She’s wearing cherry-red lipstick. “Good morning, Mr. Wallace,” she says with a smile. She slowly walks over to my bedside. “Are you ready for...your sponge bath?” “Oh, certainly, nurse,” I reply, already feeling the stiffness in my crotch. I sit up on the bed and just look at her for a minute, roving my eyes up and down her body. “But I think it would be better if I gave you a sponge bath.” She looks a little surprised and says, “Oh, Mr. Wallace, I don’t need a sponge bath. I’m not the patient. Then again, the heat of this crowded club (If you can even call it that, more like a crowded basement), could make anyone sweat like a pig in no time at all. Suddenly she turns around, lifting one of her legs and wrapping it around your waist as she grinds her crotch against yours, leaning forward to kiss you firmly on the lips. It suddenly occurs to you that you have no idea what this girl’s name is, and you hope she hadn’t actually given it to you yet. Oh well, no matter, you’re drunk, so how. More

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