Parker was about five inches taller than me and her body was full and voluptuous. She was wearing a tanned sleeveless dress that didn’t quite reach her knees. I’d removed my glasses and let her lead, responding to the movements of her body. “Guys love a show,” she’d said earlier. “Two hot girls doing their thing. It’ll drive them wild. Trust me.” I did. I wasn’t sure if we were friends yet, but our relationship had changed since the previous week. She really was a fun person to be around. Within a few minutes the first of many supplicants appeared and danced next to us, trying to draw us out, away from each other and into their embrace. But Parker wasn’t willing to accept just anyone. If they didn’t meet her standards, she barely gave them a glance, continuing to gyrate against me, shaking her head when I looked like I might turn around and face the guys. It was a good half hour before the two foreign looking men appeared. They danced together until they reached us—something no English guys would do—then circled slowly, dancing for us, trying to lure us in.
