LANCE LUST
Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LANCE LUST
Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever.
Shakespeare
Sometimes his streaked yellow hair reminded me of mom’s own lemon meringue pie. Not bad coming straight out of a Clairol bottle No. 24: Born Blond. Lance was a six foot one scarecrow, arms and legs like tentacles, teeth as white and even as a picket fence. When he looked at me with his piercing blue eyes, I felt like I was being seduced by the Pacific Ocean. This loser went straight from West Point to hard core in a single bound. Call it talent or was it his scent of madness that lured me into his entrapment.
The only talent Lance had was in the bedroom. Like a cardinal bird he was hatched in a plywood shack in Humboldt, Tennessee. The nocturnal creature prowled the hard lands, seeding the world.
“Baby cakes, let me get another Lucky Lite beer and my Saratoga Golds,” he asked.
After he’d gulped down a few beers he became melancholy, hung over from the night before, experiencing another mood swing. Then he’d go on a crying jag.
“You know I try to do good, honey, don’t you? I read the Bible every day,” he whined as one of his religious programs blared from the radio. “You know that I don’t mean to ever hurt you, honey,” he said sheepishly.
I don’t think he tried to hurt women intentionally, but his over inflated ego ruled his ever ready dick. Even as far back as Bayou Territory women had been too easy for him. Sex was like a dress rehearsal with duller climaxes after he'd tired of his prey.
Lance was born a movie star. He was seduced by the Hollywood hype with easy money and the promise of success, never really liking to work. Before landing in L.A., the ex-con climbed the somber concrete walls of the Terminal Island Federal Correctional Facility after painting his face with black shoe polish, then robbing the Bank of Hawaii.
And can you believe that when they sprung him loose for being an ideal prisoner, he ran an orphanage for emotionally disturbed monks. Although he was probably more emotionally disturbed than any of them.
His favorite career was as an X-rated skin flick idol.
“I can make love to all these pretty little chicks and get paid for it at the same time,” he bragged. “Well someone has to do it, it might as well be me. I never met a woman that I couldn't satisfy,” he reminded me when he was in a drunken stupor.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores: Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com and other online retailers.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
Elissa Eaton
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LANCE LUST
Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever.
Shakespeare
Sometimes his streaked yellow hair reminded me of mom’s own lemon meringue pie. Not bad coming straight out of a Clairol bottle No. 24: Born Blond. Lance was a six foot one scarecrow, arms and legs like tentacles, teeth as white and even as a picket fence. When he looked at me with his piercing blue eyes, I felt like I was being seduced by the Pacific Ocean. This loser went straight from West Point to hard core in a single bound. Call it talent or was it his scent of madness that lured me into his entrapment.
The only talent Lance had was in the bedroom. Like a cardinal bird he was hatched in a plywood shack in Humboldt, Tennessee. The nocturnal creature prowled the hard lands, seeding the world.
“Baby cakes, let me get another Lucky Lite beer and my Saratoga Golds,” he asked.
After he’d gulped down a few beers he became melancholy, hung over from the night before, experiencing another mood swing. Then he’d go on a crying jag.
“You know I try to do good, honey, don’t you? I read the Bible every day,” he whined as one of his religious programs blared from the radio. “You know that I don’t mean to ever hurt you, honey,” he said sheepishly.
I don’t think he tried to hurt women intentionally, but his over inflated ego ruled his ever ready dick. Even as far back as Bayou Territory women had been too easy for him. Sex was like a dress rehearsal with duller climaxes after he'd tired of his prey.
Lance was born a movie star. He was seduced by the Hollywood hype with easy money and the promise of success, never really liking to work. Before landing in L.A., the ex-con climbed the somber concrete walls of the Terminal Island Federal Correctional Facility after painting his face with black shoe polish, then robbing the Bank of Hawaii.
And can you believe that when they sprung him loose for being an ideal prisoner, he ran an orphanage for emotionally disturbed monks. Although he was probably more emotionally disturbed than any of them.
His favorite career was as an X-rated skin flick idol.
“I can make love to all these pretty little chicks and get paid for it at the same time,” he bragged. “Well someone has to do it, it might as well be me. I never met a woman that I couldn't satisfy,” he reminded me when he was in a drunken stupor.
‘Too Old to be a Hooker...Too Young to be a Madam’ is available at the following
Los Angeles Bookstores: Barnes & Noble The Grove, Barnes & Noble Third Street Promenade, Barnes & Noble Bookstar Studio City, Book Soup, Skylight Books, Vroman’s, The Canyon Country Store, amazon.com and other online retailers.Too Old to be a Hooker Too Young to be a Madam
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