"Did...did you, uh, stop waxing and shaving?" Her: "Yeah." "Is everything okay/" Her: "Yeah, why? Do you have a problem with it?" "Well, it's a lot. I'm sorry, but that's people mean by 'old growth forest'." Her: "Not really, I just realized I'm sexy enough I don't need to shave or wax anymore." smirking, "Right, then." Her: "Did you want to get a dance?" "Not today." Her: "Oh, why, the hair?" "Yeah."
Things went downhill from there, with her trying to shove her hand up my shorts, me stopping her hand and actually saying the words "No means no" (I don't know where her hands have been, or actually I had a good idea). Then she tried reverse psychology by challenging me to prove my sexual prowess and manhood. I finished my beer, said 'It was good to see you again, take care," and left. I do not know when, if ever, I will be back to that club (she is the undisputed leader of the Cuban Cartel, and runs it with an iron fist).
AITA?

