Drew walked into his favorite late-night spot. It was a little hookah bar that was well hidden in the heart of Chicago. Drew came here to unwind and get some company for certain evenings. Drew was one of the owner's regulars and a big spender. She made sure that he had a private room and a waitress or belly dancer for company. Anything that went on was always consensual and kept between him and the girl.
As he opened the door the powerful scent of flavored tobacco enveloped him like open arms. There was some Indian music playing and a belly dancer weaving her spell on the stage. Men were eagerly stuffing bills into her skirt as she rotated her hips.
"Drew, darling," a voice purred from his side. "I didn't know you were coming this evening. Lucky for you I have your favorite room available."
"You're an angel Tara," he said. Tara was the owner of the hookah bar. She was a tiny woman, five foot at best. She had blond hair and small, but perky breasts. "I would have called, but it was a rough day." An evil smile crept across Tara's lips.
"I have just what you need. She's a new girl of mine. I call her Jasmine. Not totally original, but it suits her. The only catch is I have to charge you double the normal fare."
"Double?" I gawked. "No girl could be worth double what you charge us Tara." She thought a moment.
"Tell you what, lover boy, if you aren't completely satisfied I'll give you a full refund." I figured what the hell and followed her to my favorite back room.
She led me back through to a side room most customers must figure is a storage area. In all actuality it is another area of the restaurant that is unseen by most patrons. It's just a white hallway with a few doors on each side that lead to the private rooms.
The room I like them most had a couch going all the way around the wall, the only gap was for the door. There were comfortable reclining pillows spread throughout and a table for a hookah right in the middle. The lighting was very dim, so dim that it took almost a full minute for one's eyes to adjust.
Tara was kind enough to bring me some orange tobacco, my favorite. I sat around, waiting for this Jasmine to show. I took off my tie and unbuttoned the top of my shirt. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and smoked.
I wasn't startled when Jasmine came in. I gently exhaled and looked to see what I was getting. Jasmine looked to be about 5'5", she had long, flowing black hair and icy blue eyes. Her breasts were perfect to me. They looked to be about a C cup, round, and with hard nipples. I could tell because the material she wore was a sheer black. I could barely make out a hint of skin and the outline of her nipples. It was like a belly dancer's outfit, but with much less fabric.
She didn't make a move towards me. Jasmine just sat on the couch across from, lifting one leg so that I could see up her skirt just to her thighs, her sweet pussy was hidden by a shadow. Jasmine smiled sensually at me and began to smoke the tobacco brought to me.
After a while of us smoking, never talking, she slid one hand slowly down her skirt. I felt my throat go dry as she slowly inched up her skirt. It was funny, but it seemed like the higher her skirt went, the higher my growing erection became. Jasmine finally got her skirt up high enough for me to see her pussy. It was shaved, begging to be licked.
I watched her fingers slide over the top of her mound. The tips slid barely into the tip of her slit. Her other hand undid the clasps holding her top on at her shoulders. She tossed it to the floor, revealing a pair of the pinkest nipples I have ever seen. They looked so hard that I thought they might actually be hurting her.
.... There is more of this story ...