Back room, VIP, two dancers tower over you, encased head to toe in sheer black nylon. You must have said something last time you were at this conference, somehow your associates know exactly what you're into. You try to put the embarrassment out of your mind. It's easy. The women in front of you are mesmerizing. They glide and tease in their black nylon encasement suits. One of them takes out a special treat. Worn nylons from a baggy. You eagerly open your mouth.
You're barely processing language anymore . . . the blonde mentions something about neurotoxins. Both nylon masked ladies are leaning over you. You try to move as they produce another pair of pantyhose, tightening it like a garrote.
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