Creole Gaudet

Chloe was a tall, shapely blonde who modeled part-time and stripped full-time at Club Sights.

She lived with her grandmother, who she once described as a prying busybody with deep reservations about her working in a house of sin and that she would have had a stroke on top of a heart attack on top of a stroke if she’d known her one and only sweet and naive granddaughter was swinging her rear end on a pole and not waiting tables as promised.

Being under a constant vigil made partying at home next to impossible, so she would often stop by my place after work to unwind.

She was a petite, chocolate-brown girl dressed in a pair of fitted white denims with a matching crop top, exposing her taut midriff. Her hair was cut in a short asymmetrical bob that hung low and across the face on one side and was chopped and tapered in the rear.

As I exited my car, I saw her pulling back in. She cut a look before shifting her eyes away. I tossed up my arm, forcing her attention. She stopped next to me. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” Her broad smile was just as I remembered. “Your name is Trish, right?”

She was curled up with a customer, kitty-corner from me, which gave me a side view of her slim figure. Her eyes were a striking green. Her raven black waves flowed to the middle of her back.

She caught my eyes and tossed me a seductive wink. I downplayed the flirt by not returning any obvious gestures. A deadpan look and a slight head nod were just enough.

Even though it was only one date, I was really beginning to like Gia a lot. She was a nice girl. She was a professional with a career and was independent. I was excited to see where it would go.