I needed a pick-me-up and I needed one fast. I had an extremely late night with a couple of wild and wooly gay boys, and I'd had a mere hour of beauty sleep before I was to meet the luscious Lolita at the Astro Room. I ordered up a Coffee Cocktail and sucked that striped straw like it was a tiny little penis. Lolita and I had met briefly at a Bad Girls convention a month earlier and neither of us could forget each other's salacious stories of slutdom. Lolita, with her shoulder-length red curls, strutted into the dark and smoky joint, a cigarette between her pouting, clit-sucking lips. She was clad in blue polka dots. Only a gal like she could pull off polka dots like that... and how!

I, in my black lace stockings and barely ass-length dress to match, stood up to hug her hello. It was a long and lusty hug that made me wish I had worn a maxi pad from the way I wet my panties with sweet cream. We sat down and blathered about our deviant desires and when she whispered in her husky voice "I'm parched lil'darlin''. I suggested she order a Coffee Cocktail. She agreed, said she trusted me.