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She actually started chatting and playfully chiding me when I didn’t chat back with her: “It doesn’t damage your masculinity to talk, Lightfoot!” She lost none of her pig-headedness, though. We did what she wanted, when she wanted, and I was expected to accommodate her.We slipped into an easy routine.On Sunday, I was treated to a dance recital.Pink Floyd music flowed rhythmically and seductively over the audience. On stage, student dancers from early teens to early twenties performed Roland Petit’s ballet in a performance for families and friends. The dancers were all incredibly talented, a tribute to the Paris Marais school. I divided my attention between the stage and the audience, scanning the obviously proud family members.Every time I glanced towards the stage, my eyes were drawn to Callie. It wasn’t her classic beauty or graceful body. It wasn’t that she was dancing with greater technical skill than the others, either. Great dancers have the same technical skills as good. Actually, the tequila had made her horny, happy and dizzy, and she had slipped into the new clothing without any protest. When instructed to masturbate she had not hesitated, and within seconds she had come.Donna smiled happily when Ms. Brendan laid her arm around her as she was standing in front of the club. She gave Ms. Brendan a kiss on the cheek. “Why did I do that?” she wondered right away. “Must be the damn alcohol, combined with the love making in the car. That’s what I find most embarrassing right now, being wet upon entering a strip club.” Donna however still smiled and cuddled up to Ms. Brendan for protection against the cold wind, as she was guided into the club.“Good evening, Ms. Brendan, good to see you again,” one of the bouncers greeted them, as he held the door open. “Enjoy the show.”Donna was guided passed the counter through the next door where she found herself in a large room, with 5 – 6 girls dancing on different podia, mirrors everywhere, everything half lit.
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