Too bad I had no idea if Frankie was a chick or dude. The face was sexless, hair was shoulder length with a natural curl, cut so that it would be fash...onable for either sex. Frankie’s clothes consisted of black combat boots, grey baggy sweatpants, a way too large Dr. Who t-shirt and faded flannel shirt over the top. A woman could have double-d sized tits under that t-shirt and no one would be able to tell she was not flat chested without getting up really close.“Toss it here,” Frankie told me. As soon as the man at the door recognized Bernard, he opened the door wide and allowed us in. As we walked by him, I felt his eyes eyeing my ass in its short skirt.The room we entered was a large open space. Music was blaring from the speakers and a small stage took up part of one wall. There was a bar on the side where drinks seemed to be flowing freely. As I looked around adjusting to the sights and sounds, Bernard guided me across the floor. The room was filled with black men of all ages,. More

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