Mama Rose didn’t care who looked down their noses at the place - she loved the hell out of New York. The bustle, the excitement, the lights –and most importantly, the influential people – all meant more to her than a thousand quiet country neighborhoods.
The agent was a typical huckster – pot belly, big cigar, balding head. He talked up a new revue at the Rosemont that was missing an actress and desperately – just desperately – needed a couple of happy kids to sing in the chorus.
Rose smiled her best movie-star smile. “That’s where my girls come in.” She reached down toward his opened zipper and pulled out his cod and started stroking it letting her velvet gloves to do the work. “Junie’s the one with the star-power, but her big sister isn’t half-bad either.” She squeezed his cock.
“She can dance and sing like a lost Garland, and that smile! POW!” She squeezed him so hard he gasped, and then returned to her rhythmic tugging. “The kid is going to be big,” Rose declared, her hand squeezing his cock just below the head. “She’s gonna be the cream of the crop….” She deliberately dragged him against the softest part of her palm and pumped him vigorously, as if she were shaking the hand of a politician. “A-number one, the best and the brightest this stage’s ever gonna have.” Her hand moved with a passion stirred by her fever dreams of fame. “And she can be the headliner, your main attraction. All you’ve gotta do is say yes…”
The man’s lip trembled. She worked his cock harder, faster.
“Yes?” She held her other palm up as a shield to guard her suit from his release.
“Yes!” He choked out, spattering her velvet gloves. “God yes.”
Rose’s smile was perfectly angelic as she wiped her palms upon a handkerchief the man produced for her. “So do we have a deal?”
The contract was delivered to their fleabag motel room the next day, just as Mama predicted. Rose couldn’t keep the Cheshire grin from her face – oh, how she adored New York, even if she sometimes had to rub up against the occasional prick.