Houston* leads me past the black velvet curtain into the communal lap dance area. "Have you ever gotten one of these before?" she asks.
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.