She decides to use her special skills to punish you...

Moaning, and forgetting the angry girlfriend, you hang your head down against the trunks, willing yourself to traverse the last smidgen of space to orgasm. Unfortunately, no amount of mental effort can replace the single extra thrust that would have been enough to make you orgasm.

With a groan of frustration you wiggle until your hands come free of the two trunks they'd been between and wobble to your feet, you hands starting down toward your begging pussy until you see the murderous look on Max's girlfriend's face.

A foot taller than you at a smidgen under six feet she's slim like a model and dressed in a sort of female tuxedo except with fishnets instead of pants, and killer high heels.

"I'm gonna mess up that face of your until no one ever calls you pretty again," she growls, and lunges.

With a squeak you pull back, falling on you ass atop the trunks. Luckily for you Max steps in front of her at the last moment.

"Baby, please, I swear it didn't mean anything. She's nothing!"

Scrambling to your feet you eye the exit and weigh your chances. Knowing that staying would mean getting caught you dart for the door just as she lunges for you.

Her nails catch on your top, momentarily sinking into your breast like the talons of an angry eagle, but you grab the edges of the door in an effort to pull away.

For a moment you think she has you, but a **** pull snaps you free of her grip and you hop down to the sidewalk before running away as fast as your legs can take you.

Down a block, and then zig-zagging down any roads and alleys you can find you finally stop, bent over and gasping for air, lungs and legs killing you.

Apparently pole-dancing doesn't prepare a person to sprint full-out in four-inch heels, you think to yourself, and raise your head to make sure you've lost her.