Bree cleaned off her makeup and hung up her costume, if tear-away clothing could be so classified. She shoved the business card from the ‘cop’ into the pocket of her jeans and clocked out.

It was raining cats and dogs and once again she cursed that weird fucker of a meteorologist from Channel 10. “Sunny with a chance of light showers,” he’d said.

Bree sat in her old VW Beetle and tallied up her tips and smiled. The ‘extra service’ fund would get a nice infusion of cash. She figured another year of this and she’d have enough money to go back to school full-time. She wanted to finish the degrees she’d been working on part-time for what seemed like forever and then find a nice job in research.

Bree turned the key in the ignition. It went ‘click’.

“Fuck!”

The guy who’d given her a battery boost last time this happened told her the starter was going bad. He had offered to put in another if she went to Atlantic City with him for the weekend. “Just a date, Bree.”

She’d just thanked him saying, “My mother wouldn’t approve.”

Her mother was dead; she should have taken him up on his offer. She wouldn’t be sitting out here in torrential rain, in a car that wouldn’t start, with clothes that were soaked and clinging to her skin.

She banged on the steering wheel with the heels of both hands, gripped it, laid her forehead on the wheel and sighed. This couldn’t have happened in the lot beside her apartment on a bright sunny day?

She shrieked in surprise when someone tapped on her window. Her boss believed in security for his customers and his employees. A person could read a newspaper in the parking lot.

She had no problem recognizing her; the hesitant blonde who’d fucked up her evening. Bree debated just ignoring her but it was raining and she was standing there peering down at her with those huge gray eyes.

She rolled down the window and said, “Yes, officer, can I help you?” with her sweetest kiss-ass voice.

The woman frowned and said, “I need to talk with you please. I’m not a vice cop but I am getting wet.”

Bree reached across the seat, unlocked the passenger door, threw her sports bag into the back seat and motioned her around. This should be interesting, she thought to herself.

She slipped into the front seat and Bree caught a flash of smooth thighs and red panties when the blonde’s skirt rose up. Tall people and VW Beetles aren’t exactly made for each other. She took a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her cheeks. Who the hell carries a hanky around these days?

“What’s wrong with your car?” she asked.

“Won’t start. Starter’s shot. What do you want?”

She really didn’t want to have this conversation here and now. She wanted to go home, soak in a hot tub, catch up on Anastasia’s latest go-round with Mr. Grey and then sleep until it was time to go back to work.

“I have a proposition for you. How much do you make a week here?”

Bree stared at the blonde who was dripping all over her front seat. That wasn’t what she had expected at all. She blurted out, “In a good week six, seven hundred, including tips. Most weeks I only work three nights so–”

“I’ll pay you $2,000 for two weeks of your time. You’ll stay with me and I’ll cover all your expenses. I want you..." she struggled with herself but finally blurted out, “I want you to teach me how to be a whore.”

“Get out!”

Bree wasn’t a whore. She had told herself enough times to finally begin to believe it. She was a part-time student with full-time expenses. She was not a whore. She was an exotic dancer and struggling student.

The blonde sighed loudly but didn’t make a move to leave.

"Three thousand.

My final offer. I have to have this wrapped up by the end of the summer and then I have a paper to present."

“Paper? What fucking paper? Look, this is…four thousand, ten days, and it’s a deal but I want guarantees and ground rules. The first of which is that I am not a whore. I’m an exotic dancer.”

“I think we’ve established what you are. Now we’re simply negotiating price.”

There was that superior tone she’d used in the private room. It rankled Bree no end and set her teeth on edge.

She wanted nothing more than to bitch-slap that silly smirk off her face but the lure of all that money was too much. She caved.

“When would you like to begin your lessons?” asked Bree, her tone carefully neutral.

“Right away. Take what you need from your car and lock it. We’ll swing by your place and you can pack whatever you need. Then we’ll get you situated in the house and we can begin first thing in the morning.”

Her car turned out to be a huge four-wheel-drive crew cab truck. Bree climbed in and took off her soaked jacket and tank top; the cool air hardened her nipples. She heard the older woman gasp as she got in and saw Bree’s partially nude body in the subdued courtesy lights. Without a word, she started the big rig and kicked on the heater.

Bree wanted to regain some semblance of control so she smiled and said softly, “Turn on the radio, something slow and sexy.” She did say ‘right away’, didn’t she? Bree kicked off her flats, and slid off her soaked jeans and panties.

Her new boss still hadn’t moved. She just stared at the naked body sitting contentedly beside her and blinked a few hundred times. Sighing loudly, Bree reached over to turn on the radio but she put her hand on Bree’s smaller one and stopped her. She pushed a few buttons and the soft sounds of rhythmic Latin music filled the truck cab.

“Let’s take this to the back seat. I want to finish that lap dance,” said Bree.

She didn’t really know why she was doing this but was determined to show her boss who was calling the shots. Bree clamored over the console and onto the back seat and waited. And waited.

The blonde finally got the message and quickly moved to sit beside her nude passenger. She was breathing heavily from climbing over things to get into the back seat.

She probably isn’t used to the exertion, thought Bree, smugly. She laughed to herself. She was about to give her new boss a cardio workout.

Bree straddled her, on her knees, pushed the blonde’s skirt up, lowered herself slowly onto her thighs and let the music take her away as it always did. Bree watched her face through half-closed eyes and saw her nostrils flare a bit. When she licked her lips with just the tip of her tongue Bree felt a thrill shoot through her. Bree leaned closer and kissed her softly but from the waist on down her movements were anything but soft.

“Ohhh,” the blonde moaned, deep in her throat. Again Bree felt the thrill of knowing her kiss and the rubbing of her wet pussy on the blonde’s thigh prompted her moan. Bree teased her lips with her tongue and the blonde gasped and opened her mouth and her tongue darted out, seeking Bree’s. Another moan, only this time Bree was startled by it.

It was hers.

Bree teased a nipple through the fabric of her blouse and whatever her bra was made of. Her fingernail circled the nipple and even through the fabric she felt it stiffen. Her tongue was dueling with Bree’s but when that nipple hardened, she attacked!

Her tongue darted over and under Bree’s, along the sides and then stroked the roof of her mouth, in a manner that suggested she was intimately familiar with finding a g-spot.

Bree’s reaction was slower and more laid-back. She relinquished control for a few very brief moments before wresting control from her and leaving no doubt as to who was in charge – Bree Sutherland.