It was time for another dollar bill. When the third song started, Shirley turned away and got on her knees in front of me. “Sit on this sofa,” which I did, letting her pull me down so my butt was at the edge. “I use it to keep my clothes clean,” he said. She got dressed again and led me to the “private dance room,” which happened to be her sofa. When I reached out, she moved away, “Don’t let them touch you there on the stage.” My next dollar went into the strap of her thong. It was definitely working and I let out a big sigh! There was this one guy, I’ll call him Pete, who’d been there often. We climbed up on the bed and laid there kissing and rubbing each others boobs and occasionally caressing the other’s pussy. You weren’t supposed to be completely naked in the private area and that was fine with me; sometimes a wet spot appeared near a man’s zipper; we girls viewed that as a risk though we were all on BC. My little clit was on fire and she knew how to excite it even more. A couple feet inside the door we started kissing passionately – we’d never really kissed at the club – and simultaneously undressed each other, leaving a
