"Play with me," Mzphatcoochie beckons, her voice a sultry whisper in the dimly lit room. She's an exotic flower, her black skin glistening under the soft light, her curves inviting you in. She starts slow, a sensuous dance, her hands roaming over her body, her fingers tracing the line of her cleavage, her hips. She's a woman comfortable in her skin, and her comfort is infectious, drawing you in, making you want to touch, to taste, to play with her, just as she's playing with herself.