”“French?”“I know what French sounds like, lol, it wasn’t that. It seemed European, so I guess half a point for you.”“Yeah, I suppose th...t having an argument with someone like that, first thing in the morning, could sour your day. But only if you let it.”I felt like pouring the iced Americano I was preparing on her stupid head. She had these zen philosophies, about being chill and happy and letting things slide off you like water off a duck’s back or something equally stupid. I wasn’t like. What surprised us was how 'cool' the scene was. Everyonethere was dressed 'all out', and everyone was there to have agood time - in an electrically charged sexual atmosphere. Therewas a complete absence of any bad vibes. Everyone was in thesame boat, and all the compliments we were shot as we walkedaround made us feel very comfortable. There were peopleeverywhere kissing, lap dancing on each other and in the darkcorners of the club we noticed a few people were taking thingsa few steps. She let out a faint moan as she pushed my finger in and out of her, faster and faster. She started to buck in bed, one hand on her tit with a tattoo of a moon peeking out from a pair of clouds. Before long, both her hands were holding onto mine, and she only paused to uncurl my middle finger and slide that inside as well. By now, her pussy was dripping with her juices. "Can I look at it?" I asked, having no idea what the accepted etiquette was. "Sure." She replied.I slid down, and she straddled. There was the swish of rustling clothing followed by the unmistakable sound of a woman urinating into the water below her hind quarters. Beatrice definitely had to go. Her stream of piss went on unabated for a full sixty seconds, possibly longer. I was beyond counting.Suddenly, we heard her bleat out, "For heaven's sake, there's no toilet paper in here!"I pulled a handkerchief from my breast pocket and held it over the partition. "Please, make use of this anyway you see fit."She plucked it from.