Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

What to get an escort for her birthday

I’m sitting in the shade on a pleasantly hot afternoon. The condensation on my glass of whiskey is making a small puddle on the glass top of the bar that Dani and her man Bart have set up on their patio. It’s a birthday barbeque for me and Dani.  I’m surrounded by the people who know me best. My chosen family. Each and every one of them knows my secrets and would protect me with all that they have.  They know that my work takes so much out of me, in spirit and love and energy. They know I’ve been feeling a bit of care-giver burnout.  And every one of them is making sure I simply enjoy myself for a change.   I’m in the most comfortable space I can imagine.

But we’ve been drinking for hours now. The sun is starting to sink, and I’m feeling the heat and liquor. I ask Dani if I can lay down for just a bit. She leads me into her bedroom and pulls back the covers while I strip off my pants. I climb between the cool sheets and she tucks me in and places a sweet kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll come wake you in just a bit.” she says, as she’s walking to the door.  But as she opens the door, there stand Lia and Jane. These two are my partners in crime. And though Dani offers to shoo them away, I tell her to go ahead and let them in.  My girls are always welcome.

They come to the bed, one on each side, and stroke my hair and face, kiss my fingers, ask me if I’m feeling ok. I assure them that I’m just laying down for a bit. Recharging.  A look passes between them. A sly smile. They peel the covers down to my waist and encourage me to let them take my tank and bra. “To make you more comfortable”.  And they are right. I’m more comfy without them. Especially when Jane runs her hands up from my bellybutton to gently stroke my breasts. They are such dolls. Being soothing, kind, loving. And I’m feeling like the most loved being on Earth. 

After just a moment, Lia and Dani leave me to Jane’s tender care and go back to the party. I’m thinking she is going to just tuck me back in and send me off to a lovely nap. But that isn’t the case. It’s isn’t long before Lia and Dani are back with company. They’ve brought Bart, Olivia and Steve, and Carl.  

Now, at this point, instinct kicks in and I reach down to pull the covers up. While every one of them has seen me naked before, being the only naked person in a room with 7 other people can be a bit uncomfortable. I’m feeling exposed. And vulnerable. But Lia and Jane won’t let me pull the covers up. They each gently take an arm and pull me back down on the bed.

“It’s ok, sweetheart, we’re here” Lia says as she leans down to press her raspberry lips to mine. I look up, switching my glance from one to the other. Then I scan the faces in the room.  Olivia and Steve have their arms around each other and are smiling wickedly at me. Carl’s face is a mixture of concern and excitement. Dani is holding Bart’s hand.  And they both look fiercely protective.  And Dani says the magic words. . .

“Lola, honey. Say the word and I kick them all out. Nothing bad will happen.”

I could have sent them away. I could have refused the gift. But as I lay there looking up at the people around me, I realize that not one of them would ever disrespect me, much less hurt me.  So, I lay back, relax, and just let them take charge.

Lia and Jane each take a seat beside me and continued to stroke my hair and face, occasionally straying to caress my torso and shoulders. Olivia steps up to the foot of the bed and pulls all the covers off onto the floor to expose  me completely.  She hooks her thumbs under the tiny strings on my hips and pulls my black thong down my legs. She spreads her blonde curls over me, her forehead on my pelvis so her warm breath washes over my pussy. She teases me with it. Alternating between that warm wash of air and cool streams, stroking me as though her breath were fingers dancing over my labia.  It is maddening. And wonderful. I can’t help myself, my hips twitch, aching for her to touch me.

That one little movement seems to be the signal. Suddenly, almost ravenously,  she pushes her tongue into my folds and takes a long lick. And everyone in the room descends on me like a flight of angels. Dani is the only one who does not join in. She stands in the background, watching, hovering, ready to eject anyone who makes a wrong move.  Safely in the arms of my dearest friends, I surrender the last of my cares and let them take me away.

They touch me, they stroke my thighs. Six pairs of hands dance over my body leaving bliss in their tracks. Mouths on my breasts, nibbles on my hipbones, gentle pinching for my nipples.  Other heads and hands replace Olivia’s.  And kisses. . .a hundred kisses.

It isn’t long before my hips are a foot off the bed, my back is arched and my panting and small moans fill the room.  Jane, who understands my hunger better than anyone, brings me a cock to suck. . .I think it is Steve kneeling there by my head.  But by this time, my senses are so overwhelmed that it could be any of the men present. What is important is that there isn’t a single thing I could desire that they will not bring me.  Carl, Olivia and Bart are at the foot of the bed taking turns licking and sucking and nibbling at my pretty pansy while Lia and Jane dance attendance at my breasts.  Lia pours her Cape Cod over me and starts a frenzy of licking.  Again and again, she pours drinks over me for everyone to lick.

At that moment, Dani yells “Stop!” and the entire group freezes. We all look up at her in concern; a tableau of debauchery just waiting for her to tell us what is wrong. She sways her sweet ass up to the bed, puts one knee next to my hip, and declares “That is mine!” before leaning in to slurp the puddle out of my bellybutton.

For a full hour, my friends shower me with love, liquor and pleasure.   And as they leave the room later, each one kisses me tenderly and wishes me a Happy Birthday.  

I’m used to being the giver. I’m accustomed to taking care of everyone around me. I have never in my life been showered with that much unadulterated acceptance and love. For one hour, I was the client.  And as I tell this story now, I’m getting misty just thinking about them and the most beautiful, loving birthday gift ever.  

Tales of a Dancer - “The First Installment”

  She put on black slacks, a dressy, low-cut, sexy shirt, and pulled on the black high heeled boots.  The flat-iron clamped on each clump of already-straight black hair.  Each one had to be in place.  She needed this.

  She carefully covered each blemish on her face with the pale base make-up.  Her eyeliner had to be straight.  Her lips had to be red.  Her eyelashes had to be curled.  If she didn’t get this, where would they go? 

  He had told her she didn’t have to do it.  But she knew she did.  He was visibly angry at himself for allowing this to happen.  Why couldn’t he do more?  Why couldn’t he get another job…maybe two?  Why was she being so stubborn about this?  But he knew she needed to do it.  It was the only way.

  She held her breath and tried not to think about it as she gripped the steering wheel. 

It’s okay. You can do it.

  Her very christian childhood prohibited sex, petting, or even talking intimately before marriage.  Kissing was to be EXTREMELY limited and reserved for those who were engaged…and now it had come to this.  How could she? 

I mustn’t think about that.

  She pulled into the bare parking lot in midday and was a little ashamed, hoping nobody had seen her turn in the driveway.  The gold on the handle of the giant wooden door was beginning to wear from use.  She pulled it open and stepped into the dark lobby.  The young, thin girl at the front desk looked at her blankly. 

“Yes?”

  The vibe was not a friendly one.

“I’m here for an interview.  I called on Friday and was told to come in today.”

  Of course they weren’t going to give her the job over the phone.  It was just contract labor, but what if you were ugly?  What if you were fat?  They had to see you before they gave you an answer.

“Hold on.”

  She picked up her cell phone and called the Manager.

“There’s someone here to see you for an interview.”

  Even the doorgirl was pretty.  Very exotic looking.  Half black, with a very light complexion.  Much thinner than the interviewee, something she noticed right away.  As a little girl she’d been very thin, but around 4th grade she ballooned out.  It had been hard to keep the weight off ever since.  She wasn’t fat, by any means, though sometimes she felt that way.  Still, her stomach wasn’t ‘flat’, and she was very self conscious about it.

There’s no way I’m going to get this.

“He’ll be up in a minute.”

Great.  Just in time to tell me I”m disgusting - “how could you even think I could get THIS job?”.

  She peeked a bit through the narrow entry way, trying to get a first glimpse of what was inside.  So dark.  A couple of men, older, dressed nicely.  No girls in sight.  Oh, but there was one sitting with a younger guy. 

Oh god.  I’m going to have to wear something like that.  How am I going to cover my stomach while I sit?

  A man in his thirties showed up in the doorway.

“Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Chris.”

  He noticeably looked her up and down, assessing her value.

“Follow me, please.”

He didn’t tell me to leave.  

  When she entered the giant room, she looked towards the stage.  Quite large, with one pole close to the front rounded edge.  A girl was exiting stage right, where there appeared to be a backroom that another gal was coming out from. 

  On the other side of the room was another, smaller stage that was freestanding.  There was one brown pole, the paint worn away from use, directly in the middle and it was surrounded by other poles in a cagelike manner.  It was empty.

  The manager led her into a small, lit room at the back of the club.  She could only assume this was to better see her figure. 

“You’re very pretty.  Have you ever danced before?”

“No, I haven’t.  I’ve waitressed alot.  I even bartended a little.”

“Have you ever been to a strip club before?”

“No, sir.  This is my first time.”

“Hmm.  Well, I think you’ll make lots of money.  Here’s how it works:  When you come in for a shift, you pay the doorgirl $25.  That’s what it costs to work here, but don’t worry you’ll make much more than that.  There’s a locker room in the back, near the ladies’ restroom, and it enters the front stage.  The second stage is only used at nights when the club is full.  You will dance two songs on the front stage, the first in lingerie, the second with your top off.  Panties stay on.  Don’t let anyone touch you while you’re on stage.  When the second stage is open you will step down off the front stage immediately after your set, and enter second stage.  Dance there during the next girls’ set.  In between your dance sets, talk to the men and have them buy you drinks, it’s good for the club.  Convince them to go to a back room and give them a dance.  It’s $20 for one dance.”

“What rooms?”

“Come on.”

  He left the lit room and pointed to both long sides of the rectangular shaped club.

“See the doorways?  They lead to short hallways with 2 rooms each off of them.  The last one there by the women’s restroom has three rooms.  When you dance for them, no sex.  You’re supposed to stay 6 feet away from them, but of course no one does that and we won’t say anything.  Just know that if the music turns off, get as far away from the guy as possible.  It’s probably a raid.”

She looked at him oddly.  A raid?

Nevermind, I’ll ask later.

“You will start out during the day shift, until you get the hang of it, and then you can work the night shift.  What is your stage name?”

“Oh, I, hadn’t really thought about it…”

“Dream?  Cat?”

Men.

She looked over the bar, at the T.V.  A commercial came on, advertising a flower shop.

“Rose.”

“Okay, Rose.  Write your social security number down here and we’ll see you tomorrow at 11 a.m.  Make sure you use the sign-in sheet when you come in, and don’t forget to pay the doorgirl.”