After we had done a few private dances he asked me straight out, “How much to see your boobs.” In my club nudity doesn’t go, so I thought I’ll set a price high enough for him to let go of this idea of wanting to see my bare breast, “$1000.” Him, “$1000? Wow, you’re quiet a business woman. OK. How about I’ll go to the ATM, and I’ll get the money.” Without flinching I said, “OK.”  I knew he couldn’t get $100 out of the ATM. I also felt he wasn’t the type who would follow through with it, and I didn’t want to show any insecurity about my offer. He took a sip of his drink as he contemplated, rubbed his chin, and then he said, “So what comes with it?” Me innocently, “That’s all you get for $1000. I will take my top and only my top off. That’s it.” Him, “But can I touch your breast, play with them, come on them?” Ha, I knew he was this type of man and with an ice cold undertone I said, “Absolutely … NOT! You just get to see my nude breast, and maybe, I will play with them. No touching, no playing, no coming.” Him, “Well for $1000 I thought we both can get naked and at least have sex.” Me annoyed, “No sex. I am not a prostitute. I am an entertainer.” Him desperate, “But I am not that rich.” Me merciless, “I know you have money. Don’t give me that spiel.” Him like a little boy pleading, “Come on, give me a break. I only drive a Prius. I am not that rich.” Me, “Oh, so you think you can’t afford to see my naked breast? I see, they are too expensive to view but I set a good price to goo?!”

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