We picked our wayfrom the door to the other end of the room, stopping frequently togreet this bartender, that performer, or another 'working girl' or'...ate'. Everyone knew Dianna by name - another source of pride on mypart, mixed with a touch of awe.She guided me directly into the performer's dressing room without somuch as a knock on the door. Eight or ten gorgeous 'girls' were invarious stages of dress, from fully costumed to not at all. Dianna paidno mind to their modesty - or complete lack. I finished eating, my mind racing trying to take everything in. Sarah returned to me with a glass of orange juice, her nipples screaming for release from her t-shirt, she just gave me a knowing look and a smile. She cleaned up the counter when I was done and disappeared into another part of the house.My mind was so occupied I barely noticed her breasts stretching and bouncing in rhythm with her ass cheeks as she moved around the kitchen. She put plates up in an overhead cabinet right in front. More

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