"Maybe," he said. "I run a restaurant called the Palomino. It's a real class act. You could make double the tips you get here. You handled yourself just fine a few minutes ago… like a customer had too much to drink but you didn't piss him off. Just one thing – any girl that works at the Palomino has to be a real looker."

"Well, am I?"

"I think so," he said. "But I can't tell for sure."

"Well, this dress isn't very concealing."

"I know, but I need to see more of you." She shrugged. It sounded like a line of bullshit, but she liked being looked at. If he was nice to her, she'd take off everything but her earrings.

While he held her by the hips, she reached her arms back and drew the zipper on her dress all the way down to her ass. She bent her waist back, leaning against the support of his hands on her hips, and watched his eyes as she took the hem of her dress and slowly drew it up, off her hips, up over her waist and over her tits. His eyes followed the hem up to where her lacy bra was exposed, then they dropped back to her cunt.

She drew the dress up over her head and tossed it on the nearby table. His eyes rose to follow her hands as they unclasped the hook on the front of her bra. The cups stuck to her tits momentarily, then came loose as she drew the straps back. Her tits jiggled slightly, then remained pointed firmly forward.

Wearing only her gold earrings, high heels, stockings, and the little encircling garters, she stood in his grasp while his eyes traveled down from her flowing blonde hair to her hair-lined pussy.

His hands were surprisingly strong on her hips as he twisted his arms, making her bend her knees, tilting her pelvis forward. Standing as she was with her legs spread, she was sure he could look right into her cunt.

He said, "Donna, you are really built. What are your statistics?"

"Oh, about five-two, a hundred ten pounds, thirty-three, twenty-three, thirty-four."