Melinda Robles swung into her parking spot with a flourish, nearly taking out her neighbor’s side mirror with her reckless driving. Unapologetic, she didn’t even bother to back up and correct her late model Accord, and instead left it parked so awkwardly that the elderly Mrs. Mathers would have to climb in through the passenger side the next time she wanted to drive anywhere. Melinda didn’t care; the old lady was a bitch anyway, with her constant complaints to the complex manager whenever Melinda had her stereo turned up too loud.
As a matter of fact, Melinda was in such a foul mood at that point that part of her was hoping that the old hag would dare step in front of her with some kind of accusation. Since it was past eleven at night, however, she knew it was well past the old lady’s bedtime. The twenty year old looker was pissed and ready to blow up, having waited over an hour for her boyfriend Matt to pick her up after work, only to have the asshole not show up again, the third time in the last two weeks that he’d left her waiting. After the night she’d had so far, she’d been really looking forward to seeing him.
You see, Melinda worked as an exotic dancer at Pistol Pete’s, a downtown strip club that catered to some of the wealthiest businessmen in the city. She danced under the name of Mercedes, and with her voluptuous J-Lo type figure, full C-cup breasts, thick waist and even thicker hips, had become one of the most popular strippers in the club. As if that wasn’t enough, she had a set of hazel-green eyes, full lips, and jet black hair that hung halfway down her back; more than enough to captivate the attention of every man, and even most of the women, that walked in through the club’s double doors.
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