Marsha was right. She had to eat. A female without a man to pay her way and keep a roof over her head had to scrimp. She'd begun to think about all the low, humiliating things she might have to do as a single woman, living in the big weird city, and all the stories she'd read in True Confessions magazine about desperate women who had to do certain.........things. Those stories were scary! Sometimes a woman could get away with a harmless evening of dinner and a drink in exchange for rubbing her tits against a guy and dancing. Some men were happy enough with that. Other times, it wasn't so simple - a hungry woman with no food in the house had to come across with more....a lot more. "Dating for dinner", that's what it was called.

Gosh, had she been hasty about throwing Bill out? Maybe. But she had her self-respect, and finding that rubber crossed the line. Her stomach was growling from lack of food, she had to rustle up some money Barb needed to get the peroxide, pronto.

She was a dark brunette, so she'd need a lot of Starlight to get it bleached up enough to land the job. Word on the street was that brown man Kemo only hired pale skinned white women with blonde hair. He was violent and would give a beat down to any non-blondie or dusky skinned female stupid enough to show up nosing around for a job. Thank goodness, even though she was a natural brunette, her skin was strangely pale and creamy and her diamond blue eyes would look great against a mass of big blonde bouffant hair.

"Islanders, worthless, lazy sluts. White meat only....they hard workers, work hard for Kemo, keep orders straight, way he like it."

With his coterie of white bubble butt cocktail girls, he kept the club just the way he wanted it for his loyal and very diverse clientele who also enjoyed only white meat. Prime cut!

Barbara drove her beat-up Rambler to the Rexall drugstore and bought the big bottle like Marsha said to do, went home and cooked up the hair on her head and her pubes. Her scalp burned like acid as the vicious peroxide ate into her head, but it had to be done. It only bleached up bright yellow and looked really harsh and trampy, even filtered through the smoggy California sun, but beggars can't be choosers. It would have to do for now.

She wasn't as busty as Marsha, that babe was really stacked, but she had enough woman flesh on top to keep a man's hands plenty busy. Her loser husband Bill liked to fondle her big jugs especially when he got a bonus in his paltry salesman paycheck. He'd take her out to some dive like the Mambo Room, get her liquored up and suck her tits. He liked to draw a big red "bullseye" around her nipples with Jungle Coral red lipstick and then he'd pass out. . What a clown. She was now thinking, gee, how fortuitous it was that she found that rubber, a good excuse to dump him. But being on her own was pretty frightful, except for very wonderful friends like Marsha and Gil, who she knew would treat her fairsie squaresie Hadn't Marsha already given her this great job lead? Man, it was her lucky day.

She'd waitressed years ago in a greasy spoon, slingin' hash, but it had been a long time, so she was really nervous about working in a bar, especially a bar like Tiki Club with its fishy seaside rough trade. She'd thought about going over to the employment office downtown and taking a typing test, but she knew she'd be a wash out at that. She'd flunked the typing class in high school, so she knew that typing and filing and secretarial stuff just wasn't her strong point. How did girls sit all day at a desk and do that? Type, type, type. Nope, not for her.

"Marsha, come over quick, I need you to take a look at my hair, give your honest opinion before I high tail it over to the club."

"Sure, hun, I'll be right over."

. Marsha could hardly wait to take a sneak peek at her pal Barb.

"Oooooh, hunny, your hair looks great! I love it! But best of all, Kemo will really dig it. Let's see what ya got down below...how'd those pubes bleach up?"

Barbara felt a bit shy, but lifted up her cheap purple flowered Moo-Moo house dress for Marsha's inspection of the bleach job. Was this demeaning situation what it meant to be a woman alone, broke, in the big city? Again, she almost wished she hadn't thrown Bill out, but she was also excited and nervous with butterflies in her tummy about the new, independent life she was about to embark upon at the Tiki Club.

"Okay, hun, stand still, don't move while I get those panties down. Gotta check. "

Barb did as she was ordered, and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling while Marsha carefully and closely examined her now bright blonde thatch of pubic hair.

"Ahhh, mmmmm, yes, Kemo will dig this. I think ya got this job in the bag, hun. You're gonna be buying filet mig-non for yerself in no time!"

Yes, indeed, 1954 was actually shaping up to be a very positive year for Barbara, with lots of new beginnings. Before heading over to the Tiki Club, she practiced carrying a tray load of stacked dishes and glasses of water, wobbling from one side of her tiny apartment to the other. She almost made it before the whole thing crashed and created a big mess on her worn out pink and gray floral carpet.

"Damn! How will I ever do this? I can't! It's too hard!" But she had no choice in this rough world.

She got all dolled up, wearing the sexiest dress she had in her meager closet - a tight pink halter dress that emphasized her rounded butt and plump cleavage, and it looked even hotter with the one and only "push up" bra she owned. Bill had salvaged it from a big close out of samples from a lingerie store that went....um...."bust". Kaput. Bankrupt. . She still remembered the day he gave it to her - for her birthday.

"Here ya go, doll! Happy Birthday To Me! Haw Haw! Gonna love this!"

The lavender brassiere from the long gone "Kitty Of Hollywood" store was two sizes too small, so it painfully but lasciviously pushed her fleshy boobs up almost to her chin. She'd felt ashamed and humiliated, but it was a wife's duty to wear trashy bedroom attire for the pleasure of her husband. At least occasionally. He'd also salvaged the matching violet garter belt that went with it, so she put that on, too.

"March around in it, baby! Lemme see you jiggle!"