<strong>Dean "The Kid" Logan - Late Sunday Night - The Fucking Gulch Lounge</strong><br/><br/>Dean awoke with a bit of a snort as he felt a finger press against and descend his chest. His vision was a bit blurred for a moment, but as they regained focus the first thing he saw was a large pair of breasts hanging low before him, red tresses of hair to either side.<br/><br/>"<strong>Sir? Is there any way I can help ease your boredom?</strong>"<br/><br/>Dean's face flushed. Son of a bitch, he had embarrassed himself again<em>already</em>. How was he going to recover from this? He cleared his throat, sitting up straight as he got a good look at the woman's face. Dear God, she was gorgeous. He opened his mouth, stuttered a bit, and closed it back up again. He shut his eyes, let out an easy breath, and tried to calm himself.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "This is just my second time here, and... I'm not used to this sort of thing." God, he must be the<em>other</em>sort of guy that makes this a true job for these girls. No dashing debonair charm, no classically handsome Harrison Ford style good looks, no chance to fantasize that it is more than just a gig.<br/><br/>He needed to relax, though. He needed to calm down. He had read in that book that he probably cummed early last night because he had been so nervous. He didn't want to repeat that mistake.<br/><br/>"Here," he was about to pat the seat beside him, then quickly changed his mind and patted his lap. "Take a seat, talk with me a bit as I wake up." He didn't know if it would work, or if she'd just move on to another client, or any such reaction. He just knew that, in those debonair situations, a truly charming man would offer his lap.<br/><br/>Maybe. Shit, Dean had no idea what he was doing at all.