You walk into one of your old haunts to see if it's ever rebounded from the depths of irrelevance. It's livelier than you expected, looks like it might've even seen a coat of paint or two in the years since your last visit. A girl is off at a corner table with a customer, but is looking right at you. She reminds you of someone, it's uncanny, but you shake it off and find a seat. The club doesn't suck, but it's not screaming quality either.
You find someone interesting to distract yourself (or she finds you) and later on your way out the dancer you saw is now on stage prepping for her dance. She's walking deliberately between the poles on stage and wiping them down with a cloth, just like "she" used to do. She sees you in the mirrors and turns to look directly at you. It's her, your first ATF. 15 years older than the last time you saw her, and back in the same club where you spent way too many hours of your youth.
She's made like she's going to back to her routine, but is still looking at you. You're 15 years older, too, so maybe you're just some rando who has a familiar face? She's not smiling. Neither are you. Always looking younger she's still surprisingly pretty and fit, non-enhanced, but looks tired. Instead of walking out you've now sat down at the last table before the door. No one else is near the stage, but the dancer you've been trying to avoid since emerging from VIP is walking in your direction...again. What do you do?


Shoot, I'd catch up! Lord knows there'd be a lot to talk about and the lap dances could be epic!