“Don’t worry, Cleo will be home to visit soon,” said Lorena soothingly. “Now my love, why don’t we talk about finances? I need a little more, ten thousand a month just isn’t enough,” she pouted. “There are so many things I need to pay for, the landscaping, our pool cleaners …”
I sighed. I knew she was fucking the pool boy Carlos but I didn’t give a shit. Lorena could do whatever she wanted now that I had Cleo’s curvy red pussy wrapped around my cock each night, she was no match for that teen twat, its tight, willing, wet warmth. In fact, now whenever I looked at my wife, I just wanted her gone. Shit, that ugly pool dude was doing me a favor keeping her out of my hair. With a grunt, I got out my checkbook.
“Fifteen thousand enough?” I rumbled.
“Make it twenty,” Lorena purred, and I silently made out the check, tearing it out and handing it to her.
“Thank you my love, I’ll make sure Cleo gets part of this as her spending money,” she said. “Now eat your eggs and behave,” she scolded teasingly.
Glumly, I turned back to my breakfast. It was cold and soggy now, but when my stepdaughter came back … I had visions of slipping eggs into her pussy, scrambled and whole, those lips stretching elastically, her juices lubing the way. The thought made me perk up, and I chewed with more enthusiasm.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cleo
Two weeks later …
I miss my Daddy. I’m a star dancer here at the Donkey Club, but I still think back to Drake sometimes … that incredible build, the Crest-white smile, the massive shaft. We’d only had two weeks together before my mom whisked me off to the club, but the memories of that time haunted me still.
I’d wanted to come home after one week.
“Mom,” I said patiently into the phone. “I’ve learned all the basics of dancing, in fact management lets me get up on center stage now, even when the place is packed.” I didn’t add that Robert and Lester had made multiple passes at me, all of which I’d rebuffed.
“Honey,” my mom’s voice trailed. “That’s not the elite level. You know the best girls at the Donkey Club don’t just dance … they fuck,” she said conspiratorially. “The fees are astronomical baby, try to be selected for the Donkey Service.”
My head was whirling. My mom wanted me to become a whore? It was enough that she’d already put me in this strip club, where I took off my clothes each night for money. I mean, it’s not what most women encourage their eighteen year-old daughters to do, but I get it, this was Lorena’s line of work, and mothers sometimes want their daughters to follow in their footsteps.
But whoring? That was different. That was prostitution, hands down.
“Ma,” I said slowly. “That’s not reasonable. I appreciate that you’ve paid for a nice apartment for me, but I shouldn’t have to put out for the Donkey overlords as well.”
But my mom completely missed the point. Instead of acknowledging that prostitution was illegal, not to mention the long-term damage to my emotional and mental well-being, she focused on the money.
“Honey, you’re not really working for the Donkey Club if you join their escort service. They take a small set-up fee, but the commission is yours to keep. When I was doing it,” she confided. “I made about five hundred per hook-up, but I hear the fee now is two to three thousand. Plus, there are so many handsome, rich men … you know, your cousin Liliane met her patron this way.”
That was the other shocking revelation in all of this. Evidently, almost all the women of the Jones clan had taken a turn at the Donkey Club, including my mom, my three aunts, and my five female cousins. I’d thought my cousin Lili had met her rich boyfriend at some bar, but actually the Donkey had been the connection. It was shocking because Preston, Lili’s boyfriend was a waspy dude, someone descended from Thomas Jefferson who wore madras shorts and liked yachting in his free time. I would never have guessed that he’d been to the Donkey Club, much less hooked up with one of its strippers for a long-term relationship.
I sighed. Against this backdrop of sheer insanity my mom would never be convinced that stripping and escorting weren’t right for me. But then she said something that stung my heart.
“Drake’s moved on, baby,” she said softly. “I know you miss him, but Drake has someone else.”
I sputtered. I’d only been gone two weeks! How could my stepdad have met someone so quickly?
“You mean you?” I asked sarcastically.
But my mom didn’t take offense.
“No baby,” she said slowly. “We were never his only ones. Sure, we were handy because we lived in his house, but he’s a male slut and has been his whole life. You know Marie? The girl who walks his dogs?”