A Painted Thief (...Continued)

 
The room was filled with over a dozen girls, all displaying an infidel’s immodesty of flesh. A mostly naked dancer sidled over to one of the men in the shadows, and after the briefest of exchanges, spread her legs and sat down on him, her huge breasts pressed into his face. Across the way, Miss D (the only Double-X girl in the room other than the bartender) watched Panties fend off the wandering hands of the man who had alighted beside her. Panties sent the man for drinks, which he interpreted as license to enjoy with his hands and fingers, what he had been admiring with his eyes. The pretty bartender had emphatically warned Panties about their cheap wine, but the $12 gin-and-tonic tasted harsh and chemically sweet. “You have beautiful hands,” said the man, trying to link fingers. He was even more in love with Panties’ legs. Panties looked over at Miss D who was texting on her cell. (You are a girl trying to please a man...) Panties shifted in her seat as the man’s hands crept up her thigh. Panties sat demurely, looking anxiously to Miss D who was chatting with another man while texting. (Lapdance...) Panties was led into the corner where her skirt was rucked up in the back and she was sat on the lap of her man. She tried to enjoy it as a girl would, eagerly moving her hips to please her man, but she was also aware she was wet, as was the floor in front of them after Panties began to touch her man the way a girl might, or more precisely, the way he would. Panties had expected the man to lose interest after ejaculation, but it was only after two more shots into the dark that he let her go.

A few seats away, Miss D had left her bag while she danced with one of her admirers. She was the prettiest creature in the room in her casual skirt and top, with little makeup, but dripping with the natural chemistry any of the gurls would kill for. She’s a trusting girl, too, which is why she makes friends wherever she goes. While she was on the floor, her purse was rifled and she lost her wallet containing her credit card and driver’s license, as well as a new, metallic-red, Lumix camera. The bar was closing, and one of her new friends implored her to party on at another bar that stayed open past dawn. We got out on the street and managed to charm a passing car to drive us to midtown where the driver, another man, joined us for a drink. That’s where we met Meghan and at least two other real girls. But that’s another story.