. What's the term? Sis--”
“Oh, is she a trans woman?”
“Yes. That's the technical term. But really, she's just a girl. That's how she identifies and that's how I feel about her. She's a girl in a slightly different wrapper. And like I said, she's really sweet. When she found out I didn't have a place to stay, she insisted I stay with her. I plan to pay my part of the rent at the end of the month, but she won't let me pay for anything until I make some more money and get, you know, settled.”
“Cool! I'm glad you found someone so accommodating. What's her name?”
“Tiffany. She has super long, green & purple hair and big dark eyes, and her boobs are bigger than mine! She's really pretty. Most of the guys at the bar don't even know she's trans. They're always flirting with her.”
“Sounds like a real hottie. I hope I get to meet her someday.”
“Really?”
“Uh, remind me to show you some of my artwork sometime.”
“You didn't tell me you were an artist. What kind of stuff do you draw? Or paint?”
“That's a whole other conversation. So, speaking of the guys are the bar, how are they treating you?”
She laughed out loud and I got another unexpected rush of joy just hearing it.
“Well, they treat me pretty well when I take my g-string off and shake my ass in their faces! Oh my god, some of them are such...pigs. But, there are some who are pretty nice. And some are pretty hot. I tell you Bart, sometimes, I feel absolutely disgusted with the whole business.
And sometimes...sometimes I have so much fun, I can't believe they're paying me. And sometimes I feel all of that within about a half hour. But hey, it could be worse. I could be stranded in bumfuck Egypt somewhere. Or still at home dealing with my asshole stepf@ther.”
“Oh, that reminds me. I've been trying to reach your folks. Well, your m0ther anyway. And I can't seem to find a time to call when the asshole's not home. He always answers. I've had to hang up twice and I don't want to keep doing that because it will just make him suspicious and he might take that out on your m0ther.”
“Shit. Yeah, I hadn't thought of that. The asshole won't allow her to have her own phone. He always thinks she's cheating on him. Then again....never mind. Just call late afternoon before he comes home.”
“Won't your m0ther be at work then?”
“No, I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. She works nights. She's a manager at a lingerie shop. Darryl works at the Ford dealership and gets home around 4:30. If you call between like, 1 and 4, you should catch her after she wakes up and before Darryl gets home. Oh, shit. They're calling me to the stage. Break time's over. Sorry Bart, I gotta go.”
“No problem, Trisha. Thanks so much for calling, it was great hearing from you! I'll tell your m0ther” –
“Bye!”
Gone. “Bye Trisha”.
I sat there in the resounding silence, clinging to the echo of her voice, imagining her confident, radiant smile, feeling....what? Loss? Yes, and relief, and affection, and...infatuation? Yes, definitely infatuation. Maybe more. Maybe the familiar intoxicating onset of NRE. But mainly I felt the quiet joy of knowing that she was all right.
She was safe and happy. And apparently having a helluva good time. Except for the pigs. I wondered what she meant by that, what she had to deal with.
What would it feel like to have to strip naked for money? To spread your legs in front of total strangers? How would it feel to be forced into intimate contact with strange men with bad breath and worse manners? Would I want to do that for a living? Definitely not. Not even with strange women. Would I let Lilly do that if I had a say? Probably not.
But it wasn't my choice, it was Trisha's. I had no say. She wasn't even my d@ughter. This was her decision and she'd made it. From her perspective, it was less harmful than breathing second-hand smoke every day. And apparently less miserable than being at home with her alcoholic, p*******e stepf@ther who now had a name. Darryl.
My heart pounded and a wave of anger raced through me like a desert wind.
It's time to do something about Darryl. That m0therfucker's got to go.
I thumbed to my calendar and looked for the next open afternoon. Damn. Our date with Olivia was the next evening and we still had to get ready. The next opportunity to call mid-afternoon on a work day was still two days away.
Darryl, your days are numbered.
Feedback is welcome. Enjoy!
~~~~~ Chapter Eight: Sin City Trisha ~~~~~
“Come on, Trisha ,pick up. Why aren't you answering? Dammit, voice mail again. I haven't heard from her for at least, what, seven days now?”
“What? Haven't heard from who?” Lilly and I were seated on the living couch watching Scandal on Netflix and she was only half listening.
“Trisha. The girl I picked up at the casino. The last time we talked, she was just a few hours from Vegas. Now I can't get her on the phone. I'm starting to worry about – hey, a text! She got my call. Hold on.”
“She says she's been working and hasn't been able to talk when I called, but...she has a break coming up. She'll call me in a few minutes. Thank God, I was starting to worry. The last time we talked, she was still at a truck stop in Arizona, and....you're not listening.”
“I'm sorry Honey, it's just so intense. You really have to pay attention. Can you just fill me in after you talk to her?” She gave me a sheepish smile that was completely transparent, but still twice as powerful as kryptonite.
“Okay, no problem. Enjoy the show. No spoilers.”
“Uh-huh.”
I went to my Sanctum Sanctorum to take the call I'd been anticipating for over a week. While I waited, I couldn't help but flip to my photo album and gaze again at some of the pics from our first encounter.
Such a gorgeous young woman. Beautiful, smart, and sexy. How lucky can you get?
She's working. That's great. That means she made it to Vegas and isn't sleeping on the streets. She's gonna be okay.
Of course she's gonna be okay. She's young, determined, smart, and beautiful. And I've been praying for her every day since I met her. She'll be fine.
I wonder what she's doing? Cocktail waitress? Hotel receptionist? Domestic? She'd look awesome in one of those casino cocktail waitress outfits. Fishnet stockings, skin-tight corset, plunging neckline...
Quit thinking like a perv, Frank. Just because she's a sex-positive young woman doesn't mean she's going to get a job where she has to dress like a chorus girl every day. Maybe she got a job at the front desk, or at a Pizza Hut somewhere. She might be working at a call center for all I know, selling used car warranties.
Still...she would look awesome in that cocktail waitress uniform. I wonder—Oh, there she is.
“Hi Trisha! I'm so glad to hear from you. I was starting to worry.”
“Hi Bart!” came the ebullient reply. She sounded relaxed and happy.
“How are you? I assume you made it to Las Vegas. What are you doing?”
“I'm fine. More than fine, I'm having the time of my life. Yes, I made to Vegas. Phil kept his promise. He dropped me off on the strip at the MGM Grand. That's where his delivery was. Of course, when I walked into the lobby with my backpack, they thought I was checking in. It took about fifteen minutes for me to get the guy at the front desk to realize I had just landed in town and was looking for a job. He directed me to HR, which was about a mile away in another part of the building. Jesus, that place is frickin' huge! I had no idea there were hotels that big.”
“Yeah, they're like little cities unto themselves. It's hard to describe the scale of those places until you've been in one.”
“Tell me about it. So anyway, I finally find the HR department and the lady takes one look at me and she's like, 'perfect! We have an opening for a cocktail waitress. You can start right away'.”
“Ha! I knew it. I was just thinking about how good you'd look in one of those tight little uniforms. Am I pa-sychic, or what?”
“Uh, well maybe partly psychic. It didn't work out.”
“What? Why, what happened?”
“Well, it was okay for the first couple of days. They put me in the main casino and assigned an older lady to train me. Beth. She was really nice. And it was okay. I mean, I made really good tips. But geez, the air. Have you ever been in one of those places? Oh, right. Never mind. Chocktaw. So anyway, the air in those places is lethal! I try to take care of my body. Volleyball taught me that. These places, I don't know how anybody works there and doesn't die of lung cancer.”
“Yeah, the second-hand smoke is pretty bad.” I recalled having to hold my breath sometimes as I made my way through a casino on the way to a convention hall. “Some of the Wynn properties have filters over the gaming areas to pull the cigarette fumes out of the air, but it doesn't always work.”
“Yeah, that's what Beth said. She's a smoker herself, so it doesn't bother her. But after a day and a half, I'm like, 'I'm sorry I gotta get outta here. I'm hoping to go to college on a volleyball scholarship. I can't play volleyball if I can't take three steps without hacking up a lung'.”
“That's a good point. I hadn't thought of that. You're still determined to get back on track aren't you?”
“Damn straight I am. That bastard may have ruined my shot at Southeastern, but he can't mess with me here. I'm gonna get where I wanna go, even if I have to work my way through school as a stripper.”
“Say what?”
“Well, yeah. When I told Beth about the smoke and all, she's like, 'well honey, with a face and a body like that, you could be an exotic dancer. They make a lot more money. I used to do it but I got married and my husband was like, 'no way, you're not dancing anymore. Get another job'. So here I am'.”
“So, I took her advice and went and applied at Centerfolds. It had a different name when she worked there. Something about overcharging credit cards and the old owners had to sell. Anyway, it's pretty nice. It's right across the street form the Hard Rock Casino and, get this Bart. They offer free limousine rides to bring guys in. And these guys..are loaded. And they love to spend money. On me! And the other girls of course. Beth said she used to make over 60 thousand a year! I've already made over twelve hundred dollars my first week!”
“Awesome! That's great Trisha. I'm glad you landed on your feet. But, as much money as that sounds like, you still have to pay for rent, food and utilities. Have you checked into housing costs there? I'm sure it's not cheap.”
“That's the best part. I've got a roommate! Beth still knows some of the girls who work there and she hooked me up with one of the cocktail waitresses. She's really sweet. Well, I don't know if you'd like her or not. She's... kind of different.”
“What, does she have three eyes? Is she a Lithuanian power-lifter?”
“No, she's just...she's not a girl, girl. What's the term? Sis--”
“Oh, is she a trans woman?”
“Yes. That's the technical term. But really, she's just a girl. That's how she identifies and that's how I feel about her. She's a girl in a slightly different wrapper. And like I said, she's really sweet. When she found out I didn't have a place to stay, she insisted I stay with her. I plan to pay my part of the rent at the end of the month, but she won't let me pay for anything until I make some more money and get, you know, settled.”
“Cool! I'm glad you found someone so accommodating. What's her name?”
“Tiffany. She has super long, green & purple hair and big dark eyes, and her boobs are bigger than mine! She's really pretty. Most of the guys at the bar don't even know she's trans. They're always flirting with her.”
“Sounds like a real hottie. I hope I get to meet her someday.”
“Really?”
“Uh, remind me to show you some of my artwork sometime.”
“You didn't tell me you were an artist. What kind of stuff do you draw? Or paint?”
“That's a whole other conversation. So, speaking of the guys are the bar, how are they treating you?”
She laughed out loud and I got another unexpected rush of joy just hearing it.
“Well, they treat me pretty well when I take my g-string off and shake my ass in their faces! Oh my god, some of them are such...pigs. But, there are some who are pretty nice. And some are pretty hot. I tell you Bart, sometimes, I feel absolutely disgusted with the whole business.
And sometimes...sometimes I have so much fun, I can't believe they're paying me. And sometimes I feel all of that within about a half hour. But hey, it could be worse. I could be stranded in bumfuck Egypt somewhere. Or still at home dealing with my asshole stepf@ther.”
“Oh, that reminds me. I've been trying to reach your folks. Well, your m0ther anyway. And I can't seem to find a time to call when the asshole's not home. He always answers. I've had to hang up twice and I don't want to keep doing that because it will just make him suspicious and he might take that out on your m0ther.”
“Shit. Yeah, I hadn't thought of that. The asshole won't allow her to have her own phone. He always thinks she's cheating on him. Then again....never mind. Just call late afternoon before he comes home.”
“Won't your m0ther be at work then?”
“No, I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. She works nights. She's a manager at a lingerie shop. Darryl works at the Ford dealership and gets home around 4:30. If you call between like, 1 and 4, you should catch her after she wakes up and before Darryl gets home. Oh, shit. They're calling me to the stage. Break time's over. Sorry Bart, I gotta go.”
“No problem, Trisha. Thanks so much for calling, it was great hearing from you! I'll tell your m0ther” –
“Bye!”
Gone. “Bye Trisha”.
I sat there in the resounding silence, clinging to the echo of her voice, imagining her confident, radiant smile, feeling....what? Loss? Yes, and relief, and affection, and...infatuation? Yes, definitely infatuation. Maybe more. Maybe the familiar intoxicating onset of NRE. But mainly I felt the quiet joy of knowing that she was all right.
She was safe and happy. And apparently having a helluva good time. Except for the pigs. I wondered what she meant by that, what she had to deal with.
What would it feel like to have to strip naked for money? To spread your legs in front of total strangers? How would it feel to be forced into intimate contact with strange men with bad breath and worse manners? Would I want to do that for a living? Definitely not. Not even with strange women. Would I let Lilly do that if I had a say? Probably not.
But it wasn't my choice, it was Trisha's. I had no say. She wasn't even my d@ughter. This was her decision and she'd made it. From her perspective, it was less harmful than breathing second-hand smoke every day. And apparently less miserable than being at home with her alcoholic, p*******e stepf@ther who now had a name. Darryl.
My heart pounded and a wave of anger raced through me like a desert wind.
It's time to do something about Darryl. That m0therfucker's got to go.
I thumbed to my calendar and looked for the next open afternoon. Damn. Our date with Olivia was the next evening and we still had to get ready. The next opportunity to call mid-afternoon on a work day was still two days away.
Darryl, your days are numbered.
Mei
- 02.10.2021
- 18
- 0
