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Dolores del Dunning and her triple D's, the sign glowed. Dolores was
thrilled to finally see her name in lights. Granted, a few of those lights were flickering and the sign hung over
a so-so strip club that took up most of the nearly deserted alleyway; still, she was the headliner. The star. The
performer they were all paying to see. And for that reason, she glowed even brighter than the sign that hung overhead.
"If they could see me now," she said as she grandly entered the club.
Then again, they'd have no idea who Dolores del Dunning was. Neither her name nor her physical attributes even
remotely resembled the girl who left her hometown in Georgia nearly five years earlier. Shirley Keller had been
a mousy brunette. Average looking at best. And yet, deep down inside, there was a star just waiting to emerge.
Sure, she knew it would be tough. Sure, she knew she'd have to make some changes to herself. And sure, she knew
there'd be a few concessions that would have to be made along the way. But in the end, she also knew that it would
be worth all the sacrifices.
Unfortunately, Los Angeles wasn't anything Shirley had expected. It was grimy. It was smoggy. It was way too crowded
and loud. And, more significantly, it was full of women just like herself, all with a dream and a desire to make
it in the big city. So after six months of endless cattle calls and a few auditions that went nowhere, Shirley
emerged not as a star, but as a cocktail waitress at a sleazy downtown bar. It paid the bills, but not much else.
It was degrading and it was tiresome. And yet Shirley held on to her dreams, however postponed they might have
become.
She worked at the club for about a year and even managed to save up a little money. That's when she found she had
a choice to make. She could move back home to Georgia, find a husband, have some kids, and settle down; or she
could use the money to buy some boobs. Boredom or boobs, as she liked to put it.
Naturally, she chose the latter. Boobs, it seemed, were all the rage in Hollywood. And she knew it would help,
monetarily speaking. Tipping, she'd seen time and time again, was proportionately related to breast size. The bigger
the tits, the bigger the tips. So she went full hog. Triple D's. They cost her every last penny she had, but they
were something to behold.
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