"Well, don't you think they'll worry about me cutting in on their action?"

"Honey, the day you could cut in on any of their action's the day they collect their Social Security checks. Those chicks are rough. They may look all soft and cuddly but they've got six-inch fangs when they feel like it. They pick and choose who they want to ball. And you sure as hell ain't going to cut in on any of their action. Not unless they want you to. Dig?"

"Sure. I guess so. I'm the wet-behind-the-ears kid. Is that it?"

"Well, that's not the best place for a good-looker like you to be wet. I can think of lots better places, in fact." Cat looked significantly at the crotch of Susan's tight jeans. They were still damp from her bout with Joe. It would be some time before she could think of him and not get damp in the pussy all over again!

"It was fun," she mused, thinking back on Joe's nine-incher and how much a pussy-pleaser it was.

"Yeah. That's what they all say. For a while. Then it gets to be a business. More fun," she admitted, "Than file-clerking or any of those nine-to-five drags, but a job. That's why most of the girls only lose a few times a week. They get horny, sure, then pick who they're gonna fuck. They lose and everyone's happy. They're well screwed if they picked right, the customer brags about how he got a piece for only five bucks – even if he spent a yard or two getting there – and the house comes out ahead from all the other guys plunking down their money trying to repeat."

"Sounds like everyone ends up happy."

"Sure," Cat said. "Except for some guys." She pointed across the room at the corner table. The same guy was playing Cyndi and losing by some twenty balls. "That guy's gonna win one day. And I want to see the look on Cyndi's face when it happens. She doesn't think he can beat her – ever."

"I have to admit she's got a good case for it."