Say what you want about the ownership of Rack O’ Ribs—and the clientele, for that matter—but the ribs were surprisingly good for backwoods New Hampshire. Tonight was Cassie’s 38th birthday, but Cassie and Kevin often went to the Rack O’ Ribs on Saturday evenings to split a pitcher of Bud and, well, a rack of ribs.
“Hiya, Mrs. McDougal,” their waitress pronounced around a pungent wad of grape Bubblicious.
“Tawny!” Cassie said with a laugh once she recognized the face beneath the dirty blonde feathered hair. “It’s great to see you! What are you doing here?”
Tawny gestured with her notepad and tapped the nametag on her striped tube top with her pen.
This rack belongs to:
Tawny
“Of course, I can see that you’re waiting tables,” Cassie laughed again while running a hand through her wavy auburn hair. “But I mean, did you just start? We haven’t seen you here before.”
“Naw, Mrs. McDougal,” Tawny smacked her gum and tugged at the lower hem of her top where it didn’t quite reach the waistband of her Lee jeans. “I been waitin’ tables at lunchtime for a while, but Lance is finally givin’ me some evenin’ shifts. That’ll pay a lot better.” She put the back of her hand beside her mouth as though she was about to spill a big secret. “So now I can quit workin’ the night shift at the fuckin’ Cumby’s across the street,” she added with a surly smile.
Tawny Kuntzler had been in eighth grade at Ossipee Valley Middle School during Cassie’s—Mrs. McDougal’s—first year of teaching science. In fact, on the very first day, Tawny had decked the new kid, Jimmy Devlin, for making fun of her name. “It’s pronounced ‘Koontzler’, asshole,” she hissed as she stalked away, shaking out her knuckles. Instead of giving her a detention, Mrs. McDougal decided to give Tawny extra credit for her excellent demonstration of Newton’s Third Law.
Cassie had kept her ear to the ground over the years and heard whispers about Tawny while she blazed her way through high school, leaving a scorched trail behind her. Some were harmless: Didja know Tawny Kuntzler has a raunchy tattoo on her lower back? Some were a bit more worrisome: Yeah? Well, Tawny Kuntzler stuck a beer bottle in her pussy at Caleb Ferney’s party last weekend! And others were just ridiculous enough to be absolutely unbelievable, unless you actually knew the girl: No foolin’—I heard Tawny Kuntzler blew Joey Martinelli by the dumpsters behind Cumby’s, with Pop Rocks in her mouth!
“Tawny, have you ever met my husband, Kevin?” Cassie asked while gesturing to her ruggedly handsome dinner companion.
“Nope. I’ve seen him around town, but I didn’t know he was anyone special.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you at Cumberland Farms sometimes when I’m getting gas,” Kevin agreed, running his hand through his shaggy brown hair.
“Well, pleased to meet you, Mr. McDougal,” Tawny said with a saucy wink and a whiff of artificial grape flavoring.
“Oh, his name isn’t McDougal,” Cassie smiled. “I kept my name when we got married. He’s Mr. Spitz.”
Tawny laughed out loud. “Oh my god, Mrs. McDougal! Can you imagine teaching middle school with a name like Mrs. Spitz?” She wiped her eyes before continuing. “You woulda been the one who slugged Jimmy Devlin, not me.”
“See?” Cassie said to Kevin with a laugh as she thumped her fist on the table and then pointed at him. “That is exactly why I didn’t change my name.”
“Hey, I didn’t make a fuss aboot it, did I?” he defended himself with a chuckle. “It’s your name; do what you want. You’re the one who has to live with it.”
“So, Mrs. McDougal, Mr. Spitz,” Tawny said with exaggerated politeness, “What’ll you have?” She brought her pen and paper together and prepared to take dictation.
“A pitcher of Bud and a full rack,” Cassie replied.
Tawny put away her pen and pad. “I think I can remember that one,” she deadpanned as she turned away, flashing a small strip of skin as her tube top rode up her waist.
“Cassie, what are you staring at?” Kevin asked as Tawny strode off.
“Kev, does it look like she has a tattoo above her ass?”
###
As Cassie and Kevin prepared to leave, Tawny dropped the check on the red gingham tablecloth.
“Say, do you two always come in early like this?”
Kevin checked his watch. “What do you mean, early? It's almost seven o’clock!” he grinned.
“So you’ve never been here after 11 PM,” Tawny continued patiently.
“Jiminy Crickets!” Cassie laughed. “That’s way past my bedtime. I get up at 5 AM during the school year, you know.”
Tawny drew a quarter sheet of paper out of her apron pocket and slid it across the table. “I know for a fact that school doesn’t start for another week and a half,” she said with a devious smile before sauntering away again.
“Kev, I definitely see a tattoo on her back.”
“It’s hard to tell in this light.”
“And is it just me, or is she swinging her hips more than usual?”
“No, Cass, that’s just you.” Kevin tossed some money on the table and they slid out of the circular booth.
As he swung the truck onto the road, Kevin said, “What do you think she was talking aboot, 11 PM?”
Cassie laughed. “Ha! I was wondering how long it would take before you brought that up. I grabbed the flyer when you weren’t looking.” She pulled it out of her pocket and smoothed it out on the dashboard, then read it aloud with as straight a face as she could manage.
THE “BONE ZONE”
at Rack O’ Ribs
August 29, 30, 31
11:00-11:59 PM
eXotic dancers
Cassie looked closer. “Kev, the ‘x’ in ‘exotic’ is capitalized.”
Kevin cleared his throat. “Uh, so I guess this explains why Tawny won’t be working at Cumberland Farms anymore.”
“Oh, Tawny, Tawny, Tawny,” Cassie clucked, shaking her head, then turned to Kevin. “She’s a smart girl, Kev. She was taking AP Calculus and Latin IV her senior year, but got expelled for having sex in the nurse’s office when the whole school was supposed to be watching the Challenger space shuttle launch on TV.”
“That is pretty smart, avoiding that shitshow.”
“God, what a nightmare. Every kid in the state is watching because a teacher from New Hampshire is going into space, then the damned shuttle explodes and we have to deal with the fallout.”
“Okay, but back to your girl Tawny. I’m guessing no college, just a string of nothing jobs to keep her in Mountain Dew and Marlboro Reds?”
“Camel Lights Hard Pack, I think, but you’ve basically got it.” Cassie sighed again. “Well, she needs our support.”
“Oh, yeah? You’re going to stay up until midnight to watch Tube Top Tawny shake her tits?”
“Heck, no!” Cassie laughed. “I’m going to take a nap first, then we’ll go see her shake her tits.”
###
Cassie and Kevin entered the Rack O’ Ribs a few minutes before eleven and looked around before noticing a door at the back that was open and emanating red light.
Kevin turned to the bartender, Gary, and nodded towards the entrance to Hades. “Bone Zone?”
“Ayup,” he nodded, mopping up the empty bar.
“Gary, why have we never heard about this before?” Cassie prodded him.
“We’ve been keeping it pretty quiet. There’s an old law on the books we discovered.” He drew a laminated sheet from behind the José Cuervo and read from it.
“To honor Our Lord who toiled for six days and rested on the seventh, there shall be no lewd burlesquing during all four sevens of days in each month of our Christian calendar…”
“Hang on,” Cassie interrupted, remembering the dates on the Bone Zone flyer. “Are you saying those old prudes outlawed burlesque for only 28 days of each month?”
“You got it,” he snickered. “The sheriff agreed with our interpretation and allows us to stage shows for one hour each night, starting on the 29th, as long as no intoxicating liquors are served.”
“Well, happy birthday to me!” Cassie laughed.
“Yes, indeedy,” the bartender agreed. “There’s a five dollar cover charge, and you also have to buy a basket of chicken wings. But take a free shot before you go in: Jack’s on the left, Jameson’s on the right.”
Cassie and Kevin passed into the Bone Zone and found a small, sticky table off to one side. The rest of the crowd was entirely men, and the room carried an air of dried sweat and chainsaw oil.
“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here,” Cassie muttered before sitting down.
There was still time before the show began, and one of the kitchen guys drifted over to their table and dropped a basket of wings and celery sticks in front of them.
“Thanks, Brandon,” Cassie said with an amused smile on her lips.
“Mrs. McDougal, no way!” Brandon laughed through his squirrely mustache. “You’re the first teacher I’ve ever seen in the Bone Zone!”
“We’re here to support Tawny,” Cassie explained.
“She sure could use it; it’s her first night,” Brandon smiled. “She’s up last; that can actually be the worst draw because your set might get cut short at midnight. Oh, that’ll be fifteen bucks.”
Kevin peeled off a twenty. “Get us a couple of Sprites, too?”
“Comin’ right up!”
The red lights grew even dimmer, and the DJ’s voice overpowered the room. “Lady and gentlemen!” he began, acknowledging Cassie’s unique status.
“Jeez, watch your levels,” Cassie grumbled. She had volunteered at MIT’s student radio station, WTBS 88.1 FM, while she was in college.
“...and I do use that term loosely. You are now in the Bone Zone! For the next sixty minutes, prepare to have your cocks locked and your socks rocked! Please tip the girls early and often! And now, here to dress you up in her love, it’s Abby!”
Abby was a slim girl with a pixie cut, platinum blonde with turquoise highlights to match her sparkling eyes. Her outfit consisted of layer upon layer: a hot pink fishnet sweater over an aqua t-shirt that had received the Flashdance treatment over a white tank top over a hot pink bra, with enough necklaces and bracelets to stock the Spencer’s at the Fox Run Mall.
“Do you know her?” Kevin asked as Abby began dancing to Lucky Star.
“No, she must be from out of town. I feel like those necklaces are going to be a problem,” Cassie remarked. Abby did need to be careful as she maneuvered her sweater over her head, but she did it smoothly while shaking her ass and mouthing “Star light, star bright” over her shoulder to her disciples as they tithed crumpled-up dollar bills, throwing them at the seat of her chartreuse bike shorts.
Her next song was Material Girl, and Cassie commented, “Ooh, good choice.” At an inquiring look from Kevin, she explained further. “You know how I used to chaperone roller skating in the gym on Friday nights? Something about this song got people so stoked.”
After peeling off her bike shorts and losing her billowy turquoise shirt, Abby pranced off the stage and visited each table, plucking dollar bills from her suitors and blowing them air kisses.
“If this girl can roller skate, she totally needs to work that into her act,” Cassie observed as Abby returned to the stage, where she shucked off her ribbed white tank and kicked off her white canvas sneakers. Wearing only her matching hot pink bra and panties, as well as her plastic baubles and bangles and frilly white ankle socks, she launched into her final number, Get Into The Groove, running a finger up the front of her underpants to make it crystal clear just which groove was under consideration.
As the song reached the bridge, Abby gripped the closure at the front of her bra and began twirling in a circle, with the audience lustily demanding more.
“...let the music set you free,” Cassie laughed and sang along, just as Abby unclasped her bra and spun out of it, finally unmasking her perky titties to the delight of everyone in the room.
“Thank you, Abby,” the DJ thundered as the song drew to a close. “She’s burning up for your love, people!” He gave Abby a minute to sweep up the crumpled bills on the stage before continuing. “And now get ready to feel the sting… of Wicked Wanda!”
Wanda Clough—rhymes with cow, but even Jimmy Devlin wasn’t stupid enough to ever say that out loud—was built like a Robert Crumb fever dream: 5’10” with tits like bowling balls, thighs like baked hams, and an ass like an overstuffed loveseat at a Reno whorehouse. She burst onto the stage wearing a black vinyl vest and pants ensemble as the Scorpions’ No One Like You began blasting from the sound system. Flipping her frizzy red hair and bugging out her eyes, she began gyrating to the music, wobbling dangerously on spiked heels.
“Jiminy effing Crickets, it’s Wanda Clough,” Cassie breathed in wonder.
“Star student?” Kevin grinned.
“God, if you think Tawny sounds like trouble, she was an angel compared to Wanda.”
“What do you think the PSI is under those heels?”
Wanda’s next Scorpions song was Big City Nights. After it began, the DJ scurried over to grab an extension cord, then crouched next to an electrical outlet. When the chorus hit, the DJ plugged in the cord, and a backlit message board sprang to life on the wall.
BIG TITTY NIGHT’S !
The regulars had obviously seen this act before, because they all sang along at the top of their lungs.
“Big Titty! Big Titty Nights!”
“Big Titty! Big Titty Nights!”
Wanda ripped open her vest and exposed her massive boobs; covered with two inadequate triangles of a black bikini top, they leered at the audience like two cyclops jack o’ lanterns. She flung the vest aside and shimmied for all she was worth.
Tawny must have alerted Wanda that she had invited Mrs. McDougal and her husband to the show, because during the final chorus Wanda made a beeline for their table and pummeled Kevin’s face with her punching bags.
When she finally released him, Cassie saw that Kevin’s face was catatonic but his dick was ready to burst out of his cargo shorts.
“Kev, is that what you’ve been missing all these years?” Cassie cried with laughter. “I swear, her tits have their own gravitational fields!”
Kevin just stared into the distance and slowly shook his head. “Christ, she’s like a pornographic muppet,” he muttered in disbelief. “Like Animal’s head got swapped onto Miss Piggy’s body.”
Wanda concluded her set with, of course, Rock You Like a Hurricane. She pulled off her pants and revealed a black G-string with a rhinestone W on the front, then swung on the pole like a tornado, straining the limits of her overmatched bikini top. Planting her feet on the stage again, she tore off her top and revealed her meaty meteors, sending the lunatic crowd over the moon. Wanda then worked the room, visiting tables and accepting dollar bills in her waistband and handprints on her ass.
Timing her tour of duty perfectly, she landed at Cassie and Kevin’s table with a minute to go. Straddling Kevin, she ground her bedazzled pussy against his canvas-clad cock while smirking and maintaining eye contact with his wife. Cassie smirked right back and held up a five dollar bill, then folded it lengthwise and slipped it down the front of Wanda’s G-string as she continued proxy-fucking her husband through his shorts.
“Wanda! Make him blow!” Cassie shouted, waving another fiver in the air.
“You got it, Mrs. M.!” Wanda roared with laughter, then stuck her tongue down Kevin’s throat and jerked him off with her crotch.
“Oh, fuuuck,” Kevin groaned as a wet spot bloomed on the front of his shorts, and Cassie slid the second fiver next to the first, grazing her fingers against the satin fabric covering Wanda’s pussy as she withdrew her hand.
Wanda clambered off as the song ended, then galloped up to the stage and took a bow, her twin wrecking balls colliding off each other, before she and Abby teamed up to collect the money that littered the floor.
As the DJ bellowed some bullshit for Wanda’s outro, Cassie took pity on Kevin. “You must be a sticky mess, Kev!” she crooned in a doting manner. “Let me clean you up.” Without waiting for a response, she leaned over and unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his shorts and slid them down his legs, exposing his cum-slathered dick and pubes. Cassie dropped to her knees and slurped up the goopy cum, then took his cock in her mouth and bobbed her head up and down for a moment before pulling off with a lopsided smile and wiping the corner of her mouth with her finger.
“Thanks, babe,” Kevin whispered hoarsely as he snaked his shorts back up.
“And now, bringing the high voltage, it’s Brandi!” the speakers blared as the DJ cued up Back in Black and a black-haired menace flounced onto center stage wearing a black leather biker jacket, a short black skirt, and sparkling red high heels. In the depths of his refractory period, Kevin didn’t remember much from her set. Brandi pitched her jacket pretty quickly before she got overheated; underneath she wore long snakeskin patterned gloves and a black t-shirt with a notch cut into the neckline.
By the time she transitioned into You Shook Me All Night Long, she had sloughed off the gloves and waggled her way out of her black miniskirt. Dancing now in her t-shirt and a pair of black hot pants, she pinched her nipples through the fabric, to the delight of the Bone Zone faithful. Pretending to be shocked as her pert tits were bombarded with dollar bill ammunition, Brandi stayed on stage during her second song rather than working the floor like the other girls. As the barrage slowed, she turned her back, then unzipped her boy shorts and slowly eased them down her legs, bending at the waist to give the audience a splendid view of the red g-string nestled in her ass crack.
Cassie laughed out loud when she heard the intro to the final song of the set. Brandi was no dummy—doing an AC/DC set without a Bon Scott song would be like titfucking in a turtleneck sweater; sure, you could do it, but why would you? It’s a Long Way to the Top If You Wanna Rock ‘N’ Roll chugged along while Brandi alternately prowled and posed. After a minute and a half, she faced the audience and arched one eyebrow while clutching the collar of her t-shirt. When the first bagpipe riff wailed, she tore her shirt apart and unveiled her ripe tits, causing the spectators to wail as well.
“Surprise!” Cassie hooted, punching Kevin’s arm. “No bra!” Kevin blinked as though he was waking up from a coma.
Now Brandi hopped off the stage and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her g-string to collect dollar bills. She circulated for a couple of minutes before dashing back onto the stage and grabbing two aerosol cans. For the final sixty seconds, with every shriek of the bagpipes, Brandi sprayed her white Silly String, first straight up into the air like six-shooters, then onto her tits like cum shooters. As the music faded out, Brandi blew imaginary smoke from her pistols as wadded-up dollar bills rolled by like miniature tumbleweeds. She needed both Abby and Wanda’s help to rake up her haul, while Brandon swept up the Silly String detritus before the final set of the night.
“Tee-En-Tee; watch me explode!” the DJ roared into the mic as the audience also roared its approval. Once the stage was clear, he launched into his final introduction of the night.
“And now, for the first time on the Bone Zone stage, or on any stage for that matter…”
“Except for the Cumby’s parking lot,” Cassie muttered.
“...Prepare to be eliminated; heeere’s Tawny!”
Cassie grabbed Kevin’s wrist and checked the time: 11:45. “Oh good, they’re right on schedule,” she said with relief.
Tawny stalked out in imitation Ray-Bans and a tuxedo outfit with white pumps as ZZ Top’s Sharp Dressed Man began playing.
“Yeah, Tawny!” Kevin shouted, while Cassie gave her tried and true catcall from the Wellesley Scream Tunnel.
“Wooooo!”
Tawny slid her shades down her nose, winking at her special cheering section, then got down to business. She seemed a little stiff at first, not entirely comfortable with stretching the tease out to four minutes, which seemed like an eternity to her. The audience was sympathetic—hey, if this girl is willing to show us her tits, we are fully on board—and shouted its encouragement as the song progressed. By the end of her first tune, Tawny had shed her tuxedo jacket and cheap sunglasses, leaving a collar-and-bow-tie combination above a deep-cut vest, and the traditional disembodied cuffs on her wrists.
“She oughta ditch the pants soon,” Cassie muttered.
Kevin’s spider sense was tingling. “Don’t worry, Cass. She’s got a plan,” he reassured her, confident that he knew what was coming next. The opening honky-tonk riff of Legs proved him right.
“She’s got legs…” Billy Gibbons croaked, and Tawny tore off her breakaway pants to reveal her gorgeous gams, perfectly in time with the blorp of the guitar.
“Yeah!” Kevin hollered with a wide grin on his face.
“WooOooOoo!”
Tawny Kuntzler owned the stage, pouting and strutting like a young Traci Lords—wait, don’t do the math on that—as the audience peppered her with one dollar hailstones. She turned her ass to the crowd and shook it in half time, simultaneously slinky and urgent. During the guitar solo, she flicked off her left cuff, then her right cuff, then whirled around and began unbuttoning the front of her vest. She dragged it out deliciously, sliding the vest down off her shoulders as the next verse came around, revealing a white bra to match her white g-string.
She swaggered off the stage and spun around the room, visiting every table and getting her waistband and bra straps stuffed with cash. As the song faded out, the crowd cheered and clapped and whistled. The DJ executed a seamless mix, and the synthetic drumbeat announced that Gimme All Your Lovin’ had roared into town.
Tawny was in her element now, reveling in the attention she had craved all her life. She unhooked her bra in the back and then shimmied her shoulders, allowing the straps to fall onto her arms while she held the cups in place. As the noise from the audience reached its crescendo, she let it fall to the floor, deploying her devastating tits like heat-seeking missiles. She homed in on her special guests, Kevin bracing himself for another assault, but she veered at the last second and hopped on Cassie’s lap, mashing her tits into Mrs. McDougal’s face.
But Cassie was ready. She grabbed each of Tawny’s boobs in her hands and licked and sucked her pink nipples as Tawny writhed above her, humping Cassie’s stomach with her damp crotch. While they were occupied, Kevin stood up and looked over Tawny’s shoulder at the tattoo on her back just above her waistband. The tattoo was written upside-down, but from this vantage point, he could read the Gothic script easily.
Bottoms Up!
