Coc a Doodle Doo

Another attempt on my part to write in the American vernacular from a female perspective. I'd really appreciate feedback on this. Enjoy.

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When Candace called us all into her office that Friday morning, I honestly had no idea what it was all about. The business had been going well – very well, in fact – so I knew we weren't all getting fired. Candace had given us all our bonuses – mine was so good I went out and bought a new car with it – so it wasn't anything to do with that. In fact, I was mostly concerned that things were going so well that she was planning to sell up.

See, ours is a small outfit that does big business. Apart from Candace, the boss, there are only seven of us, all ladies between 28 and 39 (that's perpetual 39, by the way), all single or divorced or widowed, and all good friends. We work really hard, selling a whole mess of luxury items to the big stores and retailers. Candace gets the stuff made out East; and I don't mean New Jersey. She seems to spend half her time in the Philippines, Thailand, India or someplace else, finding small factories that can produce really good quality stuff at sensible prices. Candace is fussy; the quality's got to be there, and the people making the stuff have to be treated OK – no child labor or anything like that. Most of our suppliers have been with us for years, and almost all have grown really well thanks to what we do.

And I've done pretty well, too. The hours are long and the job can be a bit stressful, you know, but hey – I have a nice car and a nice home and last year I vacationed in Aruba, so it's not so bad. Candace also lets us buy from our own catalog at bought-in prices, so I have a lovely wardrobe that I could never afford if I bought it from Neiman-Marcus. (Listen to me! Like I would ever shop at Neiman-Marcus! I'm usually much more a Wal-Mart gal!)

So on this Friday morning she calls us all in and says, "Hey ladies, did we have a great quarter or did we have a GREAT quarter?"

Some of the girls went "Yeah!" I find this stuff a bit irritating, so I said nada.

"So I thought," she went on, "My ladies deserve a little treat. You've all had your bonuses, and I hope you're all happy with them." Nods all round. "So here's the idea. I thought we might have a team-building event. It's tax deductible, so I can get something really good that we can afford without hitting the profits and next quarter's bonuses. You've all done so well that I think we should have a long weekend together in – Vegas! Everything on me – except your gambling money, that is!"

Well, Vegas isn't my favorite place in the Universe, and that's a fact. Each time I go – and I've been four times now – it gets a little tackier and a little sleazier than the time before. But hey, this was free, paid for by Candace, so I could hardly complain. Not even when she said we were staying at the Luxor, which to my mind is well past its best and the wrong end of the Strip. The Bellagio and the Venetian are way classier, but sadly they're also way more expensive.

"So the plan is that two weeks after Spring Break, on the Thursday night, we close up operations and head for the airport. We fly to Vegas, cruise the hotels and casinos, have some nice meals – no 'all you can eat' buffets, ladies – and take in a couple of shows. Oh, and you can play the slots and the tables as much as you like. And we come back on the Monday night, to start work not too early on Tuesday. What do you say?"

"We say thanks, Candace, that's a real nice gesture," Jolene said. Jolene is somewhere between 38 and 48, and likes to model herself on Cher. She's a nice enough lady, divorced, two kids, and what she doesn't spend on them she uses to have work done. She's as skinny as a rake and has unbelievable titties. I'll admit they're nicely done, but no-one could imagine they were real. And when she smiles, only half of her face moves.

"Hey, it's good we're waiting 'til after Spring Break," I said. "Last time I was there at the wrong time and the place was wall to wall with college kids. Although the eye candy was interesting."

The ladies all laughed and said things like 'Typical Judi'. OK, so I'm about 40 (I'm not saying which side) and I still like looking at young guys. Mostly these days I just look. Since Darren went off with a girl from his office with a lipo-ed ass, a trout pout and titties that would knock people over if she turned around too quickly, I've mostly had to make my own amusement. See, we never had kids; never sure if it was him or me, and now I don't think I shall and I don't really mind that much. But it means I'm on my own a lot. I've tried the Internet and speed dating, but I always seem to find these guys who think you've been on a romantic date if they hold your hand during the ball-game. That or breathe beer all over you as they try to stick their hand up your t-shirt right after saying hello.

So going to Vegas with my good girlfriends seemed like a fun thing to do. Maybe there'd be some cute guys, or maybe we could just sip Margaritas and look cool on bar stools. I had the outfits, though I wasn't sure I still had the body to go with them!

So on the appointed day, we all arrived at the airport, to find that Candace had got us all upgraded to business class. (She knew someone at the airline who pulled a few strings for us). Well that was great, especially as I was expecting to pay excess for my bag, which was way over the allowance. Well, a girl never knows what to pack when she has so many pretty things. So on the flight we had free champagne and little canapés and we really enjoyed ourselves, even if it was only two hours long.

At Vegas, Candace had a stretch limo waiting for us. That was good, 'cos Vegas airport reminds me of something out of the Holocaust. OK, so that's a bit tasteless, but so's the airport. All the staff seem to have any charm they may have had surgically removed, and pretty soon they'll be using electric cattle prods to control the crowds! And the place is wall-to-wall slots almost before you get out of the gate.

So the limo was nice, even if the Luxor wasn't. I don't know about you but I think there's only so much amusement in having an elevator that moves up and sideways at the same time, especially when you have to walk halfway round the building to get to the one that stops at your floor, and then walk the other half just to get to your room. But hey, even if the rooms are a little shabby and the staff have a special 'surliness' chip inserted in their brains when they're hired, I was there FOR FREE, with my good buddies on a vacation I wasn't expecting, and it sure beats Chicago in late March.

So we showered and changed and applied the war-paint and went out on the town. The champagne had already got us mellow, and a few Margaritas later and a nice Teppanyaki meal specially for us with a cute little oriental chef who could toss my salad any time he liked, and we were all about as happy as we were going to get.

I have to say that for a bunch of old – and not-so-old – broads, I think we're pretty hot. None of us is too much overweight, we dress well and look after ourselves. Candace provides 'corporate membership' (funny term when there are just eight of us) for a local gym, and we all go down there several times a week and work out. I found I could still get into my slinky outfits, which left me feeling very smug, but I'm always a bit self-conscious around the younger ones. I think Karen and Maria, our two youngest ladies, are really very pretty. Karen's tall, slim and blonde – physically, not mentally. Her husband treated her really badly, and she was virtually on the streets with her little girl, Alice (a cute 4-year old) when she met Candace. The boss saw her potential and set her to work. For the last three quarters she's exceeded her targets by 50%, and now lives in a nice apartment and sends her little girl to a private nursery school.

Maria has also been through the mill. She's a pretty little Latina, just 29. but she keeps meeting these losers who take advantage of her. One guy broke her nose and another gave her a dose of the clap. She decided that she was going to give up men entirely, and I almost suggested she move in with me. I'm a bit embarrassed to say so, but after our separate experiences with those assholes who call themselves men, I would have been happy to snuggle up with Maria at night. She's so sweet. I'm not normally that way inclined, but I could make an exception for her. Hell, I like a good pair of shoulders and a stiff dick as much as the next girl – unless of course that girl is Jolene, who seems to like so many stiff dicks she's gotten a reputation. But there's something about Maria's eyes and her cute little mouth that sort of get me wet. Please don't tell anyone I said that!

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so the Thursday night we went out to the Teppanyaki and had a few Margaritas and came back very mellow indeed. I'd set aside $100 as my gambling float. The idea was, once it's gone, it's gone and there's no more. I had the idea that my hundred bucks would go in one part of my purse, and any winnings in another. That way, if I ended the weekend up on the deal, I wouldn't be tempted to stick all my winnings back in and lose the lot.

So anyway, we arrived back about 1am, and Jolene and Karen said "Let's just play the slots for, say, a half hour. Just for a laugh before we go to bed." So I changed 20 bucks into quarters and started feeding two machines that said "$1000 jackpot!" on them. So I was down to my last three quarters, and I just pulled both handles at the same time and turned to take a drink off a passing tray (they really water them down these days). And then, ping, boing, boing – and all the lights started flashing. And I saw the machine on the left say "$50!" and I thought "Hey, I'm up on the night!" And then the one on the right sort of played a fanfare and all these coins came rushing out. I'd hit the frigging jackpot! $1000 – all in quarters!

So there are these coins spilling everywhere, and everybody's looking, and I'm on the floor, way too drunk, trying to collect coins in those little plastic bowls they give you. And I'm on my hands and knees, and everyone's cheering, and I look round, and Candace is coming up behind me and helping me to my feet. Then she hugs me, and says "Hey, Judi, that's great!" And then she whispers. "Better stay on your feet. Half the casino was looking at your panties when you were down there."

I was so embarrassed, I must have gone bright red. Then the waitresses came over with some big plastic buckets and sort of scooped up the coins and carried them over to a counter. Then they threw them in a machine, and it counted them up, and there was $1022.75 in there. Some asshole had creamed off nearly 30 bucks somehow, but hey, I was way up on the night and everything was cool. And the cashier handed me a bunch of crisp bills, and Candace counted them to make sure it was all there, and then helped me back to my room.

I woke up next morning in my lingerie and stockings, lying on the bed with a monster hangover, surrounded by some large-denomination bills. For a moment I thought I must have turned into a hooker overnight and wondered why I couldn't remember who the John was. Then I remembered just enough about the previous night to sort of perk up a bit. Hey, despite the hangover, this was GOOD!

I got some black coffee, an English muffin and some fruit on room service, then undressed and took a shower. The room service boy was almost as cute as the chef from the night before, and I suddenly wished I'd kept my nice silk bra and pantie set on, instead of greeting him with wet hair in a toweling bathrobe two sizes too big for me. An image formed in my fuzzy head; me, seducing the boy, maybe getting him to pull my panties to one side, lick me up and down, then.... Then he was standing with his hand out, waiting for a tip. I handed him a twenty – all that I had handy – and he smiled and thanked me and left. Shit! Well I suppose he would have been too busy to stay and make me feel good, so it was all just a fantasy anyway. That and the fact my head felt like someone had pumped a quart of glue in there through my eyeballs.

After breakfast, I felt a little better, and after a couple of painkillers and about a gallon of coffee – the muffin remained uneaten, though I did pick at the fruit – I decided I needed to pull myself together. On with the sunscreen, then a bit of make-up, my best halter bikini from the catalog – pushes my titties up, and boy, they need all the help they can get – and my best poolside robe. (Forget that awful toweling thing the hotel provided). Then a pair of nice, sensible heels – well, at least not too silly – and the essential sunglasses, grab a paperback and my iPod, and I'm at the pool before you can say "A Margarita? At this hour? Why not?"

Sure enough, most of my girlfriends are there before me. Candace is a few years older than me, but she still looks good in her one-piece. Jolene's falling out of her tiny bikini – just as she intended. Maria has a sweet, demure little costume on, and Karen's is shocking pink, which contrasts interestingly with her hair. Leah turned up with her friend Pattie a bit later. Leah's a little short and on the plump side, and Pattie is a tall and very statuesque black girl in her mid-30s, so they make an odd couple, but they get along really well. Pattie is really attractive – a bit sort of Beyonce-like – and I sometimes think Leah goes around with her hoping to get some of the fallout from the men she meets. I'm not sure that Leah's had any success yet, but Pattie seems to be able to attract and discard some pretty nice black guys at will. Somehow I don't think Leah is their type.

Finally, around lunchtime, Vicki arrives. She's probably 15 years younger than Jolene, but she's had even more work done. I assumed that she'd waited 'til later to come down to the pool so she wouldn't risk melting in the sun. Then Jolene whispered that she'd managed to get her legs around a croupier a couple of hours after I'd gone to bed following my fun-but-embarrassing 'cash and ass' display. She looked like a model – that is, one made of plastic – but I had to confess that I was jealous. The last dick I had WAS made of plastic. And the one before that, before it wore out.

So we stayed there most of the day. It was sunny but not stiflingly hot. Then we showered around five, and Candace summoned our stretch limo again and we went off to the Bellagio to watch the fountains and have cocktails. I'm an old softie, I know, but I always fill up when they play 'Time to Say Goodbye', and all the fountains swirl about, and the lights really make it special. So it was as well that we had a dinner show to go to. It was one of the Cirque du Soleil extravaganzas, which are always very good. We had a nice meal, and then the dancers came on and did the most amazing things. One really beautiful girl, who I reckon was Russian from the name in the program, hung from a trapeze by one leg and spun metal rigs around all her other arms and legs. I have no idea how she did it, but it made me dizzy just to watch.

Over breakfast the following morning, Vicki was again absent, and Jolene told me that 'our plastic friend got laid again last night'. Perhaps it was because she reminded me of the bitch who stole my husband away – asshole that he was – but I find it hard to get really friendly with Vicki. So yeah, I was jealous I suppose.

When the glamour girl did finally arrive – we're all too polite to make any risqué remarks or anything like that – Candace announced a special treat for that evening. Our stretch was going to take us out into the desert to a special club, called 'A-Doodle-Doo'. Before anyone else could say anything, Candace added "And if you want to know what it's about, just spot the missing word." Yeah, it was a male strip joint, sort of Chippendales-style place. I'd never been to one, though I was curious. I guessed that they would indulge in some audience participation, but I thought there would be little chance of anyone picking me out to embarrass, what with Plastic Vicki, almost-as-plastic Jolene, statuesque Pattie and pretty Karen and Marie to pounce on. And it would be fun to see some good male bodies for a change. Candace said that they took everything off, and even had hard-ons. Well, I thought, even though I don't often get to play with one, at least I'd get a chance to look at one, which is something.

After dinner in a chi-chi restaurant off the Strip, we went out to the club. As I'd had my share of luck at the slots, I treated everyone to champagne, at $100 a bottle. We ended up drinking four bottles between us, apparently, although I only remember two. Anyway, they put us in this sort of alcove with a good view of the stage, and a couple of 'warm-up' acts came on first. There was a guy who told very dirty jokes, some funny, some just dirty. Then a really punped-up guy in a tiny thong came on and did sort of stunts – handstands, somersaults, then fire-breathing and spinning this burning pole around. It was all vaguely amusing, but we girls all had a different sort of hot pole in mind.

The first stripper who came on was OK-looking, sort of latino-like – darkish-skinned, anyway – and dressed like a cowboy. He was twirling a lasso. Somehow, he managed to keep twirling that thing while he took his clothes off. It reminded me of the girl at the Cirque do Soleil show, only not as erotic. Anyway, he gets down to some really tight boxers and this pair of leather chaps, then he swings the lasso over the front row and drops it on some poor unsuspecting girl. "Oh yeah," I thought., "Just as I suspected. Big tits, big ass, big hair, and blonde in every sense of the word."

The guy sort of pulled her up to the stage by the rope, then asked her her name. "Trina," I think she said. Anyway, our cowboy got Trina to feel him up through his boxers. She went very red and looked seriously embarrassed. He took the rope off her, but then tied another, smaller one around her wrists. He then got her to kneel and hold the waistband of those shorts, and before she knew what was going on, he jumped back about a foot or so, and the shorts, held by Velcro at the back, ripped straight off. In an instant, he'd hopped back forward, so that his dick, which was sort of half-hard, was just inches from the girl's face. She gave a funny little squeal, and the audience all went wild, with whoops and whistles and all the girlie noises. Anyone would think that they'd never seen a dick before. As opposed to me, who hadn't seen one in a year or two.

Well I have to confess, it was quite a nice dick, as dicks go. It was quite long, reasonably thick and straight, uncut and pointing at about a 30 degree angle downwards. The guy then got the poor girl – who I believe was secretly loving every minute and creaming her panties – to put both hands around his dick, and proceeded to swing his hips back and forth, basically screwing the tube made by her hands. He made the thrusts quite forceful, to make it a bit more erotic and also to push his dick almost into the girl's face. Then he took her hands away, and swung his dick back and forth, slapping the girl on the cheeks with his dick.

Next to me, Jolene was going "Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Even Candace, I was surprised to see was whistling and screeching with the best of them. I looked at Maria, and found that she was staring at the guy's dick with her mouth open in surprise.

And talking of surprise, our cowboy suddenly lifted his kneeling victim to her feet, and before she could protest, pulled the back of her t-shirt up and over her head. She gave a little cry of alarm, and then her bra was undone and her big tits flopped out. Cowboy just pulled the mess of garments down her arms to her wrists, pushed her back onto her knees and shoved his dick between those big globes, tit-fucking her for all he was worth. He was clearly fully erect now, as were his victim's nipples. He squeezed, stroked and pulled them as he manipulated her tits, pushing his cock up that deep valley until it was almost touching the girl's lips.