Hotel Bliss Guest Blog

Business Love Affair

I’ve mentioned that my business partner, Katy, has been sick. She’s really sick. And I’m so very worried about her. I’ve been trying for the last two hours to write a blog about her, as a tribute. And to get as many people as possible sending positive energy her way. And I can’t seem to make coherent paragraphs. I just keep getting lost in my worry and concern. So, I’ll just write a few little snapshots to illustrate all that she means to me.

Katy has this adorable ritual that she performs before every appointment. She gets into her work clothes and then dances in front of the mirror. In her real life, she’s a self-proclaimed prude. But when she puts on her Katy persona, she becomes the temptress. She dances to make herself feel sexy and put her in the mindset to do business. And when I sit on the bed and watch her before our client arrives, she is just so beautiful. Her body gyrates in black velvet, or twirls in pink zebra stripes, and her waist-length red hair entrances me as I watch it swirl around her lovely round ass.  In the process of making herself feel sexy, she kindles my desire so that by the time the client does arrive, we’re both wet and ready to make our magic.

Katy has this wonderful musky scent. We share a client who says that all redheads share a distinctive taste. She’s the only redhead that I’ve ever tasted, and I can say that she has a flavor that is uniquely Katy. The first time I buried my head between her thighs, it was nearly intoxicating. Our client was taking me from behind, and with each thrust, my face was pushed into her lovely pussy. She adored the way I switched from broad licks to gently nibbling her labia to teasing flickers with just the tip of my tongue. Even then, I could read her so well that it took me only minutes to bring her to completion. And she’s multi-orgasmic, so I can keep her humming for as long as I like. She makes me feel like the sexiest woman on Earth when I have her laid out before me and quivering.

Katy experimented with women when she was in college. But it had been more than a decade since her last time when we finally got together. During our first three meetings, she restricted herself to breast play and kissing. She loved it when I dined on her lovely pussy, but hadn’t felt ready to reciprocate.  At the end of our third duo, she cradled my face in her hands and said that she was sad that she hadn’t been aggressive enough to insist on tasting me. We had another client arriving shortly, and needed to freshen up before he arrived. We got ready with an electric undercurrent buzzing in the air. The client who arrived was the lucky guy who experienced that progression. She licked me for the first time during that session. And after her first taste of me, she raised her head and looked at me in wonder. “You taste heavenly!” was all she said. I recognized that hunger and surprise in her eyes. It was exactly the same way I felt the first time I tasted her.

Katy has discovered just the right way to send my mind reeling. I enjoy oral sex, but it isn’t something that will bring me to completion. Katy still likes to lick me, but she knows what I need to get me there. Maybe it’s her fiber art and knitting that keeps her fingers nimble. Whatever it is, she has the most amazing hands. She knows just how to touch me. She uses just the right number of fingers for penetration and just the right technique, stroking my vaginal wall just behind my pubic bone and creating that perfect pressure that makes me lose myself completely to the sensations. She pinches my nipples and strokes my pussy inside and out in glorious combination. And when she feels me starting to contract around her fingers, she gets this amazing, triumphant, angelic smile on her face. We share the sweetest kisses right after one of us has made the other explode into stardust.    

One of our favorite clients asked if either of us would be willing to have a duo with him and one of his other friends. I was busy, and not really that interested in the other lady, so I declined. But I conveyed the message to Katy and let her know that the lady in question was ok. Katy replied that she saw us as so much more than business partners and didn’t want to play with any other ladies. And I was so glad to hear that she felt the same way I did. We are lovers, and we invite our clients to share in our connection. Part of what makes us so popular as partners is that our clients can tell that we genuinely love each other. And our passion and playfulness just naturally spill over into our time with them.

I helped Katy pick out flowers and trimmings for her wedding. She was very apologetic when she explained that it was to be a tiny affair with only 5 people present. She felt bad that she asked me to help and couldn’t invite me to the festivities. It was then that we established that there would never be any offense between us. We love each other like family. And I was just so overjoyed that she let me play a small part. I made a special treat for the wedding party to enjoy at the reception and donated fabric for the tablecloths and cushions. I was simply gleeful when she sent me pictures and I saw all my contributions in them. So I WAS there! And did I mention that her husband has a soul and wit that constantly charm me? What a beautiful, loving couple they are!

Katy and I have never played outside of business. That is where we interact sexually. She and her man have decided that outside play is only ok during business.  We have tentatively planned to share our love with our partners. You should see the smiles we sport when we play “let’s imagine” about what it would be like to share this wonderful connection with our dearest loved ones. So we decided to “keep it business” and make a trade. I’ll go and play with her and her husband, and in return, she’ll come and play with my man and me. We haven’t managed to make it happen yet. And now with her being so sick that having sex could kill her, we aren’t sure that we’ll get the chance to make that a reality. When she comes to town, we spend our non-business time trolling the discount stores and hobby shops. We giggle and try on clothes and plan our next crafting projects. We hunt eternally for the perfect pair of sexy high heels that won’t make my little Earth Mother feel unstable. We nibble on finger foods and talk about our mutual clients. In Katy, I have that rare combination of dearest friend and sweetest of lovers.  

Katy got sick about a month ago. She woke up in the middle of the night with her face covered in blood. It was her gums that were bleeding. Her husband feared that she had an abscessed tooth or something of that nature. When they couldn’t stop the bleeding, he rushed her to the emergency room. She has a rare condition in which her body is producing antibodies that attack her platelets. They have tested for all the usual causes. She doesn’t have any of them. It is a blood disease. It is not sexually transmitted. In fact, the doctors say she cannot transmit it at all. She doesn’t have lupus or leukemia. She does not have HIV. I don’t have the official name they’ve given to her malady so I won’t muddy the water by offering one. But the “normal” count of blood platelets is about 150,000–400,000 per mm. When they did a full blood analysis, her count was at 15,000. The doctors said that any little bump could cause internal bleeding that they would not be able to stop. She had a transfusion, and spent the next few weeks in bed wrapped in blankets. She kept her spirits up by working on her fiber art. And she started on a course of steroids. That seemed to work and her platelet count rose. We all thought she’d be right as rain in no time. She’d have to make some changes. No more wine or even aspirin for her ever. And constant vigilance for the rest of her life. But she was getting it under control.

Katy planned her first business trip for this week. Everything was looking great for her return. Her friends had missed her, and she was looking forward to a bit of income to offset the medical bills. Before she left her hometown, she had another blood test. The news isn’t good. Now, not only are her antibodies attacking her platelets so that her counts are down again, but they have started attacking other systems in her body. She wasn’t specific about which systems. But the doctors have decided that it’s time to employ more drastic treatments. Katy is starting chemotherapy this week.  

So, if you have any positivity to spare, just picture a lovely, petite redhead sitting in a Yurt in the mountains and send her a little strength. She has so much love and light inside her. She needs to be strong enough to shine again.

Warmest kisses and best of wishes for you and all of yours,
~Lola

School is in session. . .

You would think in my line of work, I would have seen and done it all. And I will say that even I am amazed at some of the things I’ve tried. But it still catches me by surprise when someone requests something I’ve never done before.

Back when I was a newbie, I received an email.

“Do you do foot jobs?”

That was all it said. Now, in my line of work, this is the ultimate in rudeness. Though there is no question that I am going to do unladylike things, it is expected that I will be approached respectfully and professionally. I was offended. And at that point I put foot fetishes into the same realm as ear licking.  It doesn’t really do anything for me, but if it turns you on, I’m on it.

I mentioned the email to my mentor and best friend, Robert. He said he knew the man and also knew that he was very inexperienced and timid and had been mistreated by the one girl he had seen.

Now, I know you don’t know me, so I’m going to tell you something about myself here. This man was yearning for his particular turn-on so badly that he was willing to take a second chance at finding a girl, despite a horrible first experience. That touched me. I hate to see someone in need. And it also made me want to redeem the art a bit.  Seeing a professional should be a wonderful experience. And it should be respectful, kind and caring at the very least. I didn’t want him to base his understanding of this business on that one girl.

So, over months of time we talked online and made ourselves comfortable and developed an understanding of what he was looking for and also of what I could offer. I admitted that I had no idea what a footjob was. Admitted that I had never been interested in feet during sex. But also enthusiastically agreed to letting him teach me a bit about it.

So, flash forward to the day when we’ve finally managed to work around his severely erratic schedule. And he’s running late, so this won’t even be a full hour appointment. But we’ve built it up in our heads for so long that it just has to happen. I’m driving to the hotel. And I’m stressed. I took special care in dressing. . .toes painted a lovely raspberry shade, just the right amount of cleavage, skirt just short enough and heels just high enough to accentuate the feet and legs. I know I’m looking good. But it’s the first truly warm day of the year and my feet are sweating. He has mentioned sucking my toes and my feet are sweating. Ugh. Adding to my stress is the image I have of foot fetishes.  While everything we’ve discussed seems pretty straightforward and easy to do, I can’t help feeling that there must be more to it.  There must be something that makes it hot. But I can’t imagine what that might be. So, my feet are sweating, my appointment is rushed, and I’m prepared to simply tolerate something that does nothing for me.  Not the most ideal of circumstances.

I arrive at the hotel, and a handsome young man is waiting for me. His youth puts me at ease, and my nurturing instincts come out. He’s just so cute I want to take care of him. Upstairs in the room, I quickly slip away to the bathroom and wash my feet. 

After some cordialities and chatting, he takes my foot in his hands and compliments my polish. It’s a new dynamic for me. . .suddenly I’m the student, and shy in that role. I’m not sure what to expect, but I’m willing to let him lead.  But the feeling of uncertainty doesn’t sit well with me. I reclaim my foot and stand to strip off my blouse and skirt to display my lacy white bra and panties.  And I manage to distract him from what I consider my least attractive feature for long enough to get his clothes off. But when we climb onto the bed together, I know I can’t put it off any longer. 

I’m leaning against the pillows and he kneels at my feet and gently takes them into his hands again. And I can tell he’s worried that he will upset or offend me. And again, I feel that nurturing feeling that makes me want to give the little boy with the teartracks on his face a cookie. I wiggle my toes just a bit in his hands by way of encouragement. I made him chuckle, which broke the tension for us both. With a new air of excitement, he focused on my feet. At first he just massaged them and laid gentle kisses along the tops and insteps. And it felt so fluttery and light. . .almost reverent.  He ran his tongue along the backs of my toes to end at my big toe with a sucking kiss. . .and my world. . .and my puss exploded. 

I came to this appointment expecting to tolerate having my toes sucked. When I mentioned this to my girlfriend she said “Well, duh, Lola! There’s a direct link between your toes and your pussy”.  And I have to say that I just never thought about it. Feet were always just a way to get around. 

Most feet are ticklish to the touch. And that is one of the things that makes this so delicious. There is that undercurrent of tickle when someone is sucking and licking your toes. But it adds only one very subtle flavor to the experience. He ran his tongue between my toes, sucked each little piggie in sucession, then nibbled the balls of my feet. And with each new sensation I felt a corresponding pulse and tingle in my pussy.  I could almost feel the texture of his tongue rasping over my labia as he licked the creases between my toes. It wasn’t long before I was writhing and moaning. I must have had that wide-eyed surprised look on my face, because he asked if I liked it. And if it shocked me that I did. And I answered yes to each question between panting breaths.  In his passion, he continued to lick one of my feet while placing the other on his swollen cock. My mind had tried in the past to conjur images of how I could love a cock with my foot without hurting the man involved. Feet can seem so clumbsy and awkward. But I was so inspired that I think instinct just took over. And a formerly odd appendage became a perfect object of pleasure. His cock fit perfectly between my two biggest toes. And the arch of a foot can be made to perfectly cup and cuddle his package.  It may sound silly or strange, but one properly motivated tootsie can do an awful lot to stroke and excite a man. 

It was later that same day that a girlfriend of mine took me for my first pedicure. I’m sitting in the wonderful massaging chair, talking with my girl about men and life and the universe as a lovely petite Vietnamese woman is massaging my feet and legs. And I realize that I have done a serious disservice to feet. While they may be a champion way of getting around, they are so much more than that. An undiscovered country of sensations and pleasures that I never dreamed existed.

So, let’s all raise our glasses to my ignorance and misconception. To appreciating the beauty in even the most mundane of things.  And to a whole new fascination with sexy strappy sandals.

Kisses
Lola     

Serendipity

Lila is a tall, stunning blonde with a pervasive air of innocence and society about her. I would expect to meet a woman like her at a charity brunch or other philanthropic function. Instead, she is sitting in my livingroom drinking coffee and talking to me about becoming a prostitute.  

She has been considering taking this path for most of her life, but really feels like the time has arrived. She talked to me of tarot readings and meditation that all pointed her in this direction.  She spoke of her visit to see an escort two weeks before the birth of her child simply to experience the kind of loving connection she couldn’t get from the man in her life. She was so beautifully spiritual and giving even in just discussing her hopes that I just wanted to hug her and not let go. What a shining soul! 

But as we were talking, I felt a bit of despair. I hoped that the business wouldn’t hurt her heart. While it is probable that she would reach the point where she had a nice group of gentlemen regulars,  it would require kissing a lot of toads. And though her hope was to work with special needs individuals and women, I just didn’t know if that market was going to be large enough to meet her needs. Luckily, she came to me. At the very least, I could warn her about the pitfalls and be there to hold her when it got to be too much.

I sent her home with a required reading list and a laptop to borrow until she could get hers repaired. And was feeling the enormity of the mentor role for the first time in my life.  I had to protect her. I had to help. If she was set on this path, I wanted it to be as positive an experience for her as it has been for me.

The next morning, I met a prospective client for coffee.  I was somewhat surprised when Stephen walked up and introduced himself. His shirt proclaimed “I’m not gay, but my boyfriend is”.  My curiousity was piqued to say the least.

I quickly learned that he wasn’t seeking my services for himself. Stephen was in the awkward position of seeking a female companion for his good friend James.  The difficulty lay in the fact that James is severely physically disabled. Stephen was sure that he had been given an impossible quest. Even one bad experience would be devestating for James. He had to find the perfect woman for the job.  I was impressed that he would show such care for the well-being of his friend. The second time I’ve talked about sex for the disabled in two days? Sounds like a message. . .hmmm.

So, I sit listening to Stephen wax poetic on the type of woman needed. . .polished, lovely, firm and in charge, yet fully loving and supportive of exploration and growth. And as he’s speaking, my mind is dancing and goosebumps cover my arms.  Even the physical description fits. What a perfect match!

When I contact Lila later to see if she would be interested in meeting with Stephen to discuss the possiblity. Her reply email came so quickly that it left skid marks in my inbox.

 ”this really gives me Goddess bumps

i can’t imagine a finer thing to do than to meet this man and explore. 

How lucky i am to have you here right now.

In wonderment

Lila”

Blessed Be! After talking to each of them, I just know that they are looking for each other. And I was lucky enough to be an instrument of their meeting.  Stephen and Lila will meet. And they will work together to help James explore his sexuality in any way that he can. And I have the feeling that Lila may have just found the niche she was hoping for.

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.  

An Introduction

You can call me Lola. I’m a sex-worker. I’ve been working in the business for almost a year. I wanted to post a bit about escorts in general before I tell any tales simply because there is so much misconception and revulsion for those of us who take this path.

Hollywood and popular culture will tell you that I’m a woman who was abused. That I’m a victim. That I’m just waiting for my Prince Charming to come ”rescue” me. That I’m hooked on drugs and walking the street trying to make enough to support my habit. . .and my pimp’s habit. Or that I’m just a whore who can’t remember how to cross her ankles.

In my time as a sex-worker, I have met a lot of girls who meet all those stereotypes and go a whole lot deeper into Hell than I ever want to go.  But there is a smaller group that I call home.  We are smart, charming, conversational, witty. . .and loving.  We provide what is called a GFE. . .A Girlfriend Experience. All the good parts of having a girlfriend without any of the drama a relationship or affair can cause.  I spend more time talking and listening and providing a hug and a kind word than I do having sex.  I am a counselor, a friend, a confidante.  

My average client is a man over 60.  He’s either married and in a sexless marriage or widowed and lonely.  They have the disposable income to pay for vacations and hobbies and anything else they want. And what they want is someone who will always be loving and kind and compassionate.  Someone who will greet them with a smile and a kiss, hold them while they cry out their childhood trauma, rub their shoulders and make them feel adored.  Any friend can rub your back, but you PAY a massage therapist to do it right.  There’s no difference, really.  We are professional girlfriends. 

As for me, specifically. I’ve always had a circle of friends who knew they could call on me in times of need.  I love unconditionally and share myself openly with those I love.  It’s just hard-wired into me.  Some of my earliest memories include sitting in my highchair, kissing boys, and masturbating.  Some of you will be sure that I was molested or abused in some way. Trust me when I say I’ve explored that path from end to end and there’s nothing dark in my past.  I’ve come to the point where I just chalk it up to ultra-speedy reincarnation.  Suffice it to say I’ve been a sexual being for every concious moment of my life.  So, I was already living the life-style long before I got paid. It was only a small step for me to start getting paid just for being myself.

So, I’m here to share. . .and break down prejudice. . .and just basically to open perspectives. Feel free to ask questions or comment.

Thanks for reading
Lola