We had one weekend of folks that were holding a convention of professional strippers. They had showed up and had a grand time but there were requests ...or more open area meeting rooms that they could use for entertainment. I was slightly confused and Diane picked up on that and said what she was proposing was a M-F strip club that would have space available for specialty or fetish folks to enjoy. It wouldn’t be just for one sex or the other one fetish or another but a place where like-minded of. A long thread of her drool dripped from her lips onto the shaft of his penis. She allowed it to drip along the shaft and fall down to the center of his balls. She bent and caught his penis in her hand, closing her palm around the shaft. He felt intense tingling where her hand touched the head of penis.She spit more of her thick drool onto his penis. She hadn’t changed in this respect. He didn’t remember the half of it, but he was sure that her spit was different from that of other women, or men. She was dressed in a burgundy sweater and a black skirt, but it was her deep soulful eyes looking out from under her shoulder-length light brown hair that captured me. They spoke of someone who’d seen more than their fair share of pain and suffering in such a short life. I did a little bit of digging, asked a few questions, and discovered that she was the mysterious Dr Abigail Van Pelt that I had heard off. Some kind of child prodigy, she had been accepted into MIT at fourteen, graduated with a. She had a sweet smile—and I mean sweet. She played it over me in a way that said she was free and not at all like she was with stiletto boy.But…Tony! That’s his name, Tony Li. Yeah, original, I know. Everybody has fucking Bruce Lee variations in the martial art gigs. At any rate, little ol’ Tony Li made an obvious point of sharpening his stiletto—who the fuck sharpens a stiletto?—in front of me as he asked me flat out why I was talking with his girl.You could’ve kicked me in the nuts right then.