Warning: This is a vintage hard-boiled full length, post-censorship erotic novel. This is bad stuff. Both bad meaning bad and bad meaning *good*. The story is so crazy, we can't even hive a proper description. Check out the free sample if you can.
Excerpt:
"Daddy?" she called to her father in the bathroom who was still humming her closing number, the Wabash Cannon Ball, as he prepared to draw her bath. Never taking her eyes from her reflection in the mirror, she heard him turn on the water faucet and the sound of running water. "Yes, love?" he said. "Do you think I should start wearing sexier clothes -- I mean, see-through tops and things like that? It might, help the act." Victor exited the bathroom and stood in the doorway, totally naked himself. For a man of forty, he had a remarkably full scrotum and a long, though slightly narrow penis. "For now," he said, "the act is doing fine as it is. More daring costumes would only remove the air of mystery about you, love. Four-thousand a week is four-thousand a week. I think it best that we maintain your present image for a few more years." He ran his dark blue eyes up and down the length of his delectable daughter's body, pleased with what he saw. "Leave everything to me, sweet. Trust me." "I always have," she said, smiling at him over her shoulder. "Whatever you say, Daddy."
Excerpt:
"Daddy?" she called to her father in the bathroom who was still humming her closing number, the Wabash Cannon Ball, as he prepared to draw her bath. Never taking her eyes from her reflection in the mirror, she heard him turn on the water faucet and the sound of running water. "Yes, love?" he said. "Do you think I should start wearing sexier clothes -- I mean, see-through tops and things like that? It might, help the act." Victor exited the bathroom and stood in the doorway, totally naked himself. For a man of forty, he had a remarkably full scrotum and a long, though slightly narrow penis. "For now," he said, "the act is doing fine as it is. More daring costumes would only remove the air of mystery about you, love. Four-thousand a week is four-thousand a week. I think it best that we maintain your present image for a few more years." He ran his dark blue eyes up and down the length of his delectable daughter's body, pleased with what he saw. "Leave everything to me, sweet. Trust me." "I always have," she said, smiling at him over her shoulder. "Whatever you say, Daddy."