I had a separate file for all of the trades and accounting for Brenda's account. We'd been trading her money for about three weeks. The monthly statem...nt had been sent after about four days of trading. It didn't show much activity, just two closed trades and three more that were still open. I had a pad where I kept loose track of trades for her account. Every trade was listed, showing entering and ending prices, number of contracts, and gross profit or loss for the trade. So far, Brenda was up. Miss Amour was a broken woman, she had been beaten in a carpet-munching contest, and Mr. Brown had broken her long before I had gotten in the backseat with her. On the way up she had not resisted my advances in the least when I rubbed her breasts through her blouse causing her nipples to stiffen, or when I reached between her legs to finger her pussy. Surprisingly, she started out dry but she moistened quickly as I played with her pussy. She may not have wanted to succumb to my manipulations. Talking to every man I could before I reached you. I wanted to make sure your eyes were on my ass as my skirt hiked up a bit, and my breasts whenever I leaned downwards. Always in front of you. Though I was just much more naked on stage your eyes didn’t leave my body once, and that, I was extremely happy about. By the time I reached your booth, I was practically soaking, with a tiny bit of cum running down my thigh. I focused on the friend next to you first, offering to give him a lap dance. "To five years of us," she smiles, her ring reflecting the sparkle below, and I repeat: "Five wonderful years." The glasses chime, and the last of the wine makes its way down our throats. Gathering up the glasses, and the remains of our pastry dessert, we begin our descent into the warmly lit streets of Montmartre arm in arm. All the way back to our hotel, we talk excitedly of the next few days: the Musee d'Orsay and no more of the Louvre than we feel like, walks in the parks and the grounds of.