Large Breasts and Dancing in Heels

I wasn’t too good at handling shots. We were out as a group. Three of Sasha’s ex busty escorts who were no longer on her books, myself, and a handful of other people I hadn’t previously met. I was being picked up by Martin later and seeing as I was decidedly tipsy, I decided to go for a non-alcoholic drink to calm down the pace. Those Alabama shots were definitely taking their toll. We headed to an exclusive London club, where Nicola had a membership pass for the four of us. As we turned up at the exclusive haunt, we were eyed-up by security, who decided we were suitable for the rest of their clientele, and headed inside.

Even though it was early, house music from the nineties blared out from huge speakers as dancers performed their moves. This wasn’t my type of music but the clientele were smart and older than our group. I prefer Lady Gaga, Jess Glynne and Taylor Swift. Their tunes are catchier and even I can keep to a rhythm when dancing. Nicola pointed at a ‘reserved’ table in her name and we headed over.

I was thirsty in the heat of the small club. It was my turn to order, but instead of grabbing a passing hostess I headed to the bar and ordered the drinks at the busy counter. Pushing may way through a group of attentive young men,, I perused the mocktail options as the Mixologist threw half-full glasses around and noticed me watching his handiwork. With a wink, he gesticulated I was next in line, much to the consternation of the handful of busty girls adjacent to me, one or two I think were escorts that I recognised from private London parties.

I’d decided on the ‘Pom Collins’; a twist on the alcoholic version, known as ‘Tom Collins’. Made with soda water, pomegranate juice, lime juice and a slice, it was a refreshing change to the shots.

Armed with a tray, I headed back and received a look of disdain from a hostess, who had missed out on her tip. I didn’t think like that, but we’d order from the table next time. I watched a willowy blonde with large breasts dancing in her heels. I recognised the Louboutin make as I had a pair in a similar colour, but mine were a good inch shorter. She was brave though; I’d be teetering around, waiting for the heel to snap.

It was then I caught the eye of a young man who’d let me in to be served. He beckoned towards the dance floor, but I wasn’t sure. How could I dance to this music?