bingolong,
about 10 minutes later a whole table of dudes kept asking me to dance for them. and I wasn't the only female visitor in the club nearby. and I was sitting in back trying to be incog-negro.
they kept saying "you not a dancer?" and asking why. duhhh I had on jean shorts, a v-neck tank sweater, and low heeled shoes. basically regular clothes.
but for 1 hour straight, a couple of them kept staring, grabbing, and trying to feel my legs or rub my back.
and you know me: [/i]nigga how much you paying? because if it ain't 3 times what I have in my pocket
![Flaming Mad ]:o(](./images/smilies/flaming_mad.gif)
[/i] even the strippers were saying "girl get that money", but one stripper had missing teeth, so I got distracted from the decision.
but I felt like I was in a broke version of The Player's Club movie, except the club was classy. Usher was in there last week.
but the DJ was jamming old school cuts, so I was jamming in my seat

so that was enough of a lap dance for him. and of course, the main dude asking wouldn't give me no lap dance when I flipped the script.
![Flaming Mad ]:o(](./images/smilies/flaming_mad.gif)