Dalny Margia + Peter North

in a private cozy booth. Real cozy. As in spit-swapping, man-malling, pud-yanking cozy.

Strangely enough, when my friendly fingers wonder up Charlotte's long legs and dance towards the promised land of her silk-encased poontang,

she slapped my hand away like a prudish schoolgirl.

"What's the matter?" I asked when Charlotte's tongue wasn't down my throat.

"Don't you want me to get you off? I can make your clit do backflips, sweetheart."