Katey's Cootchie
Twelve Months - Monday, November 1
Mitch descended the staircase, and at the landing announced grandly to the group assembled in the great room below, "gentlemen - AND lady - here she is, the two and only, the amazing, Juuuggzzzzz-...zilla!" He continued downstairs, intending to join the others.
Behind him followed a woman, dirty blonde-hair tied in a ponytail, a little on the tall side at five-nine. She was of basically average build though a little heavy at 190 pounds, except that her breasts were the size of a much larger woman - a 44H cup size, at least - and the square-cut knit tank top she had on showed off that cleavage to advantage. Her sturdy bra concealed the main part of her above-the-waist assets, but those jugs clearly yearned to ride low if freed. Her knee-length skirt was a non-descript muted plaid, and she was barefoot - her size 11 tootsies were not very clean but, while large, weren't unattractive -- still they could have benefited from some cosmetic care. Her left arm had a complete sleeve of tattoos, and there were blue ones of uncertain design on each of her ankles and shoulders as well. The edges of other tats peeked out from what clothes she did have on. She had a rather round face with a sharp nose, small protruding ears, acne-pocked pale skin, and a couple of missing back teeth top and bottom on the left. If she had ever been pretty it was a distant memory. Though she was only 29, she could have passed for 40.
She tugged at his elbow to stop him at the bottom landing. "He didn't tell me there would be so many," she whispered to him. She had seen that three people were seated on a sofa, and another man was standing near the fireplace. She couldn't tell if there were more.
"So *many*?" Mitch replied incredulously, though keeping his voice low. "You've done parties before, haven't you?"
"He said it would just be you and your girlfriend," the woman insisted. She hadn't been aware of the other attendees until now, because Mitch had had her and the 'chaperone' enter the house through the back door and up the back stairway to the primary bedroom, carrying her large duffel bag herself. Mitch had then sent the little man on downstairs, to allow for some pre-show quality time with his visitor; the man had told him with a shrug, it's your money, two hours regardless, and woman had gone along with his wishes without complaint.
"So what?" Mitch asked her.
"You said this was a rescue."
"I said what?"
"That you were rescuing me. This looks like, well, just another bunch of johns. And don't put your arm around me. I'm not your girlfriend or anything."
"Sorry. Look, I don't remember saying rescue. Relax. This is just for tonight."
"I don't wanna do this."
Mitch was more than a little annoyed now. "What do you mean, you don't wanna... you... I mean... what??? Isn't it a little late to be changing your mind?
"I know, but..."
"Not to mention, you don't really have the... well, power, I mean the *choice*, to change your mind. If it wasn't here, and me, and us, it would still be with him, and somewhere else, and with somebody else paying, and other guys, who aren't as nice. And somewhere worse, probably. He calls the shots for you, right? Until something changes?"
"Yeah. I know. And that's what I want. Something to change. It's just that... Lonnie didn't give me anything."
"Give you...?"
"Speed, or something. Get me through the night. You got anything?"
"Not really," he lied. "I thought you said the other day you were trying to stay clean."
"I am. But I didn't think it was gonna be like this. I need something. Bad. Just to get me through. Tonight. Please? This once.?
"I don't know what you were expecting. I told you, I like to have friends over."
"Some... tequila or Jack or something? At least?"
"I wanted to do this to get to know the real you. So I told him to bring you here clean."
"Yeah, but... the other day was fantasy. You and me, and Fire Crotch and your friend... that wasn't the real me. That was just... me being Juggzilla. You know?"
The squirrely little guy seated apart from the others in the great room, and nearest to the stairs, called out to them. "Problem?"
"See?" Mitch said to her. "Come on. It's show time." He began walking to the great room, and she reluctantly followed.
"Giving you any shit?" Lonnie asked him. Mitch shook his head, and the short man continued, "she always gives *me* shit. Tries to, I mean. Just hafta know how to handle her shit."
The tall man entered the room. "She didn't give me shit. Just the opposite. Tell everyone what you just did for me, Juggie. Upstairs just now," he commanded her.
She stopped just short of him and looked downward and to the side, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone.
Hearing nothing, Mitch went ahead and answered for her: "slut sucked my cock, is what."
"What? No!" Katey exclaimed, seated on the couch between two of Mitch's friends. "When you told me, I didn't think you meant *that*."
She impulsively tried to stand up, but the man on her left had his arm around the short, bleach-blonde woman's shoulder and this impeded her.
"Just relax," Zander told her, "we're all here to have fun, right?" He caressed her tits with his left hand - tits which were not anywhere as large as the newcomer's but still were admirable, and which did not need the benefit of any support at all from a bra, so she was wearing none. The red acrylic tube top she had on did nothing to disguise the outline of her large areolas, and her nipples were fully erect so that they were identifiable through the thin fabric too. Below the waist, she had on only a pair of extremely short black shorts.
"Turn on some music," Mitch told the chaperone.
"You didn't say anything about... you said I could... have my choice and she'd be, well, for the *rest*," Katey stammered, still directing her words to Mitch and unwilling to accept the situation. She pushed away the hand of the man pawing at her, even though she was accustomed to his complete familiarity with this and all parts of her anatomy by now. He used his free hand to pick up the whiskey bottle on the end table, took a swig, offered it to her, and passed it across her to the man seated to her right when she turned it down.
"Don't get worked up," her boyfriend across the room soothed. "I didn't let her make me cum. Yet. And I had on a rubber. But, I'll tell you what, she's *talented*. Aren't you, Juggie?" The tall woman still didn't react, much less say anything. Mitch went on to his girlfriend, "you could learn a lesson or two from her."
Lonnie looked up from his phone. "I told you, you don't have to use rubbers. My girls are checked out. She doesn't carry any shit. And don't look like nobody what runs in your crowd is infected neither. So have fun. Relax. Live a little. Nothin' to worry 'bout."
The room filled with generic dance-mix music from his phone. The whore turned toward her pimp and groused, "this isn't what you said," gesturing toward the room as a whole.
"Said? I didn't say *shit*," Lonnie shot back, standing up and extending himself to his full five-foot-five height, "just give 'em the show they paid for."
With an air of resignation, she turned back and raised both arms above her head and began a barefoot bump-and-grind harem dance of uncertain region or authenticity, particularly when clad in a decidedly non-harem outfit - albeit a sexy tank-top but a modest and very everyday skirt. After a few seconds, she moved over to be directly in front of Zander, Mitch's onetime co-worker, who took his arm off of Katey and leaned forward enough to place both hands to surround the whore's almost comically oversized tits.
"These are huge." he said, lifting them as though to assess their weight.
"Some guys like 'em big," she said cryptically.
"I can see why they call you Juggie."
"The ears, right?" Mitch said with cruel candor.
"That too. I guess?" Zander said.
"Stupid name," the woman muttered to him as she writhed to the music while being fondled. 'Juggzilla,' 'Boobzilla,' geez. You can call me Lana, just Lana, if you want," she added.
"Lana? Why?"
"Short for Svetlana," her short companion answered for her.
"Oh. For real. I thought she maybe meant Del Rey."
"Huh?"
"Thought you were joking. Never mind. So, Svetlana. A Rooskie?" Zander deduced, invoking a term his grandfather used way too much.
"My parents, they came from Finland. Look, ow, not so rough on them, will you?" She stepped back to stop his groping of her tits for the time being.
"I wasn't being that rough. They're hard as rocks," he said with only a slight exaggeration. "They real?" he asked.
"What do you think?" she replied contemptuously. "Padding wouldn't fool nobody." She resumed her bump and grind from this safer distance.
"Didn't mean that. Just asking," Zander said a little defensively. "You could smile a little. Wouldn't hurt." The woman made a face that was half smile, half sneer.
"Real," Pascal at the other end of the sofa mused. "Ask her if she gives real head, too," He laughed expectantly, but no one else saw any particular humor and left him hanging.
"Just told you, Pass. Didn't I?" Mitch chuckled after a pause.
The dancer moved a couple of feet to her left, to be in front of Katey next. She made a more genuine smile at the seated girl, who refused to make eye contact. After a few seconds, she paused her erotic motion and took half a step forward, bending at the waist and supporting herself with a hand on the back of the sofa. She put her face right next to Katey's ear, who tried to shy away, and whispered, apparently to be at least a little discreet, "I like *your* tits."
Tiny, busty Katey reacted poorly to this, lifting both legs to shove the taller woman in the pelvis with her bare feet, then stood up. "Get away from me, bitch," she said, adding for his benefit as she made her way over to her boyfriend on the other side of the room, "are you dumping me, for *her*? You don't need a puta. You've got me."
After regaining her balance, Juggzilla turned around and put up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Tryna be friendly is all," she said. Getting no reply, she said to Mitch, "I thought you said she likes girls."
