Older Strippers And How They Play

Info silverhawk
06 Sep. '19

You always hear some asshole who thinks he’s smarter than you say, “Well, in the grand scheme of things…”, but I don’t believe there’s any goddamned grand scheme or master plan or whatever else you want to call it.  If there is, whoever wrote the fucking thing forgot to ask me for my input, because the plan isn’t turning out like I’d like it to.

No, shit just happens and you deal with it.  That’s what I was doing in the alley behind my office/apartment that night, dealing with shit I didn’t start but was going to have to finish.  It was all Reggie Adams’ fault.  Reggie is my landlord.

Reggie inherited the building in the older part of downtown Nashville where I live  from his dad, Homer Adams.  Reggie was twenty-six when his dad passed.  I rented the first floor of that building that same year.  I was twenty-four at the time and the rent I was paying for a tiny little office in a strip mall was proving a problem.  I couldn’t afford both the office and an apartment, so I was living with Mom and Dad.   I wanted to move out.

I talked to Julie Richardson, a realtor I knew from finding her long lost brother.  It turned out he’d changed his name from Charlie to Charlize and then gone to Denmark for a year.  When I told Julie that Charlize was living in White House, she wrinkled her brow and then said, “Charlie always did like to dress up in Mom’s clothes. I always wanted a sister, and I guess I kinda have one now.  It’s gonna take me a while to figure out how I feel about that.”

Julie laughed when I said my rent was too high.

“Harry, the only place you’re gonna find lower rent is down in the old business district downtown, and I don’t really think you want to move there.  It’s all resale shops and hookers now.”

Well, that part of town wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst either.  I was young and thought I could handle about anything, so I asked if she had anything for rent down there.  She found the place I live in now, and put me in contact with the owner, Reggie Adams.

When I first talked to Reggie, he tried to give me the impression he was the next up and coming real estate mogul in Nashville.  The rental contract was fifteen pages long and had all sorts of shit I could and couldn’t do.  It was obvious it was a contract he’d copied from somewhere so he wouldn’t have to pay a lawyer to draw one up.  I mean, since the front yard was the sidewalk and the back yard was a loading dock, there was no grass to keep mowed to a maximum height of three inches. None of the three floors had balconies, so it wasn’t likely I was going to have more than two people on the one I didn’t have.  It must have been an old contract too, because the only thing the contract didn’t include was the standard clause my old rental contract had that said I’d pay for any repairs under five hundred dollars.  Reggie was supposed to pay for any repairs.

The rent was affordable and I could move out of Mom and Dad’s basement and live there too, so I gave Reggie my first and last month’s rent, signed the contract, and moved in.  That was almost thirty years ago and it’s been great.  Well, the place has been great.  Reggie’s been a fucking pain in the ass.

Reggie’s a pain in the ass because he’s a cheapskate, but other than that, he’s actually pretty harmless.  What that means is he’s dumb as a fucking rock about most things.  Other things, well, Reggie isn’t ever going to get an invitation to join Mensa, but he gets by somehow.  I didn’t realize how dumb he actually was until he got married.

One of the things Reggie liked to do to impress people was spend money where they could see him spending it, and Reggie’s dad had been pretty good with money.  In addition to my building and three others, his dad left him a pretty large bank account, and Reggie started going to The Starlight Lounge every Saturday night and spending it.  

Now “The Starlight Lounge” sounds like a place where you could kick back, have a couple of drinks, and listen to some of the local jazz bands.  That’s what it was until the owner retired and sold it.  The new owner turned it into a strip club.

Shirley Gene Gentry was one of the strippers there, and Reggie decided he liked her.  I could understand that.  I went to see her once after Reggie said he’d tried and tried but he couldn’t get a locksmith to fix the lock on my back door. Then he changed the subject and told me I’d really like Shirley Gene.  I hung up the phone and called a locksmith who came out half an hour later and charged me forty bucks for the ten minutes it took him to fix the lock.  That night I drove over to The Starlight Lounge and sat down at the bar in front of the stage.

I’m not really into strip clubs.  I mean, going to a strip club is like when I was a kid and went to Sears with Mom for school clothes.  Sears had a bunch of glass cases full of all kinds of candy right in the store and it was frustrating as hell.  I could look at it, and I could imagine how it was gonna taste if I ever got any, but I knew I wasn’t going to.

Anyway, Shirley Gene strutted out on the stage and I could see why Reggie had the hots for her.  She had big tits, a nice, tight ass, and long legs.  She dropped her bra about a minute into her dance and then did this thing with her tits where she could make one raise up all by itself.  She’d do that, then let it fall back down, and then her other tit would raise up.  It was amazing how fast she could make her tits do that.  After she peeled off her g-string, she turned around and made her ass cheeks do the same thing.

Well, about two months later, Reggie invited me to their wedding.  I was a little suspicious because of Shirley Gene’s wedding clothes.  It wasn’t a formal wedding so she didn’t wear a traditional bride’s dress.  She wore a dress that fitted like a second skin and she looked more like a hooker than a bride.  That made me suspicious until Shirley Gene walked up to me at the reception at Reggie’s house and smiled.  After that, I wasn’t suspicious any more.  I knew.

“You’re Harry, right, the PI that rents the first floor of our building?”

I was thinking she’d taken ownership pretty fucking fast since they’d only been married about half an hour, but I said I was.

Shirley Gene put her hand on her hip and grinned.

“Well, if you have any problems, Sugar, any problems at all, you just call me and I’ll be right over to fix you right up.”

Now, in spite of what my ex would tell you, I’m smarter than your average cocker spaniel.  It didn’t take much thought to know the way Shirley Gene stroked her hand down her ass and pushed out her tits at me meant she wasn’t talking about a leaky faucet.  I probably should have said something to Reggie, but I figured he already knew how she was and didn’t care.

It was about a year later that Reggie walked into my office with a worried look on his face.  

“Harry, I’m concerned about Shirley Gene.  She’s still dancing every night at The Stardust.  It’s OK with me if she does because she likes it and she brings in quite a bit of money.  It’s just that for the last six months, she’s been coming home later and later and she always says she’s too tired to do anything with me.  I think she might be seeing someone else.  Can you check it out for me?”

Well, I did, and it was a lot different than Reggie thought.  Shirley Gene wasn’t seeing a different guy.  She was seeing a different guy every night she was stripping.  Some of those guys…well, after watching her for a week, I figured Shirley Gene would fuck anything with two legs and a cock.  On the last night I watched her, I had to revise that opinion.  She walked out of the Starlight Lounge holding on to a guy on crutches who only had one leg.

Reggie didn’t get mad.  He did what he thought any real estate mogul would do.  He hired a lawyer and divorced her.  Reggie really should have paid more and gotten a better lawyer, because his lawyer wasn’t a very good divorce attorney.  Shirley Gene’s was, but then he was one of the guys I’d seen her come out of the club with, so he was probably putting in some extra effort to pay for what he was getting on the side.  

Reggie claimed Shirley Gene was being unfaithful.  Shirley Gene said when those men walked her out of the strip club, they were just protecting her until she got to her car.  Well, they were protecting some of her.  My pictures of her and her guys were a little dark because the only light was from streetlights, but it was easy to see what they were protecting.  They guy would usually have at least one hand on her tits.  Sometimes it was his hand on her ass, but usually it was her tits, well, except the guy on crutches who only had one leg.  

I think Reggie just wanted out, so he didn’t have his lawyer push very hard.  I found out later the negotiations gave Reggie a choice of two options. He had to either pay alimony to Shirley Gene or give her ownership of the building where I lived.  Reggie chose alimony but insisted that had to end if Shirley Gene got married again.  They agreed and parted ways.

After the divorce, Reggie changed a lot, but I understood that.  I changed a lot after my ex divorced me.  I was already a cynical asshole, or so she said, so I just got more cynical and more of an asshole.  Reggie stopped liking anybody, including me.  I think he blamed me for showing him Shirley Gene was fucking everybody besides him.  

I didn’t really give a shit if he liked me or not.  I’ve never been big on anybody who pretends to be something they aren’t.  You can always tell, just like I could tell with Shirley Gene, and it pisses me off that they think I’m enough of a dumb ass I’ll believe them.

Reggie didn’t speak to me about anything after that unless I called him to complain that something had stopped working, and then he’d only say he’d call somebody to fix it.  After giving him a week, I’d call a plumber or an electrician or whoever I needed to fix the goddamned thing and pay them myself.  Reggie never changed my rent, so I figured I could foot the bill for the small stuff and still be ahead.

Anyway, I was really surprised when Reggie knocked on my office door one afternoon and then let himself in.  He walked up to my desk and sat down, then smiled a really forced smile.

“Harry, I know we don’t talk much but I still consider us to be friends, and I need your help."

In my experience, the use of the words “friend” and “help” in the same sentence usually means somebody wants me to work for free.  That’s exactly what Reggie went on to explain.

“The divorce settlement said I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody about it, but I have to do something.  I agreed to pay Shirley a thousand dollars a month alimony until she got married again.  When I agreed to that, I still had about four hundred thousand of Daddy’s money in the bank and I owned three other buildings besides this one.  I figured Shirley would find another guy in a year or two and get married and it would be over.  Well, it’s been almost thirty years and Shirley hasn’t told me she’s gotten married yet.  I really need to know if she has because if I have to keep paying her, I’ll have to sell one of my buildings or raise everybody’s rent because I’m about out of money.  I can’t really afford to pay you and I thought since we’ve known each other for so long you might do it pro bono.”

The chintzy bastard couldn’t even just come right out and say he wanted me to do it for free.  He had to say “pro bono”.  I suppose using fucking lawyer-speak was supposed to make me think he was smart and sophisticated.

Lawyers say they’re working on a case “pro bono” and then go on to explain that “pro bono” is Latin for “for the good”.  I suppose it does make them feel good, but they can afford to work a little for free.  I cant.  To me, “pro bono” means the “pro”, that’s me, is getting the “bono” right up his fucking ass.

Reggie saw me frown and tried to make me feel better about doing what he wanted me to do.

“Harry, if you do this for me and I do have to raise everybody’s rent, I won’t raise yours.  How would that be?

Well, how it would be was me busting my ass for nothing, but I didn’t tell him that.  I’d have liked it better if he had raised my rent so I didn’t have to deal with him.  Instead, I asked if he’d just fix the leaky faucet in my shower.  It wasn’t a bad leak.  It just kind of dripped after I shut off the shower, but about once month, I had to take the showerhead apart and clean out all the sludge so it would spray again.  

Reggie said he’d get somebody right over, right after I found out if Shirley Gene was married or not, so I grudgingly said I’d see what I could find out.  I asked if he knew where she was living and he said he didn’t, but a friend had told him she was working at a club called “Southern Belles” out on Nolensville Road.  I didn’t think Reggie had any actual friends, but there must have been one fool out there as dumb a Reggie.  Since Shirley Gene would be a little over fifty now, I figured she was working the door, tending bar, or waiting tables.

I’d never heard of the place, so when Reggie finally left, I typed “Southern Belles” into my search engine to see if the place had a website.  I got back about a hundred links to porn sites and one to one of those review sites where they list a bunch of restaurants and clubs and people write reviews about them.

The place didn’t have a web site, but the review site did have an address and a description.

“Want to see older babes strutting their stuff, those MILF’s and GILF’s you see on the internet?  Go to “Southern Belles”.  They have the largest selection of dancers in their 40’s and 50’s of any club in Tennessee.”

There were two reviews as well.  The first reviewer said the girls were hot but not worth the thirty dollars he had to pay to join the club for one night.  The second said it was well worth the hundred he paid for a month’s membership because the lap dance he got had a really happy ending.

Now, I have to admit that there are some pretty foxy gals out there on the internet who claim to be that old, but those sites are free.  I didn’t think there were many guys who’d pay actual money to see one up close and personal.  I mean, I like women my age and all that, but usually, they’re a little gravity challenged, if you know what I mean.  Some are pretty much gravity overpowered.  I don’t have a problem with that when they’re in bed with me, but stripping to music is a different story altogether.

I drove to the place about eleven that night.  They opened at two in the afternoon, but I didn’t figure there’d be much going on before eleven and I didn’t want to sit in the place for longer than I had to since I was going to wait until it closed to talk to Shirley Gene.

The door opened into a hallway with another door at the end, and at a table by that door sat an older woman with shoulder-length, snow-white hair.  She smiled at me and asked for my ID.  I said she had to be kidding, but she smiled again  and explained.

“We’re a private club so I have to see everybody’s ID before I let them in.  That’s to make sure you’re a member and to keep out the boys under twenty-one.”

I pulled my driver’s license out of my wallet and handed it to her.  She looked at it for a few seconds, then looked at the computer screen in front of her, and then looked up and smiled again.  I was starting to like that smile.  I think it was her lips.  She had a wider mouth than usual and those soft pale pink lips looked really sensuous.

“I see you’re not a member.  Would you like to join our club for just tonight or for the whole month?  If you join for the whole month, I’ll give you a pin for your jacket and the girls will be really nice to you.  It’s thirty dollars for tonight or a hundred dollars for a month’s membership.”

I said just for the night until I decided if I liked what was inside or not.  She put my thirty dollars in her till, typed my name into her computer, then fluffed her hair and smiled at me when she handed me my license.

“I thought you were about sixty, but you’re only fifty four.  I like younger men.  If you don’t see what you like inside, I’m here until three.  My name’s Kathy and I used to dance too.”

Well, that shook me up a little, not the part about her being a dancer, the part about how old I looked.  I could believe Kathy had been a stripper.  Her tits didn’t sit very high on her chest, but they looked pretty big so I figured it was just her bra.  I just never thought I looked sixty.

I said I’d bet she was a really good dancer and I’d think about it.  Kathy grinned, fluffed her hair some more, said she hoped I would, and then buzzed the door so I could go in.

There weren’t a lot of guys sitting in chairs in front of the stage when I went in, and most of them weren’t the young guys who used to frequent the strip clubs.  They were all at least thirty and several looked my age or older.  I only saw one guy who looked like he was in his twenties and he was sitting way down at the end of the stage where it would be hard to see what the girls were doing.  I found an empty table in the first row behind the row of chairs.

The woman on stage was easily fifty, but she was in pretty good shape.  She didn’t carry her tits high like most young strippers, but they were pretty nice tits and they looked real.  Her ass was great, but then I like a woman to have a round ass.  She still had her g-string on and was riding the pole in the center of the stage like she was fucking it.  Here and there, I saw a wadded up bill hit her on the ass.

About ten seconds after I sat down, a young girl walked up to my table and asked what I wanted to drink.  I never drink when I’m working so I asked her to bring me a Coke.  A few minutes later she sat a plastic cup about the size of a tea cup in front of me and said, “That’ll be four dollars, please”.  

I’d thought since the membership fee was so high they might go easy on the drink prices, but they didn’t.  They were probably getting a markup of about four thousand percent on that Coke, because half the little glass was ice.  Even so, I handed her a five and told her to keep the change.  Four bucks was a lot to pay for a Coke of any size, but I like to keep waitresses happy.  Waitresses see everything that goes on in a club, and sometimes they know a lot more than anyone would think.

I understood the reason for the membership fee.  It used to be that there were two types of strip clubs in Nashville.  In one, the girls would strip down to a g-string.  In the second, the girls stripped down to nothing but their high heels.  In both, you could get a lap dance as long as you didn’t touch the girl and she didn’t touch you.  That worked out fine for everybody except you could only get soft drinks if the girls stripped off everything.  That was the law – g-strings and booze, naked and nothing but sodas.  

Before the ordinance took effect, there was nothing else going on in any of these clubs besides some guy getting his cock hard when the girl waved her tits in his face or turned around and showed him her shaved pussy, because that’s all that happened.  Any guy who touched one of the girls would be thrown out and banned from coming back.  The guy who paid somewhere between twenty and fifty bucks for a lap dance would have to go home horny and alone because any girl who met a guy after the club closed would have been fired.  

That wasn’t the case in some of the massage parlors and “health spas” in town. I’m not saying I’m in favor of prostitution, though I think that making it legal would solve a lot of problems, but there were some really narrow minded people in Nashville who thought women doing anything without clothes on was right up there with murder as far as sin goes.  

Personally, I think the women were jealous of the girls and the men wished they had the balls to watch some young girl strip down or get their cock sucked.  They wanted everything - strip clubs, massage parlors, and health spas - shut down, so they pressured the Metro Council to enact an ordinance that would do that.

The Metro Council wrote a definition for “sexually oriented businesses” that encompassed about any business where anybody looked at, got looked at, was touched, or touched anybody if both of them didn’t have all their goodies covered up.  They wrote that definition into an ordinance declaring that “sexually oriented businesses” had to obey certain new rules.  

Those rules specifically banned a woman from showing any of the things men want to see.  As a result, strippers could only strip down to a bikini bra that covers their nipples and any skin darker than the rest of their tits, and panties that covered up their happy box.  

Thong panties are OK, but there can’t be any rosebud showing and the dancer can’t pull them to the side to give anyone a peek and let them slip a bill under the thong.  That ordinance pretty much ruined the whole reason for strip clubs and lap dances.

For some reason known only to the Metro Council members, private clubs were specifically exempted from the new ordinance.  Prostitution is still illegal, but if the club charges a membership fee, anything else is legal.  A couple of the clubs even have strippers in one room, and a couples play area in another.

The woman on stage had peeled off her g-string by then and was shaking her ass at the guys in the chairs.  Her shaved pussy lips were peeking out from between her thighs and when she reached back and pulled her ass cheeks apart, her pussy lips opened up a little.  That got her a shower of wadded up bills.

The music ended then, so the woman picked up the money and her clothes and walked off the stage.  More music started then and the DJ announced the next dancer.

“Guys, get ready for a gal that’ll get your rocks off…I mean knock your socks off.  She’s Shirley Sookes and believe me, you’ll wish she was sooking you before she gets done dancing.”

I had to smile when Shirley Gene strutted onto the stage.  I thought maybe she’d be waiting tables, but there she was in a little black lace bra, black lace thong panties and black high heels.  She’d aged pretty well.  Her tits were a lot bigger than I remembered and her ass was a lot wider, but she could still make her tits and ass jump up and down.  The guys loved it when she did that in her little black lace bra and thong panties.  They loved it even more when she took off the bra and panties and made her tits and ass jump some more.

Most of the guys at the stage were throwing bills at Shirley Gene by then.  The young guy down at the end was just sitting there and grinning.  I went back to watching Shirley Gene then because she’d turned around and was spreading her ass cheeks just like the other woman had.  I kinda wished I’d still been watching the young guy.

Now, I’ve liked every pussy I’ve ever met, and when some women shave their pussies, it can be really fucking hot.  There are some pussies, though, that I’d rather were covered at least little.  Shirley Gene’s was one of those pussies.  It’s not that hers was ugly or anything like that.  It was just that her pussy lips were really thick and kinda puffy.  Thick and puffy is fine when I’m feeling thick and puffy with my tongue or cock, but I’d rather not see thick and puffy get spread open.

Shirley Gene was doing great because there were a lot of bills flying at her open pussy. When her music ended, she blew a kiss to the guys in the chairs and then picked up her money and walked off the stage.  

Like I said, my plan was to wait around until the place closed up and see if I could get Shirley Gene to tell me if she was married or not.  I know, that seems like a lazy way to find that out when I could just have used her name to request a copy of her marriage license from the Tennessee Department of Health where marriage licenses are recorded.  That would have been easier, but they’ll only search one year for the fifteen dollar fee, so having them search every year for the past thirty  years would have cost me a small fortune.  I’d already spent thirty-five bucks to see if she was there, and I wasn’t getting paid for this job.

I didn’t have to wait until the place closed, because about five minutes later, Shirley Gene walked out of door beside the stage and started for my table.  She’d gotten dressed, sort of.  She had her black lace bra and panties back on, but the only other thing she was wearing was a black, see-through nightgown thing and the same black high heels she’d worn on stage.

Watching Shirley Gene walk was kind of like watching a leopard just walking through the jungle on TV.  With every step, her big tits sort of moved out and then up and her ass swayed from side to side.  Every move flowed into the next one and the whole picture was raw sex on two long and mostly sexy legs.

Shirley Gene looked at me for a few seconds and then frowned.

“I thought I recognized you.  You’re Harry, that PI who used to rent part of one of Reggie’s buildings.  That little prick didn’t send you down to check on me did he?”

I shook my head.

“No.  Haven’t talked to him in years unless I need something fixed and he never does, so I usually just get it fixed myself.  I was just looking to see if there were still any clubs in Nashville where the girls actually stripped and came across this place.  I didn’t expect to see you here.  I figured you’d get a different job or something, and I’d never see you again.”

Shirley Gene grinned then.

“Sounds like you might have wanted to see me again.”

I smiled.  She hadn’t changed a bit and that might be my way to find out.

“Well, that time you told me if I had any problems to give you a call and you’d fix me up did make me think about it.  I just never got up the nerve to take you up on the offer when you and Reggie were married.  After the divorce, I couldn’t find you again.”

“You couldn’t find me because I moved to Knoxville after that and danced there for a while.  I did think about you though.  You still interested?”

“Well, sure, but you’ve probably got a boyfriend or a husband.  I don’t want any trouble with a boyfriend or a husband.  That’s why I didn’t call you when you were married to Reggie.  I didn’t want him to evict me.”

Shirley Gene sat down beside me and started rubbing my thigh.

“Well, Sugar, I wouldn’t have let Reggie evict you back then.  As for now, I’m not married, but I do kinda have a boyfriend.  He’s that young guy sitting over there by the stage and he thinks he’s my boyfriend anyway.   I fuck him all the time but he’s too young to know how to make me really cum hard.  I’ll bet you could though.”

I grinned.

“I’m not young like your boyfriend, so I might disappoint you.”

“Nah…you still got a tongue, don’t you?  You do that for me, and I’ll make sure your dick gets hard enough to fuck me.”

ShirIey Gene licked her upper lip really slow then, so I stuck out my tongue and wiggled it up and down a couple times, then grinned.

“If we were going to do something, how would we arrange it?”

Sally Gene moved her hand to my fly and started stroking my cock.

“I wanna see if that tongue feels as good as it looks, so you be outside in the alley about three thirty and take me home with you.”

I looked over at the young guy at the end of the stage.  He was staring at us and frowning.

“What about your boyfriend?  Looks like he was planning on taking you home because he’s staring at us.”

Shirley waved her hand.

“Billy Joe always does that, but he’ll get over it when I fuck him tomorrow night.  I’ll just tell him I got a headache from all the cigarette smoke and I’m going home.  That’s what I always tell him when I’m going home with another guy.  Oops, I have to go get ready to dance again.  See you later, Sugar.”

The young waitress came by about then and asked if I wanted another Coke.  I’d already found out what I came to find out, and while Shirley would probably have been good, I wasn’t in the mood.  I kind of like it when a woman asks me to fuck her, but I like them to be a little less obvious about it.  The waitress looked a little sad when I said I had to be going, but said I should come back anytime and she’d be glad to serve me.  

I was five blocks from home when I noticed the jacked up pickup truck behind me had made the last three turns I’d made.  In the part of town where I live, there could only be two reasons for that.  Either the pickup was going down the block from my office/apartment to pick up a hooker, or the pickup was following me.  At a stoplight, I opened the glove box on my car and pulled out the Smith revolver I’d started carrying again.  I’d left it in the car because it’s not legal to carry in a bar.

The pickup followed me when I turned onto the street that runs past my place, and when I turned down the alley I accelerated a little so I could get parked and out of my car before the pickup turned into the alley and headed my way.

When I saw the headlights of the truck, I slipped the Smith out of the ankle holster and hid it behind my back.  I didn’t know what this asshole wanted, but I didn’t want to escalate things if I didn’t have to.

The guy who got out of the pickup was Billy Joe, and it was obvious what he wanted.  He got out, squared his shoulders and started walking toward me with that swagger you see tough guys use in the movies.  I’d figured when I left the strip joint, he’d relax, and when I wasn’t waiting for her, Shirley Gene would take him home with her and make him feel all better.  Evidently, he was more pissed than I’d thought.

There’s one light on the back door of the pawn shop on the other side of the alley from my place, and when Billy Joe pulled the knife out of his front pocket and snapped it open, I saw the flash of the blade.  I suppose he thought it would intimidate me.  It did, because the fucking blade looked about six inches long.

Billy Joe kept walking until he was about ten feet away.  Then he stopped, flashed the blade at me and said, “You stay away from Shirley.  She’s my woman.  If you don’t, I’ll carve your ass up like a Christmas turkey.”

I’ve never understood why some guys say that, “she’s my woman” thing.  I’ve known my share of women, well, a few anyway, and none of them would have ever let me get away with that.  It was the other way around a couple of times, the woman would say I was her man, but that felt pretty good.  If I’d said anything about her being mine, she’d have kicked me in the balls and then laughed when she walked out.  Maybe I’ve just been seeing the wrong women, I don’t know, but Billy Joe seemed serious.   

“Billy Joe, I just know Shirley from a long time back, that’s all.  We were just catching up.”

Billy Joe kept waving the knife around, like it was supposed to scare me.  

“Yeah, you son of a bitch.  I seen you looking at her tits.  I seen her look at me and then start rubbing your leg too.   Well, you ain’t gonna see or talk to her no more, understand?  You do and I’ll slice your ass into little pieces.”

I shook my head when he started toward me again.

“Billy Joe, you don’t want to do this.  I promise it’ll end up fucking up your day.”

He kept coming and said, “You talk big for a fucking old guy, but the only thing that’s gonna get fucked up is you.”

I could have shot him in the chest, but all I really wanted to do was make him leave. I pointed the Smith at the ground and pulled the trigger hoping that might scare him off, but I couldn’t see worth a shit because it was pretty fucking dark.  Billy Joe cried out, “You shot me, you asshole”, then dropped the knife and fell down holding his foot.  I kicked the knife under my car, turned Billy Joe over and put my knee in his back, and then used my cell phone to call Roger Ames, the Captain of the local precinct.  He sounded sleepy and pissed when he finally answered.

“Harry, it’s one in the goddamned morning.  Why the hell did you call me?”

“Well, Roger, I sorta shot somebody again and I need an officer and the EMT guys to come to the alley behind my office.”

Roger said, “I don’t fucking believe this”, and then “What do you mean you sort of shot somebody”.

I explained what happened, and Roger said he better come down too.  A few minutes later, an EMT truck drove into my alley followed by a patrol car.  While the EMT guys worked on Billy Joe, the officer took my Smith and then started questioning me.  I was telling him what happened when Roger walked up with a frown on his face.

“Harry, two months ago you shot a woman and now this.  Is this gonna be a regular thing with you now?”

I shook my head.

“Roger, I don’t like this any better than you do.  The guy had a hell of a big knife and said he was gonna cut me up so I had to do something.  I thought I’d just shot into the dirt, but I kinda missed.  I only shot him in the foot, not the chest like last time, so it isn’t like I really tried to kill him or anything like that.  His knife’s under my car and when you look at it you’ll see what I mean.”

Roger sighed.

“You had the whole fucking alley to aim at and you missed?  OK, just stay put until we get this figured out.”

About an hour later, Billy Joe was being loaded into the EMT truck for a trip to the hospital and Roger had talked to him after the officers did.  Roger was still frowning when he walked back to my car.  Roger seems to frown a lot when I see him anymore.  I think need needs a vacation.

“OK, Harry.  The guy told us about the same thing you told me and Mac, except he claims he wasn’t going to hurt you.  He admitted the knife is his and said he just pulled the knife to scare you so you’d leave his girlfriend alone.  He kept coming at you because he didn’t think you looked scared enough.   He said he’d have left if he’d known you had a gun.  Maybe next time you ought to show your victim your gun before you shoot him.

“The EMT’s say he’ll be fine because the bullet didn’t expand much until it went out the bottom of his boot.  It just nicked a bone and left a hole in his foot.  He’s going to be charged with aggravated assault because of the knife, but it’ll probably be pled down to simple assault since you shot him before he could do anything to you.

“I could arrest you for discharging a firearm in the city limits, but we haven’t had any complaints from anybody and I’m too tired to fuck with the paperwork tonight.  I’m going to keep your revolver for a week and think about it though, so you’re not off the hook just yet.  Now, I’m going back to bed and I’d suggest you do the same thing.”

The next afternoon, I called Reggie to give him the bad news.

“Reggie, Shirley Gene isn’t married yet, and if I had to guess, I’d guess she isn’t gonna be any time soon.  She seems to be doing the same thing she was doing when she was married to you.”

I heard Reggie say, “damn”, under his breath, and then “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.  She has a boyfriend, but he’s about thirty years younger than she is and she didn’t seem to think as much of him as he does of her.  It’s not just him either.  She told me she meets other guys too.”

“Did you believe her?”

“Well, yeah, because she asked me if I’d be interested in taking her home with me.  Say, now that I found out what you wanted to know, when can I expect somebody to come over and fix the leak in my shower?”

Reggie said he’d get right on it, and then hung up.

A week later, I went down to see Roger and pick up my Smith.  When he handed it to me, he said, “Harry, I had Gene write it as self-defense, but try to stay out of situations like this, OK.  We go back a long time and I’d hate to have to put your ass in jail.”

I said I’d try really hard, thanked him, and then left.

I was looking through my mail that afternoon when my office door opened and Kathy, the white-haired woman from the strip club, walked in.  I was a little surprised at how she was dressed.  At Southern Belles, she’d worn a pretty conservative blouse and a pair of pants, about what most older women would wear – dressy but not all that sexy.  That afternoon, she had on a sparkly tank top cut low in the front and shorts that weren’t all that short, but fit her round ass really nice.  She smiled at me as she looked around.

“So this is where you live.  I wrote down your address when you gave me your license, and this morning, I got to thinking about you.  I don’t have to work tonight, so I decided I’d come and see you.  On the door it says you’re a private investigator.  Are you really?”

“Yeah, that’s what I do to make a living.”

“What do you investigate?”

“Oh, a lot of things.  I find lost people sometimes.  If you think your spouse is cheating on you I can find out if that’s true or not.  I also investigate insurance fraud.  It’s stuff like that, finding out things people don’t want other people to know mostly.”

She grinned.

“So you’re like that Rockford detective that used to be on television?”

I shrugged.

“I don’t know about that.  I don’t watch much television.”

Kathy walked over and hiked her ass up on the edge of my desk.  She had to lean over to do that, and when she did the tank top fell away from her chest.  I was looking at a really nice pair of tits in a white lace bra.  Once she got her ass up there, she wiggled around a little and then straightened up.

“I really liked that show.  He was a real man, not like the wimpy guys they have on television now.  He got a girl on every show.”

Kathy chuckled.

“I always wished he’d gotten me.  I used to think about what would happen if he did.”

I was wishing she’d get her ass out of my office. It wasn’t like I was covered up with work, but it was getting close to five and five is when I pour myself a scotch to celebrate staying in business and staying alive that day.  Kathy seemed to want to talk and that was going to put me behind schedule.

“Kathy, is there something I can do for you?”

She grinned.

“Oh, I sure hope you can.”

“OK, wanna tell me what you need help with?”

Kathy fluffed up her hair and grinned.

“You left really early the other night.  I guess you didn’t find anything you liked at Southern Belles, did you?”

I said I hadn’t.  Kathy grinned again.

“Thought about me any more?  I’ve thought about you.  I’ve thought about you lot.”

“Well, yes, I thought about you.”

“Did you think about the same things I thought about?”

“Well, since I don’t know what you thought about, I don’t know.”

Kathy grinned.

“I’ll show you what I thought about.”

She slipped down off my desk, straddled me in my chair, and then pulled the top over her head and tossed it on my desk.  

“I thought about doing this to start.  Do you like my boobs?”

Well, her tits looked big, soft, and really nice. I looked up at her.

“They’re pretty great, Kathy.”

“Great for an old woman, or just great?”

Well, I learned a long time ago that telling a woman she looks good for her age is a sure way to piss her off, and since you’re the one who said it, she’s gonna be really pissed off at you.  When I told Sandy that, she glared at me while she put her clothes back on, and then said, “Well, that dick of yours doesn’t look all that great either”, right before she walked out and slammed the door.  I hadn’t told a woman that since.

“No, they’re just really great.”

Kathy slipped the bra straps from her shoulders, pulled the bra down and then turned it around and unhooked it.

“I think they’re saggy.  Do you think they are?”

Well, that was loaded question number two.  They did sag, but her nipples pointed up and out instead of down at the floor and it wasn’t like they hung down to her belly button or anything.

“Uh, well Kathy, they’re pretty big, so I don’t think they sag as much as they’re just heavy.”

Kathy grinned.

“You know how to say what a woman wants to hear, Harry.  I know you’re just being nice, but it feels good.  Give ‘em a little squeeze.  That’ll make me feel even better.”

In my defense, since Kathy was sitting on me, I couldn’t just stand up and tell her to get out.  If I had, I’d have dumped her ass on the floor.  Like I said before, Kathy seemed like a nice woman and I’d never do that to a nice woman.  I know, it was looking like Kathy wasn’t really like you think of a grandmother being, but she was still nice.

Kathy sighed when I gave her right tit a little squeeze.

“Mmm…you have nice soft hands, Harry.  Is everything else about you as nice?”

She didn’t wait for me to answer that.  She just stuck her hand between us and started feeling for my cock.  She didn’t have much trouble finding it because it was standing tall.  Big tits always make it do that.

Kathy giggled.

“This isn’t soft.  It’s really hard.  Did I cause that?”

It was obvious how this was going to end up, but I wasn’t sure she really wanted to get there.  I mean, she was pretty nice and all that, and she wasn’t that much older than me, but she might have just been wanting a little attention and this was the only way she knew how to get it.

“Well, yeah, you did, Kathy but I’m not sure what we’re doing is a good idea.”

Kathy looked at me and frowned.

“That’s your way of telling me I’m too old, isn’t it?  That’s OK.  I understand.  I guess what Frank said is true after all.”

She started to get up, but I stopped her.

“Who was Frank and what did he tell you?”

“He was my husband.  He died four years ago.  That was five years after he stopped doing anything with me.  He said fifty was too old to be sexy anymore.  It’s OK, really.  I see how the guys look at me when they come to Southern Belles.  They look, but they never say anything.  They’d rather watch the young girls and get lap dances from them.  I think I better just go.”

I had to chuckle then.

“Kathy, there aren’t any young girls dancing at Southern Belles.  The youngest I saw was about forty-five and she didn’t look as good as you do.  Frank was an idiot.”

Kathy smiled and stroked my cheek with her fingertip.

“Harry, if you really think that, why don’t you think we should be doing this?”

Well, I’ve learned a lot about women over the years.  One of the things I learned is to never, never, ever walk in on them when they’re on the toilet.  That really pisses them off for some reason.  It’s like you’re not supposed to know they ever do that or something.

The other thing I’ve learned is it’s useless to argue with one.  No matter how logical your argument, you’re always going to lose, so you might as well just give in and agree with them.  Life’s a lot easier that way, and usually a lot more fun.

I lifted Kathy’s right tit and licked her nipple.

“Would you think it’s right if I do this?”

Kathy grinned.

“I would if you do it more than once.”

Well, what can I say without making myself out to be some horny old goat who’d fuck any woman that happens to sit on my lap and push her tits into my face.  Well, I would, but I don’t like to admit that.  Well, I’d fuck her unless she was like one of the strippers I saw sitting with a guy that night at Southern Belles.  She had big tits just like they all did, but she pretty much had big everything else too.  If she’d sat on my lap, she’d probably have hurt me.  Now, if she’d been laying down…

I did stand up then.  I cupped Kathy’s ass and picked her up when I stood up, and then carried her back to my bedroom.  She was a little embarrassed, I think, when I pulled her shorts down.  She was wearing those panties made of really stretchy material and they covered all of her ass and went part way up her waist.  

“I know these aren’t sexy, but I have to wear them to keep my tummy and bottom in.”

When I pulled them down, her tummy was a little soft, but I didn’t look at her tummy for more than a second or two because she had a really nice bush and I like a woman to have a bush.  I think she was embarrassed about that too, because she said, “I’m sorry about the hair.  I used to shave when I danced, but it made me itch all the time so I stopped when I stopped dancing.”

I grinned.

“You don’t need to apologize.  I like hair.  I like hair a lot.”

Kathy stepped out of her shorts and stretchy panties and then laid back on the bed and held out her arms.

“Come show me”.

Well, it was more her showing me than me showing her but it was still great.  I’d always thought that at some point women lost their sex drive.  My ex lost hers a week after the honeymoon.  Kathy apparently hadn’t reached that point yet, because her libido was alive and kicking.

I’d no sooner got my clothes off and stretched out beside her than she grabbed my cock.  She stroked it a couple times and then said, “It does get harder than this, doesn’t it?”

What the hell do you say to a question like that, especially when your cock is wilting right before your eyes?  Ladies, if you’re reading this, don’t ever ask a man that question.  We do the best we can, OK, and if you’d just be a little more understanding about time, we’d appreciate it all to hell.  Asking questions like that doesn’t do either of us any good.

“Well, usually it does.  After that question I’m not sure.”

Kathy chuckled.

“Sorry.  I can fix that.”

She shook my cock again.

“Come on, Dickey.  Stand up for me.”

She frowned then.

“I can see I’m gonna have to help him, but that’s fun too.”

The way she sucked my cock into her mouth made me forget all about her question.  When she ran her tongue around my cock head, I forgot where I was.  If she’d have kept going, I’d probably have forgotten my own name, and it was a sure bet I wouldn’t have lasted long.

After she made me groan, Kathy pulled her mouth off my cock and grinned.

“Like that do you?  A gentleman would return the favor, now wouldn’t he?”

Before I could say anything, she raised up, turned around, and the next thing I saw was her hairy pussy coming toward my face.  That was about the same time her big tits touched my belly and she started sucking my cock again.  

I couldn’t get my hands between us to spread her pussy lips, but as it turned out, I didn’t have to.  Kathy kept spreading her legs apart until those lips opened enough I could see her little pink slit.  When I lifted my head and stuck my tongue in there, she rocked her ass a little and then pushed her pussy down on my face.

She was like every other women, well the women I’ve been with that way anyway.  She tasted different but pretty great once I got past the raspberry flavored whatever it was she’d put down there.  I thought her clit was maybe a little bigger than some, but other than that, she was about the same.  The way she reacted was about the same too.

She was starting to take me too far again, so I decided to hurry her up a little.  I’d gotten her long pussy lips sort of spread out by then, so reaching anything with my tongue didn’t require any effort.  I licked her from her clit to her entrance and then back down a few times and then started running my tongue over and around her clit.  

About a minute later, Kathy pulled up off my cock and gasped, moaned, and shuddered a little, and then went back to sucking my cock.  She was tickling the underside of my cock head with her tongue when I felt around until I found her nipples.  When I rubbed them with my fingertips, Kathy moaned around my cock and started bobbing her head up and down a little faster.  I pinched them a little then, and Kathy moaned and started rubbing her pussy up and down my face.

I was helping her along, but not as fast as she was helping me, so I wrapped my lips around her clit and started sucking it at the same speed she was sucking my cock.  She evidently liked that, because after a little of that, she pulled up off my cock again, laid her head on my thigh and started to pant.  Her voice was really throaty.

“Oh no, not like this, Honey.  I need to be screwed.”

Well, I was ready to do that, but I didn’t get the chance.  Kathy was still panting when she rolled her pussy off my face, turned around again, and then sort of rolled herself on top of me.  I felt her reach between us and grab my cock, and then I felt my cock head splitting her pussy lips.  She rubbed it up and down a little and then moved it back and pushed down.

Don’t ever let anybody tell you all older pussies are loose, because Kathy was definitely snug and as much as I hate to admit it, my cock isn’t all that thick.  She worked her pussy up and down a little, pushing herself down over my cock a little more each time, until she was sitting on my legs.  She looked down at me then and grinned.

“Just hold on, Honey, and let me do all the work.  I like it this way.”

Now, only a selfish bastard would let a woman do everything, and I’m not selfish, well, not usually.  I let her do the up and down thing, but I caught a swinging tit in each hand and started flipping her nipples up and down with a finger.  Kathy’s nipples were already pretty stiff, so they didn’t move much, but she seemed to really like it.  She liked it so much that every time I did it, she’d make a little gasping sound and I’d feel her pussy tighten up around my cock.

A while later, Kathy bent over a little and hung her right tit over my face.  She rocked her hips down and then murmured, “Suck ‘em, Honey, suck ‘em hard and I’ll cum.”

That was a good thing to hear.  I mean, Kathy’s pussy felt really great, but I was having to hold back a lot by then.  When I sucked her thick nipple between my lips and then sucked hard, Kathy made a little cry and her hips rocked three times really fast.  

“Oh God, Honey…just like that…I’m so close.”

I don’t know if you’re like me or not, but when a woman tells me she’s going to cum, that sort of takes away most of any control I have left.  I sucked that nipple again, hard enough I felt the little bumps of her nipple bed between my lips, and then pinched my lips together.  Kathy did that hip rock thing again, and I started losing it.  After I found her other nipple, I rolled it between my fingertips and then sucked it hard, Kathy screeched and started to cum.  I don’t remember exactly what she did after that because I was cumming too.

Kathy was still rocking her pussy over my cock when I’d groaned out the last spurt, and she kept doing that for a while.  I just laid there because it felt pretty fantastic.  It was pretty fantastic when she sighed and dropped her big tits down on my chest too.  She didn’t move her pussy up and down after that, but I could feel it clamp my cock once in a while.

When that stopped, Kathy raised up and grinned.

“Oh God, I needed that so bad.  How long before you get hard again?”

Well, it took her half an hour or so to shake some life back in my cock.  It took longer this time for her to shriek, “Oh God, Honey, don’t stop”.  I didn’t because I couldn’t.  When her pussy stopped massaging my cock, she giggled.

“See, this is why I like younger men.  If they can even get it up, guys my age are only good for once, and once just makes me want it again.  You wouldn’t mind doing it again, would you Harry?”

Well, I did try and Kathy tried to help me, but she’d pretty much ridden my cock until all it wanted to do was lay down and catch a little rest.  She just smiled and said she really had to be going anyway, but I think she just said that to make me feel better.  Just before she walked out my door, Kathy grinned.

“I might need to come back one of these days, so you take good care of Little Dickey for me, OK.”

I appreciated it that she thought about coming back, but I didn’t think it was necessary to call my cock, “Little Dickey”.  I mean, he’s not like the cocks in the porn films but he’s not really little either.  Well…right then, he was, but there was a reason for that.  It was a reason I’d never have believed if I hadn’t just experienced it.  Kathy might have had tits that sagged a little and an ass that was wider than most and not at all tight, but I knew I was gonna feel what we’d done the next morning.

I decided a little pre-medication was in order, and after I sat down in my desk chair in my underwear, poured myself half a jelly glass of Glenfiddich.  That felt pretty good going down, so I lit a cigarette and poured another.

Women always surprise me like that.  My ex had everything a man could want – big, heavy tits with big dark nipples, a nice, tight hairy pussy, and an ass that felt really great slapping against my belly.  The only thing she didn’t have was a libido, or at least none that I could find after the honeymoon.  

Shirley Gene had a libido the size of Texas, but I didn’t like the idea of being just another cock she could add to her list.  I mean, a guy likes thinking he’s at least a little special.  Remembering that guy with one leg kinda bothered me too.

Kathy was…well, Kathy was a woman who looked a lot like your grandma, but fucked like your old nineteen year old girlfriend.  You remember that one, the one who kept saying she wouldn’t until she finally did, and when she did, made you wonder if your cock was ever going to stand up again.  Yeah, that’s what Kathy was like.


It was a Friday night a couple weeks later and my ass was tired.  I had a bunch of subpoenas to deliver and made it through all of them without getting hit on the head, kicked in the balls, or chased all the way to my car.  It was just one long-ass day and I was beat.

I had earned twelve hundred bucks for my trouble though, so I stopped by the liquor store and bought a new bottle of Glenfiddich.  Once I got home, I locked the door and poured myself half a jelly jar of smoky, amber heaven, lit a cigarette, and put my feet up on my desk.  I figured earned a little relaxation.

Half way through my scotch, I got to thinking about what I was going to do the rest of the night and through the weekend.  I didn’t have any current cases to work on, and I don’t watch much television.  I wasn’t coming up with much to do, so I decided I’d have a frozen pizza and then drive down to Southern Belles and see if Kathy was working or not.  

Yeah, I know, but if you’d been there, you’d understand.

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