I know this girl. Her name is Kanai. Kanai hustles at my neighbourhood strip joint. She is extraordinairily beautiful. "Beautiful" is not a word I'd normally use to describe a girl, but in this case it can not be helped. Kanai is beautiful. Gotdamn she is.
Last year I spent one evening with Kanai at her club. While that was enough to lessen her hatred for me, it wasn't enough for her to go home and sleep with me. Too bad.
Kanai liked to rock the sophisticated and elegant angle. Unlike the other strippers, you'd never catch Kanai snorting coke by the darkened emergency exit, or fucking the 40 year old pony-tailed DJ who thought he had his finger on the pulse of everything cool, young and hip and who insisted on playing Norweigen rock super-group A-Ha's "Take On Me" at least 3 times a shift. However, Kanai was not like that. She was a bit more polished than the other strippers.
Anyway, me and Kanai were in the back in the VIP section of the club, where she was straddling me and grinding her naked body up against my dick so hard I swear I thought we were fucking through my jeans. I entertained the thought of excusing myself, for a few moments, going to the bathroom and slapping on a lambskin because recollections of lessons learned in highschool sex ed did not bring up any lists of denim or Calvin Klein underwear fabric being an acceptable substitute for condoms. That or maybe strapping a few lumps of coal to my balls and having Kanai turn them into diamonds by the end of the night.
I'll continue later on. Time to go to my job and pretend to work.