I have not. Houston spreads my thighs apart and hoists herself on top of me. "How long have you been working here?" I ask.
"About five years," she says, her pillowy butt gyrating on top of me, in tune with some random R&B song. "I do the bookkeeping." Houston lowers herself down to the floor and and cradles her breasts in between my knees. "I usually do this move, regardless of gender," she says. "It makes my titties look good, don't you think?"
Having another person jiggle all over you is distracting, but I resolve not to get off track -- I'm genuinely curious to learn more about her and about this place. Thankfully, Houston continues the conversation for me. She tells me she’s worked at other clubs before, in DC, before making the move to New York.
"The clubs are different everywhere you go," she says.
"Even in New York?" I ask.
"Yeah," she says over her shoulder, ass in my face. "And this place is a whole thing unto itself."
"Huh, it really seems like it," I manage to eek out as she starts motorboating my face.